CHAPTER VII.
“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 sup pose, 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 he 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.”
