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33 - The Last Of The Mohicans - James Cooper · Classic Adventure Books Library

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Chapter thirty three. Quote. They fought like brave men, long and well.
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They piled that ground with Moslem slain they conquered. But Bozares fell bleeding
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at every vein his few surviving comrade saw his smile when rang their loud hurraw
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and the red field was won. They saw in death his eyelids close calmly
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as to a knight's repose, like flowers at set of sun end quote from
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Halleck. The sun found the Lenape on the seceding day a nation of mourners.
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The sounds of the battle were over, and they had fed fat their
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ancient grudge, and had avenged their recent quarrel with the Mengue by the destruction
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of a whole community. The black and murky atmosphere that floated around the spot
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where the Hurons had encamped sufficiently announced of itself the fate of that wandering tribe,
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while hundreds of ravens that struggled above the summits of the mountains or swept
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in noisy flocks across the wide ranges of the woods, furnished a frightful direction
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to the scene of the combat. In short, any eye at all practiced
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in the signs of a frontier warfare might easily have traced all those unerring evidences
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of the ruthless results which attend an Indian vengeance. Still, the sun rose
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on the Lenape a nation of mourners. No shouts of success, no songs
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of triumph, were heard in rejoicings for their victory. The latest straggler had
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returned from his fell employment only to strip himself of the terrific emblems of his
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bloody calling, and to join in the lamentations of his countrymen as a stricken
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people. Pride and exultation were supplanted by humility, and the fierceness of human
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passions was already succeeded by the most profound and unequivocable demonstrations of grief. The
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lodges were deserted, but a broad belt of earnest faces encircled a spot in
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their vicinity, whither everything possessing life had repaired, and where all were now
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collected in deep and awful silence. Though beings of every rank and age,
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of both sexes, and of all pursuits had united to form this breathing wall
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of bodies, they were influenced by a single emotion. Each eye was riveted
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on the center of that ring which contained the objects of so much and of
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so common an interest. Six delaware girls, with their long, dark flowing
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tresses falling loosely across their bosoms, stood apart and only gave proof of their
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existence as they occasionally strewed sweet scented herbs and forest flowers on a litter of
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fragrant plants that, under a pall of Indian robes supported all that remained of
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the ardent, high, souled, and generous Cora. Her form was concealed
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in many wrappers of the same simple manufacture, and her face was shut forever
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from the gaze of men. At her feet was seated the desolate Monroe.
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His aged head was bowed nearly to the earth in compelled submission to the stroke
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of providence, but a hidden anguish struggled about his furrowed brow that was only
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partially concealed by the careless locks of gray that had fallen neglected on his temples.
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Gamut stood at his side, his meek head bared to the rays of
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the sun, while his eyes, wandering and concerned, seemed to be equally
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divided between that little volume which contained so many quaint but holy maxims and the
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being in whose behalf his soul yearned to administer consolation. Heyward was also nigh
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supporting himself against the tree and endeavoring to keep down those sudden risings of sorrow
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that required his utmost manhood to subdue. But sad and melancholy as this group
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may easily be imagined, it was far less touching than another that occupied the
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opposite space of the same area. Seated as in life, with his form
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and limbs arranged in grave and decent composure, Uncas appeared, arrayed in the
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most gorgeous ornaments that the wealth of the tribe could furnish. Rich plume nodded
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before his head, wampum gorgets, bracelets, and metals adorn his person in
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profusion, though his dull eye and vacant lineaments too strongly contradicted the idle tale
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of pride they would convey. Directly in front of the corpse, Chinchcotchkok was
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placed without arms, paint, or adornment of any sort, except the bright
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blue blazonry of his race that was indelibly impressed on his naked bosom. During
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the long period that the tribe had thus been collected. The Mohican warrior had
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kept a steady, anxious look on the cold and senseless countenance of his son.
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So riveted and intense had been that gaze, and so changeless his attitude,
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that a stranger might not have told the living from the dead, but
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for the occasional bleamings of a troubled spirit that shot athwart the dark visage of
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one, and the deathlike calm that forever settled on the lineaments of the other.
