_The Grave of David Zeisberger, Moravian Missionary to the
Indians.--The Great Length of his Service.--His Flight from
Moravia to Saxony.--Arrival at Bethlehem, Pa.--He studies the
Mohawk Language.--Visits the Land of the Iroquois and is captured
as a French Spy.--Imprisoned by Governor Clinton and freed
by Parliament.--The Iroquois place in his Mission-house the
Archives of their Nation.--He converts Many Delawares in Western
Pennsylvania.--His Work interrupted by Pontiac's Rebellion.--The
Delawares invite him to the Black Forest of Ohio.--He takes with
him Two Whole Villages of Christian Indians.--Their Unfortunate
Location between Fort Pitt and Fort Detroit in the Revolutionary
War.--They are removed by the British to Sandusky.--One Hundred
of them, being permitted to return, are murdered by the
Americans.--The Remnant, after Many Hardships, rest for Six Years
in Canada, and return to Ohio.--Zeisberger's Death._
DAVID ZEISBERGER: HERO OF "THE MEADOW OF LIGHT"
[Illustration]
IN the centre of the old Black Forest of America, near New
Philadelphia, Ohio, a half-forgotten Indian graveyard lies beside the
dusty country road. You may count here several score of graves by the
slight mounds of earth that were raised above them a century or so ago.
At one extremity of this plot of ground an iron railing incloses
another grave, marked by a plain, marble slab, where rest the mortal
remains of a hero, the latchets of whose shoes few men of his race have
been worthy to unloose. And those of us who hold duty a sacred trust,
and likeness unto the Nazarene the first and chiefest duty, will do
well to make the acquaintance of this daring and faithful hero, whose
very memory throws over the darkest period of our history the light
that never was on sea or land.
The grave is that of David Zeisberger, the Moravian missionary to the
Indians in New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, and Canada for fifty
active years, who was buried at this spot at his dying request, that he
might await the Resurrection among his faithful Indians. His record is
perhaps unequalled in point of length of service, by the record of any
missionary of any church or sect in any land at any time. Among stories
of promotion and daring in early America, this one is most unique and
most uplifting.
On a July night in 1726 a man and his wife fled from their home in
Austrian Moravia toward the mountains on the border of Saxony for
conscience' sake. They took with them nothing save their five-year-old
boy, who ran stumbling between them, holding to their hands. The family
of three remained in Saxony ten years. Then the parents emigrated to
America, leaving the son of fifteen years in Saxony to continue his
education. But within a year he took passage for America and joined
his parents in Georgia, just previous to their removal to Bethlehem,
Pennsylvania.
The lad soon became interested in the study of the Delaware Indian
language among the natives of that tribe living along the Susquehanna,
and at once showed great proficiency. Appreciating his talent, the
fathers of the Moravian Church determined to send the young man to
Europe, that in the best universities he might secure the finest
training. He went as far as New York. There, just as his ship was to
sail, he pleaded with tears and on his knees to be allowed to return
to the woods of Pennsylvania and the school of the red men there. The
words of the wise were overcome by those of the youth, and an earnest
soul, as brave as it was earnest, was saved to a life of unparalleled
sacrifice and devotion.
On returning to Bethlehem Zeisberger joined a class that was studying
the Mohawk tongue, the language of that most powerful tribe of the
Iroquois nation which practically controlled, by tomahawk and threat,
all the territory between the colonies and the Mississippi. Soon the
looked-for opportunity of visiting the Iroquois land came, and the
young student was told off to accompany the heroic Frederick Christian
Post. This was in the dark year 1744, only a few months previous to the
outbreak of the Old French War. The lad was now in his twenty-third
year.
In February of the next year, after these two men entered the shadow
of New York, the report was circulated in New York City that two spies
had been captured among the Iroquois, who were guilty of attempting to
win that nation over to the French. Such a charge at this time was
the most serious imaginable, for the contest for the friendship of the
Iroquois between the French on the St. Lawrence and the English on the
Atlantic was now of great importance. Upon that friendship, and the
support it guaranteed, seemed to hang the destiny of the continent. The
report created endless consternation, and the spies were hurried on to
Governor Clinton, who demanded that the younger be brought before him
instantly.
"Why do you go among the Indians?" asked Clinton, savagely. It was
David Zeisberger to whom he spoke, a youth not daunted by arrogance and
bluster.
"To learn their language," he replied, calmly.
"And what use will you make of their language?"
"We hope," replied the lad, "to get the liberty to preach among the
Indians the Gospel of our crucified Saviour, and to declare to them
what we have personally experienced of His grace in our hearts."
The Governor was taken aback. This was a strange answer to have come
from a spy's lips. Yet he drove on rough-shod, taking it for granted
that the lad was lying, and that there was an ulterior motive for the
dangerous journey at such a time. Remembering the fort the English had
built near the present site of Rome, New York, and by which they hoped
to command the Mohawk Valley and the portage path to Wood Creek and
Lake Oneida, he continued:
"You observed how many cannon were in Fort William, and how many
soldiers and Indians in the castle?"
