"To the best of my recollection, it was about the middle of the month of
August; we were sitting on a green bank by the brook side; the fox grapes
were not yet come to maturity; but we were anticipating the pleasure we
should soon experience in eating some fine clusters, that at this instant
hung over our heads in the tall shade of a beech tree; when, upon a sudden
clamour raised by some young fellows, who were advancing rapidly towards
us, the learned Indian sachem Tomo-cheeki, who at this time happened to be
my friend and companion, seized me by the hand, and intimated a strong
desire, that I should accompany him to his _wigwam_, situate at many
miles distance in the wilderness.
"A request so unusual, and at such a sultry season of the year (it being
now the height of the dog days), and to all appearance occasioned by so
trifling a circumstance as the approach of a few noisy bacchanalians,
could not but give me some surprise. I nevertheless accepted his offer,
and we then walked on together westward, without saying a word, though not
forgetting to kindle our pipes afresh at the first house we came to.
"We had no sooner entered the forest, than I began to be convinced, that
all things around us were precisely such as nature had finished them; the
trees were straight and lofty, and appeared as if they had never been
obliged to art in their progress to maturity; the streams of water were
winding and irregular, and not odiously drawn into a right line by the
spade of the ditcher. The soil had never submitted to the ploughshare, and
the air that circulated through this domain of nature was replete with
that balmy fragrance, which was breathed into the lungs of the long-lived
race of men, that flourished in the first ages of the world.
"At last we approached the wigwam, as I discovered by the barking of a
yellow dog, who ran out to meet us. The building seemed to be composed of
rough materials, and at most was not more than eight feet in height, with
a hole in the centre of the roof, to afford a free passage to the smoke
from within. It was situate in a thicket of lofty trees, on the side of a
stream of clear water, at a considerable distance from the haunts of
civilized men. A young indian girl was angling in the deepest part of the
stream, whence she every now and then drew a trout, or some other
inhabitant of the waters. An old squaw sat at a very small distance, and,
after cutting off the heads, and extracting the entrails, hung the fish in
the smoke, to preserve them against the time of winter.
"The Indian and myself then entered the wigwam, and without ceremony
seated ourselves on blocks of wood covered with fox skins. The furniture
of his habitation consisted of scarcely any thing besides. The flooring
was that which was originally common to all men and animals. I thought
myself happy, that I had been permitted to come into the world, in an age
when some vestige of the primitive men, and their manners of living, were
yet to be found. A few ages will totally obliterate the scene.
"I now determined to teaze the Indian, if possible--'But for a man of your
education,' says I, 'sachem Tomo-cheeki; to bury yourself in this savage
retreat, is to me inexplicable. You who have travelled on foot no less
than one hundred and seventeen leagues, till you reached the walls of
Havard college, and all for the sake of gaining an insight into languages,
arts, and mysteries; and then to neglect all you have acquired at last, is
a mode of conduct, for which I cannot easily account--What! was not the
mansion of a fat _clergyman_ a more desirable acquisition than this
miserable hut, these gloomy forests, and yonder savage stream?--Were not
the food and liquor belonging to the white men of the _law_ far superiour
to these insipid fish, these dried roots, and these running waters?--Were
not a _physician's_ cap, an elegant morning gown, and a grave suit of
black clothes, made by an european tailor, more tempting to your
imagination, than this wretched blanket, that is eternally slipping from
your shoulders, unless it be fastened with skewers, which are by no means
convenient?'
"Pardon me,' replied the Indian, 'if all those blessings and advantages
you have mentioned seemed nothing to my view, in comparison with these
_divine solitudes_: opinion alone is happiness. The _Great Man_,
who has chosen his habitation beyond the stars, will dispose of us as he
pleases. I am under an obligation of passing happily here that life which
he has given me, because in so doing I serve and adore him. I could not
but be sorrowful, were I to be removed for ever from this stream. Let me
alone, white man; others shall make laws, and pass sleepless nights, for
the advantage of the world; sachem Tomo-cheeki will leave all things to
the _invisible direction_; and, provided he can be contented in his
_wigwam_, the end of his existence is accomplished.
