Part 12 (1/2)
The house where we lived belonged to the widow of a French trader, an Indian by birth, and wearing the dress of her country She spoke French fluently, and was very ladylike in her manners. She is a great character among them. They were all the time coming to pay her homage, or to get her aid and advice; for she is, I am told, a shrewd woman of business. My companion carried about her sketch-book with her, and the Indians were interested when they saw her using her pencil, though less so than about the sun-shade. This lady of the tribe wanted to borrow the sketches of the beach, with its lodges and wild groups, ”to show to the _savages_” she said.
Of the practical ability of the Indian women, a good specimen is given by McKenney, in an amusing story of one who went to Was.h.i.+ngton, and acted her part there in the ”first circles,” with a tact and sustained dissimulation worthy of Cagliostro. She seemed to have a thorough love of intrigue for its own sake, and much dramatic talent. Like the chiefs of her nation, when on an expedition among the foe, whether for revenge or profit, no impulses of vanity or way-side seductions had power to turn her aside from carrying out her plan as she had originally projected it.
Although I have little to tell, I feel that I have learnt a great deal of the Indians, from observing them even in this broken and degraded condition. There is a language of eye and motion which cannot be put into words, and which teaches what words never can. I feel acquainted with the soul of this race; I read its n.o.bler thought in their defaced figures. There _was_ a greatness, unique and precious, which he who does not feel will never duly appreciate the majesty of nature in this American continent.
I have mentioned that the Indian orator, who addressed the agents on this occasion, said, the difference between the white man and the red man is this: ”The white man no sooner came here, than he thought of preparing the way for his posterity; the red man never thought of this.” I was a.s.sured this was exactly his phrase; and it defines the true difference. We get the better because we do
”Look before and after.”
But, from, the same cause, we
”Pine for what is not.”
The red man, when happy, was thoroughly happy; when good, was simply good. He needed the medal, to let him know that he _was_ good.
These evenings we were happy, looking over the old-fas.h.i.+oned garden, over the beach, over the waters and pretty island opposite, beneath the growing moon. We did not stay to see it full at Mackinaw; at two o'clock one night, or rather morning, the Great Western came snorting in, and we must go; and Mackinaw, and all the Northwest summer, is now to me no more than picture and dream:--
”A dream within a dream.”
These last days at Mackinaw have been pleasanter than the ”lonesome”
nine, for I have recovered the companion with whom I set out from the East,--one who sees all, prizes all, enjoys much, interrupts never.
At Detroit we stopped for half a day. This place is famous in our history, and the unjust anger at its surrender is still expressed by almost every one who pa.s.ses there. I had always shared the common feeling on this subject; for the indignation at a disgrace to our arms that seemed so unnecessary has been handed down from father to child, and few of us have taken the pains to ascertain where the blame lay. But now, upon the spot, having read all the testimony, I felt convinced that it should rest solely with the government, which, by neglecting to sustain General Hull, as he had a right to expect they would, compelled him to take this step, or sacrifice many lives, and of the defenceless inhabitants, not of soldiers, to the cruelty of a savage foe, for the sake of his reputation.
I am a woman, and unlearned in such affairs; but, to a person with common sense and good eyesight, it is clear, when viewing the location, that, under the circ.u.mstances, he had no prospect of successful defence, and that to attempt it would have been an act of vanity, not valor.
I feel that I am not bia.s.sed in this judgment by my personal relations, for I have always heard both sides, and though my feelings had been moved by the picture of the old man sitting in the midst of his children, to a retired and despoiled old age, after a life of honor and happy intercourse with the public, yet tranquil, always secure that justice must be done at last, I supposed, like others, that he deceived himself, and deserved to pay the penalty for failure to the responsibility he had undertaken. Now, on the spot, I change, and believe the country at large must, erelong, change from this opinion. And I wish to add my testimony, however trifling its weight, before it be drowned in the voice of general a.s.sent, that I may do some justice to the feelings which possess me here and now.
A n.o.ble boat, the Wisconsin, was to be launched this afternoon; the whole town was out in many-colored array, the band playing. Our boat swept round to a good position, and all was ready but--the Wisconsin, which could not be made to stir. This was quite a disappointment. It would have been an imposing sight.
In the boat many signs admonished that we were floating eastward. A shabbily-dressed phrenologist laid his hand on every head which would bend, with half-conceited, half-sheepish expression, to the trial of his skill. Knots of people gathered here and there to discuss points of theology. A bereaved lover was seeking religious consolation in--Butler's a.n.a.logy, which he had purchased for that purpose.
However, he did not turn over many pages before his attention was drawn aside by the gay glances of certain damsels that came on board at Detroit, and, though Butler might afterwards be seen sticking from his pocket, it had not weight to impede him from many a feat of lightness and liveliness. I doubt if it went with him from the boat.
Some there were, even, discussing the doctrines of Fourier. It seemed pity they were not going to, rather than from, the rich and free country where it would be so much easier than with us to try the great experiment of voluntary a.s.sociation, and show beyond a doubt that ”an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” a maxim of the ”wisdom of nations” which has proved of little practical efficacy as yet.
Better to stop before landing at Buffalo, while I have yet the advantage over some of my readers.
THE BOOK TO THE READER,
WHO OPENS, AS AMERICAN READERS OFTEN DO,--AT THE END.
To see your cousin in her country home, If at the time of blackberries you come, ”Welcome, my friends,” she cries with ready glee, ”The fruit is ripened, and the paths are free.
But, madam, you will tear that handsome gown; The little boy be sure to tumble down; And, in the thickets where they ripen best, The matted ivy, too, its bower has drest.
And then the thorns your hands are sure to rend, Unless with heavy gloves you will defend; Amid most thorns the sweetest roses blow, Amid most thorns the sweetest berries grow.”
If, undeterred, you to the fields must go, You tear your dresses and you scratch your hands; But, in the places where the berries grow, A sweeter fruit the ready sense commands, Of wild, gay feelings, fancies springing sweet,-- Of bird-like pleasures, fluttering and fleet.