“From Sesquehanna's utmost springs,
Where savage tribes pursue their game,
His blanket tied with yellow strings,
The shepherd of the forest came.”--Freneau.
Before the Europeans, or, to use a more significant term, the
Christians, dispossessed the original owners of the soil, all that
section of country which contains the New England States, and those of
the Middle which lie east of the mountains, was occupied by two great
nations of Indians, from whom had descended numberless tribes. But,
as the original distinctions between these nations were marked by a
difference in language, as well as by repeated and bloody wars, they
were never known to amalgamate, until after the power and inroads of
the whites had reduced some of the tribes to a state of dependence that
rendered not only their political, but, considering the wants and habits
of a savage, their animal existence also, extremely precarious.
These two great divisions consisted, on the one side, of the Five, or,
as they were afterward called, the Six Nations, and their allies; and,
on the other, of the Lenni Lenape, or Delawares, with the numerous and
powerful tribes that owned that nation as their grandfather The former
was generally called, by the Anglo-Americans Iroquois, or the Six
Nations, and sometimes Mingoes. Their appellation among their rivals,
seems generally to have been the Mengwe, or Maqua. They consisted of
the tribes or, as their allies were fond of asserting, in order to raise
their consequence, of the several nations of the Mohawks, the Oneidas,
the Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas; who ranked, in the confederation in
the order in which they are named. The Tuscaroras were admitted to this
union near a century after its foundation, and thus completed the number
of six.
Of the Lenni Lenape, or as they were called by the whites, from the
circumstances of their holding their great council-fire on the banks
of that river, the Delaware nation, the principal tribes, besides that
which bore the generic name, were the Mahicanni, Mohicans, or Mohegans,
and the Nanticokes, or Nentigoes. Of these the latter held the country
along the waters of the Chesapeake and the seashore; while the Mohegans
occupied the district between the Hudson and the ocean, including much
of New England. Of course these two tribes were the first who were
dispossessed of their lands by the Europeans.
The wars of a portion of the latter are celebrated among us as the wars
of King Philip; but the peaceful policy of William Penn, or Miquon, as
he was termed by the natives, effected its object with less difficulty,
though not with less certainty. As the natives gradually disappeared
from the country of the Mohegans, some scattering families sought a
refuge around the council-fire of the mother tribe, or the Delawares.
This people had been induced to suffer themselves to be called women by
their old enemies, the Mingoes, or Iroquois. After the latter, having in
vain tried the effects of hostility, had recourse in artifice in
order to prevail over their rivals. According to this declaration, the
Delawares were to cultivate the arts of peace, and to intrust their
defence entirely to the men, or warlike tribes of the Six Nations.
This state of things continued until the war of the Revolution. When
the Lenni Lenape formally asserted their independence, and fearlessly
declared that they were again men. But, in a government so peculiarly
republican as the Indian polity, it was not at all times an easy task to
restrain its members within the rules of the nation. Several fierce and
renowned warriors of the Mohegans, finding the conflict with the whites
to be in vain, sought a refuge with their grandfather, and brought with
them the feelings and principles that had so long distinguished them
in their own tribe. These chieftains kept alive, in some measure, the
martial spirit of the Delawares; and would, at times, lead small parties
against their ancient enemies, or such other foes as incurred their
resentment.
Among these warriors was one race particularly famous for their prowess,
and for those qualities that render an Indian hero celebrated. But war,
time, disease, and want had conspired to thin their number; and the sole
representative of this once renowned family now stood in the hall of
Marmaduke Temple. He had for a long time been an associate of the white
men, particularly in their wars, and having been, at the season when his
services were of importance, much noticed and flattered, he had turned
Christian and was baptized by the name of John. He had suffered severely
in his family during the recent war, having had every soul to whom
he was allied cut off by an inroad of the enemy; and when the last
lingering remnant of his nation extinguished their fires, among the
hills of the Delaware, he alone had remained, with a determination of
laying his hones in that country where his fathers had so long lived and
governed.