"But,' continued he, 'of what great value can that education be,
which does not inculcate moral and social _honesty_ as it's first and
greatest principle. The knowledge of all things above and below is of
inconsiderable worth, unconnected with the heart of rectitude and
benevolence.--Let us walk to the remains of an old indian town; the bones
of my ancestors repose in its vicinity.'--
"He had scarcely uttered these words when he seized his staff, and rushed
out of the wigwam with a sort of passionate violence, as if deeply
agitated at the recollection of the past, present, and future fate of his
countrymen.--I followed him with equal celerity. 'But,' said he, 'it is in
vain to grieve! In three centuries there will not be one individual of all
our race existing upon the Earth. I lately passed this stream, and it
being swollen with rains at my return, I could not without the greatest
danger cross over it again to my wigwam; the winds raged, the rain fell,
and the storms roared around me. I laid me down to sleep beneath a copse
of hazles. Immediately the unbodied souls of my ancestors appeared before
me. Grief was in their countenances. All fixed their eyes upon me, and
cried, one after the other, "_Brother, it is time thou hadst also
arrived in our abodes: thy nation is extirpated, thy lands are gone, thy
choicest warriors are slain; the very wigwam in which thou residest is
mortgaged for three barrels of hard cider! Act like a man, and if nature
be too tardy in bestowing the favour, it rests with yourself to force your
way into the invisible mansions of the departed_."
"By this time we had arrived at the ruins of the old indian town. The
situation was highly romantic, and of that kind which naturally inclines
one to be melancholy. At this instant a large heavy cloud obscured the
sun, and added a grace to the gloominess of the scene. The vestiges of
streets and squares were still to be traced; several favourite trees were
yet standing, that had outlived the inhabitants; the stream ran, and the
springs flowed, as lively as ever, that had afforded refreshment to so
many generations of men, that were now passed away, never to return. All
this while the Indian had melancholy deeply depicted in his countenance;
but he did not shed many tears, till we came to that quarter where his
ancestors had been entombed. 'This spot of land,' said he, recovering
himself a little, 'was once sacred to the dead; but it is now no longer
so! This whole town, with a large tract around it, not even excepting the
bones of our progenitors, has been sold to a stranger. We were deceived
out of it, and that by a man who understood Greek and Hebrew; five kegs of
whiskey did the business: he took us in the hour of dissipation, when the
whole universe appeared to us but a little thing; how much less then, this
comparatively small tract of country, which was, notwithstanding, our
whole dependance for the purposes of hunting and fishing!----Here,'
continued he, sighing, 'was the habitation of _Tawlongo_, one of our
most celebrated warriors. He, in his time, could boast of having gained no
fewer than one hundred and twenty-seven complete victories over his
enemies; yet he was killed at last by an unarmed _Englishman_.
"Here, too, on the opposite side of the way, stood the house of
_Pilaware_, the admirable; she had been addressed by thirty-three suitors
of her own nation, but refused them all, and went off at last with an
_irish pedlar_, for the sake of three yards of silver riband, and a new
blanket. Yonder stood the dwelling of _Scuttawabah_, my immediate
ancestor; he died for joy of having found a keg of rum, that had been lost
by some western trader. May his joys be continued behind the western
mountains--Recollection overcomes me--Let us return to the wigwam in the
forest.'
"As soon as we had reached this sequestered abode, the Indian once more
sat himself down, and leaned his head upon his hand, melancholy enough, to
be sure.
"The old squaw desired to know why he was so sorrowful--The _remedy_,'
said she, _is in your power_.'--He then started up, as if suddenly
recollecting somewhat, and cried out, 'Existence is but a dream, an
agreeable dream indeed, if we only choose to consider it as such.--Bring
me that jug of strong cider; it will be my friend, when all others fail
and forsake me--Choicest gift of God to man! and which the white people
alone possess the art and knowledge of producing!'--He courteously offered
me a share of his beverage; but I found it so intolerably sour, that I was
forced to swear by all the gods of the Indians, I would not have any
connexion with it.--He then pointed to the stream where the girl was
angling, and said, with a peasant countenance that had brightened up for a
moment, 'Go; you are a _sober_ man; the clear waters are good for
you; for my own part, this juice of the apple shall be sufficient.'--Two
hours now elapsed, without any one uttering a word.--The Indian had by
this time drunk two large gallons of cider; and recollecting in an
instant, he had signed away his lands and wigwam, some days before, for a
_mere trifle_, he became at once outrageous; his rage heightened to
an alarming degree of extravagance by the strong fumes of the liquor he
had swallowed.--'_It is enough_,' said he; '_my house and lands are
departed: I will speak a word in favour of suicide_.
"'Tis all in vain! These flowers, these streams, these solitary shades,
are nothing to me. I shall not offend the spirit of truth when I say, they
are odious in my eyes. Sixty times has the sun performed his journey of a
year, since I was first struck with the beauty of his yellow rays. Could I
be a witness of sixty yet to come, would there be any thing new, or which
I had not seen before? It is high time we should intrude ourselves into
the invisible abodes, when all things satiate and grow stale upon us here
below. I will this very night enclose myself in my wigwam, and, setting it
on fire, depart with the thin vapour that shall arise from the dried wood
of the forest, when piled around me--No, no,' continued he, tasting the
remains of his cider '_there is nothing new_; all is _old, stale;
and insipid_.'