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The scout was hard by leaning in a pensive posture on his own fatal
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and avenging weapon, while tamenund, supported by the elders of his nation,
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occupied a high place at hand, whence he might look down on the mute
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and sorrowful assemblage of his people. Just within the inner edge of the circle
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stood a soldier in the military attire of a strange nation, and without it
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was his warhorse, in the center of a collection of mounted domestics, seemingly
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in readiness to undertake some distant journey. The vestments of the stranger announced him
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to be one who held a responsible situation near the person of the Captain of
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the Canadas, and who, as it would now seem, finding his errand
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of peace frustrated by the fierce impetuosity of his allies, was to content to
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become a silent and sad spectator of the fruits of a contest that he arrived
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too late to anticipate. The day was drawing to the close of its first
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quarter, and yet had the multitude maintained its breathing silence since its dawn.
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No sound louder than a stifled sob had been heard among them, Nor had
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even a limb been moved throughout that long and painful period, except to perform
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the touching offerings that were made from time to time in commemoration of the dead.
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The patience and forbearance of the Indian fortitude could alone support such an appearance
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of abstraction as seemed now to have turned each dark and motionless figure into stone.
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At length, the Sage of the Delaware stretched forth an arm, and,
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leaning on the shoulders of his attendants, he arose with an air as
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feeble as if another age had already intervened between the man who had met his
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nation the preceding day and him who now tottered on his elevated stand. Men
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of the Lenape, He said, in low, hollow tones that sounded like
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a voice charged with some prophetic mission. The face of Magneto is behind a
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cloud. His eye is turned from you, his ears are shut. His
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tongue gives no answer. You see him that, yet his judgments are before
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you. Let your hearts be open, and your spirits tell no lie.
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Men of the Lenape. The face of the Manitou is behind a cloud.
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As this simple and yet terrible enunciation stole on the ears of the multitude,
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a stillness as deep and awful succeeded, as if the venerated spirit they worshiped
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had uttered the words without the aid of human organs, and even the inanimate
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uncas appeared a being of life compared with the humbled and submissive throng by whom
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he was surrounded. As the immediate effect, however, gradually passed away.
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A low murmur of voices commenced, a sort of chant in honor of the
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dead. The sounds were those of females and were thrillingly, soft and wailing.
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The words were connected by no regular continuation, but as one ceased,
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another took up the eulogy or lamentation, whichever it might be called, and
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gave vent to her emotions in such language as was suggested by her feelings,
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and the occasion at intervals the speaker was interrupted by general and loud bursts of
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sorrow, during which the girls around the bier of Cora plucked the plants and
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flowers blindly from her body, as if bewildered with grief. But in the
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milder moments of their plains, these emblems of purity and sweetness were cast back
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to their places with every sign of tenderness and regret. Though rendered less connected
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by many in general interruptions and outbreakings, a translation of their language would have
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contained a regular descant, which, in substance might have proved to possess a
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train of consecutive ideas, a girl selected for the task by her rank and
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qualifications, commenced by modest delusions to the qualities of the deceased warrior, embellishing
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her expressions with those oriental images that the Indians have probably brought with them from
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the extremes of the other continent, and which form of themselves a link to
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connect the ancient history of the two worlds. She called him the panther of
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his tribe, and described him as one whose moccasin left no trail on the
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dews, whose bound was like the leap of a young fawn, whose eye
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was brighter than a star in the dark night, and whose voice in battle
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was loud as the thunder of Manitoau. She reminded him of the mother who
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bore him, and dealt forcibly on the happiness she must feel in possessing such
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a son. She bade him tell her, when they met in the world
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of spirits, that the Delawares had shed tears above the grave of her child,
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called her blessed. Then, they who succeeded, changing their tones to
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a milder and still more tender strain, alluded with the delicacy and sensitiveness of
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women to the stranger maiden, who had left the upper Earth at a time
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so near his own departure as to render the will of the great Spirit too
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manifest to be disregarded. They admonished him to be kind to her, and
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to have consideration for her ignorance of those arts which were so necessary to the
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comfort of a warrior like himself. They dwelt upon her matchless beauty and on
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her noble resolution, without the taint of envy, and as angels may be
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thought to delight in superior excellence, adding that these endowments should prove more than
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equivalent for any little imperfection in her education, after which which others, again
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in due succession, spoke to the maiden herself in the low, soft language
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of tenderness and love. They exhorted her to be of cheerful mind, and
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to fear nothing for her future welfare. A hunter would be her companion,
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who knew how to provide for her smallest ones, and a warrior was at
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her side who was able to protect her against every danger. They promised that
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her path should be pleasant and her burden light. They cautioned her against unavailing
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regrets for the friends of her youth and the scenes where her father had dwelt,
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assuring her that the blessed hunting grounds of the Lenape contained veils as pleasant,
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streams as pure, and flowers as sweet as the heaven of the pale
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faces. They advised her to be attentive to the wants of her companion,
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and never to forget the distinction which the Manateeau had so wisely established between them.
