University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

It has been mentioned that the tribe of natives, whose
traditions we have partially gathered, retained amid its
degeneracy, some individuals worthy of being rescued
from oblivion. Among these, history has been most
faithful in preserving the lineaments of their spiritual
guide, the Rev. Samson Occom. He received instruction
in the sciences and in the Christian faith, from the Rev.
E. Wheelock, afterwards President of Dartmouth College.
The sympathies of this excellent man were aroused by
the ignorance of a race, at once rapidly vanishing, and
miserably despised. Regardless of the censure which
stamped him as an enthusiast, and a visionary, he commenced
a school for them in Lebanon, (Connecticut,)
about the middle of the eighteenth century, and by his
disinterested efforts for their improvement and salvation,
deserves an illustrious rank among Christian philanthropists.
Occom was his first pupil, and his intellectual advances,
and genuine piety, compensated the labours of
his revered instructor. After a residence of several years
in the family of his benefactor, he became the teacher of
a school on Long Island, and endeavoured to impart the

rudiments of divine truth, to the Montauk tribe, who were
in his vicinity. His piety, and correct deportment procured
for him a license to preach the gospel to his benighted
brethren. He travelled through various tribes,
enduring the hardships of a missionary, and faithfully
doing the work of an evangelist. His eloquence, particularly
in his native language, was very impressive, and
his discourses in English were well received, from the
pulpits of the largest and most polished congregations in
the United States. In 1765, he crossed the Atlantic, and
was welcomed in England, with a combination of strong
curiosity, and ardent benevolence, which were highly gratifying
to him. Here his mind was enlarged by extensive
intercourse with the wise and the good, with some of
whom he continued to maintain a correspondence throughout
life. At his return, he commenced the discharge of the
duties of his station, with increased ardour, and an interesting
humility. He delighted much in devotional poetry,
and presented a volume of hymns, selected by himself,
to his American brethren, which together with the letters
which are preserved, evince his correct knowledge
of our language, and the predominance of religious sentiments
in his mind. His residence was not stationary until
near the close of his life, but at the period of this sketch,
he was with his brethren of the Mohegan tribe. They
listened to his instructions with awe, and regarded him
with affectionate interest. When in explaining to them
the sufferings of a Saviour, his eyes would overflow, and
a more than earthly fervour pervade his features and expressions,
they felt convinced that he loved what he imparted,
and honoured his sincerity. But when he enforced
the wrath of the Almighty against impenitence, his tones
rising with his theme, and the terrours of the law bursting
from his lips, they forgot the lowliness of his station, the
subdued meekness of his character, and trembled as if
they had heard rising among the mountains, the voice of
the Eternal Spirit.

Robert Ashbow was the chieftain, the counsellor of the
tribe. Descended from the royal family, he was tenacious
of that shadowy honour; yet he who might decry such an
empty distinction, could not long scan him, without perceiving
that nature had enrolled him among her nobility.
She had endued him with a noble form, and an eye,
whose glance seemed to penetrate the secrets of the soul.
His lofty forehead spoke the language of command, though
his countenance when at rest wore a cast of gravity,
even to melancholy, as if his habitual musings were among
the broken images of other days. Yet his kindling brow,
and the curl of his strongly compressed lip could testify
the fiery enthusiasm of eloquence, or the most terrible
emotions of anger. Some acquaintance with books had
aided the vigour of his intellect, and he was fond of associating
with the better class of whites, because he could
thus gratify his thirst for knowledge. When the general
government of the states had become settled upon a permanent
foundation, Robert Ashbow was permitted to

represent his people in the council of the nation, and received
from some of the most distinguished Senators,
proofs that his talents were duly estimated, and his opinions
honoured. In religion, he was somewhat more than a
skeptick, and less than a believer. He was familiar with
the language of scripture, and assented to the excellence
of its precepts, yet was perplexed at the division of faith
from practice, which he beheld in many who professed to
obey it. His adorations of the Great Spirit were stated and
reverential. On the death of the Son of God for man, and
on the nature of the gospel breathing peace, and goodwill,
he reflected with awe, and admiration, but he suffered
his reasoning powers to be perplexed witht he faults, the
crimes of Christians. Perhaps also, the command “to
love our enemies,” interfered too palpably with his code
of honour, or with that spirit of revenge, which his proud
soul had been taught to nourish as a virtue.

