After his adventures along the Maumee, related in the present journal, he remained at Detroit for some time, and returned to England with his regiment in 1767. At this time occurred his meeting with the soldier whom he had previously encountered as an Indian prisoner, under circumstances of great danger and distress, near the treacherously-destroyed Fort Miami.
What we know of Morris’s later life is comprised in his “Preamble” to the volume containing this journal. Having retired from the army in 1775, he lost his property by means of speculative ventures. For the sake of his children, he appealed to the king for a pension, on the ground of past services, especially those detailed in the Maumee journal. A copy of the journal was annexed to the petition, but the latter failed of effect. The narrative here reprinted was laid aside until encouragement from a “respectable gentleman of my acquaintance, a man of letters in whose judgment I place implicit faith” determined him to print some of his literary efforts and to include the journal to “complete the volume.” He expresses the hope that the recital of his adventures “might possibly, some time or other, procure a friend or protector to one of my children.” “This is a plain and simple tale,” he concludes, “accounting for my presumption in offering to the public an old story relating to one whose wish used to be, to lie concealed in domestic life; a wish, in which he has been amply gratified by the very obliging silence of some of his nearest connexions.”
It is evident, therefore, that the journal, unlike most of the others we publish in this volume, was dressed up for publication, and purposely given a dramatic turn. The official report of the expedition, as sent to Bradstreet, together with letters from Morris to his superior, are in the British Public Record Office, still unpublished.[2]
The small volume of Miscellanies, from which we extract the journal, contains in addition thereto an essay on dramatic art, translations of two of Juvenal’s satires, and five odes which are accompanied by transliterations into French prose. Morris had already published two collections of songs—in 1786, and in 1790. In 1792, appeared his Life of Reverend David Williams; and four years later a versified tale, Quashy, or the Coal Black Maid, which has been described as “a negroe love story which bears reference to the slave-trade, and is here but indifferently told.”[3] With the publication in 1802, of Songs, Political and Convivial, Captain Thomas Morris passes from public view.
The character of the man throws the incidents of this hazardous journey into still stronger relief. Here is no frontiersman like Weiser and Croghan, familiar with the hardships of the wilderness; no missionary, like Post, seeking rewards not measured by earthly laurels and success; not even a bluff, practical soldier like Bradstreet, who dispatched him on his venturesome mission. Morris was a man of the great world, a fashionable dilettante, dabbling in literature and the dramatic art. Parkman comments on his round English face—as shown in the portrait which appears on the frontispiece to his Miscellanies, and which we republish as frontispiece to the present volume—and the lack of resolution and courage therein expressed. Yet upon his memorable embassy he displayed no want of either. Probably it was his familiarity with the French language that led to his being chosen for the task; he entered upon it with commendable zeal, and attempted to carry out his orders at every risk.
Doubtless the adventure appealed to that latent fondness for experiences, that men of the literary temperament frequently possess. In his essay on dramatic art he says, “If the world ever afforded me a pleasure equal to that of reading Shakespear at the foot of a water-fall in an American desert, it was Du Menil’s performance of tragedy.” Morris evinced a steadiness of courage, endurance, and hardihood, fortitude under disaster, and an unflinching determination to do his duty, as well as a power of attaching men to his service, that would do credit to any man. For a victim of Indian cruelties, his magnanimity was a still rarer quality. He bore no grudge against his savage tormentors, speaking of them as “an innocent, much-abused, and once happy people.” His appreciation of the qualities of the French Canadians, and his remarks upon their conduct of Indian affairs show keen observation, astuteness, and a judgment free from prejudice. As an author, wit, man of affairs, courageous soldier, magnanimous foe, we may apply to him in earnest the epithet levied in jest by the reviewer of his first volume of songs—the “inimitable Captain Morris.”
R. G. T.