LAFAYETTE AT KASKASKIA--THE STATELY MINUET.
Jasper made the best use of the story-telling method of influence in his
school in the little cabin on the lake near Chicago River. He sought to
impart moral ideas by the old Roman fables and German folk-lore stories.
He often told the tale of the poor girl who went out for a few drops of
water for her dying mother, in the water famine, and how her dipper was
changed into silver, gold, and diamonds, as she shared the water with
the sufferers on her return. But neither AEsop nor fairy lore so
influenced the Indian boys as his story of the Indiana boy who defended
the turtles and pitied the turtle with the broken shell.
"I would like to meet him," said Waubeno, one day when the story had
been told. "What is his name, Parable? What do you call him by?"
"Lincoln," said Jasper, "Abraham Lincoln."
"Where does he live, Parable?"
"On Pigeon Creek, in Indiana."
"Is the place far away?"
"Yes, very far away by water, and a hard journey by land. Pigeon Creek
is far away, near the Ohio River; south, Waubeno--far away to the
south."
"Will you ever go there again?"
"Yes--I hope to go there again, and to take you along with me," said
Jasper. "I have planned to go down the Illinois in the spring, in a
canoe, to the Mississippi, and down the Mississippi to the Ohio, and
visit Kaskaskia, and thence along the Ohio to the Wabash, and to the
home where the boy lives who defended the turtles. It will be a long
journey, and I expect to stop at many places, and preach and teach and
form schools. I want you to go with me and guide my canoe. All these
rivers are beautiful in summer. They are shaded by trees, and run
through prairies of flowers. The waters are calm, and the skies are
bright, and the birds sing continually. O Waubeno, this is a beautiful
world to those who use it rightly--a beautiful, beautiful world!"
"Me will go," said Waubeno. "Me would see that boy. I want to see a
story boy, as you say."
The attempt to establish an Indian school on the Chicago was not wholly
successful. The pupils did not remain long enough to receive the
intended influence. They came from encampments that were never stable.
The Indian village was there one season, and gone the next. The Indians
who came in canoes to the agency soon went away again. Jasper, in the
spring of 1825, resolved to carry out the journey that he had described
to Waubeno, and with the first warm winds he and the Indian boy set out
for Kaskaskia by the way of the Illinois to the Mississippi, and by the
Mississippi to the Kaskaskia.
It was a long journey. Jasper stopped often at the Indian encampments
and the new settlements. Waubeno was a faithful friend, and he came to
love him for true-heartedness, sympathy, and native worth of soul. He
often tried to teach him by stories, but as often as he said, "Now,
Waubeno, we will talk," he would say, "Tell me the one with broken
shell"--meaning the story. There was some meaning behind this story of
the turtle with the broken shell that had completely won the heart of
Waubeno. The boy Abraham Lincoln was his hero. Again and again, after he
had listened to the simple narrative, he asked:
"Is the story boy alive?"
"Yes, Waubeno."
"And we will meet him?"
"Yes."
"That is good. I feel for him here," and he would lay his hand on his
heart. "I love the story boy."
They traveled slowly. After a long journey down the Illinois, the
Mississippi rolled before them in the full tides of early spring. They
passed St. Louis, and one late April evening found them before the once
royal town of Kaskaskia.
The bell was ringing as they landed, the bell that had been cast in fair
Rochelle, and that was the first bell to ring between the Alleghanies
and the Mississippi. Most of the black-robed missionaries were gone, as
had the high-born French officers, with their horses, sabers, and
banner-plumes, who once sought treasure and fame in this grand town of
the Mississippi Valley. The Bourbon lilies had fallen from old Fort
Chartres a generation ago, and the British cross had come down, and
to-day all the houses, new and old, were decked with the stars and
stripes. It was not a holiday. What did it mean?
Jasper and Waubeno entered the old French town, and gazed at the brick
buildings, the antique roofs, the high dormer windows, and the faded
houses of by-gone priest and nun. The tavern was covered with flags,
French and American, as were the grand house of William Morrison and the
beautiful Edgar mansion. The house once occupied by the French
commandant was wrapped in the national colors. It had been the first
State House of Illinois. A hundred years before--just one hundred
years--Kaskaskia Commons had received its grand name from his most
Christian Majesty Louis XV, and it then seemed likely to become the
capital of the French mid-continent empire in the New World. The Jesuits
flocked here, zealous for the conversion of the Indian races. Here came
men of rank and military glory, and Fort Chartres rose near it, grand
and powerful as if to awe the world. But there was a foe in the fort of
the French heart, and the boundless empire faded, and the old French
town went to the American pioneer, and the fort became a ruin, like
Louisburg at Cape Breton.
