Chapter 1
His Forerunner in the Field.
“I will send a Prophet to you,
A Deliverer of the nations―
Who shall guide you and shall teach you,
Who shall toil and suffer with you.
If you listen to his counsels,
You will multiply and prosper;
If his warnings pass unheeded,
You will fade away and perish!”
Longfellow’s “Hiawatha.”
The North American Red Indian in his sprayed feathers and moccasins forms a conspicuous and well-known figure in the stories with which the young people on both sides of the Atlantic are familiar. He has always held a position a of respectability compared with other wild men of the woods-living a life of freedom and sport, brave in conflict, solemn in council over the pipe of peace, fond of his squaw and the little red youngsters who gamboled at the door of his wigwam, a mighty hunter, and yet pausing in the prairie solitudes to kneel in the presence of the Great Spirit; such is the Indian of literature. Perhaps the picture has been drawn a little fancifully, possibly the cruel torturing nature, the sly cunning, and the treachery of the warpath have not been truthfully disclosed, but in many respects the redskin was once, if he is not today, a noble savage with many fine characteristics, having a nature capable under Divine culture of many grand possibilities. Unhappily the white man has not improved the red man, except where the former has carried the message of the Cross, and by this time devastating wars and drink, the dreadful scourge of all the nations, has reduced this fine race of braves to a miserable group of exiles on their own land.
The story which is to be told in the following pages is of the early history of the Red Indians, and of one who gave himself up to the work of preaching the Gospel to them, and pointing them to heaven. The better however to understand what led up to the work which Brainerd took in hand so nobly, a brief glance at the experience of the earlier missionaries will not be out of place.
Although the gallant admirals of Queen Elizabeth in their visits to the newly discovered shores of America did not altogether neglect the Christian teaching of the natives with whom they came in contact, it cannot be said that mission work began with any enthusiasm until the seventeenth century, when religious intolerance drove the Pilgrim Fathers from their native land to seek a home in New England, where they might worship God according to the dictates of their own conscience. As will be seen later on, it was in the Mayflower, or one of the other ships of the Puritan refugees, that the ancestor, David Brainerd sailed for the new home across the wide sea.
But the first missionary was John Eliot, once a young schoolmaster in an Essex village, who in the year 1646 had gained the confidence of the Indians amongst whom he had taken up his abode, and succeeded in mastering their language, and constructing a grammar thereof; which has since been of much service to his successors. He worked with great industry in their cause, and actually secured so much interest and support in England, that the House of Commons and the Universities of Oxford and Camebridge contributed money freely for his enterprise.
With this he bought land, built towns, founded a sort of Commonwealth like his own country had at home, and got the Indian Christians to express publicly their confessions, and testify to their faithful belief in the new religion. A very curious book he wrote, called “Tears of Repentance,” dedicating it in this wise to Oliver Cromwell: “What the Jews once said of their centurion, he loved our nation, and built us a synagogue, the same may be affirmed upon a more noble accompt of your Lordship, and of those faithful centurions and soldiers under your control,” etc. The work is now very rare, and as the original volume, in strange old type, and queer spelling, on yellow faded leaves, lies before the present writer, he cannot forbear making a quotation of some of the experiences of those very earliest laborers, as told by John Eliot, under the title “The Day-Breaking, if not the Sun-Rising of the Gospel with the Indians in New England.”
After the Gospel had been preached, we read:– they told us they were troubled, but they could not tell what to fay to it, what fhould comfort them; hee therefore, who fpake to them at firft, concluded with a dolefull defcription (lb farre as his ability to fpeake in that tongue would carry him), of the trembling and mourning condition of every foul that dies in finne, and that fhall be caft out of favor with God. Thus after three houres time thus fpent with them, wee afked them if they were not weary, and they anfwered no. But we refolved to leave them with an appetite; the chiefe of them, feeing us conclude with prayer, defired to know when wee would come againe, fo we appointed the time, and having given their children fome apples; and the men fome tobacco, and what elfe we then had in hand, they defired fome more ground to build a towne together, which we did much like of, promifing to fpeake for them to the generall court, that they might poffefs all the compafs of the hill upon which their wigwams then flood, and fo wee departed, with many welcoms from them.”
Then, after a time, John Eliot and his companions visit the Indians again on the iith of November, 1646, and having spoken once more upon the Christian faith, pause to see the effect of their words upon the ring of red-skinned listeners.