John Cooper deserves also to be mentioned, were it
only because he was the most wealthy man in his tribe.
It would be unpardonable to forget this distinction, in a
country like ours, where wealth so often supplies the
place of every other ground of merit; and where it is understood
by the body of the people, if not literally the
“one thing needful,” yet the best illustration of what is
shadowed forth in scripture, as the “pearl of great price,”
which the wise merchantman will sell all to obtain.

The habitation of John bore no external marks of splendour,
but beside a numerous household, his jurisdiction

extended over a yoke of oxen, two cows, and sundry swine'
riches heretofore unknown among the unambitious sons of
Mohegan.

He was also a patient, and comparatively skilful agriculturist.
He had a supply of the implements of husbandry,
for himself and sons, and availed himself of the
labours of the plough, which his countrymen, either from
dislike of toil, or jealousy at innovation, too generally
neglected. The corn of John Cooper might be known
from that of his neighbours, by its tall, regular ranks,
and more abundant sheaves. Its interstices were filled
with the yellow pumpkin, and the green crookedneck'd
squash, and its borders adorned with the prolific
field bean. A large stack of hay furnished the winter
food of his animals, as he had not yet aspired to the luxury
of a barn. He was regarded by some of his brethren
with a suspicious eye; not that they envied his possessions,
for they had not learned to place wealth first on the list
of virtues. But they imagined that he approximated too
closely to the habits of white men, whom if they regarded
as friends, they could not wholly forget had been
invaders. They conceived poverty to be less degrading
than daily toil, and thought he could not be a true Indian,
who would not prefer the privations of one, to the slavery
of the other. But John found patient industry favourable
not only to his condition but to his character. His regular
supply of necessary articles removed those temptations to
intemperance, which arise from the alternation of famine

and profusion. Labour promoted his health, and providence
of comforts for his family inspired a soothing self
satisfaction. His untutored mind also found the connexion,
which has been thought to exist between agriculture
and natural religion. While committing his seed to the
earth, he thought of Him who made both the earth and her
son who feeds upon her bosom. He remembered that all
his toil would be fruitless, unless that Great Spirt should
give his smile to the sun, and to the rain that matured the
harvest. Softened by such contemplations, his heart became
prepared for the truths of revealed religion. Mr.
Occom found him a docile student in the school of his Saviour,
and imparted to him with delight the knowledge of
the word that bringeth salvation. The husbandman submitted
himself to the teaching of the Spirit, and embraced
the Christian faith. His employment became dearer than
ever, and he was continually drawing from it spiritual emblems,
to animate gratitude, or to deepen humility. When
subjecting to cultivation an unbroken piece of ground, the
brambles which invested it, would remind him of the
spontaneous vices of the unrenovated heart. “Their end
is to be burned,” he would say internally, “and such had
been mine, but for thy mercy, my God.” The pure
spring that gave refreshment to his weariness, restored to
his thought “that fountain, which cleanseth from sin, and
of which he who drinketh shall thirst no more.” In the
storm which frustrated his hopes, he traced the wisdom of
Him, who giveth not account of his ways unto man, but
from the cloud sendeth forth the bow of promise to renew
his trust, and the sunbeam to cheer his toil. In the cultured
fields, clothed with their various garb, he perceived
an emblem of the righteous man, bringing forth good
fruits, out of faith unfeigned: in the harvest bowing to the
reaper, he beheld him ready to be gathered into the garner
of eternal life. Thus increasing in knowledge and,
piety, Mr. Occom considered him an useful assistant in his
stated instructions to the people, and thought of committing
them to his spiritual charge, when he was compelled
to be absent. But though they acknowledged that what
John Cooper said of religion was well, and his prayers to
the Great Spirit sufficiently long, it was evident that he
did not possess their entire confidence, and some of them
could not refrain from saying, that they “never yet saw
an Indian so eager after both worlds.” Near the dwelling
of John was that of Arrowhamet the warrior, or Zachary
as he was familiarly called, by the name of his baptism.
Tall, erect and muscular, he seemed to defy the ravages
of time, though the records of his memory proved, that
seventy winters had passed over him. He had borne a
part in the severe campaign, which preceded the defeat of
Braddock, and shared the hardships of the war of revolution,
as the firm friend of the Americans. The taciturnity
of his nation prevented that garrulous recitation of
the minutiæ of his drama, to which aged soldiers are
often addicted; but sometimes, when induced to speak
of his battles, his flashing eye, and lofty form rising still
more high, attested his military enthusiasm. His wife,
Martha, who with him had embraced the Christian religion,
was a descendant of the departed royalty of Mohegan.
Their attachment for each other was strong, and
exemplified on his part, by more of courteousness, on hers
by more of affectionate expression, than was common to
the reserve of their nation. Their tenement consisted of
two rooms, with a shed in the rear, for the deposite of
tools, or the rougher household utensils.