As Jasper and Waubeno passed along the broad streets they noticed that
the town was filled with country people, and that there were Indians
among them.
One of these Indians approached Waubeno, and said:
"She--yonder--see--Mary Panisciowa--daughter of the Great Chief--Mary
Panisciowa."
Waubeno followed with his eye the daughter of the Chief of the Six
Nations. He went forward with the crowd and came to the house that she
was making her home, and asked to meet her. Jasper had followed him.
They turned aside from the street, which was full of excited
people--excited Jasper knew not why. The door of the house where Mary
Panisciowa was visiting stood open, and they were asked to enter.
She looked a queen, yet she had the graces of the English and French
people. She was a most accomplished woman. She spoke both English and
French readily, her education having been conducted by an American agent
to whom she had been commended by her father.
"This is good news," she said.
"What?" said Jasper. "Good news comes from God. Yet all events are news
from heaven. The people seem greatly exercised. What has happened?"
"Lafayette, the great Lafayette--have you not heard?--the marquis--he is
on his way to Kaskaskia, and that is why I am here. My father fought
under him, and the general sent him a letter thanking him for his
services in the American cause. It was written forty years ago. I have
brought it. I hope to meet him. Would you like to see it?--a letter from
the great Lafayette."
Mary Panisciowa took from her bosom a faded letter, and said:
"My father fought for the new people, and I have taken up their religion
and customs. I suppose that you have done the same," she said to
Waubeno.
"No; that can not be, for me."
"Why? I supposed that you were a Christian, as you travel with the
Tunker."
"Mary Panisciowa knows how my father died. I am his son. I swore to be
true to his name. The Tunker says that I must forswear myself to become
a Christian. That I shall never do. I respect the teachings of your new
religion, and I love the Tunker and shall always be true to him, but I
shall be true to the memory of my father. Mary Panisciowa, think how he
died, and of the men who killed him. They claimed to be Christians.
Think of that! I am not a Christian. Mary Panisciowa, there is a spot
that burns in my heart. I do not dissemble. I do not deceive. But that
fire will burn there till I have kept my vow, and I shall do it."
"Waubeno," said the woman, "listen to better counsels. Revenge only
spreads the fires of evil. Forgiveness quenches them.--That is a noble
letter," she said to Jasper.
"Yes, a noble letter, and the marquis is an apostle of human liberty, a
friend of all men everywhere. What brings him here?"
"The old French and new English families. His visit is unexpected. The
people can not receive him as they ought to, but he is to dine at the
tavern, and there are to be two grand receptions at the great houses,
one at Mr. Edgar's. I wish I could see him and show him this letter. I
shall try. But they have not invited me. They are proud people, and they
will not invite me; but I shall try to see him. It would be the happiest
hour of my life if I could take the hand of the great Lafayette."
Mary Panisciowa was thrilled with her desire to meet General Lafayette.
Cannons boomed, drums and fifes played, and all the people hurried
toward the landing. The marquis came in the steamer Natchez from St.
Louis. When Mary Panisciowa heard the old bell ringing she knew that the
marquis was coming, and she hid the faded old letter in her bosom and
wept. She sent a messenger to the tavern, who asked Lafayette if he
would meet the daughter of Panisciowa, and receive a message from her.
Just at night she looked out of the door, and saw an officer in uniform
and a party of her own people coming toward the house. The officer
appeared before the door, touched his head and bowed, and said:
"Mary Panisciowa, I am told."
"My father was Panisciowa."
"He fought under General Lafayette?"
"Yes, he fought under Lafayette, and I have a letter from the general
here, written to him more than forty years ago. Will you read it?"
The officer took the letter, read it, and said:
"You should meet the general."
"You are very kind, sir. I want to meet him; but how? There is to be a
reception at the Morrisons, but I am not invited. The Governor is to be
there. But they would not invite me."
"Come to the reception at the Morrisons. I will be responsible. The
marquis will welcome you. He is a gentleman. To say that a man is a
gentleman, is to cover all right conduct. Bring your letter, and he will
receive you. I will speak to Governor Coles about you. You will come?"
"May my friend Waubeno come with me? I am the daughter of a chief, and
he is the son of a warrior. It would be befitting that we should come
together. I wish that he might see the great Lafayette."