“The firft queftion was fuddenly propounded by an old man then prefent, who, hearing faith and repentance preacht upon them to find falvation by Jefus Chrift, hee afked whether it was not too late for fuch an old man as hee, who was neare death, to repent or Peek after God? This queftion affected us not a little with compaffion, and we held forth to him the Bible, and told him what God Paid in it concerning fuch as are hired at the eleventh houre of the day; wee told him, alfo, that if a father had a fonne that had beene difobedient many yeares, yet if, at Taft, that fonne fall down upon his knees, and weepe and defire his father to love him, his father is fo merciful that hee will readily forgive and love him, fo we Paid it was much more with God, who is a more merciful Father to thole whom he hath made fo.... Having thus fpent the whole afternoon, and night being almost come upon us, confidering that the Indians formerly defired to know how to pray, and did thinke that Jefus Chrift did not underftand Indian language, one of us therefore propofed to pray in their owne language, and did fo for about a quarter of an hour together, wherein divers of them held up eies and hands whenever all of them (af we underftood afterward), underftanding the fame, and one of them I caft my eyes upon was hanging doune his head, with his rug before his eyes, weeping; at firft I feared it was for fome forenefs of his eyes, but lifting up his head againe, having wiped his eyes (as not defirous to be feene), I eafily perceived his eyes were not fore, yet fomewhat red with crying; and fo held up his head for a while, yet such was the pretense and mighty power of the Lord Jefus in his heart that hee hung down his head againe, and covered his eyes againe, and fo fell wiping and wiping of them, weeping abundantly, continuing thus till prayer was ended; after which hee prefently turnes from us, and turnes his face to a fide, and corner of the wigwam, and there fats aweeping more abundantly by himfelfe, which one of us perceiving, went up to him, and fpake to him encouraging words, at the hearing of which hee fell a-weeping more and more, fo leaving him he who fpake to him came unto mee (being newly gone out of the wigwam), and tolde mee of his teares, fo we resolved to goe againe both of us to him, and fpeake to him againe, and we met him comming out of the wigwam, and there we fpake againe to him, and he there fell into a more abundant renewed weeping, like one inwardly and deeply affected indeed, which forced us alfo to fuch bowels of compaffion that wee could not forbear weeping over him alfo, and fo we parted, greatly rejoicing for fuch fowing.”
In due time Eliot obtained such influence over the Indians, that he persuaded them to abandon their roving life, and settle in a town which was built under his direction and called “Noonatomen,” which is Indian for “Rejoicing.” He framed laws, not unlike those which prevailed in Puritan England at home, and translated the works of Baxter and other sound divines of that age for them to read. Subsequently, the town of Nantick, on the Charles River, was founded in 1651, and on a solemn fast-day he gathered the Indians together, and, like Moses speaking to the Children of Israel, he exhorted them to serve the Lord. But then as now, civilization brought some evils in its train, and the terrible effects of strong drink were so manifest, that neither whipping nor heavy fines could restrict its traders, of whose business Eliot spoke as follows: —“These scandalous evils greatly blemish and intercept their entertainment of the Gospel, through the policy of Satan, who counter-worketh Christ that way, with not a little uncomfortable success.”
Eliot was at this time the pastor of Roxbury, and endeavored to raise a native ministry, sending to college two young converted Indians, who, however, never lived to be useful in the work. The Puritan missionary, therefore, had to labor single-handed, and the unremitting nature of his traveling and preaching may be told in his own words, where he says in a letter:― “ I have not been dry night nor day, from the third day of the week to the sixth, but have traveled from place to place in that condition, and at night I pull off my boots and wring my stockings, and on with them again, and so continue. The rivers also have raised, so that we were wet in riding through them. But God steps in and helps me. I have considered the exhortation of Paul to his son Timothy, Endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ,’ with many other such like meditations.”
Great trouble, however, came upon those “praying Indians,” as they were called, for an influential chief managed to incite the various tribes against the English settlers, and a terrible onslaught was made upon the white men and their families, farms were ruthlessly burnt, and the people, including the helpless children, brutally murdered. Then came the inevitable reprisals; the Government sent the military to avenge those outrages, and although the Christian natives had, with few exceptions, kept aloof from their fanatical comrades, and stood loyal to their friends, they were suspected of complicity and had to pay the penalty. It was a bitter experience for Eliot; now an aged man, to see the very Indian towns which he had established broken up, and this too carried on with relentless violence by the whites, who drove the Christian natives into hiding, and destroyed the work which the patient industry and endurance of many years had built up.
But this man was the grand pioneer of Christian missionary work among the Indians, and although he closed his career amid circumstances of much discouragement, John Eliot will always be remembered as bearing, not without tears and weariness, the brunt of the battle for the Cross, and making, like John the Baptist, a highway for the spread of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ among the wild redskins of the New World.
Just two hundred years ago, as the flowers of the early summer were blooming, and the foliage of the Indian forest had burst forth into freshest green, this eminent saint of God lay dying. His thoughts were all for the Indians, and the work he loved so well. Here are his last words: — “There is a dark cloud upon the work of the Gospel among them. The Lord revive and prosper that work, and grant that it may live when I am dead. It is a work that I have been doing much and long about. But what was the word I spoke last? I recall that word my doings. Alas! they have been poor and small and lean doings, and I will be the man who will throw the first stone at them all.... Welcome joy! Come, Lord, come!”
