On the very same night which was passed by Edith Prevost in the great
lodge of the Black Eagle, eight or ten wild-looking savages, if they
could so be called, assembled apparently to deliberate upon some great
and important question. The place they took for their meeting lay
nearly twenty miles in a direct line from the Oneida lake, and was,
even in the daylight, a scene of no inconsiderable beauty and
grandeur.
At the hour of their meeting, however, which was about forty minutes
after the sun went down, the surrounding objects were illuminated by a
different and a more appropriate light. Their council-fire had been
kindled on the top of a large flat mass of stone, in a very narrow
dell or pass which separated a rugged and forest-bearing mountain from
a spur of the same range, that seemed to have been riven from the
parent chain by some rude and terrible convulsion of nature. Forty
yards, at the widest part, was the expanse of this deep fissure; and
on either side were huge masses of rock tumbled about in chaotic
confusion, and blocking up the greater part of the bottom of the dell.
From behind these rose the riven cliffs, rough and serrated, like the
edges of two saws, the teeth of which would fit into each other if
pressed together. But upon all the salient points, even where it
seemed impossible for a handful of vegetable mould to rest, a tall
tree had perched itself, spreading out its branches almost till they
met those on the opposite side of the glen, through which no torrent
rushed, neither had any spring burst forth when the earthquake rent
the solid foundations of the mountain; but a dry, short turf covered
all the earth accumulated below.
Between the great blocks of stone which encumbered the pass, wherever
rain could penetrate, rose tall and graceful wild flowers; and, in the
more open parts, the grassy carpet was freckled, in the springtime of
the year, with many a curious little blossom. Tall pines and rugged
hemlocks--some straight as a column, some strangely twisted and
contorted--the great black oak, with innumerable other shrubs and
trees, gathered wherever the banks of the dell were a little less
precipitous; and, when one looked up, one perceived, by the
overhanging branches, that the mountain-top was clothed with a dense
covering of forest.
About half-way through the glen was the large flat stone--a sort of
natural altar, on which the Indians had lighted their fire; and
strange and wild was the scene, as those swarthy men, armed as if for
battle, but not painted, sat around in the broad glare, each with his
rifle resting on his arm, and each still and motionless as a statue
hewn out of the brown rock. Up went the towering flame from the great
pile of dry wood, sending a flickering light over tree and precipice;
yet no one stirred, no one spoke, for several minutes. Each eye was
fixed upon the fire, not as if watching it as an object of interest,
but with the steady, thoughtful gaze which showed that the mind was
busy with other things; and there was something very awful in that
stern, cold silence.
At length, the Black Eagle began to speak, without moving from his
seat--however, at least, first. His tone, too, was low and sad; though
every word, in the sharp gutteral language of the Iroquois, was clear
and distinct.
"For more than fifty winters," he said, "I have hovered over the land
of the Oneidas; and my wing has not failed in its flight, my eyes have
not been dazzled by the blaze of the sun, nor dimmed by the light of
the moon. The dew has fallen upon me, and the summer's sun, and the
winter's snow; and still are my feathers unruffled, and my flight as
strong as in my youth. I am not a woman, that I should spare; nor a
child, that I should weep. Who has seen a tear in my eye? or who has
seen the tomahawk uplifted not to strike? Have I asked anything of my
children, but to be the first in the battle? Have I ever forgiven the
enemies of the children of the Stone? But we have made alliance with a
great nation; we have taken presents from them; we have promised to
live with them as brothers in the time of peace--to go to battle with
them as brothers in the time of war. Our children are their children,
and their children are ours. Moreover, with some of this nation our
chiefs have entered into more strict bonds of friendship. We have sat
by their fires, we have smoked the pipe of peace together; we are
their brothers. One family came and built their lodge amongst us,
swept down the forest, planted the corn-field. Their door was always
open to the red man; their food was always shared with him. They said
not, 'This is mine, and that is thine,' but they opened their arms and
they said, 'Thou art my brother.' The children of the Stone loved them
well; they were dear to the Black Eagle as his own eaglets. The mat in
the house of Prevost was a pleasant resting-place to his forehead when
he was tired. _His_ daughter was as _my_ daughter, and his son as of
my blood and bone.
"A man came to his hearth whom we all know, a good man, a friend to
the red man. Should my brother Prevost refuse to the Woodchuck room to
burrow for one night? He went away, and, far from the house of our
brother, he met an Oneida, of the Totem of the Tortoise; a man who had
robbed him, and who had a lying tongue, a snake who hated him whom he
had bitten. The tomahawk was bare, and the Oneida was killed; but the
man took not his scalp, he sung no song of triumph over the children
of the Stone. He slew him not as an enemy, but in self-defence;
otherwise he would have twisted his finger in the scalp-lock, and the
Oneidas would have mourned over a disgrace. It is right that there
should be blood for blood; that the man who sheds the blood of the red
man should die for his act; and that, if he or none of his relations
could be found, some other man of his nation should be made the
sacrifice.
"But what have I done that the son of my brother should be taken? Have
I led you so often in the battle, have I covered my war-post with the
scalps of your enemies, that the tree I planted should be rooted up
when the forest is full of worthless saplings? Was there no other
white man to be found in all the land, that you must take the child of
him who loved and trusted us? Had a moon passed,--nay, had even a week
gone by, that you might know that there was none but the beloved of
the Black Eagle whom you might use for your sacrifice? Had you made
sure even that you could not catch the murderer himself, and take his
blood in requital of the blood he shed? Is the wisdom of our people
gone by, is their cunning a thing of other days, that they could not
lure the man they sought into their power, that they could not hunt
down any other game, that they would not even try to find any one but
the one we loved the best?
"Remember, my children, that you are not rash and hasty, like the
pale-face, but that you are the children of the Stone; and though,
like it, unchangeable, and strong, you should be calm and still,
likewise.--I have said."
There was a pause of several minutes before any one answered; and then
a man of the middle age, not so tall as the Black Eagle by several
inches, but with a peculiarly cunning and serpent-like look about his
eyes, rose slowly from his seat, and, standing on the very point of
the rock where he was placed, said, in a hard, cold tone,--
"The Black Eagle has spoken well. We are allies of the white man. The
pale-face calls us his brother. He takes our hunting-grounds. He
plants corn and feeds oxen amongst us. Where our foot was free to go,
is ours no longer; it is his. He has taken it from us; and he is our
brother. The Black Eagle loves the pale-face. He took a pale-face for
his wife, and he loves all her race. He loves their religion. His
daughter is of the religion of the white man. He himself has faith in
their Gods. Their Great Spirit he adores, and he has made their
medicine-man his son by adoption. Is the religion of the white man the
same as the religion of the children of the Stone? Is _their_ Great
Spirit _our_ great spirit? No; for I have heard his words spoken, and
they are not the words that we are taught. The white man's Spirit tell
us that we shall not do that which our Great Spirit tells us to do. It
bids men spare their enemies, and to forgive. Ours tells us to slay
our enemies, and to avenge. Which is the true Spirit? Our own; for the
pale-face does not believe in his own Spirit, nor obey his commands.
He does not spare his enemies; he does not forgive; but he takes
vengeance as fiercely as the red man, and against his own law. Let us,
then, obey the voice of our own Great Spirit, and do according to our
own customs; for the white man knows his God to be false, or he would
obey his commandments.
"Now, what would the Black Eagle have? Would he have us all turn
Christians? Or would he have us obey the voice of the Maneto, and
follow the customs of our fathers? Have we not done according to our
own law? What do our traditions tell us? They say that thou shalt
appease the spirit of thy brother who is slain, by pouring out the
blood of the slayer. If his blood cannot be had, then that of one of
his family, or of his friends. If his family and his friends are not
to be found, then that of one of his nation. Lo! now, what is the
case, chiefs and warriors of the Oneidas? You have a brother slain.
His soul goes to the land of spirits; but his bow and his arrows hang
idly at his back. His heart is sad and desolate. He howls for food and
finds none. He wanders round and round the happy hunting-grounds, and
looks in in sorrow; for he must not enter till the blood of atonement
has been shed. He cries to you from the other side of the grave with a
great cry: 'Give me rest!' Shall his brothers give him none?--shall
they let him wander, cold and hungry, amidst frost and snow within
sight of the blessed region, and prevent him from entering--or shall
we take the first man we find of the race of him who slew him, and by
his blood, poured out upon this very stone, appease the spirit of our
dead brother, and let him enter the happy hunting-grounds, where his
soul may find repose?
"Ye men of the family of the Snake! ye have done well to seize upon
the pale-face whom ye first found; for ye have made sure of an
atonement for the blood of your brother; and how could ye know that ye
could find it if ye delayed your hand or abandoned your prey. And now
let the chiefs and the warriors consider whether they will still keep
their brother, who is dead, hungering and thirsting for months in the
cold regions, or whether they will make the atonement this very night,
and open the way for him into the happy hunting-grounds.--I have
said."
Again a deep silence took possession of the throng, and it was not
soon broken; but the eyes of the Black Eagle moved hither and thither
round the circle, watching every face; and, when he gathered by a sort
of kindling look in the eyes of one of the warriors that he was about
to speak, he himself interposed, rising this time to his full height,
and saying,--
"The medicine-man has spoken, and he has expounded the law; but he has
counselled with words contrary to the law. The medicine-man has the
law in his heart; but his words are the words of foxes. He has not
unfolded the roll of the law into which the words of the Maneto were
whispered; but he says truly that we are to shed the blood of the
murderer of our brother to appease his spirit. If we cannot find him,
we are to shed the blood of some one of his near kindred; if we cannot
find one of them, the blood of one of his nation. But have ye sought
for the murderer, ye brethren of the Snake? Can ye say that ye have
tried to catch him? Have ye had time? Will your brother, who is gone,
be contented with the blood of the first pale-face ye can find, when
ye might find the real murderer? Will he lap like the dog at the first
pool in his way? Will he not rather say: 'Give us the only sweet water
that can allay our thirst?' Would ye mutter in our ears, and make us
believe music? This is not the blood of him who shed our blood. This
is not the blood of his kindred. The happy hunting-grounds will not
open to the slain for this blood.
"Oneidas, it is the medicine-man who beguiles you from the customs of
your fathers. They say: 'Wait till ye have searched diligently. Make
sure that ye offer the best atonement that ye can. Do not kill the fox
because the panther has mangled the game. Do not shoot the oriole for
the thing that the hawk has done.' The son of my brother Prevost is no
kin of the Yengee who slew the Snake. His blood will not atone if ye
can find other blood more friendly to the murderer. The eyes of the
Maneto are over all; he sees that ye have not sought as ye should
seek."
Some moments after he had spoken, but with a less interval than had
hitherto occurred between any of the speeches, a fierce-looking young
warrior arose, and exclaimed,--
"Let him die. Why should we wait? The Woodchuck is safe in the land of
the Yengees. He has taken himself far from the arrow of the Oneida.
There is a cloud between us and him; and we cannot see through it. The
Woodchuck has no kindred. He has often declared so when he has sat by
the fire, and talked of the deeds he has done. He has boasted that he
was a man alone; that his father was clay, and his mother grass, and
the hemlock and the oak his brothers and his sisters. Neither him can
we find, nor any of his kin; but we have taken what was nearest to
him--his friend and the son of his friend. This is the blood that will
appease the spirit of our brother. Let him die, and die quickly. Does
the Black Eagle ask if this boy was his friend? The Black Eagle knows
he was; but, moreover, it may be that he himself was companion of the
murderer even when he killed our brother. They went forth together to
seek for some prey. Was it not the red man that the wolves hunted?
They killed a panther and a man when they were both together. That we
know; for there were eyes of red men near. The blood of our brother
was licked up by the earth. The skin of the panther was sent by this
boy, our captive, to Otaitsa, the daughter of the Black Eagle. I took
it from the runner this very day. The man who brought it is near at
hand. The skin is here.--I have said."
And he threw the panther's skin down before him, almost into the flame
of the fire.
A buzzing murmur ran round the Indians, and the keen mind of Black
Eagle soon perceived that the immediate danger of poor Walter Prevost
was greatly heightened.