"I was not so much as in the fort, nor did I count the soldiers or
Indians."
Balked and angry, as well as nonplussed, Governor Clinton insisted:
"Our laws require that all travellers in this government of New York
shall swear allegiance to the King of England and have a license from
the Governor."
Governor Clinton's name would certainly not adorn a license for these
men. Whether or not the youth saw the trap, he was as frank as his
interrogator:
"I never before heard of such a law in any country or kingdom in the
world," replied Zeisberger.
"Will you not take the oath?" roared Governor Clinton, amazed.
"I will not," said the prisoner, and he was straightway cast into a
prison, where he and his companion lay for six weeks, until freed by
an ordinance passed by Parliament exempting the missionaries of the
Moravian Church from taking oath to the British crown.
Back into the Iroquois land journeyed the liberated prisoner, and for
ten doubtful years, until 1755, Zeisberger was engaged in learning
the languages of the various tribes of the Six Nations, and in active
missionary service. His success was very great. Perhaps in all the
history of these famous Indians there was no other man, with the
exception of Sir William Johnson, whom they trusted as much as they
trusted David Zeisberger. Cheated on the one hand by the Dutch of New
York, and robbed on the other by agents of the French and the English,
the Iroquois became suspicious of all men; and it is vastly more than
a friendly compliment to record that in his mission-house at Onondaga
they placed the entire archives of their nation, comprising the most
valuable collection of treaties and letters from colonial governors
ever made by an Indian nation on this continent. But war now drove
the missionary away, as throughout his life war was ever to dash his
fondest dreams and ever to drive him back.
At the close of the Old French War, the missionaries of the Moravian
Church were out again upon the Indian trails that led to the North and
West. The first to start was Zeisberger, now in the prime of life,
forty-two years old. But he did not turn northward. A call that he
could not ignore had come to him from the friends of his boyhood days,
the Delawares, who lived now in Western Pennsylvania. With a single
companion he pushed outward to them. Taking up his residence in what
is now Bradford County, Pennsylvania, he soon began to repeat the
successes he had achieved in the Iroquois land, many being converted,
and the whole nation learning to love and trust the earnest preacher.
Then came Pontiac's terrible rebellion. Compelled to hurry back to the
settlements again, Zeisberger awaited the end of that bloody storm,
which swept away every fort in the West save only Fort Pitt and Fort
Detroit.
At last the way was again open, and Zeisberger soon faced the
wilderness. The Church fathers now came to the conclusion that it was
best to extend missionary labor farther than ever before. The entire
West had been saved to England, and the future was bright. It was
Zeisberger to whom they looked, and not for a moment did the veteran
flinch.
"Whither is the white man going?" asked an old Seneca chieftain of
Zeisberger.
"To the Alleghany River," was the reply.
"Why does the paleface travel such unknown roads? This is no road for
white people, and no white man has come this trail before."
"Seneca," said the pale man, "the business I am on is different from
that of other white men, and the roads I travel are different too. I am
come to bring the Indian great and good words."
The work now begun in Potter County, and later extended to Lawrence
County, on the Beaver River, in the province of Pennsylvania, was not
less successful than Zeisberger's work in New York. "You are right,"
said the bravest Indian of the nation to his Indian chieftain; "I have
joined the Moravians. Where they go I will go; where they lodge I will
lodge; their God shall be my God." His faith was soon tested, as was
that of all Zeisberger's converts.
For there was yet a farther West. Beyond the Beaver, the Delaware
nation had spread throughout the Black Forest that covered what is
now Ohio to the dots of prairie land on the edge of what is Indiana.
Somewhere here the prairie fires had ceased their devastation. Between
the Wabash and the crest of the Alleghanies lay the heaviest forest
of the old New World. Of its eastern half the Delawares were now
masters, with their capital at Goschgoschunk on the Muskingum, the
present Coshocton, Ohio. The fame of Zeisberger had come even here,
and the grand council of the Delawares sent him a call to bring his
great and good words into the Black Forest. It was an irresistible
appeal. Yet the Moravian Church could not allow Zeisberger to leave the
congregations in Pennsylvania, for no one could take his place. The
brave man gave his answer quickly: "I will take them with me."
He kept his word, and in the Spring of 1772 the heroic man could
have been seen floating down the Beaver and Ohio rivers with two
whole villages of Christian Indians, seeking a new home in the Black
Forest on the Upper Muskingum. Here they founded three settlements
in all, Schönbrunn (Beautiful Spring), Lichtenau (Meadow of Light),
Gnadenhütten (Tents of Grace), where the fabled wanderer is made by
the poet to extend his search for Evangeline. Here the Moravian
missionaries, Zeisberger and his noble assistant, Heckewelder,
spent five marvellously successful years, in what is known as the
first settlements of whites in the present State of Ohio, excepting
such French as had lived in the Lake region. The settlements were
governed by a complete set of published laws, and in many respects
the experiment was an ideality fully achieved. The good influence of
the orderly and devout colony spread throughout the Central West at a
time when every influence was bad and growing rapidly worse. For five
or six years Zeisberger here saw the richest fruit of his life; here
also he was doomed to see what was undoubtedly the most disgraceful and
dastardly crime ever committed in the name of freedom on this continent.