God was not unmindful of the prayer of his servant, and within twenty years of his death a boy was born who was destined to take up the gracious labor he laid down, and whose life and work will be the theme of the following pages. But before restoring from the mist of past years the living figure and the brave deeds of his successor, it is fitting that we linger for one moment more over John Eliot’s message and the fruits seen after many days. Once more turning over the pages of that ancient volume which survives, a pathetic memento, the wreck of more than two centuries, we catch sight of the last of those confessions or testimonies which he noted down from the lips of the North American Indians, the simple heartfelt utterance of those who had found in Christ a Savior. It refers to the two little Indian children, three years old, whose father had already expressed his faith in the Lord Jesus. There is scarcely a more affecting incident in the literature of missions, and here, in John Eliot’s own words, after so many years, t-ct tinne shall be told:―
“This Spring, in the beginning of the year 1652, the Lord was pleafed to affect fundry of our praying Indians with a grievous difease, whereof fome with great torments in their bowels died, among which were two little children of the age above-said, and at that time both in one house, being together taken with this difeafe. The first of thefe Children in the extremities of its torments lay crying to God in thefe words,” God and Jesus Chrift, God and Jesus Christ, help me, “and when they gave it anything to eat, it would greedily take it (as it is ufual at the approach of Deathe) but firft it would cry to God,” O God and 7efus Chrift, blefs it,“and then it would take it; and in this manner it lay calling upon God and Jefus Chrift untill it died. The mother of this child alto died of that difeafe, at that time. The father of the child told me this ftory, with great wonderment at the grace of God, in teaching his child fo to call upon God. The name of the father is Nifhohkon, whose confeffion you have before.
“Three or four days after, another child in the fame haute, fick of the fame difeafe was (by a Divine hand doubtlefs) fenfible of the approach of death (an unufual thing at that age) and called to its Father and faid Father, I am going to God,’ feveral times repeating it, I am going to God.’ The Mother (as other mothers ufed to do) had made for the Child a little Bafket, a little Spoon, and a little Tray, thefe things the Child was wont to be greatly delighted withal (as all children will) therefore, in the extremity of the torments they fet those things before it to divert the mind and cheer the fpirit, but now the child takes the. Bafket and puts it away and Paid, I will leave my Bafket behind me for I am going to God, I will leave my Spoon and Tray behind me (putting thefe away) for I am going to God:’ and with thefe kind of expreffions the fame night finifhed its courfe and died.
“The Father of this child is Robert Speen, whole confeffions you have before, and in one of them he maketh mention of this child that died in Faith. When he related this {tory to me, he faid he could riot tell whether the forrow for the death of his child or the joy for its faith were greater when it died”
“These examples,” adds Eliot, “are a testimony that they teach their children the knowledge and fear of God, whom they now call upon, and also that the Spirit of God co-worketh with their instructions, who teacheth by man more than man is able to do.” With this sweet fragment, we bid John Eliot farewell. In noting down for us the heartfelt testimony of these Indian converts, he has indeed taught us how the Spirit of God “teacheth by man more than man is able to do.” These stalwart natives, drawn from their dark superstitions and ignorance to a knowledge of the true God, like Peter, are ready to declare unto their brethren how the Lord hath brought them out of prison. Their simplicity and childlike faith are beautiful characteristics, and the veteran missionary is not slow to appreciate them. The good old man, who looks from a portrait before us, of grave aspect, with solid and determined countenance not unlike the Lord Protector himself, his wavy hair falling upon the broad white Puritan collar, and with his old-fashioned bulky Bible in his hand, we see him standing by the wigwams, while the Indians, in attitudes of deep attention, spread themselves about him listening to his words. The little brown children venture near him and catch the name of Jesus, as the retreating sunlight fills the forest with a shadowy silence. The scene fast fades, the mist of many years rolls up again, blots out the group of listeners, blurrs the overarching trees, and again noiselessly envelops in oblivion the figure of the preacher, whose voice just now we could almost fancy we hear. For a moment it all was vivid to us, a breathing human group, and the other vision too of the little sufferers in their wigwams calling on God and Christ and putting their toys aside, because they were going to Him. Was it not all so real, so living, so heart-reaching? We will not willingly let the picture be dissolved in forgetfulness. Rather will we cherish its memory and keep it as a background as our eyes now turn to the approaching figure of a tall, spare young man with eyes lustrous and sad, DAVID BRAINERD, THE APOSTLE OF THE INDIANS.
“Lord, give the word; and waked by Thee,
Let many tongues Thy victory tell,
That hopeless sinners may now see
That Thou hast vanquished Death and Hell;
Sound, sound the joyful truth abroad;
Let sinners now draw nigh to God.
And Thou victorious Lord all hail!
Immortal honors deck Thy brow.
When Death and Hell Thy friends assail
They find in Thee a refuge now;
Thy name shall furnish them with arms,
And free their souls from all alarms.”
Thos. Kelly.