Choice Specimens of American Literature, and Literary Reader Part 15

I saw the Shawnees issue from their lodge; they were painted black, and entirely naked except the flap about their loins. Every weapon but the war-club,--then first introduced among the Creeks,--had been laid aside.

An angry scowl sat on all their visages; they looked like a procession of devils. Tec.u.mseh led, the warriors followed, one in the footsteps of the other. The Creeks, in dense ma.s.ses, stood on each side of the path, but the Shawnees noticed no one; they marched to the pole in the centre of the square, and then turned to the left.

... They then marched in the same order to the Council, or King's house,--as it was termed in ancient times, and drew up before it. The Big Warrior and the leading men were sitting there. The Shawnee chief sounded his war-whoop,--a most diabolical yell, and each of his followers responded. Tec.u.mseh then presented to the Big Warrior a wampum belt of five different-colored stands, which the Creek chief handed to his warriors, and it was pa.s.sed down the line. The Shawnee pipe was then produced; it was large, long, and profusely decorated with sh.e.l.ls, beads, and painted eagle and porcupine quills. It was lighted from the fire in the centre, and slowly pa.s.sed from the Big Warrior along the line. All this time not a word had been uttered; every thing was still as death; even the winds slept, and there was only the gentle rustle of the falling leaves. At length Tec.u.mseh spoke, at first slowly, and in sonorous tones, but soon he grew impa.s.sioned, and the words fell in avalanches from his lips. His eyes burned with supernatural l.u.s.tre, and his whole frame trembled with emotion; his voice resounded over the mult.i.tude,--now sinking in low and musical whispers, now rising to its highest key, hurling out his words like a succession of thunderbolts.

His countenance varied with his speech; its prevalent expression was a sneer of hatred and defiance; sometimes a murderous smile; for a brief interval a sentiment of profound sorrow pervaded it; and at the close, a look of concentrated vengeance, such, I suppose, as distinguishes the arch-enemy of mankind, I have heard many great orators, but I never saw one with the vocal powers of Tec.u.mseh, or the same command of the muscles of his face.

... Had I been deaf, the play of his countenance would have told me what he said. Its effect on that wild, superst.i.tious, untutored, and warlike a.s.semblage may be conceived; not a word was said, but stern warriors, the "stoics of the woods," shook with emotion, and a thousand tomahawks were brandished in the air. Even the Big Warrior, who had been true to the whites, and remained faithful during the war, was for the moment visibly affected, and more than once I saw his huge hand clutch, spasmodically, the handle of his knife.... When he resumed his seat, the northern pipe was again pa.s.sed round in solemn silence. The Shawnees then simultaneously leaped up with one appalling yell, and danced their tribal war-dance, going through the evolutions of battle, the scout, the ambush, the final struggle, brandis.h.i.+ng their war-clubs, and screaming, in terrific concert, an infernal harmony fit only for the regions of the d.a.m.ned.

[Footnote 31: Was born in Mississippi; by profession a lawyer, and for some years a member of Congress; author of several biographical works of interest, chiefly relating to the Southwest.]

=_George Was.h.i.+ngton Greene,[32] 1811-._=

From The Life of General Greene.

=_108._= FOREIGN OFFICERS IN THE REVOLUTIONARY ARMY.

