 | THE DARK MAID OF ILLINOIS. The wilderness and the war path |  |
THE DARK MAID OF ILLINOIS.
The French, who first explored the wild shores and prolific
plains that margin the Mississippi river, and extend along its
tributary streams, believed that they had found a terrestrial paradise.
Never before was such a desert of flowers presented to the
astonished eye of man—never before was there exhibited an expanse
so wide, so fertile, so splendidly adorned. If the beauty
of this region delighted them, its immensity filled them with astonishment,
and awakened the most extravagant expectations.
Their warm and sprightly imaginations were easily excited to
lively admiration, by scenes so grand, so lovely, and so wild, as
those presented in this boundless wilderness of woods and flowers.
The great length of the magnificent rivers filled them with amazement;
while the reputed wealth, and fancied productions of the
country, awakened both avarice and curiosity.
We can scarcely realize the sensations with which they must
have wandered over a country so different from any they had
ever seen, and have contemplated a landscape so unexpectedly
majestic and attractive. The freshness and verdure of new
lands, unspoiled and unimpoverished by the hand of cultivation,
is in itself delightful. It is pleasing to see the works of nature
in their original character, as they came from the creative hand;
and that pleasure was here greatly enhanced by the infinite variety,
and magnificent extent, of the romantic scenery. The plains
seemed as boundless as they were beautiful, and the splendid
groves, which diversified the surface of these exquisitely graceful
lawns, invested them with a peculiar air of rural elegance.
Delighted with this extensive and fertile region, they roamed
far and wide over its boundless prairies, and pushed their little
barks into every navigable stream. Their inoffensive manners
suavity conciliated even the savage warrior, whose suspicious
nature discovered no cause of alarm in the visits of these gay
strangers. Divided into small parties, having different objects
in view, they pursued their several designs without collision and
with little concert. One sought fame, another searched for mines
of gold as opulent as those which had enriched the Spaniards in
a more southern part of the same continent. One aspired simply
to the honour of discovering new lands, another came to collect
rare and nondescript specimens of natural curiosities; one travelled
to see man in a state of nature, another brought the Gospel
to the heathen; while, perhaps, a great number roved carelessly
among these interesting scenes, indulging an idle curiosity or a
mere love of adventure, and seeking no higher gratification than
that which the novelty and excitement of the present moment
afforded.
Whatever might be their respective views, they were certainly,
in one respect, the most successful of adventurers. They traversed
these wide plains with impunity. They penetrated far
into the interior of the trackless wilderness. Their canoes were
seen tracing the meanders of the longest rivers; and these fearless
explorers had already found their way into the heart of this
immense continent, while other Europeans obtained, with difficulty,
a footing upon the sea coast.
Among the earliest who thus came was Pierre Blondo, who,
having served a regular apprenticeship to an eminent barber at
Paris, had recently commenced the world on his own account, in
the character of valet to an excellent Dominican priest, who was
about to visit America. The proverb, “like master like man,”
had little application to this pair—for never were two human
beings more unlike than they. The worthy Dominican was a
gentlemanly and priest-like personage, and Pierre a very unassuming
plebeian. The master was learned and benevolent,—
grave, austere, and self-denying; the valet was a jolly, rattling
madcap, who, as he never hesitated to grant a favour or a civility
to any human being who asked or needed it, thought it right to
be equally obliging to himself; and neither mortified his own
flesh nor his neighbour's feelings. The priest mourned over the
habits of his countrymen; the valet not only believed this
to be the best of all possible worlds, but prided himself particularly
in being a native of a country which produces the best fiddlers,
cooks, and barbers, on the habitable globe. In short, the
master was a priest and the man a hair-dresser; they both loved
and endeavoured to improve their species; but the one dealt with
the inner, the other with the outer man;—one sought to enlighten
the dark abyss of the ignorant heart, while the other sedulously
scraped the superfluities of the visage. Father Francis was a
mysterious, silent, ascetic man; Pierre was as mercurial and as
merry a lad as ever flourished a pair of scissors.
However they might differ in other respects, there was one
particular in which Father Francis and his man, Pierre, exactly
agreed; namely, in an ardent desire to explore the streams, the
forests, and the prairies of Louisiana. They were allured, it is
true, by very different motives. The priest came to spread the
Gospel among the heathen, to arrest their vices, and to explode
their human sacrifices; the valet travelled to see the lion with
one horn, the fountain of rejuvenescence, the white-breasted
swans, and the dark-skinned girls of Illinois. Pierre's researches
into American history had been considerable, and his opportunities
for acquiring a knowledge of the new world singularly
felicitous. He had shaved gentlemen who had been there—had
scraped the very cheeks which were embrowned by the sun of
the western Indies, and had held, with secret delight, betwixt his
thumb and finger, the identical nostrils that had inhaled the delicious
odours of Florida, the land of flowers. He had listened
with admiration to their wonderful stories, some of which almost
staggered his credulity. He did not doubt the existence of gold
mines, in which the pure metal was found in solid masses—the
only objection to which was, that they were too large for transportation,—nor
of that wonderful pool, in which, if an old man
bathed, he lost the decrepitude of age, and regained the bloom
of childhood. These things seemed proper enough, and were
vouched for by gentlemen who could not be mistaken; yet it
seemed to him marvellous, that the birds should be snowy white,
and the ladies black; that the men should be beardless, and the
grow and glitter in a wilderness, where there were none but
wolves and wild men to gather them.