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Then, in a wild burst of their chant, they sang with united
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voices the temper of the Mohegan's mind. They pronounced him noble, manly,
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and generous, all that became a warrior, and all that a maid might
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love. Clothing their ideas. In the most remote and subtle images, they
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betrayed that, in the short period of their intercourse they had discovered, with
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the intuitive perception of their sex, the truant disposition of his inclinations. The
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Delaware girls had found no favor in his eyes. He was of a race
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that had once been lords on the shores of the Salt Lake, and his
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wishes had led him back to a people who dwelt about the graves of his
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fathers. Why should would not such a predilection be encouraged. That she was
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a blood purer and richer than the rest of her nation. Any eye might
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have seen that she was equal to the dangers and daring of a life in
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the woods. Her conduct had proved, And now they added, the wise
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one of the earth had transplanted her to a place where she would find congenial
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spirits and might be forever happy. Then, with another transition in voice and
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subject, allusions were made to the virgin who wept in the adjacent lodge.
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They compared her to flakes of snow, as pure, as white, as
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brilliant, and as liable to melt in the fierce heats of summer, or
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congeal in the frost of winter. They doubted not that she was lovely in
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the eyes of the young chief, whose skin and whose sorrow seemed so like
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her own, But the far from expressing such a preference, it was evident
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they deemed her less excellent than the maid they mourned. Still, they denied
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her no need. Her rare charms might properly claim. Her ringlets were compared
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to the exuberant tendrils of the vine, her eye to the blue vault of
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heavens, and the most spotless cloud, with its glowing flush of the sun,
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was admitted to be less attractive than her bloom. During these and similar
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songs, nothing was audible but the murmurs of the music, relieved as it
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was, or rather rendered terrible by those occasional burst of grief which might be
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called its choruses. The Delawares themselves listened like charmed men, and it was
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very apparent by the variations of their speaking countenances how deep and true was their
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sympathy. Even David was not reluctant to lend his ears to the tones of
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voices so sweet and long ere the chant was ended, his gaze announced that
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his soul was enthralled. The scout, to whom alone, of all the
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white men, the words were intelligible, suffered himself to be a little aroused
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from his meditative posture, and bent his face aside to catch their meaning as
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the girls proceeded. But when they spoke of the future prospects of Cora and
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Uncas, he shook his head like one who knew the error of their simple
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creed, and resuming his reclining attitude, he maintained it until the ceremony,
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if that might be called a ceremony in which feeling was so deeply imbued,
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was finished happily for the self command of both Heyward and Monroe. They knew
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not the meaning of the wild sounds they heard. Chinegotchkook was the solitary exception
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to the interests manifested by the native part of the audience. His look never
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changed throughout the whole of the scene, nor did a muscle move in his
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rigid countenance, even at the wildest or most pathetic parts of the lamentation.
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The cold and senseless remains of his son was all to him, and every
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other sense, but that of sight, seemed frozen, in order that his
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eyes might take their final gaze at those lineaments which he had so long loved,
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and which were now about to be closed forever from his view. In
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this stage of arbescues a warrior much renowned for deed in arms, and more
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especially for services in the recent combat. A man of stern and grave demeanor
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advanced slowly from the crowd and placed himself nigh the person of the dead.
