It was not until 1798, that the constitution, which had been adopted in 1785 and amended in 1789, was definitively and vigorously enforced by a general assembly of the representatives. This constitution is very nearly similar to that of South Carolina.
If Georgia is not yet one of the richest states of the Union, by the abundance and variety of its productions, the cause should be attributed to the influence of slavery alone. No country, perhaps, is more favoured by nature than this, and all the products of the most opposite climates may be easily and abundantly drawn from its soil. The seashores and the adjacent islands produce six hundred pounds of long cotton per acre, of which the medium price is thirty cents per pound; and the same soil will produce four crops without manure. Sugar may be cultivated in the same soil, with an equal success. The white mulberry grows there in such quantities, that Georgia could easily liberate the United States from an annual tribute of several millions which they pay to Europe, if the culture of silk was confided to skilful and interested hands; that is to say, to the hands of freemen. Tea grows without culture in the neighbourhood of Savannah; in some choice places, three crops of indigo are annually produced; and, in the interior, the lands produce abundantly of grain and maize; finally, pulse and fruits of all kinds grow here with an unusual facility. But to fertilize the sources of such abundant riches, there are requisite an industry and activity, rarely possessed by men accustomed to confide the care of their existence to the devotedness of unhappy beings brutalised by slavery.[[7]]
CHAPTER VI.
Departure from Milledgeville—Macon—Indian Agency—Meeting with Indians during a Storm—Hamley—M’Intosh’s Tribe—Uchee Creek—Big Warrior—Captain Lewis—Line Creek—Montgomery—Farewell of M’Intosh—Cahawba—State of Alabama—Mobile.
On the 29th of March, after having taken leave of the citizens of Milledgeville, and expressed our thanks to the committee of arrangement, the authorities of the town and the state, for the kindnesses with which we had been loaded, we resumed our route with some aides-de-camp of Governor Troup, who, with a skilful foresight, had previously arranged every thing, so that the general should experience the inconveniences inevitably to be encountered, as little as possible, in a journey across a country without roads, towns, and almost without inhabitants; for, to enter the state of Alabama, we had to traverse that vast territory which separates it from Georgia, and which is inhabited by the Creek nation; a people which civilization has blighted with some of its vices, without having been able to win them from the habits of a wandering and savage life.
The first day, after travelling for some hours, we arrived at Macon to dinner, where the general was received with enthusiasm by the citizens, and a number of ladies, whose elegance and manners formed a singular contrast to the aspect of the country we had traversed. Macon, which is a small and handsome village, tolerably populous, did not exist eighteen months since; it has arisen from the midst of the forests as if by enchantment. It is a civilized speck lost in the yet immense domain of the original children of the soil. Within a league of this place, we are again in the bosom of virgin forests; the summits of these aged trees, which appear as records of the age of the world, waved above our heads, and, when agitated by the winds, gave rise alternately to that shrill or hollow tone, which Chateaubriand has termed the voice of the desert. The road we pursued was a kind of gulley or fissure, over the bottom of which the general’s carriage was with difficulty drawn, and often at the risk of being shattered in pieces; we followed on horseback, and arrived in the evening at the Indian agency.
This is an isolated habitation in the midst of the forests, built during the last year for the conferences between the Indian chiefs and the commissioners of the United States. It was there that the treaty was formed, by which the tribes inhabiting the left bank of the Mississippi consented to retire to the right bank, on the payment of a considerable sum of money to them. The year 1827 was assigned as the time for their evacuation, and it is not without sorrow that the Indians find that it is drawing near; they will relinquish with regret the neighbourhood of civilized man, although they detest him; and accuse their chiefs of having betrayed them in making this cession, which, it is said, has already cost the life of M’Intosh, one of the chiefs who signed the treaty.
