University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

Milton.

Brandt and Aranooka sat on a bench in the
chief apartment of the log-cottage already mentioned,
waiting with dignified gravity, and in
meditative silence, the full assemblage of the
tories, whose number was every moment increasing
by fresh accessions from various parts
of the district. Five or six other savages sat
near them. The two chiefs were drest in a
very showy and rather imposing costume. Their
vestments of scarlet flannel, wide in the sleeves,
and tied closely round the body, were ornamented
in front, by an intertexture of porcupine's
quills and the down of various coloured
birds, wrought into curious devices. These,
together with their leggings of deer skin—their
mockasins of buffalo hide—and, above all, their
head dresses adorned with feathers of the flamingo
and the eagle, presented to the eye a wild
but rich and picturesque appearance. The
dignified composure of these rude sons of the

forest was well contrasted with the noisy restlessness
of the tories who filled the apartment,
and were often disputatious and clamorous, and
sometimes even indecorous in their conversation
and conduct. Ardent spirits, furnished
for payment by the owner of the cabin, were
used freely by the whites. But Aranooko and
his companions refused to taste any until the
business for which they had met, should be
transacted.

Such was the state of matters within doors,
before the hour appointed for the transaction
of business arrived. Without, a promiscuous
assemblage of several hundred men, indulged
themselves in military exercises, or in discussing
the merits and prospects of their enterprise,
or in feats of strength and other amusements,
as whim or inclination suggested. At length,
twelve o'clock being announced, Butler mounted
on an elevated platform outside the door,
and requested the attention of the assembly,
which he addressed as follows:—

“Friends and fellow subjects, I now beg
leave to state the object of calling you together
on the present occasion. But first let me observe,
that I hope there is no one here who is
not truly and zealously faithful to the cause in
which we are embarked, namely, resistance to
the unnatural and bloody rebellion now raging

throughout this unhappy land. Remember,
my friends, that we have been born subjects to
the kind and beneficent monarch who, at present,
sits on the throne of Britain. Britain,
that noble and illustrious isle, whose arts, and
arms, and literature have shed a glorious radiance
over the whole world, in which we, as
her children, largely partake; and of which, if
we were actuated by a proper sense of duty
and gratitude for the benefits she has, by her
fostering and protecting care, conferred upon
us, we should be proud. Unhappily, a large
portion of our countrymen have shown that
they are not actuated by such generous motives.
Stimulated by pride or selfishness, or misled
by the sophistry and cant of turbulent orators,
the great mass of our people have abandoned
the path of duty, broken the ties of gratitude,
set at nought their allegiance, and rushed into
a wild, sanguinary, and desperate rebellion,
which has already brought destruction on thousands,
and must terminante in the absolute ruin
of their audacious and ambitious schemes.

“My friends, I am, in truth, amazed and grieved
when I think on the state into which the affairs
of these colonies, so lately blooming in peace and
prosperity, are now plunged. I could scarcely
imagine, did not woful experience convince me
of the fact, that such a degree of turpitude as is

sufficient to produce the present direful crisis,
could exist in human bosoms. What! the sons
of Britains separate themselves from Britain!—
disconnect themselves from British prosperity,
British virtue, British greatness, and British
glory!—And for what object?—the paltry consideration
of saving a few thousand pounds a
year, which we were well able, and well entitled
to pay; and which the slightest impulse of
gratitude or honour ought to have rendered us
willing to pay. And is it possible that the present
horrid state of things has arisen from this
sordid motive? Has it been a mere petty financial
speculation that has driven three millions
of people into the crime of rebellion against a
parental government; and induced them to
plunge into a sea of blood for the hope of saving
annually a few pence per head, which they
ought to have been proud to pay a generous
parent, who had so lately expended millions for
their sakes? But no; my fellow subjects, repugnance
to parliamentary taxation, let the disorganizers
pretend what they please, was not the
cause which induced the majority of the leading
rebels to raise their accursed standard. It was
ambition. Our lawyers got an itch for making
laws for a nation, hence they must have a congress.
Our military captains wanted war that
they might become generals: our sheriffs and
magistrates, and forward politicians of every
class, wanted independence, that they might
become governors of states, or members of
cabinets, or public functionaries of some kind,
whereby they might make a figure in the land
at the public expense.