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Why hast thou liftus pride of the wapanatch Ki, he said, addressing himself
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to the dull ears of uncas, as if the empty clay retained the faculties
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of the animated man. Thy time has been like that of the sun,
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when in the trees thy glory brighter than his light at noonday. Thou art
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gone, youthful warrior, But a hundred Wian dots are clearing the briars from
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thy path to the world of the spirits. Who that saw THEE in battle
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would believe that thou couldst die. Who before THEE has ever shown artowis the
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way into the fight. Thy feet were like the wings of eagles, thine
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arm heavier than falling branches from the pine, and thy voice like the manateau
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when he speaks in the clouds. The tongue of Attou is weak, he
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added, looking about him with a melancholy gaze, And his heart is exceeding
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heavy bride of the wappaatchi ki. Why hast thou left us? He was
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succeeded by others in due order, until the most high and gifted men of
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the nation had sung or spoken their tribute of praise over the mains of the
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deceased chief. When each had ended, another deep and breathing silence reigned in
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all the place. Then a low, deep sound was heard, like the
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suppressed accompaniment of distant music, rising just high enough on the air to be
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audible, and yet so indistinctly as to leave its character and the place.
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Whence it proceeded alike matters of conjecture. It was, however, succeeded by
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another and another strain, each in a higher key, until they grew on
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the ear, first in long drawn and often repeated interjections, and finally in
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words. The lips of Chinggotchkook had so far parted as to announce that it
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was the monody of the Father. Though not an eye was turned toward him,
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nor the smallest sign of impatience exhibited. It was apparent by the manner
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in which the multitude elevated their heads to listen, that they drank in the
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sounds with an intenseness of attention that none but Tamenun himself had ever before commanded.
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But they listened in vain. Their strains rose just so loud as to
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become intelligible, and then grew fainter and more trembling, until they finally sank
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on the ear, as if borne away by a passing breath of wind.
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The lips of the Sagon were closed, and he remained silent in his seat,
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looking with his riveted eye and motionless form, like some creature that had
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been turned from the almighty hand, with the form but without the spirit of
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a man. The Delawares, who knew by these symptoms that their mind to
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their friend was not prepared for so mighty an effort of fortitude, relaxed their
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attention, and with innate delicacy, seemed to bestow all their thoughts on the
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ambescues of the stranger maiden. A signal was given by one of the elder
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chiefs through the women, who crowded that part of the circle near which the
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body of Cora lay. Obedient to the sign, the girls raised the bier
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to the elevation of their heads and advanced with slow and regulated steps, chanting
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as they proceeded, another wailing song in praise the deceased. Gimut, who
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had been a close observer of the rites he deemed so heathenish, now bent
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his head over the shoulder of the unconscious father, whispering, they move with
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the remnants of thy child, Shall we not follow and see them in turned
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with Christian burial, Monroe started as if the last trumpet had sounded in his
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ear, and, bestowing one anxious and hurried glance around him, he arose
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and followed in the simple train with the mien of a soldier, but bearing
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the full burden of apparent suffering. His friends pressed around him with a sorrow
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that was too stroll strong to be termed sympathy, even the young frenchmen joining
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in the procession, with the air of a man who was sensibly touched at
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the early and melancholy fate of one so lovely. But when the last and
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humblest female of the tribe had joined in the wild and yet ordered array,
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the men of the Lenapee contracted their circle and formed again around the person of
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Uncas, as silent as grave, and as motionless as before. The place
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that had been chosen for the grave of Cora was a little knoll where a
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cluster of young and healthful pines had taken root, forming of themselves a melancholy
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and appropriate shade over the spot. On reaching it, the girls deposited their
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burden and continued for many minutes, waiting, with characteristic patients and native timidity,
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for some evidence that they whose feelings were most concerned, were content with
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the the arrangement. At length, the scout, who alone understood their habits,
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said, in their own language, my daughters have done well. The
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white men thanked them. Satisfied with this testimony in their favor, the girls
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proceeded to deposit the body in a shell ingeniously and not inelegantly fabricated of the
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bark of the birch, after which they lowered it into its dark and final
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abode. The ceremony of covering the remains, and concealing the marks of the
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fresh earth by leaves and other natural and customary objects was conducted with the same
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simple and silent forms. But when the labors of the kind beings who had
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performed these sad and friendly offices were so far completed, they hesitated in a
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way to show that they knew not how much further they might proceed. It
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was in this stage of the rites that the scout again dressed them. Women
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have done enough, he said. The spirit of the pale face has no
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need of food or raiment, their gifts being according to the heaven of their
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color. I see, he added, glancing an eye at David, who
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was preparing his book in a manner that indicated an intention to lead the way
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in sacred song that one who better knows the Christian fashions is about to speak.