"At this instant an Indian trader alighted at the door. He appeared to
have come a considerable distance, and now proffered to barter a keg of
_french brandy_ for some beaver skins, he saw hanging out a post.
"French brandy!' cried Tomo cheekily 'that must be something _new_.'
"It is surely such,' replied the wandering trader, 'at least in this
remote wilderness.'
"I will taste it, by Heaven,' said the Indian.
"But will it not prove the falsehood of your position and assertion,'
interrupted I, 'that there is nothing _new under the sun? To him that
exists through all ages nothing can be strange or novel; with the
transitory race of man, the case is wholly different. Art and Nature are
combined in perpetually composing new forms and substances for his use and
amusement on the ocean of life_.'
"The Divinity himself must surely reside in that precious liquor!'
exclaimed the Indian, after tasting it a second time; 'take all my skins
and furs; and when the dawn of the morning appears, return home, stranger,
and bring a fresh supply of this celestial beverage. My existence had
indeed begun to be a burden: I was meditating, to extricate myself by the
shortest method. I have now learned wisdom, and am convinced, that it is
_variety alone that can make life desirable."_
* * * * *
In order to understand the following, I must inform you, F---- had been
telling the story of a love-distracted maid, somewhat similar to Sterne's
Maria. You will suppose her lately to have put an end to her existence.--
"We had not proceeded very far on our way, when we discovered a funeral
procession advancing towards us, headed by the parson of the parish in
which we were. He was a little man, dressed in black, with a scarf hanging
over his left shoulder.--Upon inquiry, we found they were proceeding to a
church about a league distant, where the corpse they attended was to be
deposited.
"And to whom may this body belong?" said the _indian physician_,
addressing the man who walked in the rear of the procession.
"It is the corpse of the unfortunate Marcia,' replied the other, speaking
low; 'she died suddenly, yesterday morning, and is now carrying to be
interred in the vault of her ancestors.' We were much affected at this
intelligence, as we had hoped to hear of her recovery, instead of her
decease.
"At the request of my friend, the man in the white linen coat, the Indian
agreed to attend the funeral along with us, and accordingly we all three
fell in among the followers, and travelled on with a slow pace till we
came to the scene of interment. The situation was wild and gloomy. Naked
rocks, dark cedars, the head of a small lake, and the venerable tombs of
the dead, completed the scenery.
"It was pity,' said I, 'to the singing clerk, who stood near me, 'that
Fate has so ordered matters, that this young creature should depart the
world in so very extravagant a condition of mind. Though too many pass
their whole lives in a state of insanity, it were to be wished, that,
towards the evening, the clouds of phrensy might be dissipated, and the
sun of reason set clear.'
"The singing clerk looked full in my face, opened his mouth wide, and was
about to make some reply, when silence was ordered, that the clergyman
might pronounce a speech over the body; but his reverence stumbled at the
threshold: he had unluckily forgot his pocket Bible, and could not
recollect his _text_.
"Cannot he say something applicable to the melancholy occasion,' whispered
the Indian, 'without the formality of taking a _text_?'
"Were you to give him three worlds, each as rich as a dozen of the
Indies,' replied the clerk, 'you could not get a word out of him on any
other condition.'
"The sexton of the parish was then ordered to mount one of the horses, and
make the best of the way to the good doctor's house, to bring the Bible.
"After waiting a full and entire hour, he returned with the vexatious
intelligence, that the Bible was not to be found--it was stolen--or, it
was hid--or it had been _neglected_--or, it was mislaid--or they knew
not what had been done with it.--'More is the pity!' exclaimed the singing
clerk.
"The doctor of divinity then mounted the horse himself, apparently with
some uneasiness, and set out personally to bring the Bible at all events.
"By this time, however, the sun was set, and the whole company stood
waiting in anxious expectation of the clergyman's return, till darkness
had taken possession of the earth; but there was yet no appearance of
either the divine or his Bible.
"As it is more than probable he cannot find his book,' said the man in the
white linen coat, 'I am positive he will not return at all; and, as it is
now almost dark, I am of opinion the sooner the funeral ceremonies are
finished the better. The body of the unfortunate Marcia ought not to be
deposited in these silent retreats of death without some living token of
our respect. She was amiable while living, and notwithstanding the
misfortune of a disordered brain, and an innocent, unsuspecting confidence
in another's honour, is, in my way of thinking, no less amiable when
dead.--Our friend, the Indian will, I know, be complaisant enough on this
occasion to give us a few sentences, and then the venerable sexton may
proceed to close the scene, and we shall be at liberty to return to our
respective homes.'
"This man is not in holy orders,' cried the sexton.
"He does not wear a black coat or gown,' said the singing clerk.
"He has not a gray wig on his head, observed one of the church wardens.