“But enough of these dishonest and dishonourable
men, who have embroiled us with the
mighty power to whom we owe allegiance, and
with whose vast superiority of strength it is
madness to contend. The distress into which
their schemes have plunged the country renders
them abhorred by every virtuous and well
principled mind. My friends, I hope there is
not one among you who does not loath and detest
them as you would a pestilence; and will
not be ready to hasten with just and holy vengeance
upon them, as you would upon incendiaries
whom you caught in the act of committing
destruction upon all that you held dear
and estimable, or accounted sacred and venerable
upon earth.

“I propose now to lead you against a nest of
rebels of this stamp. They have not, indeed,
taken the field against their sovereign, but they
have abjured their allegiance, and thrown off the
lawful authority under which their fathers and
themselves were born. Strange, indeed, and

depraved must be that state of society in which
allegiance and loyalty are thrown aside with as
little ceremony and reflection, as the casting off
of a loose gown or a pair of slippers. It is against
the whigs in the adjoining settlements, whose
militia hold their fortifications for the rebel
congress, that I propose to lead you, and I call
upon you, by your allegiance, to follow me.
That you may see I am authorized to make
such a call, I request you to look upon this
commission. It has the signature of Howe, as
noble and brave a general as ever wore a sword.
I have within these two weeks been in his presence:
I have been honoured and delighted
with his conversation; and have received from
him authority to arm all his majesty's loyal
subjects in this district, in order to reduce the
people in the neighbourhood to obedience, and
sieze upon their fortified places in the name of
his majesty. Hearken to the reward offered
us in the event of succeeding in this service. It
is a rich one—no less than the whole valley
of Wyoming, including all its improvements,
dwellings, cattle, crops and property of every
description, now forfeited by the rebellion of
their present owners, to be divided amongst us
in proportion to the merit we shall individually
exhibit in the contest we may have to sustain.

“If we are truly zealous in the cause, and

desirous to earn this rich reward, we cannot
but succeed. The force against which we shall
have to contend is not much more numerous
than our own, nor is it better equipped for war,
for of warlike stores the British general has
taken care to supply us abundantly. Besides,
what have we, inured as we are to all the toils
and risks of war, and experienced in its arts
and stratagems, to fear from a simple agricultural
race, the majority of whom have never witnessed
a battle nor destroyed a foe. It is my belief,
my friends, that on the first appearance of
danger, these men of timidity and peace, will
submit, and acknowledge once more the authority
of their legitimate sovereign, while we
shall earn the reward of our loyalty by becoming
the owners of the fair estates they have
forfeited by their rebellion.

“But should they unexpectedly resist, besides
our own strength, we shall, in reducing them,
have the powerful aid of the brave Mohawks,
the chiefs of whom I have invited to this conference,
in order to lay before them the proposals
of General Howe for an alliance between
them and the government of Britain. The liberality
of the terms offered to these valiant
people, cannot but secure their approbation and
win their aid; and with such potent allies, what

have we to fear from the feeble peasantry of
Wyoming.

“Thus, my friends, the crisis which to others
is so gloomy and full of peril, opens to us a
brilliant prospect of glorious victory and rich
reward. Be courageous and resolute, and soon
the pleasant dwellings in which we have been
only sojourners, and the fertile fields which
surround them, shall be our own—and we shall
dispose of the present inhabitants according to
their deserts. What say ye, my gallant friends,
shall we raise the standard of loyalty in these
regions, and strike for possessions so valuable?”

A shout of applause was given by the auditors
of this harangue, in answer to the question
with which it concluded. This shout continued
to resound for some minutes, and seemed to
express the unanimous assent of the assembly
to the proposal of the speaker. It was not
unanimous, however. There was one man, and
one too in whose staunch loyalty all present
placed the firmest confidence, who opposed
waging war against the people of Wyoming,
for the purpose of despoiling them of their property.
This man's name was Clifton, who had
already suffered much for his royalism. He
had the courage to address the assembly, and
was listened to only on account of his known
zeal for the royal cause, and the sacrifices he

had made for it. The warm expressions of
personal regard for him which General Howe
had more than once used in the hearing of Butler,
induced the latter to attend to his remarks
without interruption, although not without impatience
and a strong feeling of resentment.