... Mrs. Greene had joined her husband early in January, bringing with her her summer's acquisition, a stock of French that quickly made her little parlor the favorite resort of foreign officers. There was often to be seen Lafayette, not yet turned of twenty-one, though a husband, a father, and a major-general; graver somewhat in his manners than strictly belonged either to his years or his country; and loved and trusted by all, by Was.h.i.+ngton and Greene especially. Steuben, too, was often there, wearing his republican uniform, as, fifteen years before, he had worn the uniform of the despotic Frederick; as deeply skilled in the ceremonial of a court as in the manoeuvring of an army; with a glittering star on his left breast, that bore witness to the faithful service he had rendered in his native Germany; and revolving in his accurate mind designs which were to transform this ma.s.s of physical strength, which Americans had dignified with the name of army, into a real army which Frederick himself might have accepted. He had but little English at his command as yet, but at his side there was a mercurial young Frenchman, Peter Duponceau, who knew how to interpret both his graver thoughts and the lighter gallantries with which the genial old soldier loved to season his intercourse with the wives and daughters of his new fellow-citizens. As the years pa.s.sed away, Duponceau himself became a celebrated man, and loved to tell the story of these checkered days. Another German, too, De Kalb, was sometimes seen there, taller, statelier, graver than Steuben, with the cold, observant eye of the diplomatist, rather than the quick glance of the soldier, though a soldier too, and a brave and skillful one; caring very little about the cause he had forsaken his n.o.ble chateau and lovely wife to fight for, but a great deal about the promotion and decorations which his good service hero was to win him in France; for he had made himself a Frenchman, and served the King of France, and bought him French lands, and married a French wife. Already before this war began, he had come hither in the service of France to study the progress of the growing discontent; and now he was here again an American major-general, led partly by the ambition of rank, partly by the thirst of distinction, but much, too, by a certain restlessness of nature, and longing for excitement and action, not to be wondered at in one who had fought his way up from a butlers.h.i.+p to a barony. He and Steuben had served on opposite sides during the Seven Years War, though born both of them on the same bank of the Rhine; and though when Steuben first came, De Kalb was in Albany, yet in May they must have met more than once. How did they feel towards each other, the soldier of Frederick, and the soldier of Louis? If we had known more about this, we should have known better, perhaps, why Lafayette, a fast friend of De Kalb, speaks of the "methodic mediocrity" of Steuben, and Steuben of the "vanity and presumption" of the young major-general.

In the same circle, too, was the young Fleury whom we have seen bearing himself so gallantly at Fort Mifflin, and who, a year after, was to render still more brilliant service at Stony Point; and the Marquis de la Rouerie, concealing his rank under the name of Armand, and combatting an unsuccessful love by throwing himself headlong into the tumult of war; and Mauduit Duplessis, whose skill as an engineer had been proved at Red Bank, and who about this time was breveted Lieutenant-Colonel, at Was.h.i.+ngton's recommendation, for "gallant conduct at Brandywine and Germantown," and "distinguished services at Fort Mercer," and a "degree of modesty not always found in men who have performed brilliant actions," but whom neither modesty nor gallantry could save from a fearful death at San Domingo; and Gimat, aide to Lafayette now, but who afterwards led Lafayette's van as colonel in the successful a.s.sault of the British redoubts at Yorktown; and La Colombe, who was to serve Lafayette faithfully in France as he served him here; and Ternant, distinguished in America, France, and Holland, but who this year rendered invaluable service to American discipline by his aid in carrying out the reforms of Steuben. Kosciusko was in the north, but Poland had still another representative, the gallant Pulaski, who had done good service during the last campaign, and who the very next year was to lay down his life for us at the siege of Savannah.

[Footnote 32: Born in Rhode Island; a grandson of the distinguished General Greene of the Revolution, whose life he has written, with many interesting details of that struggle.]

=_James Parton, 1822-._= (Manual, pp. 490, 532.)

From "Life and Times of Aaron Burr."

=_109._= CAREER AND CHARACTER OF BURR.

To judge this man, to decide how far he was unfortunate, and how far guilty; how much we ought to pity, and how much to blame him,--is a task beyond my powers. And what occasion is there for judging him, or for judging any one? We all know that his life was an unhappy failure. He failed to gain the small honors at which he aimed; he failed to live a life worthy of his opportunities; he failed to achieve a character worthy of his powers. It was a great, great pity. And any one is to be pitied, who, in thinking of it, has any other feelings than those of compa.s.sion--compa.s.sion for the man whose life was so much less a blessing to him than it might have been, and compa.s.sion for the country, which after producing so rare and excellent a kind of man, lost a great part of the good he might have done her.