It was encompassed with a little garden of herbs and vegetables,
and the whole wore an unusual aspect of neatness
and comfort. But a mysterious personage had been added
to that family, which had not within the memory of
the young, comprised but Zachary and Martha. More
than two years had elapsed, since a female had been
observed to share their shelter, and to sit at their board.
The Indians had remarked with surprise that she was of
the race of the whites, young, and apparently in ill health,
as she never quitted the mansion. They at first had testified
some disgust, but as in their visits to the old warrior
and his companion, she had always looked mildly on
them, and spoken gently, they came to the conclusion,
that “the pale squaw was wauregan,” or good. Any inquiry
respecting the guest, was uniformly answered,—
“She is our daughter;” and perceiving that their friends
did not wish to be pressed on the subject, they resigned
their researches, and considered the stranger as a denizen,
and a friend.

The Indian possesses in such respects a native politeness,
which might sometimes be a salutary model to
more civilized communities. It is an accomplishment
which their neighbours of Yankee origin might however
be slow in acquiring. They seem to have elevated into a
virtue, that close inspection of the concerns of their neighbour,
which almost precludes attention to their own, and
doubtless think their knowledge of the contents of his cellar
and garret, the management of his kitchen, the genealogy
of his guests, and his secrets so far as they might be
ascertained, a suitable employment for those who are
commanded to love their neighbour as themselves.

It might have been remarked, however, that since the
arrival of this stranger, the dress of old Zachary was arranged
with a more scrupulous attention to neatness. No
rents were observed in any part of his apparel, and where
they threatened to make their appearance, the delicate
stitches of no untaught needle might be traced. The
broad gold band, which had been the present of an officer,
as a testimony of valour, was now constantly worn upon
his well-brush'd hat; and old Martha was arrayed every
afternoon in a plain black silk gown, made in a very
proper and becoming manner. The interiour of the humble
house evinced the daily use of the broom, and near
its door two bee-hives, ranged upon a rough bench, sent
forth the cheerful hum of industry. Beds of thyme and
sage lent their aromatic essence to the winged throng,
which might be seen settling upon them with intense