"It is no matter,' replied the man in the white linen coat, 'he has a
plain understanding, has written a treatise on the virtues of tobacco, and
knows what is common sense, as well as the best of you.'
"Casting my eyes at this instant toward the east, I perceived a glimmering
among the trees, which proved to be the moon rising, two days after the
full. The evening was calm and serene, and every thing was hushed, except
the surge of the ocean, which we could distinctly hear breaking on the
rocks of the adjacent coasts; when, finding the parish clergyman did not
return, the Indian shook the dew from his blanket, stepped boldly upon a
tombstone of black marble, and, for reasons best known to himself,
preferring the Indian style on this occasion, he thus began:--
"Instead of these dismal countenances, why have we not a feast of seven
days? Instead of the voice of sorrow, why are not the instruments of music
touched by the hand of skill? Fair daughter of the morning! thou didst not
perish by slow decay. At the rising of the sun we saw thee; the ruddy
bloom of youth was then upon thy countenance; In the evening thou wert
nothing; and the pallid complexion of death had taken place of the bloom
of beauty.--And now thou art gone to sit down in the gardens that are
found at the setting of the sun, behind the western mountains, where the
daughters of the white men have a separate place allotted to them by the
spirit of the hills. As much as the mind is superiour to the body, so much
are those charming regions preferable to these which we now inhabit. Man
is here but an image of himself, the representation of an idea that in
itself is not subjected to a change. That which derived it's origin from
the dust shall indeed to the dust return; but the fine ethereal substance
does not cease to think, and shall be again employed by the immortal gods
to put the forms of things in motion. What was thine errour?--It was
nothing: the bow was too mighty for the string, and the foundation too
feeble for the fabric that was built upon it. All shall be right when thou
art arrived at the foot of the mountains, where the sound of the wintry
winds will not be permitted to reach thee, and where the light of the lamp
is not extinguished by the sickly blasts of autumn.----
_"What infernal stuff is this?'_ exclaimed the clergyman, who at this
period of the Indian's discourse had returned on a full gallop with a
large folio Bible before him: _'what infernal heretical trash is this,
with which my ears are insulted?--Miscreant, avaunt!'_ said he, addressing
the Indian, _'or I will teach you how to make speeches within the bounds
of my jurisdiction,'_
"The Indian then modestly stepped down from the tombstone, and the
legitimate clergyman took his place. After making a slight apology for his
stay, he read his text by the light from a horn lantern, which the clerk
held up to his nose, and then proceeded to mumble over a written discourse
upon the subject he had chosen, and which held him about half an
hour.--'In my country,' observed the Indian, 'they would make a more
_animated_ speech at the interment of a _favourite racoon_!'
"'This divinity-monger is the angel of our church,' answered the man in the
white linen coat; 'and it is dangerous to criticise upon his productions,
especially as he considers every one to be in the wrong, who does not
precisely fall in with his own opinions in matters appertaining to
religion.'
"'Weak men are always arrogant, positive, and self-conceited,' replied the
Indian.
"'Let us hasten home,' whispered the man in the white linen, coat, 'for the
night begins to wear apace."
* * * * *
Before the following lines are read, represent to yourself, that some of
the tribes of Indians bury their dead in a sitting posture.--
LINES
OCCASIONED BY A VISIT TO
AN OLD INDIAN BURYING-GROUND.
In spite of all the learn'd have said,
I still my old opinion keep,
The _posture_ that _we_ give the dead,
Points out the soul's eternal sleep.
Not so the ancients of these lands:--
The Indian, when from life releas'd,
Again is seated with his friends,
And shares again the joyous feast.
His imag'd birds, and painted bowl,
And ven'son for a journey drest,
Bespeak the _nature_ of the soul--
_Activity_, that wants no rest.
His bow for action ready bent,
And arrows with a head of bone,
Can only mean that life is spent,
And not the finer essence gone.
Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way,
No fraud upon the dead commit;
Yet, mark the swelling turf, and say,
'They do not _lie_, but here they _sit_'
Here still a lofty rock remains,
On which the curious eye may trace
(Now wasted half by weiring rains)
The fancies of a ruder race.
Here still an aged elm aspires,
Beneath whose far projecting shade
(And which the shepherd still admires)
The children of the forest play'd.
There oft a restless indian queen,
(Pale Marian, with her braided hair)
And many a barb'rous form, is seen,
To chide the man that lingers there.
By midnight moons, o'er moist'ning dews,
In vestments for the chace array'd,
The hunter still the deer pursues--
The hunter and the deer--a shade.
And long shall tim'rous fancy see
The painted chief, and pointed spear,
And, _Reason's self_ shall bow the knee
To shadows and delusions here.
* * * * *
_Philadelphia, September 22d, 1795._