It is proper to state here, in order to prevent any misunderstanding
in a matter of so much importance, that, although Pierre
was a barber, he was by no means an insignificant person. He
was of honest parentage—the son of a very reputable peasant,
who lived decently, and brought up his offspring in habits of industry.
He had a fine figure and a very prepossessing countenance.
His eye was good, his teeth white, and his smile agreeable.
He was, in short, a gentleman—on a small scale, and a
most excellent person—in his way. A pleasant young man, with
a light purse, and liberal feelings.
During the passage, Pierre became a favourite with his fellow
voyagers. He played the flute, sang merry songs, shaved the
sailors gratis, and on Sundays brushed up the captain as fine as
a grenadier. He felt so happy himself, that he could not be easy
without trying to make every body happy around him. At odd
times, when he was unemployed, he amused himself in fancying
the adventures that awaited him, the fine sights he should see,
and the heaps upon heaps of gold and jewels that he should pick
up in the new world. He thought himself a second Columbus,
and had no doubt that high honours would be conferred upon him
on his return—the king would make him a count or a marquis;
and M. Corneille, who was then in the meridian of his fame, would
write a play, and tell his exploits in poetry. The prime minister
would probably offer him his daughter in marriage—and a cloud
passed over the brow of the merry Frenchman as he reflected that
it would be proper to make the lady miserable, by refusing the
honour of the alliance. “I shall certainly be very much obliged
to him,” said Pierre, as he sat musing on the forecastle, gazing
at a long stream of moonlight that sparkled on the undulating
waves; “very much obliged: and I shall never be wanting in
gratitude to a nobleman who shall do me so much honour,—but
I must decline it; for there is pretty little Annette, that I have
promised to marry, and who shall never have reason to weep for
my inconstancy. Annette is a very pretty girl, and she loves
me dearly. I really think she would break her heart if I should
world equal to Pierre—and I have no reason to dispute her judgment.
She is neither rich nor noble, but what of that? When
I am master of a gold mine, and a marquis of France, I can elevate
her to my own rank; and I will hang strings of pearl, and
ornaments of solid gold, about her pretty neck, and her slender
waist, in such profusion, that the meanness of her birth will be
forgotten in the glitter of her attire.” Thus did Pierre enjoy the
luxury of hope, and revel in anticipation upon the bright prospects
that beamed upon his delighted fancy. The vessel flew
rapidly over the waves; and, after a prosperous voyage, the new
world spread its illimitable shores, its gigantic mountains, and
its wooded vales, before the enraptured eyes of the weary voyagers.
Pierre was in the new world. It was very much unlike the
old one. Yet its great superiority did not strike him so forcibly
as he had expected. The St. Lawrence was a noble river; its
shores were green, and the trees were larger than any he had
seen in France; but the sunny clime, and the rich vineyards of
his native land were not there, nor was there the least sign of a
gold mine, or a pearl fishery. Our adventurer, however, was of
a sanguine temperament, and determined to suspend his judgment,
and hope on for a season.
Shortly after their arrival at Montreal, an expedition was concerted
to the newly discovered region of the Upper Mississippi,
and Father Francis made his arrangements to accompany the
party. Pierre, who, in the long voyage across the Atlantic, comparatively
agreeable as it was, had become wearied of the confinement
and privations incident to this mode of travelling, looked
at the little boats launched on the St. Lawrence, for the transportation
of the party, with some distrust, and evinced a considerable
deal of reluctance against embarking in a new adventure. In
Montreal he had found some of the luxuries which he enjoyed at
home, and had been deprived of on shipboard. There were barbers
and cooks, to shave and feed people; and, new as the city
was, there was a monastery and a ball room, in the first of which,
he could be seated in a snug confessional, when he went to confess
his sins to the priest, and in the other he could dance without
overboard. Other considerations, however, weighed against his
indolence and love of pleasure. He longed to discover the fountain
of rejuvenescence, to bathe in its renovating waters, and secure
the miraculous gift of perpetual youth. He panted for the
dignity and advantage of being sole proprietor of a gold mine,
and returning to merry France with a ship load of treasure,—for
the honour of nobility, the pleasure of refusing the prime minister's
daughter, and the pride of making Annette a peeress. Incited
by hopes so brilliant, and so remarkably reasonable, the
spirit of adventure was re-animated in his bosom, and he embarked
with newly invigorated alacrity.