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The female stood modestly aside, and from having been the principal actors in
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the scene, they now became the meek and attentive observers of that which followed.
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During the time David occupied in pouring out the pious feelings of his spirits
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in this manner, not a sign of surprise nor a look of impatience escaped
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them. They listened like those who knew the meaning of the strange word,
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and appeared as if they felt the mingled emotions of sorrow, hope, and
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resignation they were intended to convey. Excited by the scene he had just witnessed,
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and perhaps influenced by his own secret emotions, the Master of Song exceeded
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his usual efforts. His full, rich voice was not found to suffer by
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a comparison with the soft tones of the girls, and his more modulated strains
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possessed, at least for the ears of those to whom they were peculiarly addressed,
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the additional power of intelligence. He ended the anthem as he had commenced
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it, in the midst of a grave and solemn stillness, when, however,
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the clothes and cadence had fallen on the ears of his auditors, The
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secret, timorous glances of the eyes and the general and yet subdued movement of
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the assemblage betrayed that something was expected from the father of the deceased. When
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Rose seemed sensible that the time was come for him to to exert what is
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perhaps the greatest effort of which human nature is capable, he bared his gray
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locks and looked around the timid and quiet throng by which he was encircled with
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a firm and collected countenance. Then, motioning with his hands for the scout
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to listen, he said, say to these kind and gentle females that a
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heart broken and failing men returns them his thanks. Tell them that the being
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we all worshiped under different names, we will be mindful of their charity,
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and that the time shall not be distant when we may assemble around his throne
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without distinction of sex, rank, or calor. The scout listened to the
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tremulous voice in which the veteran delivered these words, and shook his head slowly
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when they were ended, as one who doubted their efficacy. To tell them
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this, he said, would be to tell them that the snows come not
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in the winter, or that the sun shines fiercest when the trees are stripped
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of their leaves. Then, turning to the women, he made such a
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communication of the other's gratitude as he deemed most suited to the capabilities of his
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listeners. The head of Monroe had already sunk upon his chest, and he
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was again fast relapsing into melancholy when the young Frenchman before named ventured to touch
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him lightly on the elbow. As soon as he had gained the attention of
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the morning old man, he pointed toward a group of young Indians who approached
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with a light but closely covered litter, and then pointed upward toward the sun.
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I understand you, sir, returned Monroe, with a voice of forced
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firmness. I understand you. It is will of Heaven, and I submit
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Coral, my child. If the prayers of a heart broken father could availed
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the now, how blessed should stell be? Come, gentlemen, he added,
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looking about him with an air of lofty composure, though the anguish that
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quivered in his faded countenance was far too powerful to be concealed. Our duty
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here is ended. Let us depart, Heyward gladly obeyed a summons that took
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them for a spot where each instant he felt his self control was about to
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desert him. While his companions were mounting, however, he found time to
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press the hand of the scout and to repeat the terms of an engagement they
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had made to meet again within the post of the British army. Then,
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gladly, throwing himself into the saddle, he spurred his charger to the side
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of the litter, whence, low and stifled sobs alone announced the presence of
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Alice. In this manner, the head of Monroe again drooping on his bosom,
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with Hayward and David following in sorrowing silence, and attended by the aid
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of Montcalm with his guard. All the white men, with the exception of
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Hawkeye, passed before the eyes of the Delawares, and were buried in the
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vast forests of that region. But the tie which through their common calamity,
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had united the feelings of these simple dwellers of the woods with the strangers who
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had thus transiently visited them, was not so easily broken. Years passed away
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before the traditionary tale of the White Maiden and of the young Warrior. The
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Mohicans ceased to beguile the long night's in tedious marches, or to animate their
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youthful and brave with a desire for vengeance. Neither were the secondary actors in
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these momentous incidents forgotten. Through the medium of the scout, who served for
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years afterwards as a link between them and civilized life. They learned in answer
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of their inquiries that the gray head was speedily gathered to his father's worn down,
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as was erroneously believed by his military misfortunes, and that the open hand