“Friends and fellow subjects,” said Clifton,
“your zeal in behalf of the government under
which we and our fathers have so long flourished,
is worthy of all praise; and in these unhappy
times of treason and rebellion, is refreshing
and consolatory to every well-disposed
mind. I would not damp your ardour in such
a cause; but I would direct it to the ad option
of justifiable measures. I do not wish you to sit
down in sluggish apathy, while rebellion, like
a raging monster, fills the land with blood and
desolation. No, my friends, I rejoice to behold
your enthusiasm—I would have you to be
up and active in the cause of the lawful and
just government under which our colonies have
long enjoyed so many blessings; whose protection
and care alone preserved them in the feebleness
of their infancy, and reared them to
their present state of maturity.

“But I would have you to select proper objects
for the display of your zeal. I would have
you to direct your hostility to points where you
could perform real service to your sovereign, and

vindicate, upon enemies actually in the field,
the majesty of his laws. I would have you to
wield your energies against rebels—and there
are abundance of such in the land—to whom
you are under no obligations for hospitality,
kindness and protection; and to whom you have
made no pledges of amity and peace. I cannot
suppose that you have so soon forgotten the forlorn
and fugitive state under which we implored
and received shelter and sustenance from the
people of these settlements. We were driven
from our homes, and like wild beasts, hunted
into the forests by the vindictive power of our
enemies. We fled hither, and threw ourselves
on the mercy of the inhabitants of these valleys.
Although they had embraced the cause of our
enemies, and disapproved of the political and
warlike course we had pursued, yet they saw
us destitute and suffering, and their humanity
relieved us. They received our assurances of
living in tranquillity among them, and they afforded
us habitations. They fed, they clothed,
they lodged us. We are at this moment, pensioners
on their bounty, protegees of their
care; and, trusting in our promises of peaceable
behaviour, they have taken no precautions
against our hostility, as if they could not dream
that men were to be found so wicked as to aim
insidious and dark destruction against protecting
and confiding friends.

“The king's general requires us to arm; I
say too let us arm, since we have obtained the
means. But let us arm against our enemies;
not against our friends. The king has abundance
of foes who are no friends of ours. Let us
march to the sea-board; we shall there find rebels
to whom we owe no gratitude, whom it
will be our duty to subdue, and for subduing
whom, the royal authorities will be as grateful,
and, no doubt, reward us as liberally, as for
subduing a people less deeply plunged in the
guilt of rebellion, and to respect whose welfare
we are bound by every tie of gratitude and
honour.”

When Clifton ceased speaking, a mixed sensation
seemed to pervade the assembly—a murmur
expressive of divided sentiments, was distinctly
heard in various directions; for many were in
reality, forcibly struck with the justice of his
arguments and the propriety of his views. This
feeling of rectitude, however, did not prevail
long. Butler hastened to stem the current that
was setting against his designs; and by his address
he completely succeeded in giving it a
contrary direction.

“What!” said he, “have I, in reality, heard
sentiments of lukewarmness in the cause of

Britain, from one who has hitherto been so devoted
to her interests; who has fought and bled
and lost his all for his fidelity to the government
that claims his allegiance! But it is the
weakness of humanity—it is the mere frothing
of the milk of human kindness, which now
prevails over his natural vigour of soul, and enfeebles
his energies with scruples of sickly sentiment
and morbid sensibility. We are distinctly
called upon by the British general, to
seize and occupy the fortresses of the Wyoming
valley, in behalf of the king, and to compel the
inhabitants to return to their allegiance.”

Here Butler read a commission which he had
received from general Howe, appointing him
to the command of such of the frontier royalists
as might join his standard. He also read to the
assembly a paper of instructions, requiring him
to use every effort in his power to reduce the
malecontents of Wyoming, and to preserve the
district in subjection to the regal authority.
This paper likewise contained the promise of bestowing
on him and his coadjutors in this service,
all the lands of the district whose owners
should be convicted of any act of disloyalty.

“Now,” said he, after he had finished reading
these documents, “all who are willing to
obey the orders of general Howe, and to serve
their king, and earn the reward offered for

such service, will come forward, enrol their
names on the list of the king's friends, and
swear fidelity to his cause. Those who refuse
had better now retire from this assembly, for in
half an hour they shall be treated as enemies.”