It was only, however, within a few months, that he had appeared among
the mountains that surrounded Templeton. To the hut of the old hunter
he seemed peculiarly welcome; and, as the habits of the Leather-Stocking
were so nearly assimilated to those of the savages, the conjunction of
their interests excited no surprise. They resided in the same cabin, ate
of the same food, and were chiefly occupied in the same pursuits.
We have already mentioned the baptismal name of this ancient chief; but
in his conversation with Natty, held in the language of the Delawares,
he was heard uniformly to call himself Chingachgook, which, interpreted,
means the “Great Snake.” This name he had acquired in his youth, by his
skill and prowess in war; but when his brows began to wrinkle with time,
and he stood alone, the last of his family, and his particular tribe,
the few Delawares, who yet continued about the head-waters of their
river, gave him the mournful appellation of Mohegan. Perhaps there was
something of deep feeling excited in the bosom of this inhabitant of the
forest by the sound of a name that recalled the idea of his nation in
ruins, for he seldom used it himself--never, indeed, excepting on the
most solemn occasions; but the settlers had united, according to the
Christian custom, his baptismal with his national name, and to them
he was generally known as John Mohegan, or, more familiarly, as Indian
John.
From his long association with the white men, the habits of Mohegan were
a mixture of the civilized and savage states, though there was certainly
a strong preponderance in favor of the latter. In common with all his
people, who dwelt within the influence of the Anglo-Americans, he
had acquired new wants, and his dress was a mixture of his native and
European fashions. Notwithstanding the in tense cold without, his head
was uncovered; but a profusion of long, black, coarse hair concealed his
forehead, his crown, and even hung about his cheeks, so as to convey
the idea, to one who knew his present amid former conditions, that he
encouraged its abundance, as a willing veil to hide the shame of a noble
soul, mourning for glory once known. His forehead, when it could be
seen, appeared lofty, broad, and noble. His nose was high, and of the
kind called Roman, with nostrils that expanded, in his seventieth year,
with the freedom that had distinguished them in youth. His mouth was
large, but compressed, and possessing a great share of expression and
character, and, when opened, it discovered a perfect set of short,
strong, and regular teeth. His chin was full, though not prominent; and
his face bore the infallible mark of his people, in its square, high
cheek-bones. The eyes were not large, but their black orbs glittered in
the rays of the candles, as he gazed intently down the hall, like two
balls of fire.
The instant that Mohegan observed himself to be noticed by the group
around the young stranger, he dropped the blanket which covered the
upper part of his frame, from his shoulders, suffering it to fall over
his leggins of untanned deer-skin, where it was retained by a belt of
bark that confined it to his waist.
As he walked slowly down the long hail, the dignified and deliberate
tread of the Indian surprised the spectators.
His shoulders, and body to his waist, were entirely bare, with the
exception of a silver medallion of Washington, that was suspended from
his neck by a thong of buckskin, and rested on his high chest, amid many
scars. His shoulders were rather broad and full; but the arms, though
straight and graceful, wanted the muscular appearance that labor gives
to a race of men. The medallion was the only ornament he wore, although
enormous slits in the rim of either ear, which suffered the cartilages
to fall two inches below the members, had evidently been used for the
purposes of decoration in other days in his hand he held a small basket
of the ash-wood slips, colored in divers fantastical conceits, with red
and black paints mingled with the white of the wood.
As this child of the forest approached them, the whole party stood
aside, and allowed him to confront the object of his visit. He did not
speak, however, but stood fixing his glowing eyes on the shoulder of the
young hunter, and then turning them intently on the countenance of the
Judge. The latter was a good deal astonished at this unusual departure
from the ordinarily subdued and quiet manner of the Indian; but he
extended his hand, and said:
“Thou art welcome, John. This youth entertains a high opinion of thy
skill, it seems, for he prefers thee to dress his wound even to our good
friend, Dr. Todd.”
Mohegan now spoke in tolerable English, but in a low, monotonous,
guttural tone;
“The children of Miquon do not love the sight of blood; and yet the
Young Eagle has been struck by the hand that should do no evil!”