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had conveyed his surviving daughter far into the settlements of the pale faces, where
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her tears had at last ceased to flow, and had been succeeded by the
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bright smiles, which were better suited to her joyous nature. But these events
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were of a time ladder than which concerns our tale. Deserted by all of
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his color, Hawkeye returned to the spot where his sympathies led him with a
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force that no ideal bond of union could destroy. He was just in time
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to catch a parting look of the features of Uncas, who the Delawares were
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already enclosing in his last vestment of skins. They paused to permit the longing
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and lingering gaze of the sturdy woodsman, and when it was ended, the
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body was enveloped, never to be unclosed again. Then came a procession like
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the other, and the whole nation was collected about the temporary grave of the
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Chief, temporary because it was proper that at some future day his bone should
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rest among those of his own people. The movement, like the feeling,
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had been simultaneous and general. The same grave expression of grief, the same
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rigid silence, and the same deference to the principal mourner were observed around the
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place of interment. As have been already described, the body was deposited in
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an attitude of repose, facing the rising sun, with the implements of war
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and of the chase at hand, in readiness for the final journey. An
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opening was left in the shell, by which it was protected from the soil,
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for the spirit to communicate with its earthly tenement when necessary, and the
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whole was concealed from the instinct and protected from the ravages of the beast of
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prey, with an ingenuity peculiar to the natives. The manual rites then ceased,
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and all present reverted to the more spiritual part of the ceremonies. Chinkotchkok
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became once more the object of the common attention he had not yet spoken,
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and something consolidatory and instructive was expected from so renowned a chief on an occasion
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of such interests, Conscious of the wishes of the people. The stern and
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self restrained warrior raised his face, which had latterly been buried in his robe,
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and looked about him with a steady eye. His firmly compressed and expressive
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lips then severed, and for the first time during the long ceremonies, his
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voice was distinctly audible. Why do my brothers mourn, he said, regarding
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the dark race of dejected warriors by whom he was environed. Why do my
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daughters weep that a young man has gone to the happy hunting grounds, that
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a chief has filled his time with honor? He was good, he was
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dutiful, he was brave. Who can deny it? The Manitoe had need
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of such a warrior, and he has called him away. As for me,
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the son and the father of Ungus, I am a blazed pine in
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a clearing of the pale faces. My race has gone from the shores of
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the Salt Lake and the hills of the Delawares. But who can say that
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the serpent of his tribe has forgotten his wisdom? I am alone? No,
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No, cried Hawkeye, who had been gazing with a yearning look at
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the rigid features of his friend, with something like his own self command,
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but whose philosophy could endure no longer. No, Sagamore, not alone.
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The gifts of our colors made me different, but God so placed us as
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to journey in the same path. I have no kin, and I may
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also say, like you no people. He was your son and a red
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skin by nature, and it may be that your blood was near. But
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if ever I forget the lad who has so often fought at my side in
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war and slept at my side in peace, may he who made us all,
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whatever may be our color or our gifts, forget me. The boy
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has left us for a time. But Sagmore, you are not alone.
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Chinchkotchkok grasped the hand that, in the warmth of feeling the scout had stretched
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across the fresh earth, and in an attitude of friendship, those two sturdy
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and intrepid woodsmen bowed their heads together while scalding tears. While scalding tears fell
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to their feet, watering the grave of Uncas like drops of falling rain in
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the midst of the awful stillness with which such a burst of feeling, coming
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as it did from the two most renowned warriors of that region, was received
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and lifted his voice to disperse the multitude. It is enough, he said,
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go, children of the Lennape. The anger of Manitou is not done.
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Why should come on stay? The pale faces are masters of the earth,
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and the time of the red men has not yet come again. My
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day has been too long. In the morning I saw the suns of Unamus
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happy and strolled. And yet before the night has come have I lived to
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see the last warrior of the wise race of the Mohicans. End of Chapter
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thirty three. End of the Last of the Mohicans, a narrative of seventeen
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fifty seven by James Fenimore Cooper,