None retired. All were either convinced or
intimidated by Butler's statement. Even Clifton
tacitly yielded to the opinions of the majority,
and made no further opposition. One
Ford, an active and violent tory, was appointed
to administer the oath of fidelity to the assembly;
while Butler and two or three other leaders
withdrew to hold a conference with the
Indian chiefs. The calumet was lighted, and
each having smoked from it, Aranooko arose,
and addressed Butler.

“Brother, we received your message, and
are here. Tell us the will of our father, the
great king of the east. We would be his friends,
and if his wishes be reasonable, we will obey
him. The Mohawks have suffered much from
the people of your race, the disobedient children
of your father beyond the great lake. Our
revenge has lately been asleep; but if the voice
of your father comes in friendship to us, we
will hear, we will awake—we will kindle up
the fierceness of our wrath, like the angry
panther when hunted in his native woods. We
will be a rod in the hands of your father to chastise

his unruly children—we will be a flaming
brand to avenge our own wrongs. You have
heard me, brother; now speak.”

“Brave Mohawks!” replied Butler, “our
father knows ye are valiant, and he asks your
aid. He knows ye have been wronged, and he
bids you avenge yourselves. The chief captain
of his host bade me say to you, that he will
supply you with clothing, and with instruments
of war sufficient for your whole tribe. Ask
what else you want, and it shall be given, for
you are a brave people, and we wish for your
friendship.”

“Brother,” said Aranooko—“clothing and
arms are all we want. Our forests supply us
with food, and with fuel, and with timber for
wigwams. We want no more.—But when we
do, we shall ask it. We are your friends. The
disobedient of your race are our enemies. We
will join you in war against them.—Receive
our Wampum!”

So saying, he handed to Butler, a long string
of beads made of red berries, in testimony
of the league. In return for which Butler made
him a present of several trinkets he had provided
for the purpose. Brandt now arose. His
eyes glanced fire for some moments, then cooled
into a settled gleam of ferocious satisfaction:
while pride perched on his heavy brows, determination

expanded his large lips, and imparted
a clenching firmness to the vigorous
muscles of his whole frame, as he addressed
himself to Butler.

“Brother,” said he, “You and I are now
leagued in one cause. You have rebellion to
punish. I have wrongs to avenge. Our victims
are the same. I devote them to death.
Let no man step between me and my purpose!
Brother, I am determined on slaughter. They
shall die! Are you of my mind?”

Butler himself was startled at the fiendish ferocity
with which the savage asked this question.
He paused for a moment, as if to recover
from his surprise, and to reflect on an answer.
He then said:

“Brother, our minds agree. Blood must
flow. Death must mark our course, for rebellion
must be rooted out, and your vengeance
be appeased. Brother, our hearts are one. I
feel that we are colleagues in a work destined
to eternize our names as perpetrators of unparralleled
deeds.—Brother, shall we exchange
gifts in token of the compact of blood?”

Butler received a sharp hatchet in return for
a poignard, on handing which to Brandt, he observed,
“The point of that steel is for the
hearts of thy enemies, until thy revenge is
glutted!—The edge of this hatchet is for the

necks of rebels until they be cut off from the
land!”

“Why wert thou not born a Mohawk?” exclaimed
Brandt. “Thy sternness is worthy of
our nation, and in fierceness of spirit we are
brothers!”

At this moment the party were startled with
a discharge of musketry, and a cry of terror and
distress which rent the air, and announced that
they were attacked by the whigs. Butler,
Brandt, Aranooko, and all, indeed, who were
inside of the log-house, rushed out to lend
assistance to their friends, but they found them
in full flight, and were themselves borne off the
scene by a torrent of fugitives which they could
not resist. In a moment colonel Dennison and
his militia occupied the ground on which the
tories had been assembled, whence they detached
a strong party in pursuit of the fugitives.
The closeness of the woods and intricacies of
the country, favoured the flight of the latter,
and only about forty fell into the hands of their
pursuers. Among these was Clifton, who was
immediately released, on account of the effort
he had made in opposition to the proposal to
attack Wyoming, which was communicated to
the whigs by one of their party who had acted
as a spy among the conspirators.