“Mohegan! old John!” exclaimed the Judge, “thinkest thou that my hand
has ever drawn human blood willingly? For shame! for shame, old John!
thy religion should have taught thee better.”
“The evil spirit sometimes lives in the best heart,” returned John, “but
my brother speaks the truth; his hand has never taken life, when awake;
no! not even when the children of the great English Father were making
the waters red with the blood of his people.”
“Surely John,” said Mr. Grant, with much earnestness, “you remember
the divine command of our Saviour, 'Judge not, lest ye be judged.' What
motive could Judge Temple have for injuring a youth like this; one to
whom he is unknown, and from whom he can receive neither in jury nor
favor?”
John listened respectfully to the divine, and, when he had concluded, he
stretched out his arm, and said with energy:
“He is innocent. My brother has not done this.”
Marmaduke received the offered hand of the other with a smile, that
showed, however he might be astonished at his suspicion, he had ceased
to resent it; while the wounded youth stood, gazing from his red friend
to his host, with interest powerfully delineated in his countenance.
No sooner was this act of pacification exchanged, than John proceeded
to discharge the duty on which he had come. Dr. Todd was far from
manifesting any displeasure at this invasion of his rights, but made way
for the new leech with an air that expressed a willingness to gratify
the humors of his patient, now that the all-important part of the
business was so successfully performed, and nothing remained to be
done but what any child might effect, indeed, he whispered as much to
Monsieur Le Quoi, when he said:
“It was fortunate that the ball was extracted before this Indian came
in; but any old woman can dress the wound. The young man, I hear, lives
with John and Natty Bumppo, and it's always best to humor a patient,
when it can be done discreetly--I say, discreetly, monsieur.”
“Certainement,” returned the Frenchman; “you seem ver happy, Mister
Todd, in your pratice. I tink the elder lady might ver well finish vat
you so skeelfully begin.”
But Richard had, at the bottom, a great deal of veneration for the
knowledge of Mohegan, especially in external wounds; and, retaining all
his desire for a participation in glory, he advanced nigh the Indian,
and said: “Sago, sago, Mohegan! sago my good fellow I am glad you have
come; give me a regular physician, like Dr. Todd to cut into flesh, and
a native to heal the wound. Do you remember, John, the time when I and
you set the bone of Natty Bumppo's little finger, after he broke it by
falling from the rock, when he was trying to get the partridge that
fell on the cliffs? I never could tell yet whether it was I or Natty who
killed that bird: he fired first, and the bird stooped, and then it
was rising again as I pulled trigger. I should have claimed it for a
certainty, but Natty said the hole was too big for shot, and he fired a
single ball from his rifle; but the piece I carried then didn't scatter,
and I have known it to bore a hole through a board, when I've been
shooting at a mark, very much like rifle bullets. Shall I help you,
John? You know I have a knack at these things.”
Mohegan heard this disquisition quite patiently, and, when Richard
concluded, he held out the basket which contained his specifics,
indicating, by a gesture, that he might hold it. Mr. Jones was quite
satisfied with this commission; and ever after, in speaking of the
event, was used to say that “Dr. Todd and I cut out the bullet, and I
and Indian John dressed the wound.”
The patient was much more deserving of that epithet while under the
hands of Mohegan, than while suffering under the practice of the
physician. Indeed, the Indian gave him but little opportunity for
the exercise of a forbearing temper, as he had come prepared for the
occasion. His dressings were soon applied, and consisted only of some
pounded bark, moistened with a fluid that he had expressed from some of
the simples of the woods.
Among the native tribes of the forest there were always two kinds of
leeches to be met with. The one placed its whole dependence on the
exercise of a supernatural power, and was held in greater veneration
than their practice could at all justify; but the other was really
endowed with great skill in the ordinary complaints of the human body,
and was more particularly, as Natty had intimated, “curous” in cuts and
bruises.
