University of Virginia Library

1. THE
LAST OF THE MOHICANS.

1. CHAPTER I.

It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of
North America, that the toils and dangers of the wilderness
were to be encountered, before the adverse
hosts could meet in murderous contact. A wide,
and, apparently, an impervious boundary of forests,
severed the possessions of the hostile provinces of
France and England. The hardy colonist, and the
trained European who fought at his side, frequently
expended months in struggling against the rapids of
the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the
mountains, in quest of an opportunity to exhibit
their courage in a more martial conflict. But, emulating
the patience and self-denial of the practised
native warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty;
and it would seem, that in time, there was

no recess of the woods so dark, nor any secret place
so lovely, that it might claim exemption from the inroads
of those who had pledged their blood to satiate
their vengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish
policy of the distant monarchs of Europe.

Perhaps no district, throughout the wide extent of
the intermediate frontiers, can furnish a livelier picture
of the cruelty and fierceness of the savage warfare
of those periods, than the country which lies
between the head waters of the Hudson and the adjacent
lakes.

The facilities which nature had there offered to
the march of the combatants, were too obvious to be
neglected. The lengthened sheet of the Champlain
stretched from the frontiers of Canada, deep within
the borders of the neighbouring province of New-York,
forming a natural passage across half the distance
that the French were compelled to master in
order to strike their enemies. Near its southern
termination, it received the contributions of another
lake, whose waters were so limpid, as to have been
exclusively selected by the Jesuit missionaries, to
perform the typical purification of baptism, and to
obtain for it the appropriate title of “Saint Sacréement.”
The less zealous English thought they conferred
a sufficient honour on its unsullied fountains,
when they bestowed the name of their reigning
prince, the second of the House of Hanover.
The two united to rob the untutored possessors of its
wooded scenery of their native right to perpetuate
its original appellation of “Horican.”

Winding its way among countless islands, and imbedded
in mountains, the “holy lake” extended a dozen
leagues still farther to the south. With the
high plain that there interposed itself to the further
passage of the water, commenced a portage
of as many miles, which conducted the adventurer
to the banks of the Hudson, at a point, where, with
the usual obstructions of the rapids, or rifts, as they
were then termed in the language of the country,
the river became navigable to the tide.

While, in the pursuit of their daring plans of annoyance,
the restless enterprise of the French even
attempted the distant and difficult gorges of the Alleghany,
it may easily be imagined that their proverbial
acuteness would not overlook the natural advantages
of the district we have just described. It became,
emphatically, the bloody arena, in which most
of the battles for the mastery of the colonies were
contested. Forts were erected at the different points
that commanded the facilities of the route, and
were taken and retaken, rased and rebuilt, as victory
smiled, or expediency dictated. While the husbandmen
shrunk back from the dangerous passes,
within the safer boundaries of the more ancient settlements,
armies larger than those that had often
disposed of the sceptres of the mother countries,
were seen to bury themselves in these forests,
whence they never re-issued but in skeleton bands,
that were haggard with care, or dejected by defeat.
Though the arts of peace were unknown to this fatal
region, its forests were alive with men; its glades
and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and

the echoes of its mountains threw back the laugh,
or repeated the wanton cry, of many a gallant and
reckless youth, as he hurried by them, in the noontide
of his spirits, to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness.

It was in this scene of strife and bloodshed, that
the incidents we shall attempt to relate occurred,
during the third year of the war which England and
France last waged, for the possession of a country,
that, happily, neither was destined to retain.

The imbecility of her military leaders abroad, and
the fatal want of energy in her councils at home,
had lowered the character of Great Britain from the
proud elevation on which it had been placed by the
talents and enterprise of her former warriors and
statesmen. No longer dreaded by her enemies, her
servants were fast losing the salutary confidence of
self respect. In this mortifying abasement, the colonists,
though innocent of her imbecility, and too
humble to be the agents of her blunders, were but the
natural participators. They had recently seen a chosen
army, from that country, which, reverencing as a
mother, they had fondly believed invincible—an
army led by a chief who had been selected from
a crowd of trained warriors for his rare military endowments,
disgracefully routed by a handful of
French and Indians, and only saved from annihilation
by the coolness and spirit of a Virginian boy, whose
riper fame has since diffused itself, with the steady
influence of moral truth, to the uttermost confines of
Christendom. A wide frontier had been laid naked
by this unexpected disaster, and more substantial