"As you like," said the officer, hurrying away with uncovered head.
Mary Panisciowa prepared to go to the grand reception. Early in the
evening she and Waubeno, followed by Jasper, came up to the Morrison
mansion, where a kind of court reception was to be held.
The streets were full of people. The houses were everywhere illuminated,
and people were hurrying to and fro, or listening to the music in the
hall.
Lafayette was now nearly threescore and ten years of age, the beloved
hero of France and America, and the leader of human liberty in all
lands. He had left Havre on July 12th, 1824, and had arrived in New York
on the 15th of August. He was accompanied by his son, George Washington
Lafayette, and his private secretary, M. Levasseur. His passage through
the country had been a triumphal procession, under continuous arches of
flags, evergreens, and flowers, bearing the words, "Welcome, Lafayette."
Forty years had passed since he was last in America. The thirteen States
had become twenty-four. He had visited Joseph Bonaparte, the grave of
Washington, and the battle-field of Yorktown. His reception in the South
had been an outpouring of hearts. And now he had turned aside from the
great Mississippi to see Kaskaskia, the romantic town of the vanished
French empire of the Mississippi.
Mary and Waubeno waited outside of the door. The Indian woman listened
for a time to the gay music, and watched the bright uniforms as they
passed to and fro under the glittering astrals. At last an American
officer came down the steps, lifted his hat, and said to the two Indians
and to Jasper:
"Follow me."
Lafayette had already received the public men of the place. Airy music
arose, and the officials and their wives and guests were going through
the form of the old court minuet.
The music of Mozart's Don Giovanni minuet has been heard in a thousand
halls of state and at the festivals of many lands. We may imagine the
charm that such music had here, in this oaken room of the forest and
prairie. At the head of the plumed ladies and men in glittering uniforms
stood the Marquis of France, whom the world delighted to honor, and led
the stately obeisances to the picturesque movement of the music under
the flags and astrals. A remnant of the old romantic French families
were there, soldiers of the Revolution, the leaders of the new order of
American life, Governor Coles and his officers, and rich traders of St.
Louis. As the music swayed these stately forms backward and forward with
the fascinating poetry of motion that can hardly be called a dance, the
two Indian faces caught the spirit of the scene. Waubeno had never heard
the music of the minuet before, and the strains entranced him as they
rose and fell.
[Illustration: Minuet from Don Giovanni.
BY MOZART. ARR. BY CARL ERICH.
Published by the permission of Arthur P. Schmidt.
Copyright, 1880, by Carl Pruefer.]
After the minuet, Lafayette and Governor Coles received the
towns-people, and among the first to be presented to the marquis was
Mary Panisciowa.
She bowed modestly, and told him her simple tale. The marquis listened
at first with courtly interest, then with profound emotion. She drew
from her bosom the letter that he had written to her father, the chief.
His own writing brought before him the scenes of almost a half-century
gone, the struggle for liberty in the new land to which he had given his
young soul. He remembered the old chief, and the forest scenes of those
heroic years; Washington, and the generals he had loved, most of whom
were gone, arose again. His heart filled with emotion, and he said:
"Nothing in my visit here has affected me so much as this. I thank you
for seeking me. I welcome you with all my heart. Let me spend as much
time as I may in your company. Your father was a hero, and your presence
fills my heart with no common pleasure and delight. Stay with me."
The marquis welcomed Waubeno cordially, and expressed his pleasure at
meeting him here. At the romantic festival no people were more warmly
met than the chief's daughter and her escort.
"The French have always been true to the Indians," said Waubeno, on
leaving the general, "and the Indians have been as true to the French."
"Never did rulers have better subjects," said the general.
"Never did subjects have better rulers," said Waubeno, almost repeating
the scene of Dick Whittington, thrice Lord Mayor of London, by virtue of
his wonderful cat, to King Henry.
The Indians withdrew amid the gay strains of national music, the stately
minuet haunting Waubeno and ringing in his ears.
He tried to hum the rhythms of the beautiful air of the courts. Jasper
saw how the music had affected him, and that he was happy and
susceptible, and said:
"Waubeno, you have met a man to-night who would forget his own position
and pleasure to do honor to the Indian girl."
"Yes, I am sure of that."
"You are your best self to-night--in your best mood; the music has
awakened your better soul. You remember your promise?"
"Yes, but, Brother Jasper--"
"What, Waubeno?"
"Lafayette is a _Frenchman_, and--a gentleman. The Indians and French do
not spill each other's blood. Why?"