They ascended, with much toil, the rapid current of the noble
St. Lawrence, meandering among its thousand isles, and gazing
with delight on its rocky and luxuriant shores. They coasted the
grand and beautiful lakes of the north, enraptured with the freshness
and variety of the scenery; and surveyed with amazement,
the great cataract, which has been the wonder of succeeding
generations. Every night they encamped upon the banks, and
the forest rang with the cheerful sounds of merriment. Sometimes
they met the Indians, who gazed upon them as superior beings,
and either fled in terror, or endeavoured to conciliate them
by kindness and hospitality. It was thus that the Europeans
were usually received by the natives of this continent, before little
jealousies, and occasional aggressions, were fomented, by
hasty retaliation, into lasting hatred. Happy would it have been
for our country, and for human nature, had the civilized adventurers
to the new world conducted themselves in such a manner
as to have deepened, and indelibly engraved upon the savage
mind, the feelings of profound respect which their first appearance
excited.
When they reached the southern end of Lake Michigan, the
waters were high, and they floated over the inundated lands,
pushing their boats among the trees of the forest, and over the
rank herbage of the low prairies of that region, until they found
the current, which had set towards the north, began to flow off in
the opposite direction, and floated them into a small stream, running
towards the south. Here they halted for some days to hunt,
large, but placid river, one of the noblest tributaries of the Mississippi,
the flood had subsided, and the waters were flowing quietly
within their natural channel, through the silent forest.
With what emotions of wonder must those adventurous travellers
have gazed upon these wild scenes! How singular must
have been their sensations, when they reflected on their distance
from the civilized world, and thought of the immensity of that
immeasurable waste that was spread around them. They had
never imagined, far less witnessed, a desert so blooming or so extensive.
There was a magnificence of beauty in its prolific vegetation
and gorgeous verdure, and a grandeur in the idea of the
boundless extent of this splendid wilderness, that must have
excited the imagination to speculations of intense interest.
Pierre seemed to awaken to a new existence when the boats
entered upon this beautiful river; and he felt a thrill of pleasure
as he surveyed the placid stream and its lovely shores. The
river, deep, unobstructed, and clear as crystal, flows with a current
so gentle as to be almost imperceptible, while the overhanging
trees protect it from the winds, keeping it as still and inviolate
as the fountain that sleeps in its native cave. The stately
swan sailed upon the mirror that reflected her downy plumage,
and the gaudy paroquet, rich in green and golden hues, sported
among the tall trees. The tangled grape vines hung in heavy
masses from the boughs, and the wild fruit trees dipped their limbs
in the water. Here and there the tall bluffs jutted in upon the
river, impressing their gracefully curved outlines upon the clear
blue ground of the sky, and throwing their long dark shadows
upon the water; but most usually, a rich border of noble forest
trees, springing from a low shore, hung in graceful beauty over
the stream. Sometimes they saw herds of buffalo, wading in
the tide, sometimes the lazy bear wallowing in the mire, and, occasionally,
the slender deer, standing in the timid attitude of attention;
while every secluded inlet, or shaded cove, was filled
with screaming wild fowl, of an infinite variety of plumage.
The travellers arrived, at length, at an Indian village, where
they were entertained with great hospitality. The chief, surrounded
by his wise men, and his warriors, painted in gay colours,
with public demonstrations of respect; and a great company, of
different ages, and both sexes, was assemhled to gaze at them,
and to do them honour. The hump of the buffalo, the head of
the elk, and the marrowy tail of the beaver, were dressed for
them, with all the skill of aboriginal gourmandism; they were
feasted, besides, upon bear's oil, jerked venison, hominy, and delicately
roasted puppies; and the juicy steams of these delicious
viands, unvitiated by the villanous artificial mixtures of European
cookery, were pleasantly blended with the balmy odours of
the forest. Father Francis, among other monastic attainments,
had acquired a very competent knowledge of the art of good eating,
and did ample justice to the generous fare which spread the
board of his savage entertainers; but being a reformer of morals,
he determined to show his gratitude by delivering before his new
friends a homily against intemperance; resolving, at the same
time, to improve so favourable an opportunity of suggesting the
propriety of seasoning such gross meats with a few wholesome
condiments; for, to his taste, the devouring of flesh without salt,
pepper, or sauce, was mere cannibalism. Pierre was a reformer,
too, and he made up his mind to improve the gastronomic science
of his country, whenever he should become a marquis, by adding
the buffalo's tongue and hump, and the elk's head, to the luxuries
of a Parisian bill of fare. The cooking of puppies he
thought an unchristian and dangerous innovation, which might
lead to the destruction of some of the most harmless animals in
creation, while the addition which it brought to the list of solid
edibles, was not worthy of much commendation.