The great error of his career, as before remarked, was his turning politician. He was too good for a politician, and not great enough for a statesman.

If his expedition had succeeded, it was in him, I think, to have run a career in Spanish America similar to that of Napoleon in Europe. Like Napoleon, he would have been one of the most amiable despots, and one of the most destructive. Like Napoleon, he would have been sure, at last, to have been overwhelmed in a prodigious ruin. Like Napoleon, he would have been idolized and execrated. Like Napoleon, he would, have had his half dozen friends to go with him to St. Helena. Like Napoleon, he would have justified to the last, with the utmost sincerity, nearly every action of his life.

We live in a better day than he did. Nearly every thing is better now in the United States than it was fifty years ago, and a much larger proportion of the people possess the means of enjoying and improving life. If some evils are more obvious and rampant than they were, they are also better known, and the remedy is nearer ...

Politics, apart from the pursuit of office, have again become real and interesting. The issue is distinct and important enough to justify the intense concern of a nation. To a young man coming upon the stage of life with the opportunities of Aaron Burr, a glorious and genuine political career is possible. The dainty keeping aloof from the discussion of public affairs, which has been the fas.h.i.+on until lately, will not again find favor with any but the very stupid, for a long time to come. The intellect of the United States once roused to the consideration of political questions, will doubtless be found competent to the work demanded of it.

The career of Aaron Burr can never be repeated in the United States.

That of itself is a proof of progress. The game of politics which he played is left, in these better days, to far inferior men, and the moral license which he and Hamilton permitted themselves, is not known in the circles they frequented. But the graver errors, the radical vices, of both men belong to human nature, and will always exist to be shunned and battled.

From "Famous Americans."

=_110._= HENRY CLAY'S CAREER AT THE WESTERN BAR.

It is surprising how addicted to litigation were the earlier settlers of the Western States. The imperfect surveys of land, the universal habit of getting goods on credit at the store, and "difficulties" between individuals ending in bloodshed, filled the court calendars, with land disputes, suits for debt, and exciting murder cases, which gave to lawyers more importance and better chances of advancement than they possessed in the older States. Mr. Clay had two strings to his bow.

Besides being a man of red-tape and pigeon-holes, exact, methodical, and strictly attentive to business, he had a power over a Kentucky jury such as no other man has ever wielded. To this day nothing pleases aged Kentuckians better than to tell stories which they heard their fathers tell of Clay's happy repartees to opposing counsel, his ingenious cross-questioning of witnesses, his sweeping torrents of invective, his captivating courtesy, his melting pathos. Single gestures, att.i.tudes, tones, have come down to us through two or three memories, and still please the curious guest at Kentucky firesides. But when we turn to the cold records of this part of his life, we find little to justify his traditional celebrity. It appears that the princ.i.p.al use to which his talents were applied during the first years of his practice at the bar, was in defending murderers. He seems to have shared the feeling which then prevailed in the Western country, that to defend a prisoner at the bar is a n.o.bler thing than to a.s.sist in defending the public against his further depredations; and he threw all his force into the defence of some men who would have been "none the worse for a hanging." One day, in the streets of Lexington, a drunken fellow whom he had rescued from the murderer's doom, cried out, "Here comes Mr. Clay, who saved my life."

"Ah! my poor fellow," replied the advocate, "I fear I have saved too many like you, who ought to be hanged.". The anecdotes printed of his exploits in cheating the gallows of its due, are of a quality which shows that the power of this man over a jury lay much in his manner. His delivery, which "bears absolute sway in oratory," was bewitching and irresistible, and gave to quite common-place wit and very questionable sentiment, an amazing power to please and subdue.

From an Article in the Atlantic Monthly.

=_111._= WESTERN THEATRES.