evils were preceded by a thousand fanciful and
imaginary dangers. The alarmed colonists believed
that the yells of the savages mingled with every fitful
gust of wind that issued from the interminable forests
of the west. The terrific character of their merciless
enemies, increased, immeasurably, the natural
horrors of warfare. Numberless recent massacres
were still vivid in their recollections; nor was there
any ear, in the provinces, so deaf as not to have drunk
in with avidity the narrative of some fearful tale of
midnight murder, in which the natives of the forests
were the principal and barbarous actors. As the
credulous and excited traveller related the hazardous
chances of the wilderness, the blood of the timid curdled
with terror, and mothers cast anxious glances
even at those children which slumbered within the
security of the largest towns. In short, the magnifying
influence of fear began to set at nought the calculations
of reason, and render those who should have
remembered their manhood, the slaves of the basest
of passions. Even the most confident and the
stoutest hearts, began to think the issue of the contest
was becoming doubtful; and that abject class was
hourly increasing in numbers, who thought they
foresaw all the possessions of the English crown in
America, subdued by their Christian foes, or laid
waste by the inroads of their relentless allies.

When, therefore, intelligence was received at the
fort which covered the southern termination of the
portage between the Hudson and the lakes, that
Montcalm had been seen moving up the Champlain
with an army “numerous as the leaves on the

trees,” its truth was admitted with more of the
craven reluctance of those who court the arts of
peace, than with the stern joy that a warrior should
feel, in finding an enemy within reach of his blow.
The news had been brought towards the decline of
a day in midsummer, by an Indian runner, that also
bore an urgent request from Munro, who commanded
the work on the shore of the “holy lake,” for
a speedy and powerful reinforcement. It has already
been mentioned, that the distance between these
two posts was less than five leagues. The rude
path which originally formed their line of communication,
had been widened for the passage of
wagons, so that the distance which had been travelled
by the son of the forest in two hours, might
easily be effected by a detachment of troops, with
their necessary baggage, between the rising and setting
of a summer sun. The loyal servants of the
British crown had given to one of these forest fastnesses
the name of William Henry, and to the other
that of Fort Edward; calling each after a favourite
prince of the reigning family. The veteran Scotchman,
just named, held the first, with a regiment of
regulars and a few provincials, a force, really, by
far too small to make head against the formidable
power that Montcalm was leading to the foot of
his earthen mounds. At the latter, however, lay
Gen. Webb, who commanded the armies of the king
in the northern provinces, with a body of more than
five thousand men. By uniting the several detachments
of his command, this officer might have
arrayed nearly double that number of combatants
against the enterprising Frenchman, who had ventured
so far from his reinforcements, with an army
but little superior in numbers.

But, under the influence of their degraded fortunes,
both officers and men appeared better disposed
to await the approach of their formidable antagonist
within their works, than to resist the progress
of their march, by emulating the successful example
of the French at Fort du Quesne, and striking
a blow on their advance.

After the first surprise of the intelligence had a
little abated, a rumour was spread through the intrenched
camp, which stretched along the margin of
the Hudson, forming a chain of outworks to the body
of the fort itself, that a chosen detachment of
fifteen hundred men was to depart with the dawn
for William Henry, the post at the northern extremity
of the portage. That which at first was only
rumour, soon became certainty, as orders passed
from the quarters of the commander-in-chief to the
several corps he had selected for this service, to prepare
for their speedy departure. All doubt as to the
intention of Webb now vanished, and an hour or two
of hurried footsteps and anxious faces succeeded.
The novice in the military art flew from point to
point, retarding his own preparations by the excess
of his violent and somewhat distempered zeal; while
the more practised veteran made his arrangements
with a deliberation that scorned every appearance
of haste; though his sober lineaments, and anxious
eye, sufficiently betrayed that he had no very strong
professional relish for the, as yet, untried and dreaded

warfare of the wilderness. At length the sun set
in a flood of glory behind the distant western hills,
and as darkness drew its veil around the secluded
spot, the sounds of preparation diminished; the last
light finally disappeared from the log cabin of
some officer; the trees cast their deeper shadows
over the mounds, and the rippling stream, and
a silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that
which reigned in the vast forest by which it was
environed.

According to the orders of the preceding night,
the heavy sleep of the army was broken by the
rolling of the warning drums, whose rattling echoes
were heard issuing, on the damp morning air, out of
every vista of the woods, just as day began to draw
the shaggy outlines of some tall pines of the vicinity,
on the opening brightness of a soft and cloudless
eastern sky. In an instant, the whole camp was in
motion; the meanest soldier arousing from his lair
to witness the departure of his comrades, and to
share in the excitement and incidents of the hour.
The simple array of the chosen band was soon completed.
While the regular and trained hirelings of
the king marched with ready haughtiness to the right
of the line, the less pretending colonists took their
humbler position on its left, with a docility that long
practice had rendered easy. The scouts departed;
strong guards preceded and followed the lumbering
vehicles that bore the baggage; and before
the gray light of the morning was mellowed by
the rays of the rising sun, the main body of the combatants
wheeled into column, and left the encampment

with a show of high military bearing, that served
to drown the slumbering apprehensions of many a
novice, who was now about to make his first essay
in arms. While in view of their admiring comrades,
the same proud front and ordered array was observed,
until the notes of their fifes growing fainter
in distance, the forest at length appeared to swallow
up the living mass which had slowly entered its
bosom.