Having feasted the adventurers, the Indians presented them
with feathers, belts, moccasins, and dressed skins; and the chief,
in the profusion of his generosity, offered to Father Francis fifteen
beautiful young girls, but the good man, as any prudent
man would have done, wisely declined the acceptance of a present
that might prove so troublesome. Pierre thought he would
have ordered things differently: he winked, shrugged, hinted,
and at last ventured to beg that he might take one of them, at
least, to Paris with him, as a curiosity; but the inexorable priest
advised him to carry a swan, a paroquet, a pet buffalo, or a rattlesnake,
honoured ecclesiastic had been feasted to repletion, and loaded to
weariness with deferential civilities, a soft couch of buffalo robes
was spread for him, and a number of young girls stood round
him, as he reposed, fanning him with the snowy wings of the
swan, and driving away the musquitoes with bunches of gaudy
feathers. Pierre thought this a very grand ceremony, and quite
comfortable withal; and determined, that, whenever he should become
proprietor of a gold mine, he would enjoy the luxury of
slumber with similar attendance.
It would be a question worthy the attention of the curious in
matters relating to the philosophy of the human mind, whether
that love of foreigners which has ever distinguished the American
people, and made them the sport of every idle traveller who has
chanced to linger on our shores, was not derived from the aborigines.
The vanity of showing off a travelled “lion” at our parties
is certainly not original. If it be not an inherent passion in
the human breast, it has, at least, prevailed throughout many
ages. The desire to behold the exotic production of a distant
clime—to entertain one who has roamed through latitudes different
from our own, and had hair breadth 'scapes, has long been a
distinguishing trait in the domestic manners of our countrymen;
and we are happy to be able to trace the propensity back to a
period anterior to our existence as a nation. For we do not set
it down among our virtues. Hospitality may have much to do
with keeping it alive, and a generous love of knowledge may afford
it some nourishment. But we fear that, after all, it rests
upon a solid substratum of vanity, and is cherished by the oozings
of an inquisitive curiosity. The Illini, however, fared much better
in the result of their attentions to distinguished strangers, than
we who have succeeded and imitated them. They received the
French, with confiding kindness, into the bosom of their society,
and fed them upon the fat of their land; and the worthy visiters
of that primitive people recorded their hospitality in terms of
grateful acknowledgment. We have pursued a similar course
of conduct towards other Europeans, and have been sadly traduced
and ridiculed for our pains.
Father Francis took an early occasion to say a word in season
him with grave respect, and promised to take the matter into consideration;
but, as their intercourse was conducted entirely by
signs, it is not likely that they were greatly edified. He showed
them a telescope, a mariner's compass, and a watch, and endeavoured
to explain their several properties; they listened with attention,
offered food to the watch, which they supposed to be a
living animal, looked with fear at the telescope, and picked the
old man's pocket, while he was lecturing upon natural philosophy.
Upon the whole, the savages showed great capabilities for the
pursuits of civilized life. Pierre, in the meanwhile, remained an
inactive spectator of these proceedings. The Indians, with their
usual tact, discovered that he occupied a subordinate place in the
mission, which released them from the necessity of paying public
honours. But his fine figure, his elastic step, and his open countenance,
won their regard, and obtained for him the most cordial
attention. Though he was not, as they supposed, a chief, or a
prophet, they imagined that he was a young brave of promise, and
perhaps of distinction, in his tribe.
The next morning, the young warriors dispersed themselves in
the neighbouring groves, to paint their bodies and decorate their
heads. This is one of the most important employments of an Indian's
life. No beau, nor dandy, nor exquisite, in any part of
the world, expends more time in the laborious duties of the toilet,
than is consumed by the savage in decorating his person. Pierre
went among them, bowing and smiling, in his usual obliging manner,
with his razors, combs, scissors, and pomatums; and, after
exhibiting specimens of his skill upon himself, prevailed upon some
of his new acquaintances to place themselves under his hands.
He was not only a complete adept in his own art, but a man of
genius, who could adapt its principles to the circumstances of a
new case; and, directed by the slight observations he had been
enabled to make, painted up some of the savages, after their own
fashion, with peculiar elegance, and to their entire satisfaction.
They were delighted with his clever and obliging talents. He
exhibited his lancet and tooth-drawers, and explained their use by
significant gestures; and the Indians, supposing them to be delicate
instruments for torturing prisoners of war, patted him on the
while he convinced them that he was a great warrior, caused an
infinite deal of merriment by the contrast of his own dexterity
with the awkwardness of those who were prevailed upon to oppose
him. A pocket mirror, and some trinkets, which he displayed,
won their admiration, and they soon determined, that, although
Father Francis might be highest in rank, Pierre was by far the
greatest man, and most valuable acquaintance. Such are the
triumphs of genius! Pierre had ventured upon a delicate experiment,
in which ninety-nine of the most consummately skilled artists
might have failed, where one would have been successful.
“There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;”
he had touched a fortunate spring, and found the talisman which
commanded a brilliant destiny. In the fulness of his heart he
opened a small package of looking-glasses, which he had brought
for traffic, and distributed them gratuitously among the warriors,
presenting the largest and most elegant to the chief, who was so
much delighted, that he instantly, with princely liberality, offered
him his daughter in marriage. Happy Pierre! he was that day
the proudest of men, and the most blissful of barbers.
