"There is a light, sir, at the Castle," said one of the servants of
Sir William Johnson, entering the room where he was seated with Mr.
Prevost; "it comes from the great court."
"Then they have arrived," said the officer, turning to his guest. "Let
us set out at once. Are the horses saddled?"
"They have been kept ready, sir, ever since the morning," replied the
servant to whom the last words were addressed.
"It is strange," said Mr. Prevost, as he followed his host toward the
door of the room, "that the negro I sent to tell Edith the cause of my
delay has not returned, as I told him. He might have been here four
hours ago. I am growing somewhat anxious."
"Be not so! be not so!" replied Sir William. "Two or three years of
forest life, my good friend, are not enough to inure a man to all the
little accidents and discomforts he must meet with; and the first
serious danger so shakes his nerves that they vibrate at a trifle. The
man's horse may have fallen, or he may have purloined a bottle of
brandy and got drunk, or he may have missed his way, or set out late.
Between this house and yours there is room for chances enough to make
a moderate volume. Let us not look out for uncertain evils when there
are real ones enough around us."
"Real ones enough, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, with a deep sigh.
A moment after, they reached the front of the stables, from which
their horses were immediately brought forth; and mounting, they set
out, followed by a small party, both on horseback and on foot; for Sir
William, though he affected the simplicity of the Indian, was not at
all averse to a little appearance of state and dignity in his dealings
with his red allies. There is a certain sort of pride, which clothes
itself in humility, and, without at all meaning to assert that the
very remarkable man in question desired to make the Indian chiefs feel
that his adoption of their manners was a condescension, yet it is
certain that, from time to time, he judged it expedient--perhaps from
motives of good policy--to make a somewhat ostentatious display of
power and authority.
The night was exceedingly dark. The moon now rose at a very late hour,
and dim clouds hid the stars from the dwellers upon earth. In such a
night, and in such circumstances, the fancy, even of the most
stout-hearted, is apt to indulge in deceits; and as the eye of Mr.
Prevost wandered round, dim forms, like specters, seemed to be gliding
about the fields of maize, cut, but in many places not gathered.
Not feeling certain whether imagination cheated him or not, he made no
observation; and for some time Sir William Johnson was silent, also;
but at length the latter said, in a commonplace tone: "Our good
friends seem to have come in great force, probably in consequence of
the urgency of my summons. Now, be patient, Prevost, and bear with
their cool, phlegmatic ways, for these people often feel the strongest
sympathies, and serve their friends the best when they seem the most
cold and indifferent."
Mr. Prevost felt already how difficult it was to maintain that
equanimity which, in theory, he estimated as highly as an Indian, and
in practice strove for, but not infrequently lost. He promised,
however, to leave entirely to Sir William Johnson the management of a
conference with the chiefs of the Mohawk and Onondaga nations, which
had been proposed by that officer himself, for the purpose of inducing
the two most powerful nations of the Iroquois to interfere in behalf
of Walter, and save him from the fate that menaced him. At the gate of
the Castle, the door of which stood open, as usual (for although it
was filled with large quantities of those stores which the Indians
most coveted, its safety was left entirely to the guardianship of
their good faith), the two gentlemen entered the large courtyard,
which, on this occasion, was quite deserted, the weather being cold
enough now to render some shelter agreeable even to an Indian.
From the open door of the great hall which stretched along the greater
part of the whole building, came forth a blaze of light on entering.
Sir William Johnson and his companion found a number of Mohawk and
Onondaga chiefs assembled, sitting gravely ranged in a semi-circle
round the fire. Each was fully clothed in his garb of ceremony, and
bright and brilliant were the colors displayed in the dresses and
ornaments of the redmen; but as this was a peaceful occasion, their
faces were destitute of paint, and the scalp-lock concealed under the
brilliant gostoweh, or cap, in many of which were seen the plume of
the famous white egret, used to distinguish the chiefs of the
different tribes, ever since the feathers of the famous white bird of
heaven had been exhausted.
All rose with quiet native dignity when the Indian agent and his
companion entered; and a murmur of gratulation ran round while Sir
William and Walter's father seated themselves in two large chairs.
"This is our brother," said Sir William Johnson, pointing to Mr.
Prevost.
"Hai! hai!" said the Indian chiefs. "Peace! peace! He is our brother."