The deepest sounds of the retiring and invisible
column had ceased to be borne on the breeze to the listeners,
and the latest straggler had already disappeared
in pursuit, but there still remained the signs of another
departure, before a log cabin of unusual size and
accommodations, in front of which those sentinels
paced their rounds, who were known to guard the person
of the English general. At this spot were gathered
some half dozen horses, caparisoned in a manner
which showed that two, at least, were destined to bear
the persons of females, of a rank that it was not usual
to meet so far in the wilds of the country. A third
wore the trappings and arms of an officer of the
staff; while the rest, from the plainness of the
housings, and the travelling mails with which they
were encumbered, were evidently fitted for the reception
of as many menials, who were, seemingly,
already awaiting the convenience or pleasure of
those they served. At a respectful distance from
this unusual show, were gathered divers groupes of
curious idlers; some admiring the blood and bone of
the high-mettled military charger, and others gazing
at the preparations with the dull wonder of vulgar

curiosity. There was one man, however, who, by
his countenance and actions, formed a marked exception
to those who composed the latter class of spectators,
being neither idle, nor seemingly very ignorant.

The person of this remarkable individual was to
the last degree ungainly, without being in any particular
manner deformed. He had all the bones and
joints of other men, without any of their proportions.
Erect, his stature surpassed that of his fellows;
though, seated, he appeared reduced within the ordinary
limits of our race. The same contrariety in
his members, seemed to exist throughout the whole
man. His head was large; his shoulders narrow;
his arms long and dangling; while his hands were
small, if not delicate. His legs and thighs were thin
nearly to emaciation, but of extraordinary length;
and his knees would have been considered tremendous,
had they not been outdone by the broader
foundations on which this false superstructure of blended
human orders, was so profanely reared. The
ill-assorted and injudicious attire of the individual only
served to render his awkwardness more conspicuous.
A sky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts
and low cape, exposed a long thin neck, and longer
and thinner legs, to the worst animadversions of the
evil disposed. His nether garment was of yellow
nankeen, closely fitted to the shape, and tied at his
bunches of knees by large knots of white ribbon, a
good deal sullied by use. Clouded cotton stockings,
and shoes, on one of the latter of which was a plated
spur, completed the costume of the lower extremity of
this figure, no curve or angle of which was concealed,

but, on the other hand, studiously exhibited, through
the vanity or simplicity of its owner. From beneath
the flap of an enormous pocket of a soiled vest of
embossed silk, heavily ornamented with tarnished
silver lace, projected an instrument, which, from
being seen in such martial company, might have
been easily mistaken for some mischievous and
unknown implement of war. Small as it was, this
uncommon engine had excited the curiosity of most
of the Europeans in the camp, though several of the
provincials were seen to handle it, not only without
fear, but with the utmost familiarity. A large civil
cocked hat, like those worn by clergymen within the
last thirty years, surmounted the whole, furnishing
dignity to a good natured, and somewhat vacant
countenance, that apparently needed such artificial
aid to support the gravity of some high and extraordinary
trust.

While the common herd stood aloof from the
gathering group of travellers, in deference to the
sacred precincts of the quarters of Webb, the figure
we have described stalked into the centre of the
domestics, who were in waiting with the horses,
freely expressing his censures or commendations on
the merits of the latter, as by chance they displeased
or satisfied his judgment.

“This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not of
home raising, but is from foreign lands, or perhaps from
the little island itself, over the blue water?” he said,
in a voice as remarkable for the softness and sweetness
of its tones, as was his person for its rare proportions:
“I may speak of these things and be no

braggart, for I have been down at both havens; that
which is situate at the mouth of Thames, and is
named after the capital of Old England, and that
which is called `Haven,' with the addition of the
word `New;' and have seen the snows and brigantines
collecting their droves, like the gathering to the
ark, being outward bound to the island of Jamaica,
for the purpose of barter and traffic in four-footed
animals; but never before have I beheld a beast
which verified the true scripture war-horse like this;
`He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his
strength; he goeth out to meet the armed men.'
`He saith among the trumpets, ha ha! and he
smelleth the battle afar off; the thunder of the captains
and the shouting.'—It would seem that the
stock of the horse of Israel has descended to our own
time; would it not, friend?”

Receiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal,
which, in truth, as it was delivered with all the vigour
of full and sonorous tones, merited some sort of notice,
he who had thus sung forth the language of the
holy book, turned to the silent figure to whom
he had unwittingly addressed himself, and found a
new and more powerful subject of admiration in the
object that encountered his gaze. His eyes fell on
the still, upright, and rigid form of the “Indian runner,”
who had borne to the camp the unwelcome
tidings of the preceding evening. Although in a
state of perfect repose, and apparently disregarding,
with characteristic stoicism, the excitement and
bustle around him, there was a sullen fierceness
mingled with the quiet of the savage, that was likely

to arrest the attention of much more experienced
eyes, than those which now scanned him, in unconcealed
amazement. The native bore both the tomahawk
and knife of his tribe; and yet his appearance
was not altogether that of a warrior. On the contrary,
there was an air of neglect about his person,
like that which might have proceeded from great
and recent exertion, which he had not yet found leisure
to repair. The colours of the war-paint had
blended in dark confusion about his fierce countenance,
and rendered his swarthy lineaments still
more savage and repulsive, than if art had attempted
an effect, which had been thus produced by
chance. His eye, alone, which glistened like a fiery
star amid lowering clouds, was to be seen in its state
of native wildness. For a single instant, his searching,
and yet wary glance, met the wondering look of
the other, and then changing its direction, partly in
cunning, and partly in disdain, it remained fixed,
as if penetrating the distant air.

It is impossible to say what unlooked for remark
this short and silent communication, between two
such singular men, might have elicited from the
tall white man, had not his active curiosity been
again drawn to other objects. A general movement
amongst the domestics, and a low sound of gentle
voices, announced the approach of those whose
presence was wanted, in order to enable the
cavalcade to move. The simple admirer of the
war-horse instantly fell back to a low, gaunt, switch-tailed
mare, that was unconsciously gleaning the
faded herbage of the camp, nigh by, where, leaning

with one elbow on the blanket that concealed an apology
for a saddle, he became a spectator of the departure,
while a foal was quietly making its morning
repast, on the opposite side of the same animal.

A young man, in the livery of the crown, conducted
to their steeds two females, who, it was apparent
by their dresses, were prepared to encounter the
fatigues of a journey in the woods. One, and she
was the most juvenile in her appearance, though
both were young, permitted glimpses of her dazzling
complexion, fair golden hair, and bright blue eyes,
to be caught, as she artlessly suffered the morning
air to blow aside the green veil, which descended low
from her beaver. The flush which still lingered above
the pines in the western sky, was not more bright
nor delicate than the bloom on her cheek; nor was the
opening day more cheering than the animated smile
which she bestowed on the youth, as he assisted her
into the saddle. The other, who appeared to share
equally in the attentions of the young officer, concealed
her charms from the gaze of the soldiery with a
studious care, that seemed better fitted to the experience
of four or five additional years. It could
be seen, however, that her person, though moulded
with the same exquisite proportions, of which none
of the graces were lost by the travelling dress she
wore, was rather fuller and more mature than that of
her companion.

No sooner were these females seated, than their attendant
sprang lightly into the saddle of the war-horse,
when the whole three bowed to Webb, who,
in courtesy, awaited their parting on the threshold

of his cabin, and turning their horses' heads, they
proceeded at a slow amble, followed by their train,
towards the northern entrance of the encampment.
As they traversed that short distance, not a voice was
heard amongst them; but a slight exclamation proceeded
from the younger of the females, as the Indian
runner glided by her, unexpectedly, and led the
way along the military road in her front. Though
this sudden and startling movement of the Indian,
produced no sound from the other, in the surprise,
her veil also was allowed to open its folds, and betrayed
an indescribable look of pity, admiration and
horror, as her dark eye followed the easy motions of
the savage. The tresses of this lady were shining
and black, like the plumage of the raven. Her complexion
was not brown, but it rather appeared
charged with the colour of the rich blood, that
seemed ready to burst its bounds. And yet there
was neither coarseness, nor want of shadowing, in a
countenance that was exquisitely regular and dignified,
and surpassingly beautiful. She smiled, as if in
pity at her own momentary forgetfulness, discovering
by the act a row of teeth that would have shamed,
by their dazzling whiteness, the purest ivory; when,
replacing the veil, she bowed her face, and rode in
silence, like one whose thoughts were abstracted
from the scene around her.