Pierre had serious scruples whether he should accept this generous
offer; not that he considered it above his merits—on the
contrary, he gave the chief great credit for having had the acuteness
to discover his genius, and the magnanimity to know how to
appreciate it. It was a proposal worthy of both the parties concerned.
But it touched his honour, while it flattered his pride.
He had not forgotten his obligations to Annette—the merry dark-eyed
girl who had given him the first offering of her young affections.
Poor little Annette, what would she think of it, if he should
marry another lady. He was sure she would never stand it.
The blight of disappointment would fall upon the warm heart that
throbbed so sincerely for him. “No,” said he to himself, “I will
be true to Annette, be the consequences what they may; I have
promised her my hand, and a share in my gold mine; and nothing
shall ever induce me to act in a manner unbecoming a French
gentleman.” Having formed this heroic resolution, he put his hat
independent air of a man who chooses to do as he pleases, and the
self-satisfied countenance of one who has adopted a virtuous determination.
But Pierre knew little of the frailty of his own heart. Few of
us are aware of the backslidings of which we may be guilty when
there is a lady in the case. He began to reflect, that the partner
so liberally tendered to his acceptance, was the daughter of a king,
and that such an alliance was not to be picked up every day in
the woods of the new world. He might grow gray before another
sovereign would condescend to invite him into his family; and,
reasoning in his own mind, that the proposed marriage would
make him a prince, and heir apparent, he began to entertain strong
doubts whether patriotism, and the honour of the French nation,
did not require him to sacrifice his affections to the glory and advantage
of giving a king to the Illini. Napoleon has since been
called upon to decide a similar question; and Pierre, though not
a great warrior, loved his country and himself as well as Napoleon.
He reflected further, that the possession of the sovereign
power would be the readiest way to the discovery of the fountain
of rejuvenescence; the gold mines would all be his own, and he
could send Annette a shipload of the precious metal. Moreover,
he had already discovered, that in the new world it was the custom
for great men to have a plurality of wives—a custom that
seemed to him to be founded in good sense—and he saw no reason
why he should not comply with it, and, with the first cargo of
gold he should send to France, despatch an invitation to Annette
to share his prosperity and the happiness of his tawny bride.
When our inclinations prompt us strongly to a particular line
of conduct, it is easy to find reasons enough to turn the scale.
Indeed, it is most usual to adopt a theory first, and then to seek
out arguments to support it. Pierre could now find a host of
reasons urging him to instant wedlock with the Illinois maiden.
And not the least were the advantages which would accrue to
Father Francis, to the church, and to the cause of civilization.
When he should become a prince, he could take the venerable
priest under his patronage, encourage the spread of the true faith,
cause his subjects to be civilized, and induce them to dress like
zeal of a reformer, to see them powder their hair, and abstain
from the savage practice of eating roasted puppies.
So he determined to marry the lady; and, having thus definitely
settled the question, thought it would be proper to take the advice
of his spiritual guide. Father Francis was shocked at the
bare mention of the affair. He admonished Pierre of the sin of
marrying a heathen, and of the wickedness of breaking his plighted
faith; and assured him, in advance, that such misconduct
would bring down upon him the severe displeasure of the church.
Pierre thanked him with the most humble appearance of conviction,
and forthwith proceeded to gratify his own inclination—believing
that, in the affair of wedlock, he knew what was for his
own good quite as well as a holy monk, who, to the best of his
judgment, could know very little about the matter.
On the following morning the marriage took place, with no
other ceremony than the delivery of the bride into the hands of
her future husband. Pierre was as happy as bridegrooms usually
are—for his companion was a slender, pretty girl, with a mild
black eye and an agreeable countenance. They were conducted
to a wigwam, and installed at once into the offices of husband and
wife, and into the possession of their future mansion. The females
of the village assembled, and practised a good many jokes
at the expense of the young couple: and Pierre, as well to get rid
of these as to improve the earliest opportunity of examining into
the mineral treasures of the country, endeavoured, by signs, to invite
his partner to a stroll—intimating, at the same time, that he
would be infinitely obliged to her if she would have the politeness
to show him a gold mine or two. The girl signified her acquiescence,
and presently stole away through the forest, followed by
the enamoured hair-dresser.
As soon as they were out of sight of the village, Pierre offered
her his arm, but the arch girl darted away, laughing, and shaking
her black tresses, which streamed in the air behind her, as she
leaped over the logs and glided through the thickets. Pierre liked
her none the less for this evidence of coquetry, but gaily pursued
his beautiful bride, for whom he began to feel the highest admiration.
Her figure was exquisitely moulded, and the exercise in
greatest advantage. There was a novelty, too, in the adventure,
which pleased the gay-hearted Frenchman; and away they ran,
mutually amused and mutually satisfied with each other.
