The German Pioneers: A Tale of the Mohawk

by Friedrich Spielhagen

Surely not the young men and maidens who, on the level ground adjoining the house, beneath the shadow of an immense basswood tree, were ceaselessly swinging in the dance to the stirring music of a violin, two fifes and a drum. Parents and old people, who sat under the long, projecting roof where it was cool, and thoughtfully emptied one pitcher after another, had also something better for their entertainment. They remembered, as to-day they well might, what they themselves had suffered in the home across the sea, or had, at least, been told by the father, or the grandfather--how the bitter enemy, the Frenchman, had scorched and burned, up and down the beautiful green Rhine, and how their own lord by his servants had seized what the French had left, so that, in his grand castles, he with his courtiers might gormandize and have brilliant feasts and great hunts, while the poor farmers, oppressed by service and burdens of every kind, were starving of sheer hunger. And also the priesthood and the tithes and other endless miseries of the holy Roman empire of the German nation. Yes, yes, it had looked badly over there, and though since the great king of Prussia, old Fritz, had intervened and had followed bravely on his crutch, it was a great deal better, yet one could live here freer and better, if one considered it well, being under no lord; and the minister, though all were not like Rozenkrantz, would allow one to talk with him and a man's life could be joyful, especially now that the Frenchman has crept into his hole and the war is at an end.

Then they talked about the war. That was an inexhaustible subject. In that everybody had taken part--had himself fought and had his part to tell--his altogether peculiar experiences, which, if to no one else, at least to the narrator were of deep interest. They recalled the chief events of the war, wherein all agreed that the interest was supreme. These were recounted a hundred times and were gladly repeated once more, and which clothed themselves in a wonderful garb, though the eye-witnesses were yet for the most part alive.

Of these peculiarly noteworthy events, none was more remarkable than the battle at Sternberg's house in the year '58. And when the deed had been told that nine men had for six or seven hours resisted one hundred and fifty well-armed enemies, incredible as it was, there was that in the history which gave it for the moment a romantic color, even in the eyes of the indifferent. The quarrel of the brothers over the beautiful maiden, who was now the handsomest wife in the whole district; the reconciliation of the brothers in the last hour, and the succeeding heroic deaths of Christian Ditmar and of Conrad Sternberg--the oldest and the youngest of the company--and both dying so nobly that one could not do better than to follow them, as Aunt Ursul said, when they were both laid in the cool earth. Yes, she had soon enough followed them--the wonderfully brave souls--she who was so rough, while her heart was so soft that she did not want to live longer, nor could she without her husband, with whom she had spent forty years in joy and sorrow--but mostly in sorrow--and without her wild, strong and last but perhaps most dearly beloved son. Yes, yes, that he was, to Aunt Ursul--the Indian, and, as they already before had called him and still called him at the lake, the great jaguar--Conrad Sternberg, wild and strong. Were he still living Cornelius Vrooman, from Schoharie, would not have carried off the victory away from the young men on the Mohawk. What Cornelius did was indeed no small matter, to draw a sleigh by the tongue, standing in the sand, loaded with twelve heavy men, half a foot from its position. Conrad would have drawn the sleigh five feet with Cornelius on his shoulders. Yes, yes, Conrad Sternberg was endowed with superhuman strength. Would he otherwise have been able to overcome twenty-four Indians who had already pressed forward to the house? And was it not more than human courage for him, whom every Onondaga had sworn to kill, notwithstanding to go to their camp and set the Onondagas and Oneidas against each other and both against the French and then to deliver himself up to the Onondagas, as they insisted on it that they might feel assured, and to tell them that he would stay with them as long as they could hold him; and the simpletons, who might have known better, had thought that six men were sufficient for this, and had placed the six, with Conrad as guide, in the van. Yes, he had showed them the way there whence none of them would return. So had he protected the Sternberg house, and, if one correctly considered it, all the houses on the creek and the Mohawk, since the Oneidas went back, and the French and Onondagas might be glad that they had not in the evening been followed more sharply, since half of the cavalry had been sent to relieve the Sternberg house. Yes, that was a man, that Conrad, the like of whom would probably never again appear among them--a Samson among the Philistines, "who slew them with the jaw-bone of an ass," as the minister to-day said, in his sermon, though he did not mention Conrad's name. The minister himself knew how to tell about it, for he was there and could say more if he would; but he said no more about it, as soon as he came in his discourse to the chapter. Now, perhaps a servant of peace should not be blamed if he did not wish to remember that he had laid low six Indians that day with his own hand. In their gossiping exaggeration and envy they proceeded to add that if Lambert Sternberg seldom speaks of his brother he may possibly have his grounds, since many suspect that Catherine loved Conrad better than him, and that Lambert Sternberg, in spite of his comfortable condition--since he is now also Aunt Ursul's heir--and in spite of his handsome wife and beautiful children, is the unhappiest man in the whole valley.

"Be still! There comes Lambert with Herkimer; and what peculiar little fellow have they forked up?"

Nicolas Herkimer and Lambert Sternberg approached these confident dividers of honors, whose conversation had just taken so interesting a turn, and introduced to them Mr. Brown, of New York, who in Albany, where he had business, had heard of the peace-festival on the Mohawk, and as he was a friend of the Germans, had at once decided to come up and help them celebrate the day.

The honor-conveyers welcomed the stranger, and said that it was a great honor which they knew how to prize, and asked whether Mr. Brown and Lambert--Herkimer had already gone away--would not sit down at their table and empty a glass to the well-being of his majesty the king. Mr. Brown was ready for this, and also drank to the welfare of the Germans, but then left, with the promise that later he would come again with Lambert; that he wished first to look about a little over the place where the festival was being held.

Mr. Brown had not made the long journey from New York to Albany and from Albany here merely on his own business, nor out of pure sympathy with the Germans. He came at the suggestion of the Government, which had at last comprehended the value of the German settlements on the Mohawk, and further up toward the lake, and had formed the earnest purpose to advance them as far as possible. Mr. Brown, being peculiarly fitted to further this end on account of his long business intercourse with the Germans, was intrusted with this mission.

He was to communicate with the leading Germans, such as Nicolas Herkimer and Lambert Sternberg, and take their proposals into consideration. To this end he had held a long conference with Nicolas Herkimer, and now imparted his views to his younger friend while walking with him about the place, Lambert attentively listened in silence. It did not occur to him that the Englishman had in reality the interests of his nation in his eye when he spoke of the advantages which should grow out of it all to the Germans. Nor did Mr. Brown deny it.

"We are a practical people, my dear young friend," said he, "and do nothing for God's sake. Business is business; but this is an honorable one--I mean one by which both sides are the gainers. Naturally you will at first serve as a dike and a protecting wall against our enemies, the French. You will help extend and establish our control of the continent which will yet come to us. But if you so pull the chestnuts out of the fire for us will not the sweet fruits be just as good for you? When you strike for King George do you not just as well fight for your own house and home? What then, man? So long as one does not stand firm in his own shoes one must lean against others. See that you Germans reach a position so that you can enter the market of the world, dealing for your own advantage and in view of your own danger. You will have to be satisfied either to be taken in tow by us, or, if you prefer, be road-makers and pioneers for us."

The earnest man had, according to his custom, at last spoken very loud, and with it gesticulated with his little lean arms, and thrust his Spanish cane into the ground. Now he looked around frightened, grasped Lambert under the arm, and, while he let himself be led farther away, proceeded in a more gentle manner and in lower tones: