Part 19

In the State of New York, the Mohawk Valley is one of the most fertile and productive spots. Here are rolling fields of grain; wide orchards of apples, pears, and cherries; crystal streams and forests of noble trees. The soil is dark and loamy, and rich in nutritious salts. It is the garden spot of that great and populous state, and here the farmers are well content to remain upon their ancestral acreage and to reside in their comfortable houses. They are a happy people, blessed with climate and natural resources that are unsurpassed.

But this fruitful vale was not always in the hands of the descendants of Scotch, English and Irish forebears. The Mohawk Indians once roamed at will in this splendid country, here erected their wigwams where the game was most plentiful, and here planted orchards of apples and pears. The struggle for the possession of the ground was long and bitter. Hundreds gave up their lives in the wars which ravaged the fertile valley, and where now one hears but the songs of robins, of orioles, and of thrushes, once echoed the screams of dying men, of women, and children, who battled for the lands of the Mohawk. The waters of the tributaries of the rippling stream once ran red with the blood of contending armies of white men and of those of another color.

A famous Chief--King Hendrick--ruled over the destinies of the Mohawk Indians when Sir William Johnson, an Irish Baronet, obtained a grant to a great tract of territory here, and came to live in America. By right of conquest the English claimed possession of this soil, and by right of conquest the King deeded it to anyone whom he chose to make a present to. Sir William built a fine house and treated the Indians so well that they came to like him and would often visit him in great numbers.

King Hendrick was one day at the Baronet's house, and seeing a richly embroidered coat lying across a chair, he had a strong desire to possess it. So upon the following morning he went up to Sir William and said:

"Brother, me dream last night a big dream."

"Really, Hendrick," replied Sir William. "And what, pray, did my red brother dream?"

The King of the Mohawks pointed to the embroidered coat.

"Me dream that the big coat was mine."

Sir William smiled. "It is yours," said he. "Take it and wear it as a proof of my friendship for you."

Not long afterwards the jovial Baronet visited the wigwams of the Mohawks, and, after lighting the peace pipe, spoke to King Hendrick in the following manner.

"Great Sachem," said he, "I had a big dream last night."

"Ugh! Ugh!" grunted the Mohawk brave. "What did my paleface brother dream?"

The Irishman took up a stick and drew with it upon the ground. "I dreamed that this tract of land was mine," said he, describing a square bounded on the south by the Mohawk river, on the east by Canada Creek, and on the north and west by some well-known hills. "And I would like to have my red-skinned brother present it to me."

Old Hendrick was completely undone, for he saw that this request covered nearly a hundred thousand acres of the finest territory in his possession. But he remembered the gift of that splendid scarlet coat, and, as he thought over the matter, he came to the conclusion that the request was not, after all, such a great one. Finally he arose and stretched out his right arm in the direction of the territory which the Irishman wanted.

"Brother," said he, "the land is yours, but you must never dream again."

Shortly afterwards the title to this property was confirmed by the British Government, and the tract was called the Royal Grant. Sir William thus became one of the largest landholders in America and one of the most prominent Englishmen on the frontier. He trafficked with the Senecas and Mohawks, made a large fortune, and soon erected another mansion, called "The Castle." Here he lived with a fair-haired German girl whom he had married, and was happy and contented until her death. She left him with three small children--one a boy, John, and the others daughters.

Not long after his wife's death Sir William went to a muster of the county militia. A pretty, daring Mohawk girl of about sixteen years of age, called Mollie Brant, stood among the crowd of spectators, and, engaging in some banter with a field officer, asked if she might mount his horse. Not dreaming, for an instant, that the girl could do it, the officer gave his permission, and in a second the girl had sprung to the crupper behind the soldier, and they both dashed gayly over the parade ground, while the maiden's bright blanket flapped wildly in the wind. All laughed at this show of feminine bravery, and Colonel Johnson was so much struck with the beauty of the Indian maid that he requested that he be presented to her.

Shortly afterwards Sir William asked the Indian beauty to go with him to his home and become its mistress, a request which she was only too willing to accede to. For the remainder of his life Molly Brant lived with him; an alliance which greatly pleased the Indians and strengthened his influence over them. Johnson Hall and Johnson Castle were always open to the coming and going of crowds of red men. Sir William attended their councils, danced in their wild dances, played their games, and joined with them in all their wild sports. He was given an Indian name, was formally adopted into the Mohawk nation, and was made a war chief. Frequently he would wear the dress of the redskins, would paint his face, dress his head with eagle feathers, and would march with great dignity and gravity into Albany at the head of his adopted people.

The brother of Molly Brant was called Thay-en-da-negea, or Joseph, and he was born upon the banks of the Ohio River when the Mohawks had journeyed thither upon a hunting expedition. The father of this noted warrior had the extraordinary title of Te-ho-wagh-wen-gara-gh-kwin; and, although his name is not particularly beautiful, it is said that he was a Chief of poetic nature and that he would often recite the following legend concerning the ancestry of his famous son and daughter.

"Many years in the past when the beautiful Mohawk River was broader than at present, and when the falls were more lofty, a feud arose between two young chiefs of the respective clans of the Mohawk nation, the Wolf and the Tortoise. The cause of the trouble was a maiden of the Bear totem, for she was loved by the two youthful braves of the Wolf and the Tortoise, and both desired to make her his wife. Each was a noble young man, for each had fought the Mingoes and the Mohegans and each considered that he had shown sufficient bravery to win the hand of the beautiful young maiden.

"Finally the maiden decided to bestow her hand upon the warrior of the Wolf totem, and she promised him that she would become his bride. But when this decision was brought to the ears of the Tortoise, his heart burned with jealousy, and he determined to carry off the beautiful girl by force. So he persuaded her one night to go with him to a verdant island in the river, where there was a cooling spring, where the fireflies lighted the way with their lamps, and where the whippoorwills sang their evening serenades. They launched into the stream, but, instead of paddling to the island, the warrior of the Tortoise clan steered his canoe far down the stream, and suddenly wheeling aside landed at the mouth of a cavern known only to himself. Springing ashore, he carried the unwilling maid inside, where the floor was covered with rushes and skins of wild beasts, and where an abundance of provisions was stored. A fierce cataract was near by, so that anyone leaving by a canoe would be swept away and drowned in its boiling flood. But in the top of the cave was an exit, known alone to the Tortoise.

"In the cave lived the maiden for many months, unhappy, weeping, and sad. But he of the Wolf clan was upon her trail, and one day--while hunting in the woods in search of game--he saw the canoe at the mouth of the cave and knew that she whom he loved must be inside. The evening was clear and a full moon shed its lustre over the woodland as the Wolf crept to the mouth of the cavern and saw the Tortoise sleeping lightly upon a bearskin. Dropping to his side, he struck him with his knife. In a moment the warrior was upon his feet, but, unable to find his hatchet in the dark, he bounded through the opening at the top of the cavern and rolled a huge stone over the exit.

"The lovers embraced in momentary joy, but it was brief, as they realized that they were trapped in the cave, and that soon the Tortoise would be back again to slay them, accompanied by other warriors of his clan. There was but one chance to escape--to plunge through the roaring cataract in the canoe and to endeavor to cross the boiling rapids in safety. So with an affectionate embrace, they leaped into the frail barque and pointed it towards the frothing spume of the waterfall. In an instant they were being hurled through space in the awful current of the water. But the Great Spirit was with them, and down the broad stream they glided, far away to the margin of a lake, where they landed, built a tepee and lived for two generations. Here they saw their own children and their childrens' children go out to war and to the chase. Here was born the father of Joseph and Molly Brant, the first, the strong Wolf of the Mohawks, the second, the distinguished wife of the great Englishman, Sir William Johnson."

Thay-en-da-negea means a bundle of sticks, but why the future Chieftain of the Mohawks was called by this name it is difficult to know. Sir William Johnson naturally took a great interest in him and sent him to school at Lebanon, Connecticut, where he was taught by a good old minister, called the Rev. Eleazer Wheelock, and received a thorough knowledge of the English language. "Joseph is indeed an excellent youth," wrote the aged minister to Sir William. "He is always well, is studious and diligent."

When thirteen years of age, war broke out between the French and English colonies in America, which resulted in the conquest of Canada. With two of his brothers, Joseph Brant was present at the fighting around Crown Point in 1755. He confessed that he was seized with fear and trembling at the first firing, and was obliged to take hold of a small sapling, but recovered his courage and fought bravely during the rest of the day, seeking to win the reputation of a brave man, so highly prized by every red man of ambition. Young Thay-en-da-negea was also present at the siege of Fort Niagara by Sir William Johnson's men, and so it can be easily seen that as a youth he had a pretty thorough education as a warrior; an education which was to stand him in good stead in the war of the American Revolution. As a school boy he was restless and uneasy, preferring to hunt rather than study. He did not graduate, and, after leaving the tuition of the Rev. Mr. Wheelock, was employed as an interpreter for a young minister who was devoting his life to missionary work among the Mohawks. Pontiac's war put an end to this duty, and he was soon engaged in various forays against Indian tribes which were upon the warpath.

Brant was a tall, handsome young Indian, with a lighter complexion than most of his race, and a very brilliant eye. In the light costume of an Indian warrior he would often creep with his companions upon the war parties of unfriendly savages, kill those whom they could, and, with the prisoners bound and guarded, would march triumphantly to their own village, and from there to Johnson Hall to receive approbation and perhaps a reward from Sir William; for he at one time offered fifty dollars apiece for the heads of two chiefs of the Delawares. The war was soon over, as has been shown in the essay on Pontiac, and young Brant was now well known as a brave, and well on the road to the chieftaincy in coming battles.

In 1765 the famous warrior married the daughter of an Oneida chief and settled at Canajoharie on the Mohawk River, the middle town of three Mohawk settlements and the home of his childhood. Here he had a comfortable house with all the needed furniture. In 1771 his wife died of consumption, and after this he came to live at Fort Hunter, some thirty miles below Canajoharie. He also joined the Church of England, married his first wife's half-sister, and was living a peaceful and quiet existence when the storm of the American Revolution broke over the rural settlements of the Mohawk.

There the white settlers were not all friendly to the American Colonists. Believing that they were harshly used by Great Britain, and seeing that they were taxed without representation, they desired to cast off the yoke of the mother country. Those who did not desire a Revolution were called Tories. Those who were for the American cause were known as Whigs. Sir William Johnson was wealthy; he was not affected by the English tax on tea; he had received great favors from the mother country, and he, therefore, threw his influence in behalf of King George: the burly English Sovereign who was fully determined to whip the Americans into submission. Joseph Brant was now one of the most powerful and influential of the Iroquois and Mohawk Chiefs. His close allegiance to the hospitable Baronet naturally made him favor the same cause which his sister's husband espoused. But before the Whigs were sure which side the Indian warrior would champion, they asked his old schoolmaster in Connecticut to write him upon the subject, and to find out whether or no this now powerful Indian would take up the tomahawk against them.

When Joseph Brant received the epistle from good old Wheelock, he answered it with characteristic wit. "I remember," said he, "many happy hours that I spent under your roof, dear Doctor, and I especially remember the family prayers. There you used to pray on bended knee and ask that we all might be able to live as good subjects; to fear God and to honor the King. How is it, then, that you now no longer wish to honor the very man for whom you used to pray?" To this the now aged schoolmaster made no reply, nor could he have done so.

"When I joined the English at the beginning of this war," said Brant, some years afterwards, "it was purely on account of my forefathers' engagements with the King. I always looked upon these covenants between the King and the Indian nations as a sacred thing; therefore, I was not to be frightened by the threats of rebels at the time!" Thus the English gained the allegiance, not only of this able warrior, but also of all the fighting men whom he controlled. "I will lead three thousand braves to battle for the cause of England," cried Brant in London, where he was now sent by Sir William Johnson, "and with our assistance, there can be but one end of the war--England will conquer."

No wonder he was popular at the English Capital. When he appeared at court he wore a gorgeous Indian costume; tall plumes adorned his headdress; silver bands were around his sinewy arms, his dress was of the richest texture, and copper pendants hung from his clothing. In his belt of blue, red and white beads, a long glittering tomahawk was fastened upon which was engraved, "J. Thay-en-da-negea." He was the lion of the London season. His portrait was twice painted; jewelled ladies sought an audience with him; while the famous Boswell wrote much about this eminent redskin in the papers of the period. But in spite of all this flattery, he seems to have been undismayed by what he saw and to have had the good sense to buy a gold ring, upon which was engraved his full name, so that he could be identified if slain in battle. And of war he was soon to see enough to satisfy the martial spirit of any Indian warrior.

The people of New York were waiting to capture this prominent brave when he returned to his own land, but he was too shrewd for them and escaped the clutches of those who would do him harm. Landing near the city of New York in a small boat, he carefully hid himself by day, and journeying by night, soon had reached a less populated country. Finally he came to Canada, was received most cordially by the British officers, and soon had collected a large band of Indians which he put at the disposal of Sir Guy Carleton, then commander of the British troops on Canadian soil. He was ordered to join forces with a company of regulars, with six hundred Iroquois, and to dislodge some American troops from a point of land about forty miles above Montreal, known as the Cedars.

The Americans were unable to hold their own against the superior numbers of their enemies. They capitulated, and, although a number of troops--under General Arnold--came to their assistance, these were defeated by Brant and his Iroquois with great loss. The savages murdered many of the prisoners before they could be prevented, although Brant endeavored to stop them. He did succeed in saving the life of Captain McKinstry, who was badly wounded, and who had been selected by the Indians to be roasted alive. By making up a purse among the officers an ox was purchased for the bloodthirsty braves, which they roasted instead of the officer, and, as the latter was treated with great kindness by Brant, he became a firm friend of the young Mohawk Chieftain. In after years, when the war was over, Brant never passed down the Hudson without visiting the gallant captain at his home, a visit which the American greatly appreciated as can well be imagined.