While John and Richard were placing the dressings on the wound, Elnathan
was acutely eyeing the contents of Mohegan's basket, which Mr. Jones,
in his physical ardor had transferred to the doctor, in order to hold
himself one end of the bandages. Here he was soon enabled to detect
sundry fragments of wood and bark, of which he quite coolly took
possession, very possibly without any intention of speaking at all upon
the subject; but, when he beheld the full blue eye of Marmaduke watching
his movements, he whispered to the Judge:
“It is not to be denied, Judge Temple, but what the savages are knowing
in small matters of physic. They hand these things down in their
traditions. Now in cancers and hydrophoby they are quite ingenious. I
will just take this bark home and analyze it; for, though it can't
be worth sixpence to the young man's shoulder, it may be good for the
toothache, or rheumatism, or some of them complaints. A man should never
be above learning, even if it be from an Indian.”
It was fortunate for Dr. Todd that his principles were so liberal, as,
coupled with his practice, they were the means by which he acquired all
his knowledge, and by which he was gradually qualifying himself for the
duties of his profession. The process to which he subjected the specific
differed, however, greatly from the ordinary rules of chemistry;
for instead of separating he afterward united the component parts of
Mohegan's remedy, and was thus able to discover the tree whence the
Indian had taken it.
Some ten years after this event, when civilization and its refinements
had crept, or rather rushed, into the settlements among these wild
hills, an affair of honor occurred, and Elnathan was seen to apply a
salve to the wound received by one of the parties, which had the flavor
that was peculiar to the tree, or root, that Mohegan had used. Ten years
later still, when England and the United States were again engaged in
war, and the hordes of the western parts of the State of New York were
rushing to the field, Elnathan, presuming on the reputation obtained by
these two operations, followed in the rear of a brigade of militia as
its surgeon!
When Mohegan had applied the bark, he freely relinquished to Richard the
needle and thread that were used in sewing the bandages, for these were
implements of which the native but little understood the use: and, step
ping back with decent gravity, awaited the completion of the business by
the other.
“Reach me the scissors,” said Mr. Jones, when he had finished, and
finished for the second time, after tying the linen in every shape and
form that it could be placed; “reach me the scissors, for here is a
thread that must be cut off, or it might get under the dressings, and
inflame the wound. See, John, I have put the lint I scraped between
two layers of the linen; for though the bark is certainly best for the
flesh, yet the lint will serve to keep the cold air from the wound. If
any lint will do it good, it is this lint; I scraped it myself, and I
will not turn my back at scraping lint to any man on the Patent. I ought
to know how, if anybody ought, for my grandfather was a doctor, and my
father had a natural turn that way.”
“Here, squire, is the scissors,” said Remarkable, producing from beneath
her petticoat of green moreen a pair of dull-looking shears; “well, upon
my say-so, you have sewed on the rags as well as a woman.”
“As well as a woman!” echoed Richard with indignation; “what do women
know of such matters? and you are proof of the truth of what I say.
Who ever saw such a pair of shears used about a wound? Dr. Todd, I will
thank you for the scissors from the case, Now, young man, I think you'll
do. The shot has been neatly taken out, although, perhaps, seeing I had
a hand in it, I ought not to say so; and the wound is admirably dressed.
You will soon be well again; though the jerk you gave my leaders must
have a tendency to inflame the shoulder, yet you will do, you will do,
You were rather flurried, I suppose, and not used to horses; but
I forgive the accident for the motive; no doubt you had the best of
motives; yes, now you will do.”
“Then, gentlemen,” said the wounded stranger, rising, and resuming his
clothes, “it will be unnecessary for me to trespass longer on your time
and patience. There remains but one thing more to be settled, and that
is, our respective rights to the deer, Judge Temple.”
“I acknowledge it to be thine,” said. Marmaduke; “and much more deeply
am I indebted to thee than for this piece of venison. But in the morning
thou wilt call here, and we can adjust this, as well as more important
matters Elizabeth”--for the young lady, being apprised that the wound
was dressed, had re-entered the hall--“thou wilt order a repast for
this youth before we proceed to the church; and Aggy will have a sleigh
prepared to convey him to his friend.”
“But, sir, I cannot go without a part of the deer,” returned the youth,
seemingly struggling with his own feelings; “I have already told you
that I needed the venison for myself.”
“Oh, we will not be particular,” exclaimed Richard; “the Judge will pay
you in the morning for the whole deer; and, Remarkable, give the lad
all the animal excepting the saddle; so, on the whole, I think you may
consider yourself as a very lucky young man--you have been shot without
being disabled; have had the wound dressed in the best possible
manner here in the woods, as well as it would have been done in the
Philadelphia hospital, if not better; have sold your deer at a high
price, and yet can keep most of the carcass, with the skin in the
bargain. 'Marky, tell Tom to give him the skin too, and in the morning
bring the skin to me and I will give you half a dollar for it, or at
least three-and-sixpence. I want just such a skin to cover the pillion
that I am making for Cousin Bess.”
“I thank you, sir, for your liberality, and, I trust, am also thankful
for my escape,” returned the stranger; “but you reserve the very part of
the animal that I wished for my own use. I must have the saddle myself.”
“Must!” echoed Richard; “must is harder to be swallowed than the horns
of the buck.”
“Yes, must,” repeated the youth; when, turning his head proudly around
him, as if to see who would dare to controvert his rights, he met the
astonished gaze of Elizabeth, and proceeded more mildly: “That is, if
a man is allowed the possession of that which his hand hath killed, and
the law will protect him in the enjoyment of his own.”
“The law will do so,” said Judge Temple, with an air of mortification
mingled with surprise. “Benjamin, see that the whole deer is placed in
the sleigh; and have this youth conveyed to the hut of Leather Stocking.
But, young man thou hast a name, and I shall see you again, in order to
compensate thee for the wrong I have done thee?”
“I am called Edwards,” returned the hunter; “Oliver Edwards, I am easily
to be seen, sir, for I live nigh by, and am not afraid to show my face,
having never injured any man.”
“It is we who have injured you, sir,” said Elizabeth; “and the knowledge
that you decline our assistance would give my father great pain. He
would gladly see you in the morning.”
The young hunter gazed at the fair speaker until his earnest look
brought the blood to her temples; when, recollecting himself, he bent
his head, dropping his eyes to the carpet, and replied:
“In the morning, then, will I return, and see Judge Temple; and I will
accept his offer of the sleigh in token of amity.”
“Amity!” repeated Marmaduke; “there was no malice in the act that
injured thee, young man; there should be none in the feelings which it
may engender.”
“Forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,”
observed Mr. Grant, “is the language used by our Divine Master himself,
and it should be the golden rule with us, his humble followers.”
The stranger stood a moment lost in thought, and then, glancing his
dark eyes rather wildly around the hall, he bowed low to the divine, and
moved from the apartment with an air that would not admit of detention.
“'Tis strange that one so young should harbor such feelings of
resentment,” said Marmaduke, when the door closed behind the stranger;
“but while the pain is recent, and the sense of the injury so fresh, he
must feel more strongly than in cooler moments. I doubt not we shall see
him in the morning more tractable.”
Elizabeth, to whom this speech was addressed, did not reply, but moved
slowly up the hall by herself, fixing her eyes on the little figure of
the English ingrain carpet that covered the floor; while, on the
other hand, Richard gave a loud crack with his whip, as the stranger
disappeared, and cried:
“Well, 'Duke, you are your own master, but I would have tried law for
the saddle before I would have given it to the fellow. Do you not own
the mountains as well as the valleys? are not the woods your own? what
right has this chap, or the Leather-Stocking, to shoot in your woods
without your permission? Now, I have known a farmer in Pennsylvania
order a sportsman off his farm with as little ceremony as I would order
Benjamin to put a log in the stove--By-the-bye, Benjamin, see how the
thermometer stands.--Now, if a man has a right to do this on a farm of
a hundred acres, what power must a landlord have who owns sixty
thousand--ay, for the matter of that, including the late purchases, a
hundred thousand? There is Mohegan, to be sure, he may have some right,
being a native; but it's little the poor fellow can do now with his
rifle. How is this managed in France, Monsieur Le Quoi? Do you let
everybody run over your land in that country helter-skelter, as they do
here, shooting the game, so that a gentleman has but little or no chance
with his gun?”
“Bah! diable, no, Meester Deeck,” replied the Frenchman; “we give, in
France, no liberty except to the ladi.”
“Yes, yes, to the women, I know,” said Richard, “that is your Salic
law. I read, sir, all kinds of books; of France, as well as England; of
Greece, as well as Rome. But if I were in 'Duke's place, I would stick
up advertisements to-morrow morning, forbidding all persons to shoot, or
trespass in any manner, on my woods. I could write such an advertisement
myself, in an hour, as would put a stop to the thing at once.”
“Richart,” said Major Hartmann, very coolly knocking the ashes from
his pipe into the spitting-box by his side, “now listen; I have livet
seventy-five years on ter Mohawk, and in ter woots. You had better
mettle as mit ter deyvel, as mit ter hunters, Tey live mit ter gun, and
a rifle is better as ter law.”
“Ain't Marmaduke a judge?” said Richard indignantly. “Where is the
use of being a judge, or having a judge, if there is no law? Damn the
fellow! I have a great mind to sue him in the morning myself, before
Squire Doolittle, for meddling with my leaders. I am not afraid of his
rifle. I can shoot, too. I have hit a dollar many a time at fifty rods.
“Thou hast missed more dollars than ever thou hast hit, Dickon,”
exclaimed the cheerful voice of the Judge. “But we will now take our
evening's repast, which I perseive, by Remarkable's physiognomy, is
ready. Monsieur Le Quoi, Miss Temple has a hand at your service. Will
you lead the way, my child?”
“Ah! ma chere mam'selle, comme je suis enchante!” said the Frenchman.
“Il ne manque que les dames de faire un paradis de Templeton.”
Mr. Grant and Mohegan continued in the hall, while the remainder of the
party withdrew to an eating parlor, if we except Benjamin, who civilly
remained to close the rear after the clergyman and to open the front
door for the exit of the Indian.
“John,” said the divine, when the figure of Judge Temple disappeared,
the last of the group, “to-morrow is the festival of the nativity of
our blessed Redeemer, when the church has appointed prayers and
thanksgivings to be offered up by her children, and when all are invited
to partake of the mystical elements. As you have taken up the cross, and
become a follower of good and an eschewer of evil, I trust I shall see
you before the altar, with a contrite heart and a meek spirit.”
“John will come,” said the Indian, betraying no surprise; though he did
not understand all the terms used by the other.
“Yes,” continued Mr. Grant, laying his hand gently on the tawny shoulder
of the aged chief, “but it is not enough to be there in the body; you
must come in the spirit and in truth. The Redeemer died for all, for the
poor Indian as well as for the white man. Heaven knows no difference in
color; nor must earth witness a separation of the church. It is good
and profitable, John, to freshen the understanding, and support the
wavering, by the observance of our holy festivals; but all form is but
stench in the nostrils of the Holy One, unless it be accompanied by a
devout and humble spirit.”
The Indian stepped back a little, and, raising his body to its utmost
powers of erection, he stretched his right arm on high, and dropped his
forefinger downward, as if pointing from the heavens; then, striking his
other band on his naked breast, he said, with energy:
“The eye of the Great Spirit can see from the clouds--the bosom of
Mohegan is bare!”
“It is well, John, and I hope you will receive profit and consolation
from the performance of this duty. The Great Spirit overlooks none of
his children; and the man of the woods is as much an object of his care
as he who dwells in a palace. I wish you a good-night, and pray God to
bless you.”
The Indian bent his head, and they separated--the one to seek his hut,
and the other to join his party at the supper-table. While Benjamin was
opening the door for the passage of the chief, he cried, in a tone that
was meant to be encouraging:
“The parson says the word that is true, John. If so be that they took
count of the color of the skin in heaven, why, they might refuse to
muster on their books a Christian-born, like myself, just for the matter
of a little tan, from cruising in warm latitudes; though, for the
matter of that, this damned norwester is enough to whiten the skin of a
blackamore. Let the reef out of your blanket, man, or your red hide will
hardly weather the night with out a touch from the frost.”