King Hendrick then approached Mr. Prevost, dressed in his sky-blue
coat of European manufacture, presented to him by the reigning monarch
of England, and took his hand, saying in a tone of friendly sympathy,
and in the English tongue: "Our brother is sad; be comforted."
He then seated himself, and the attotarho, or grand chief of the whole
confederacy, an office held in descent by the chief of the Onondaga
totem of the Bear, advanced to Walter's father and spoke the same
words in Iroquois, showing clearly that the object of the meeting was
understood, by the Indian leaders. When all had arranged themselves
round again, a silence of some minutes succeeded.
At length the attotarho said, rising to his full height, which might
be termed almost gigantic: "Our father has sent for us, and we are
obedient children. We are here to hear his sweet words and understand
his mind."
Sir William Johnson then, in a speech of very great power and beauty,
full of the figurative language of the Indians, related the events
which had occurred in the family of Mr. Prevost, and made an appeal to
his hearers for counsel and assistance. He represented his friend as
an old tree from which a branch had been torn by the lightning, when
he strove to depict his desolate state; and then he told a story of a
panther, one of whose young ones had been carried off by a wolf, but
who, on applying for assistance to a bear and a stag, recovered her
young by their means. "The panther was strong enough," he said, "with
the aid of the lion, to take back her young ones from the wolf, and to
tear it to pieces; but the wolf was of kin to the bear and the stag,
and therefore she forebore."
"But the bear is slow, and the stag is not strong when he goes against
his kindred," said the attotarho, significantly, "and the lion will
never take the warpath against his allies."
"Heaven forbid that there should be need," said Sir William, "but the
lion must consider his children, and the panther is his son."
Poor Mr. Prevost remained in a state of painful anxiety while the
discussion proceeded in this course, wandering as it seemed to him,
round the subject, and affording no indication of any intention on the
parts of the chiefs to give him assistance; for figures, though they
be very useful things to express the meaning of a speaker, are
sometimes equally useful to conceal it. At length he could bear no
longer, and forgetting his promise to Sir William Johnson, he started
up with all the feelings of a father strong in his heart, and appealed
directly to the Indians in their own tongue, which he had completely
mastered, but in a style of eloquence very different from their own,
and perhaps the more striking to them on that account.
"My child!" he exclaimed, earnestly. "Give me back my child! Who is
the man amongst the Five Nations whom he has wronged? Where is the man
to whom he has refused kindness or assistance? When has his door been
shut against the wandering redman? When has he denied to him a share
of his food or of his fire? Is he not your brother, and the son of
your brother? Have we not smoked the pipe of peace together, and has
that peace ever been violated by us? I came within the walls of your
Long House, trusting to the truth and the hospitality of the Five
Nations. I built my lodge amongst you, in full confidence of your
faith and of your friendship. Is my hearth to be left desolate, is my
heart to be torn out, because I trusted to the truth and honor of the
Mohawks, to the protection and promises of the Onondaga, because I
would not believe the songs of the singing bird that said, 'They will
slay thy children before thy face?' If there be fault or failing in me
or mine toward the redman in any of the tribes, if we have taken aught
from him, if we have spoken false words in his ear, if we have refused
him aught that he had a right to ask, if we have shed any man's blood,
then slay me! Cut down the old tree at the root, but leave the
sapling. If we have been just and righteous toward you, if we have
been friendly and hospitable, if we have been true and faithful, if we
have shed no man's blood and taken no man's goods, then give me back
my child! To you, chiefs of the Five Nations, I raise my voice; from
you I demand my son! For a crime committed by one of the league is a
crime committed by all. Could ye find none but the son of your brother
to slay? Must ye make the trust he placed in you the means of his
destruction? Had he doubted your hospitality, had he not confided in
your faith, had he said, 'The lightning of the guns of Albany and the
thunder of her cannon are better protection than the faith and truth
of the redman,' ye know he would have been safe. But he said, 'I will
put my trust in the hospitality of the Five Nations; I will become
their brother. If there be bad men amongst them, their chiefs will
protect me, their attotarho will do me justice. They are great
warriors, but they are good men. They smite their enemies, but they
love their friends.' If, then, ye are good men, if ye are great
warriors, if ye are brothers to your brothers, if ye are true to your
friends, if ye are fathers yourselves, give me back my son!"
"Koui! koui!" cried the Indians in a sad tone, more profoundly
affected by the vehement expression of a father's feelings than Sir
William Johnson had expected; but the moment that the word was
uttered, which, according to the tone and rapidity with which it is
pronounced, signifies either approbation and joy, or sympathy and
grief, they relapsed into deep silence again.
Sir William Johnson, though he had been a good deal annoyed and
alarmed at Mr. Prevost taking upon himself to speak, and fearful lest
he should injure his own cause, now fully appreciated the effect
produced, and would not add a word to impair it; but at length King
Hendrick rose, and said in a grave and melancholy tone: "We are
brothers, but what can we do? The Oneidas are our brethren, also. The
Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, and the Senecas are
separate nations, though they are brethren and allies. We are leagued
together for common defence, but not that we should rule over each
other. The Oneidas have their laws, and they execute them; but this
law is common to all the nations, that if a man's blood be shed except
in battle, the man who shed it must die. If he cannot be found, any of
his nearest kin must be taken. If he have none, one of his tribe or
race. The same is it with the Mohawk as with the Oneida. But in this
thing have the Oneidas done as the Mohawks would not have done. They
have not sought diligently for the slayer; neither have they waited
patiently to see whether they could find any of his kindred. The
Oneidas have been hasty. They have taken the first man they could
find. They have been fearful like the squirrel, and they keep him lest
in time of need they should not find another. This is unjust. They
should have first waited and searched diligently, and should not have
taken the son of their brother till they were sure no other man could
be found. But koui! koui! what is to be done? Shall the Mohawk unbury
the hatchet against the Oneida? That cannot be. Shall the Mohawk say
to the Oneida, 'Thou art unjust'? The Oneida will answer, 'We have our
laws and you have yours; the Mohawk is not the ruler of the Oneida;
repose under your own tree; we sit upon a stone.' One thing,
perchance, may be done," and a very slight look of cunning
intelligence came into his face; "subtlety will sometimes do what
force cannot. The snake is as powerful as the panther. I speak my
thought, and I know not if it be good. Were my brother the attotarho
to choose ten of the subtlest serpents of his nation, and I to choose
ten of the subtlest of mine, they might go, un-painted and unarmed,
and, creeping through the wood without rattle or hiss, reach the place
where the young man lies. If there be thongs upon his hands the breath
of a Snake can melt them. If there be a door upon his prison, the eyes
of a Snake can pierce it. If there be a guard, the coil of the Snake
can twine around him, and many of the Oneida chiefs and warriors will
rejoice that they are thus friendly forced to do right, and seek
another. I speak my thought; I know not whether it is good. Let those
speak who know, for no nation of the five can do aught against another
nation alone; otherwise we break to pieces like a faggot when the
thong bursts."
Thus saying, he ended, sat down, and resumed his quiet stillness; and
after a pause, as if for thought, the attotarho rose, addressing
himself direct to Mr. Prevost, and speaking with a great deal of grave
dignity.
"We grieve for you, my brother," he said, "and we grieve for
ourselves. We know that our great English father who sits under the
mighty pine tree will be wroth with his red children; but let him
remember and speak it in his ears, that the Mohawk and the Onondaga,
the Seneca and the Cayuga, are not to blame for this act. They say the
Oneidas have done hastily, and they will consult together around the
council fire how thou mayest best be comforted. Haste is only fit for
children. Grown men are slow and deliberate. Why should we go quickly
now? Thy son is safe; for the Oneidas cannot, according to their law,
take any sacrifice except the life of the slayer, till they be well
assured that the slayer cannot be found."
Mr. Prevost's lip quivered with emotion as if about to speak, but Sir
William Johnson laid his hand upon his arm, saying in a quick whisper,
"Leave him to me;" and the Onondaga proceeded. "We will do the best
that we can for our brother, but the meadow lark has not the strength
of the eagle, nor the fox of the panther, and if we should fail it
would not be the fault of the Mohawk or the Onondaga. I have said."
Sir William Johnson then rose to reply, seeing that the attotarho
sought to escape any distinct promise, and judging that with the
support of King Hendrick a little firmness might wring something more
from him.
"My brother, the attotarho," he said, "has spoken well. The Five
Nations are leagued together in peace and in war. They take the scalps
of their enemies as one man. They live in brotherhood; but my brother
says that if the Oneida commits a crime the Mohawk and the Onondaga,
the Seneca and the Cayuga are not guilty of the act, and therefore
deserve no wrath. But he says at the same time that if the man named
Woodchuck slays a redman, Walter Prevost, the brother of the redman,
must die for it. How is this? Have the children of the Five Nations
forked tongues? Do they speak double words? If the Onondagas are not
guilty of what the Oneidas do, neither is Walter Prevost guilty of
what the paleface Woodchuck does. May the Great Spirit forbid that
your father near the rising of the sun should deal unjustly with his
red children, or be wroth with them for acts done by others; but he
does expect that his children of the Five Nations will show the same
justice to his paleface children; and unless they are resolved to take
upon themselves the act of the Oneidas, and say their act is our act,
they will do something to prevent it. My brother says that haste is
for children, and true are his words. Then why have the Oneidas done
this hasty thing? We cannot trust that they will not be children any
more, or that having done this thing they will not hastily do worse.
True, everything should be done deliberately. We should show ourselves
men, if we want children to follow our example. Let us take counsel
then, fully, while we are here together. The council fire burns in the
midst of us, and we have time enough to take thought calmly. Here I
will sit till I know that my brothers will do justice in this matter,
and not suffer the son of my brother to remain in the hands of those
who have wrongfully made him a prisoner. Yes, truly, here I will sit
to take counsel with the chiefs till the words of wisdom are spoken,
even although the sun should go five times round the earth before our
talk were ended. Have I spoken well?"
"Koui! koui!" exclaimed a number of voices, and one of the old sachems
rose, saying in slow and deliberate tones: "Our white brother has the
words of truth and resolution. The Oneida has shown the speed of the
deer, but not the wisdom of the tortoise. The law of the Oneida is our
law, and he should have waited at least one moon to see if the right
man could be found. The Oneida must be in trouble at his own
hastiness. Let us deliver him from the pit into which he has fallen,
but let us do it with the silent wisdom of the snake, which creeps
through the grass where no one sees him. The rattlesnake is the most
foolish of reptiles, for he talks of what he is going to do
beforehand. We will be more wise than he is, and as our thoughts are
good, we will keep them for ourselves. Let us only say, 'The boy shall
be delivered, if the Mohawks and the Onondagas can do it;' but let us
not say how; for a man who gives away a secret deprives himself of
what he can never recover, and benefits nothing but the wind. I have
said."
All the assembled chiefs expressed their approbation of the old man's
words, and seemed to consider the discussion concluded. Mr. Prevost,
indeed, was anxious to have something more definite, but Sir William
Johnson nodded his head significantly, saying in a low tone: "We have
done as much, nay, more than we could expect. It will be necessary to
close our conference with some gifts, which will be, as it were, a
seal upon our covenant."
"But have they entered into any covenant?" rejoined Mr. Prevost. "I
have heard of none made yet on their part."
"As much as Indians ever do," answered Sir William Johnson, "and you
can extract nothing more from them with your utmost skill."
He then called some of his people from without into the hall, ordered
the stores to be opened, and brought forth some pieces of scarlet
cloth, one of the most honorable presents which could be offered to an
Indian chief. A certain portion was cut off for each, and received
with grave satisfaction. Mats and skins were then spread upon the
floor in great abundance. Long pipes were brought in and handed round,
and after having smoked together in profound silence for nearly half
an hour, the chiefs stretched themselves out upon the ground and
composed themselves to rest.
Sir William Johnson and his guest, as a mark of confidence and
brotherhood, remained with them throughout the night, but retired to
the farther end of the hall. They did not sleep as soon as their dusky
companions. Their conversation, though carried on in low tones, was,
nevertheless, eager and anxious, for the father could not help still
feeling great apprehensions regarding the fate of his son; and Sir
William Johnson was not altogether without alarm regarding the
consequences of the very determination to which he had brought the
chiefs of the Mohawks and Onondagas. Symptoms of intestine discord had
of late been perceived in the great Indian confederacy. They had not
acted on the behalf of England with the unanimity which they had
displayed in former years, and it was the policy of the British
government by every means to heal all divisions and consolidate their
union, as well as to attach them more and more firmly to the English
cause. Although he doubted not that whatever was done by the chiefs
with whom he had just been in conference would be effected with the
utmost subtlety and secrecy, yet there was still the danger of
producing a conflict between them and the Oneidas in the attempt, or
causing angry feeling, even if it were successful; and Sir William,
who was not at all insensible to his government's approbation, felt
some alarm at the prospect before him. However, he and Mr. Prevost
both slept, at length, and the following morning saw the chiefs
dispersing in the gray dawn of a cold and threatening morning.