Cherry Valley in Otsego County, New York, is one of the most beautiful and fertile sections of the state, so fertile that hundreds of white settlers had here taken up plantations. Their consternation was great when they learned in 1777 that Brant with a large force of Iroquois and Mohawks had determined to attack them. From Oquaga on the Susquehanna the red men approached the settlements one bright morning in May, and from the thick woods glared upon the largest fortification of the settlement, in front of which some boys were parading with swords of wood and guns of the same material. Luckily the Indian Chief thought that these were real soldiers, and fearing to attack he withdrew.

But soon two young men--Lieutenant Wormwood and Peter Sitz--rode into the wood, where his Indians were in hiding. The former had just galloped over from the Mohawk Valley to tell the people that troops would soon be sent to them, as assistance, and the other had some exaggerated dispatches upon his person, stating that the defenses of the fort were twice as strong as they really were. It was fortunate that he had these with him, for, as they were captured by Brant and his men, these bogus dispatches made the Indians desist in an attack upon the stockade in Cherry Valley. Wormwood was killed by a volley from the guns of the savages and was scalped, an act which Brant is said to have much regretted, as he had formerly been friendly with the young man. Sitz was allowed to go, although the Mohawks were eager to torture him.

The Indians continued to flock to the standard of Joseph Brant, and the people of the frontier were in terror of their lives. Hastily they formed a militia and placed the raw recruits under the command of a lean, clean-limbed frontiersman called Herkimer, who was an old neighbor and friend of Joseph Brant. This soldier determined if possible to capture the wily brave, and so, inviting him to an interview, he marched out with three hundred men to meet him at Unadilla. When he had arrived there, a messenger came in from the camp of the Indians.

"Captain Brant wants to know why you came here?" said the Mohawk.

Herkimer looked firmly at him. "I merely came to see and talk with my brother, Captain Brant," he answered.

The Indian gazed suspiciously around at the hard-visaged militiamen.

"Do all these men want to talk with Captain Brant also?" he asked. "I will carry your big talk to Captain Brant," he continued, "but you must not come any farther." So saying, he made off towards the camp of the Indians.

A meeting was now appointed through messengers to take place about midway between the two small armies. Herkimer hurried to the place of council, but had to wait a long time for Brant and his warriors, who showed by their actions that they suspected treachery. Herkimer, himself, scarcely disguised his intense dislike for the Indian warrior, as he looked into the keen eyes of the famous redskin.

"May I inquire the reason of my being honored by a visit from such an eminent man as yourself?" asked Brant politely.

"I came upon a friendly errand," said Herkimer. "I want to know whether you intend to ally yourself with the British or not?"

Brant looked at him defiantly. "The Indians are in concert with the King, as their fathers were," said he. "We have still got the wampum belt which the King gave us, and we cannot break our word. You and your followers have joined the Boston people against your sovereign. And, although the Bostonians are resolute, the King will humble them. Your General Schuyler has been too smart for the Indians in his treaty with them. He tricked the unsuspecting braves. The Indians have made war before upon the white people when they were all united; now they are divided, and the Indians are not frightened, for they know that they can beat you."

"I want you to give up the Tories in your party," said Herkimer.

"I refuse to do so," answered Brant. "If all you want to do is to see the poor Indians, why, pray, do you bring all these white soldiers with you?"

So the conference ended, but the Indian Chief promised to meet Herkimer again next day. Meanwhile the frontiersman determined to massacre the Chief and his attendants when again they met. Four of his soldiers were chosen to do this, but when the time came they lost heart, and, overawed by the numbers of red warriors, failed to take the life of Brant, who met Herkimer at the appointed time, with five hundred warriors at his heels. The white man only had a dozen militiamen to guard him.

"I have five hundred of my best men with me, all armed and ready for battle," said the Mohawk. "You, Herkimer, are in my power, but, as we have been friends and neighbors, I will not take advantage over you." As he spoke he signalled with his hand, and with a wild, blood-curdling warwhoop, his warriors swept around the spot where stood the frontier leader.

"Now, Herkimer," said Brant imperiously, "you and your men may go."

The militiamen took the hint and turning about made off into the forest as fast as their legs would carry them.

Brant and his men withdrew from Cherry Valley and marched to meet an army under General Burgoyne, which, concentrating at Lake Champlain, was beginning an advance into the interior of the State of New York. "We cannot be beaten," said the British leader. "We will split the Colonies in two parts, and they will soon capitulate." So with confidence and zeal the great force of English regulars and hostile Indians crept down upon the American settlements. The farmers armed for the defense of their principles. They gathered in bands to stem the hostile invasion, and, if possible, to defeat the great and powerful force of the English.