Pierre was an active young fellow, and, for a while, followed
the beautiful savage with a creditable degree of speed; but, unaccustomed
to the obstacles which impeded the way, he soon became
fatigued. His companion slackened her pace when she
found him lingering behind; and, when the thicket was more than
usually intricate, kindly guided him through the most practicable
places,—always, however, keeping out of his reach; and whenever
he mended his pace, or showed an inclination to overtake
her, she would dart away, looking back over her shoulder, laughing,
and coquetting, and inviting him to follow. For a time this
was amusing enough, and quite to the taste of the merry barber;
but the afternoon was hot, the perspiration flowed copiously, and
he began to doubt the expediency of having to catch a wife, or win
even a gold mine, by the sweat of his brow—especially in a new
country. Adventurers to newly discovered regions expect to get
things easily; the fruits of labour may be found at home.
On they went in this manner, until Pierre, wearied out, was
about to give up the pursuit of his light-heeled bride, when they
reached a spot where the ground gradually ascended, until, all at
once, they stood upon the edge of an elevated and extensive plain.
Our traveller had heretofore obtained partial glimpses of the prairies,
but now saw one of these vast plains, for the first time, in its
breadth and grandeur. Its surface was gently uneven; and, as
he happened to be placed on one of the highest swells, he looked
over a boundless expanse, where not a single tree intercepted the
prospect or relieved the monotony. He strained his vision forward,
but the plain was boundless—marking the curved line of
its profile on the far distant horizon. The effect was rendered
more striking by the appearance of the setting sun, which had sunk
to the level of the farthest edge of the prairie, and seemed like a
globe of fire resting upon the ground. Pierre looked around him
with admiration. The vast expanse—destitute of trees, covered
with tall grass, now dried by the summer's heat, and extending,
as it seemed to him, to the western verge of the continent—excited
himself that he had reached the western boundary of the
world, and beheld the very spot where the sun passed over the
edge of the great terrestrial plane. There was no mistake. He
had achieved an adventure worthy the greatest captain of the age.
His form dilated, and his eye kindled, with a consciousness of his
own importance. Columbus had discovered a continent, but he
had travelled to the extreme verge of the earth's surface, beyond
which nothing remained to be discovered. “Yes,” he solemnly
exclaimed, “there is the end of the world! How fortunate am I
to have approached it by daylight, and with a guide; otherwise,
I might have stepped over in the dark, and have fallen—I know
not where!”
The Indian girl had seated herself on the grass, and was composedly
waiting his pleasure, when he discovered large masses of
smoke rolling upward in the west. He pointed towards this new
phenomenon, and endeavoured to obtain some explanation of its
meaning; but the bride, if she understood his enquiry, had no
means of reply. There is a language of looks which is sufficient
for the purposes of love. The glance of approving affection beams
expressively from the eye, and finds its way in silent eloquence
to the heart. No doubt that the pair, whose bridal day we have
described, had already learned, from each other's looks, the confession
which they had no other common language to convey; but
the intercourse of signs can go no further. It is perfectly inadequate
to the interpretation of natural phenomena: and the Indian
maid was unable to explain that singular appearance which so
puzzled her lover. But discovering, from the direction to which
he pointed, that his curiosity was strongly excited, the obliging
girl rose, and led the way towards the west. They walked for
more than an hour. Pierre insensibly became grave and silent,
and his sympathizing companion unconsciously fell into the same
mood. He had taken her hand, which she now yielded without
reluctance, and they moved slowly, side by side, over the plain—
she with a submissive and demure air, and he alternately admiring
his beautiful bride, and throwing suspicious glances at the novel
scene around him. The sun had gone down, the breeze had subsided,
and the stillness of death was hanging over the prairie.
a something like fear crept over him, and he would have
turned back; but the pride of a French gentleman, and a marquis
in anticipation, prevented him. He felt mean—for no man
of spirit ever becomes seriously alarmed without feeling a sense
of degradation. There is something so unmanly in fear, that, although
no bosom is entirely proof against it, we feel ashamed to
acknowledge its influence even to ourselves. Our hero looked
forward in terror, yet was too proud to turn back. Superstition
was beginning to throw its misty visions about his fancy. He
had taken a step contrary to the advice of his father confessor,
and was in open rebellion against the church; and he began to
fear that some evil spirit, under the guise of an Indian maid, was
seducing him away to destruction. At all events, he determined
not to go much further.
The shades of night had begun to close, when they again
ascended one of those elevations which swells so gradually that
the traveller scarcely remarks them until he reaches the summit,
and beholds, from a commanding eminence, a boundless landscape
spread before him. The veil of night, without concealing the
scene, rendered it indistinct; the undulations of the surface were
no longer perceptible; and the prairie seemed a perfect plain.
One phenomenon astonished and perplexed him: before him the
prairie was lighted up with a dim but supernatural brilliancy,
like that of a distant fire, while behind was the blackness of darkness.
An air of solitude reigned over that wild plain, and not a
sound relieved the desolation of the scene. A chill crept over
him as he gazed around, and not an object met his eye but that
dark maid, who stood in mute patience by his side, as waiting his
pleasure; but on whose features, as displayed by the uncertain
light that glimmered on them, a smile of triumph seemed to play.