"Let the law be announced to us," he said. "The roll of the law is
here; but let it not be read by the tongue of a fox. Let the man of
ancient times read it. Let the warrior and the priest who kept it for
so many years now tell us what it ordains, according to the
interpretation of old days, and not according to the rashness of boys,
who would be chiefs long before a scalp hangs at the door of their
lodge. I can see," he cried, in a loud voice, starting up from his
seat, and waving his arm, as if some strong emotion overpowered his
habitual calmness,--"I can see the time coming when the intemperance
of youth, and the want of respect for age and for renown, will bring
low the power of the Oneidas, will crush the greatness of the Five
Nations into dust. So long as age and counsel were reverenced, they
were a mighty people, and the scalps of their enemies were brought
from every battle-field. They were a wise people, for they listened to
the voice of experience, and they circumvented their enemies. But now
the voice of boys and striplings prevails. They take presents, and
they sell themselves for baubles. They drink the fire-water till they
are no more men--till reason has departed, and courage and strength
are not in them. They use the lightning, and they play with the
thunder; but the tomahawk and the scalping-knife are green rushes in
their hands. Let the law be announced, then; let it be announced by
the voice of age and wisdom, and let us abide by his words, for they
are good."
Thus saying, he stepped across the little chasm between him and the
second speaker on this occasion, and took up a heavy roll which lay
beside the priest or medicine-man. It consisted of innumerable strings
of shells sawn into long strips like the pendants of an ear-ring, and
stained of three separate colours, black, red, and white. These were
disposed in various curious groups, forming no regular pattern, yet
not without order; and so many were there in this roll, that, though
each was very small, the weight of the whole could not have been less
than twenty or thirty pounds.
Thus loaded, and bearing this burden with the appearance of great
reverence, Black Eagle carried the roll half round the circle, and
laid it upon the knees of a man evidently far advanced in life:
although his shaved head and long white scalp-lock showed, to an
Indian eye at least, that he still judged himself fit to accompany the
warriors of the tribe to battle.
The chief then slowly resumed his seat, and once more profound silence
spread over the assembly. The eyes of all were, it is true, directed
towards the old man whose exposition of their laws and customs was to
be final; but not a limb stirred, and even the very eagerness of their
gaze was subdued into a look of tranquil attention, except in the case
of the young man who had spoken so vehemently, and whose relationship
as a brother to the slain Indian excused, in the sight of his tribe, a
good deal of unwonted agitation.
For about two minutes after receiving the roll, the old priest
remained motionless, with his eyes raised towards the flame that still
towered up before him, licking and scorching the branches of a hemlock
tree above.
At last, his fingers began to move amongst the carved shells; and,
unloosing rapidly some thongs by which the roll was bound, he spread
out the seemingly tangled mass in fair order. Then, bending down his
head, he seemed to listen as if for a voice.
"The law of the Oneidas cannot change," he said, at length. "It is as
the will of Hawaneyoh, the Great Spirit. A white man must die for the
blood spilt by a white man. But the spiller of the blood must be
sought for, or our brother will still be shut out from the happy
hunting-grounds. Listen not to the song of singing-birds against the
young man, thou brother of the Snake. Neither do thou make trouble in
the Five Nations, because the blossom of the Black Eagle's tree cannot
be reached by thy hand."
The open allusion to that which he thought was one of the deep secrets
of his bosom was too much for even the Indian stoicism of the brother
of the Snake; and he drew his blanket or mantle over his chest, as if
to hide what was within. Black Eagle, however, though probably taken
as much by surprise as any one by the old man's words, remained
perfectly unmoved, not a change of expression even appearing upon his
rigid features, though the speaker paused for a full minute, as if to
let what he had said produce its full effect.
"Remember," continued the priest, "the prophecy of the child of the
sky, Tohganawatah, when our fathers, under his counsel, joined
themselves together in a perpetual league, a lifetime before a
pale-face was seen in the land. He said, 'When the white-throats shall
come, if ye suffer dissensions among yourselves, ye shall pull down
the Long House of the Five Nations, cut down the tree of Peace, and
extinguish the council-fire for ever.' And wilt thou, brother of the
Snake, bring this cloud upon thy people? Thou shalt search for him who
spilt thy brother's blood, till the moon have changed and waxed and
waned again; and then thou shalt come before Sachems of the eight
Totems, and make manifest that thou hast not been able to find him or
any of his kindred. Then shall the Sachems choose a pale-face for the
sacrifice, and let him die the death of a warrior by the stroke of the
tomahawk. But they shall make no delay; for thy brother must not be
shut out from the hunters gone before, more than two moons.--Hiro, I
have spoken.
"Koué, Koué! It is well!" said all the Indians present, but one; and,
rising from their seats, they raised the roll of their law reverently,
and one by one glided down the path which led to the opening of the
dell.