[Illustration: JOHN HECKEWELDER
_Missionary to the Indians_]
The Revolutionary War now broke out, as if to despoil wantonly this
aged hero's last and happiest triumph. The Moravians determined upon
the impossible role of neutrality, with their settlements just beside
the hard, wide war-path which ran between Fort Pitt and Fort
Detroit; these were the strongholds, respectively, of the Americans
and the British, who were quarrelling bitterly for the allegiance of
the savages in the Black Forest between them. The policy was wholly
disastrous. For some time the Christian Indians, because the influence
of the past few years had been so uplifting, escaped unharmed. But as
the conflict grew, bitter suspicion arose among both the Americans in
Western Pennsylvania and the British at Sandusky and Detroit.
The British first took action. In 1781 three hundred Indians under
a British officer appeared and ordered the inhabitants of the three
villages to leave the valley they loved and go to Sandusky, where
a stricter watch might be kept over them. Like sheep they were
driven northward, the aged Zeisberger toiling at the head of the
broken-hearted company. As Winter came down from the north, there being
very little food, a company of one hundred Christian Indians obtained
permission to return to their former homes to harvest corn which had
been left standing in the fields. It was an unfortunate moment for the
return, and the borderers on the ravaged Pennsylvania frontier looked
upon the movement with suspicion. It is said that a party of British
Indians, returning from a Pennsylvania raid, left here a sign of their
bloody triumph. Be that as it may, a posse of Americans suddenly
appeared on the scene. The entire company of Moravian sufferers was
surrounded and taken captive. The question was raised, "Shall we take
our prisoners to Pittsburg, or kill them?" The answer of the majority
was, "Kill." The men were hurried into one building and the women into
another, and the murderers went to work.
"My arm fails me," said one desperado, as he knocked his fourteenth
bound victim on the head. "I think I have done pretty well. Go on in
the same way." And that night, as the moon arose above the Tuscarawas,
the wolves and panthers fought in the moonlight for the bodies of
ninety Christian Indians most foully murdered.
Had each been his own child, the great grief of the aged Zeisberger
could not have been more heartrending. After the storm had swept over
him and a shadow of the old peace came back to his stricken heart,
Zeisberger called his children about him and offered a most patient
prayer.
The record of Zeisberger's resolute faithfulness to the remnant of his
church from this time onward is almost incredible. Like a Moses he led
them always, and first to a temporary home in Macomb County, Michigan.
From there they were in four years driven by the Chippewas. The forlorn
pilgrims now set sail in two sloops on Lake Erie; they took refuge from
a terrible storm in the mouth of the Cuyahoga River. For a time they
rested at a temporary home in Independence Township, Cuyahoga County.
Famine drove them in turn from here. Setting out on foot, Zeisberger
led them next along the shore of Lake Erie westward to the present
site of Milan, Erie County, Ohio. Here they resided until the outbreak
of the savage Indian War of 1791. To escape from this, Zeisberger
secured from the British government a tract of land twelve miles long
and six miles wide for the Moravian Indians along the Grand River in
Canada. Here the pilgrims remained six years. But with the close of the
Indian War, it was possible for them to return to their beloved home
in the Tuscarawas Valley. The United States had given to the Moravian
Church two tracts of land here, embracing the sites of the three towns
formerly built, containing in all twelve thousand acres.
Back to the old home the patriarch Zeisberger brought his little
company in the year 1798. His first duty in the gloomy Gnadenhütten
was not forgotten. With a bowed head and heavy heart the old man and
one assistant gathered from beneath the dense mass of bush and vine,
whither the wild beasts had carried them, the bones of the ninety and
more sacrificed Christians, and over their present resting-place one of
the proudest of monuments now rises. For full ten years more this hero
labored in the shadow of the forests where his happiest days had been
spent, and only as the Winter of 1808 came down upon the valley from
the lakes did his great heart cease beating and his spirit pass through
the heavenly gates.
The dust of this true hero lies, as he requested, surrounded by the
remains of those "brown brethren" whom he led and loved so long, when
all the world reviled them and persecuted them and said all manner of
evil against them falsely. In 1908 the memory of this man will have
blessed us for a full century. Shall not a more appropriate token of
our esteem replace the little slab that now marks that hallowed grave?
And yet no monument can be raised to the memory of David Zeisberger so
valuable or so significant as the little pile of his own manuscripts
collected by Edward Everett and deposited by him under lock and key, in
a special case in the library of Harvard University. Here are fourteen
manuscripts, including a Delaware Indian dictionary, a hymn book, a
harmony of the Gospels, a volume of litanies and liturgies, and a
volume of sermons to children.