He looked again, and the horizon gleamed brighter and brighter,
until a fiery redness rose above its dark outline, while heavy,
slow moving, masses of cloud curled upward above it. It was
evidently the intense reflection, and the voluminous smoke, of a
vast fire. In another moment the blaze itself appeared, first shooting
up at one spot, and then at another, and advancing, until the
whole line of horizon was clothed with flames, that rolled around,
ocean. The simple Frenchman had never heard of the fires
that sweep over our wide prairies in the autumn, nor did it enter
into his head that a natural cause could produce an effect so terrific.
The whole western horizon was clad in fire, and, as far as
the eye could see, to the right and left, was one vast conflagration,
having the appearance of angry billows of a fiery liquid,
dashing against each other, and foaming, and throwing flakes of
burning spray into the air. There was a roaring sound like that
caused by the conflict of waves. A more terrific sight could
scarcely be conceived; nor was it singular that an unpractised
eye should behold in that scene a wide sea of flame, lashed into
fury by some internal commotion.
Pierre could gaze no longer. A sudden horror thrilled his
soul. His worse fears were realized in the tremendous landscape.
He saw before him the lake of fire prepared for the devil and his
angels. The existence of such a place of punishment he had
never doubted; but, heretofore, it had been a mere dogma of
faith, while now it appeared before him in its terrible reality. He
thought he could plainly distinguish gigantic black forms dancing
in the flames, throwing up their long misshapen arms, and writhing
their bodies into fantastic shapes. Uttering a piercing shriek,
he turned and fled with the swiftness of an arrow. Fear gave
new vigour to the muscles which had before been relaxed with
fatigue, and his feet, so lately heavy, now touched the ground with
the light and springy tread of the antelope. Yet, to himself, his
steps seemed to linger, as if his heels were lead.
The Indian girl clapped her hands and laughed aloud as she
pursued him. That laugh, which, at an earlier hour of this
eventful day, had enlivened his heart by its joyous tones, now
filled him with terror. It seemed the yell of a demon—the triumphant
scream of hellish delight over the downfall of his soul.
The dark maid of Illinois, so lately an object of love, became, to
his distempered fancy, a minister of vengeance—a fallen angel
sent to tempt him to destruction. A supernatural strength and
swiftness gave wings to his flight, as he bounded away with the
speed of the ostrich of the desert; but he seemed, to himself, to
crawl sluggishly, and, whenever he cast a glance behind, that
tried to invoke the saints, but, alas! in the confusion of his mind,
he could not recollect the names of more than half a dozen, nor
determine which was the most suitable one to be called upon in
such an anomalous case. Arrived at the forest, he dashed head-long
through its tangled thickets. Neither the darkness, nor any
obstacle, checked his career; but scrambling over fallen timber,
tearing through copse and briar, he held his way, bruised and
bleeding, through the forest. At last he reached the village,
staggered into a lodge which happened to be unoccupied, and
sunk down insensible.
The sun was just rising above the eastern horizon when Pierre
awoke. The Indian maid was bending over him with looks of
tender solicitude. She had nursed him through the silent watches
of the night, had pillowed his head upon the soft plumage of the
swan, and covered him with robes of the finest fur. She had
watched his dreamy sleep through the long hours, when all
others were sleeping, and no eye witnessed her assiduous care—
had bathed his throbbing temples with water from the spring, and
passed her slender fingers through his ringlets, with the fondness
of a young and growing affection, until she had soothed the unconscious
object of her tenderness into a calm repose. It was her
first love, and she had given her heart up to its influence with all
the strength, and all the weakness, of female passion. Under
other circumstances it might long have remained concealed in her
own bosom, and have gradually become disclosed by the attentions
of her lover, as the flower opens slowly to the sun. But
she had been suddenly called to the discharge of the duties of a
wife; and woman, when appealed to by the charities of life,
gives full play to her affections, pouring out the treasures of her
love in liberal profusion.
But her tenderness was thrown away upon the slumbering
bridegroom, whose unusual excitement, both of body and mind,
had been succeeded by a profound lethargy. No sooner did he
open his eyes, than the dreadful images of the night became again
pictured upon his imagination. Even that anxious girl, who had
hung over him with sleepless solicitude, throughout the night, and
still watched, dejected, by his side, seemed to wear a malignant
of her eye, as if its mild lustre would have withered him. She
laid her hand upon his brow, and he writhed as if a serpent had
crawled over his visage. The hope of escape suddenly presented
itself to his mind. He rose, and rushed wildly to the shore. The
boats were just leaving the bank; his companions had been
grieved at his marriage, and were alarmed when they found he
had left the village; but Father Francis, a rigid moralist, and a
stern man, determined not to wait for him a moment, and the little
barks were already shoved into the stream, when the haggard
barber appeared, and plunged into the water. As he climbed the
side of the nearest boat, he conjured his comrades, in tones of
agony, to fly. Imagining he had discovered some treachery in
their new allies, they obeyed; the oars were plied with vigour,
and the vessels of the white strangers rapidly disappeared from
the eyes of the astonished Illini, who were as much perplexed by
the abrupt departure, as they had been by the unexpected visit of
their eccentric guests.