At the West, along with much reckless and defiant unbelief in every thing high and good, there is also a great deal of that terror-stricken pietism which refuses to attend the theatre unless it is very bad indeed, and is called "Museum." This limits the business of the theatre; and as a good theatre is necessarily a very expensive inst.i.tution, it improves very slowly, although the Western people are in precisely that state of development and culture to which the drama is best adapted and is most beneficial. We should naturally expect to find the human mind, in the broad, magnificent West, rising superior to the prejudices originating in the little sects of little lands. So it will rise in due time. So it has risen, in some degree. But mere grandeur of nature has no educating effect upon the soul of man; else Switzerland would not have supplied Paris with footmen, and the hackmen of Niagara would spare the tourist. It is only a human mind that can instruct a human mind.

To witness the performance, and to observe the rapture expressed upon the s.h.a.ggy and good-humored countenances of the boatmen, was interesting, as showing what kind of banquet will delight a human soul, starved from its birth. It likes a comic song very much, if the song refers to fas.h.i.+onable articles of ladies costume, or holds up to ridicule members of Congress, policemen, or dandies. It is not averse to a sentimental song, in which "Mother, dear," is frequently apostrophized. It delights in a farce from which most of the dialogue has been cut away, while all the action is retained,--in which people are continually knocked down, or run against one another with great violence. It takes much pleasure in seeing Horace Greeley play a part in a negro farce, and become the victim of designing colored brethren. But what joy, when the beauteous Terpsich.o.r.ean nymph bounds upon the scene, rosy with paint, glistening with spangles, robust with cotton and cork, and bewildering with a cloud of gauzy skirts! What a vision of beauty to a man who has seen nothing for days and nights but the hold of a steamboat and the dull sh.o.r.es of the Mississippi!

HISTORY, GENERAL AND SPECIAL.

=_John Heckewelder,[33] 1743-1823._=

From the "Narrative" of the Moravian Missions among the Indians.

=_112._= SETTLEMENTS OF THE CHRISTIAN INDIANS.

Both these congregations, being supplied with missionaries and schoolmasters, were so prosperous that they became the admiration of visitors, some of whom thought it next to a miracle that, by the light of the gospel, a savage race should be brought to live together in peace and harmony, and above all devote themselves to religion. The people residing in the neighborhood of those places were also intimate with these Indians, and both were serviceable to each other; one instance of which is here inserted. In February of the year 1761, a white man, who had lost a child, came to Nain weeping, and begging that the Indian Brethren would a.s.sist him and his wife to search for his child, which had been missing since the day before. Several of the Indian Brethren immediately went to the house of the parents, and discovered the footsteps of the child, and tracing the same for the distance of two miles, found the child in the woods, wrapped up in its petticoat, and s.h.i.+vering with cold. The joy of the parents was so great that they reported the circ.u.mstance wherever they went. To some of the white people, who had been in dread of the near settlement of these Indians, this incident was the means of making them easy, and causing them to rejoice in having such good neighbors.

... The war being over, the Indians who had been engaged in it freely confessed to their friends and relations, and to some white people they had heretofore been acquainted with, that "the Brethren's settlements had been as a stumbling-block to them; that had it not been for these, they would most a.s.suredly have laid waste the whole country from the mountains to Philadelphia; and that many plans had been formed for destroying these settlements."

[Footnote 33: Prominent among the Moravian clergy for his experience of missionary life among the American Indians, for his knowledge of the Indian languages, and for his lifelong devotion to the missionary work.]

=_Jeremy Belknap, 1744-1798._= (Manual, p. 490.)

From "The History of New Hamps.h.i.+re."

=_113._= THE MAST PINE.

Another thing worthy of observation is the aged and majestic appearance of the trees, of which the most n.o.ble is the mast pine. This tree often grows to the height of one hundred and fifty, and sometimes two hundred feet. It is straight as an arrow, and has no branches but very near the top. It is from twenty to forty inches in diameter at its base, and appears like a stately pillar, adorned with a verdant capital, in form of a cone. Interspersed among these are the common forest trees of various kinds.