pleasure, in the earliest ray of the morning sun. The department
of medicinal herbs was gradually enlarged, as
they were found to promote the comfort of the drooping inmate,
and Martha had become too old to seek them as
she was wont in the woods. She busied herself frequently
in the construction of work-baskets, whose smooth
compartments displayed the light touches of a pencil, to
whose delicacy the natives laid no claim. The zeal of
these hospitable beings to promote the accommodation of
their guest was very remarkable. Zachary would push
his rude boat into the distant waters, that he might obtain
supplies of those fish which were accounted most rare, or of
such oysters as might allure the appetite of an invalid.
When he carried to the market articles of domestic manufacture,
he never returned without having expended some
portion of his little gains, in the purchase of a few crackers,
or a small quantity of wheat flour, or perhaps some
of the tropical subacid fruits, which are so grateful to
the parched lip of the sufferer from febrile disease.
Martha brought with maternal tenderness, the morning
draught of milk warm from the cow, who in her rude
tenement in the rear of the building quietly ruminated.
She would present also on a clean wooden plate, a dessert
from her bee-hive, for the knowledge of whose management,
she was indebted to the gentle being on whom her
care centered. She would also search the adjoining fields
for the first ripe strawberries, and whortleberries in their
season, and bring them in a little basket of green leaves,
that their freshness and fragrance might tempt the sickening
palate. An emaciated hand would receive these
gifts, and a face white as marble beam with a faint smile,
while a soft voice uttered, “I thank you Mother.” But
all seemed in vain, the lilly grew paler upon its stem,
and seemed likely to sink into the grave, lonely and beautiful,
with all its mysteriousness unrevealed.

One more personage deserves to be noticed ere we
close the brief catalogue. Maurice, or as he was called
before his baptism Kehoran, was deemed by his countrymen
the most singular of men. Yet so accustomed had
they become to his habits, that they almost ceased to be
an object of animadversion. Years had elapsed since he
withdrew himself from the residence of man, and became
the tenant of a cave, at the base of a rock, at a considerable
distance from the principal settlement. Nature had
there formed an irregular apartment of about twenty feet
in length, and varying in height and breadth. Its aperture,
much below the stature of a man, was of a triangular
shape, and apparently made by the disruption of the
rock, which formed the roof of the cavern. It was partially
closed by rolling against it a large stone which was
found within, among other rubbish, which the hermit had
removed. Here Maurice dwelt, subsisting upon the roots
and berries, which the shaggy forest overhanging his roof
supplied, and quenching his thirst at a spring which ran
bubbling from the rocky height, and, gliding past his
door like a riband-snake, disappeared in the adjoining

thicket. A bed of skins afforded him a place of repose,
and the severity of his life distressed even the natives,
who were accustomed to despise hardships and privation.
Maurice was tall, and emaciated, clad in a rough mantle
of skins, fastened round his loins with a strip of
bark. At a distance he might be taken for a miserable
Franciscan, and as he approached, the crucifix always
borne around his neck, revealed the religion which he
professed. It was the general opinion that the terrible
penances which he endured, had been enjoined as an
expiation for some unknown crime. It was remembered
by the oldest inhabitants that he had been a warrior, and
a hunter of athletic frame, and keen eye. Now, when a
partridge rested near him, or a squirrel sprang from the
branch where he stood, he had been observed to raise his
arm involuntarily, as if to bend his bow, then dropping it
suddenly to exclaim, “No! No! there is blood enough
already.” His feet were bare, and often wounded by
thorns, and his white beard which he suffered not to be
cut, rested upon his breast. Every autumn he disappeared,
and was no more seen, until the opening spring
permitted him to inhabit his cave, and resume his usual
regimen. It was at length understood, that in his intervals
of absence, he travelled to Canada, to visit the Jesuit
who converted him, and to become confirmed in the faith
which he had embraced. But the present winter he had
omitted this stated journey. Some fancied that his beloved
instructer was dead, but the majority concluded
that the infirmities of age precluded the hermit from the
fatigues of his pilgrimage. He was seen to guide his tottering
steps by a staff, and to look vacantly at surrounding
objects, as if his eye was dim to their proportions.
The hair upon his head had become thin, and whiter than
silver, yet he defended it by no covering from the blast
or from the tempest. He now received with unwonted
kindness, additional clothing, or occasional food from his
countrymen, but if they offered him flesh he would repel
it with disgust, saying “it must never pass the lips of
Maurice.” The benevolence of Mr. Occom was strongly
excited in his behalf. He visited him in his cell, relieved
his famine, and urged him to accept of a milder
faith and to rely on the expiation of his Redeemer, and not
on the mortification of his frail, decaying body. He would
listen calmly to his discourses, but when he touched upon
any peculiar tenet of the Roman church, would wave his
withered hand, with all its wasted energy, and exclaim
“your way is not my way.”