Pierre took to his bed, and remained an invalid during the rest
of the voyage. Nor did he set his foot on shore again in the new
world. One glance at the lake of fire was enough for him, and
he did not, like Orpheus, look back at the infernal regions from
which he had escaped. The party descended the Mississippi to
the gulf of Mexico, where, finding a ship destined for France, he
took leave of his companions, from whom he had carefully concealed
the true cause of his alarm. During the passage across
the Atlantic he recovered his health, and, in some measure, his
spirits; but he never regained his thirst for adventure, his ambition
to be a marquis, or his desire to seek for gold. The fountain
of rejuvenescence itself had no charms to allure him back to the
dangerous wildernesses of the far west. On all these subjects he
remained silent as the grave. One would have supposed that he
had escaped the dominions of Satan under a pledge of secresy.
A new misfortune awaited him at home, where, to his infinite
mortification, he found Annette married to a lank, snivelling
pastry cook, dispensing smiles, and pies, and sugar plums, from
behind a counter, and enjoying as much happiness as she could
have tasted in the rank to which he had once destined her. It
he would not have jilted her for any thing less than a princess.
Our hero had stuck to his integrity like a gentleman, until strong
temptation overmastered him, while she had listened to the sugared
compliments of the confectioner, as soon as the back of her
generous lover was turned, and became mistress of a cake shop,
while he was laying plans to make her a peeress of France, and
a princess of Illinois. Short-sighted Annette! to value so slightly
the sincere passion of so munificent a lover! Pierre received
the news of her defection with the composure of a philosopher—
shrugged his shoulders, snapped his fingers, and resumed his
humble occupation. He was not the man to break his heart for a
trifle; and, after bearing with fortitude the loss of a gold mine, a
throne, and lovely princess, the infidelity of a light-hearted maiden
was not a thing to grieve over. He lived a barber, and died a
bachelor. When the bloom of youth began to fade from his
cheek, and the acuteness of his sensibilities became a little blunted—when
he saw his rival, the confectioner, prospering and
growing fat, and the prospect of Annette's becoming a widow
more and more remote, his reserve wore away, and he began to
relate his adventures to his customers. He became quite celebrated—as
all Europeans are, who have travelled in America—
many flocked to his shop to hear his interesting recitals, and the
burning lake was added, by common fame, to the other wonders
of the new world.
The Indian maid followed the white stranger to the shore, and
saw him depart, with grief. She gazed at the receding boats until
they turned an angle of the river, where they vanished for
ever from her view, and then she sat down, and buried her face
in her hands. Her companions, in sympathy for her feelings,
left her alone, and when all eyes were withdrawn, she gave vent
to her feelings, and wept bitterly over her shame. She had been
betrothed in the face of the whole tribe, and had been publicly
deserted by her lover. He had fled from her with every appearance
of terror and loathing. She was repudiated under circumstances
of notoriety, which deeply wounded her pride; while a tenderness
newly awakened, and evinced to the full extent that maiden
delicacy permitted, was cruelly repaid by insult. Nor was the
had been herself an accessory in producing the melancholy result.
Pierre had followed her to the prairie in all the joyous hilarity
of an ardent lover, he had fled from her in fear, and, although
the cause of his terror was unknown, she imputed it to
something in her own person or deportment. There is no anguish
which a woman feels so keenly as the pang of mortified affection—the
conviction that her offered love is spurned—the virgin
shame of having betrayed a preference for one who does not
requite it—the mortification of attempting and failing to kindle
the flame of love. Woman can bear, and thousands have borne,
the pain of loving without being beloved, when the secret remains
hidden in her own bosom; but when the husband, or the accepted
lover, repels, or coldly estimates, the warm and frank avowal of
a virtuous passion, he inflicts a wound which no surgery can heal,
he touches one of the master springs of the heart, with a rudeness
that reaches its vitality and withers it for ever. Woman
can bear pain, or misfortune, with a fortitude that man may in
vain attempt to emulate; but she has a heart whose sensibilities
require a delicate observance;—she submits to power with humility,
to oppression with patience, to the ordinary calamities of
human nature with resignation—nothing breaks her heart but insulted
love.
For whole days did the Indian maid wander through the solitary
forest, ashamed to return to the encampment of her tribe.
When led back to her father's lodge, she avoided the society of
the maiden throng, and fled from the young warriors who would
have courted her smiles. She ceased to be numbered among the
dark-eyed beauties of her tribe; and but a few moons had passed
away since the visit of the white strangers from the land of the
rising sun, when a little hillock, on the summit of a lonely
mound in the prairie, covered the remains of the beautiful and
love stricken Maid of Illinois.
| THE DARK MAID OF ILLINOIS. The wilderness and the war path | |