We passed the night at the Indian agency; we had been expected the evening before by about a hundred Indians, among whom the name of Lafayette has existed by tradition for fifty years; but the delays we had met with had exhausted their patience, and they had gone to prepare for our reception elsewhere. On the second day we had to traverse thirty-two miles over a road which became more and more difficult. A storm, such as is never seen in Europe, and which, however, I cannot pause to describe, now assailed us, and forced us to halt for some hours. Happily we found a shelter in a cabin built by an American, not far distant from the road. Some Indian hunters, accustomed, no doubt, to seek refuge here, were drying their garments around a large fire; we took our place among them without being known, or attracting any particular attention. Mine, on the contrary, was strongly excited by this interview, the first of the kind I had met with. I had heard much of the manners of these sons of nature, and, like every inhabitant of a civilized country, I entertained such singular ideas respecting them, that the slightest of their gestures, and every minutiæ of their dress and accoutrements, induced an astonishment which the Indians did not appear to share in seeing us. As far as I could, by signs, I proposed a multitude of questions, to which they replied by a pantomime, which was at once expressive and laconic. I had heard much of the apathy of Indians as a natural faculty, but also singularly augmented in them by education. I wished to make a few experiments on this point, but did not know how they would receive them. I provoked one of them by hostile gestures; but my anger, though tolerably well assumed, did not appear to excite more emotion than the tricks of a child would have done. He continued his conversation without attending to me, and his countenance expressed neither fear nor contempt.
After some other trials of the same kind, always received with the same calm indifference, I recurred to signs of kindness; I offered to the Indians a glass of brandy: this succeeded better. They emptied it. I showed them some pieces of money, which they took without ceremony. I soon quitted them, and it appeared to me that we separated very good friends. The termination of the storm now permitted us to resume our route, and we arrived at a resting place rather better than that of the preceding evening. This was a group of cabins constructed of logs, and covered with bark. The owner was an American, whom a reverse of fortune had forced to take refuge here, where he carried on a lucrative trade with the Indians by exchanging goods from the coast for furs. His small farm was composed of some acres in tolerable cultivation, a well furnished poultry yard, and the dwelling I have spoken of above. On arrival, we found two Indians seated before his door, one young, the other middle aged, but both remarkable for their beauty and form. They were dressed in a short frock, of a light material, fastened around the body by a wampum belt. Their heads were wrapped with shawls of brilliant colours, their leggings of buckskin reached above the knee. They arose on the approach of the general, and saluted him, the youngest, to our great astonishment, complimenting him in very good English. We soon learnt that he had passed his youth in college in the United States, but that he had withdrawn several years before from his benefactor, to return among his brethren, whose mode of life he preferred to that of civilized man. The general questioned him much as to the state of the Indian nations. He replied with much clearness and precision. When the last treaty of the United States was spoken of, his countenance became sombre, he stamped on the ground, and, placing his hand upon his knife, murmured the name of M’Intosh in such a manner, as to make us tremble for the safety of that chief; and when we appeared to be astonished, “M’Intosh,” exclaimed he, “has sold the land of his fathers, and sacrificed us all to his avarice. The treaty he has concluded in our name, it is impossible to break, but the wretch!” He stopped on making this violent exclamation, and shortly afterwards quietly entered on some other topic of conversation.
Hamley, (the name of the young Indian,) when he found we were somewhat rested, proposed to us to visit his house, which he pointed out to us on the slope of a hill at a little distance. Two of the governor’s aides-de-camp and myself accepted the invitation, and followed the two Indians. On our route they showed to us a fenced enclosure, filled with deer and fawns, which they called their reserve, and which served them for food when they had been unsuccessful in the chase. Hamley’s cabin adjoined this enclosure. We entered it. There was a large fire on the hearth, and evening having commenced, the whole building was illuminated by the flame of the burning pine wood. The furniture consisted of two beds, a table, some rude chairs, whilst wicker baskets, fire arms, and bows and arrows, with a violin, were hanging on the walls. The whole arrangement indicated the presence of man in a half civilized state. Hamley’s companion took down the violin, and handling the instrument with vigour rather than lightness and grace, played some fragments of Indian airs, which induced a desire of dancing in Hamley, but whether from courtesy, or from a wish of inducing a comparison which would result to his own credit, he begged us to begin. The grave Americans who accompanied me, excused themselves. Being younger, or less reserved, I did not wait for a second invitation, and executed some steps of our national dances; this was all that Hamley desired. I saw him throw off every thing that might embarrass him, seize a large shawl, and triumphantly spring into the centre of the apartment, as if he would say, it is now my turn. His first movements, slow and impassioned, gradually became animated, his movements, incomparably bolder and more expressive than those of our opera dancers, soon became so rapid that the eye could scarcely follow them. In the intervals, or when he halted for breath, his steps softly beating time to the music, his head gently inclined, and gracefully following the movements of his pliant body, his eyes sparkling with an emotion which reddened the coppery hue of his complexion, the cries that he uttered when he awoke from this reverie in order to commence his rapid evolutions, had the most striking effect upon us, which it is impossible to describe.