AGATHE--TOMAH.
Agathe was the daughter of an Indian who was distinguished by the name
of _Rascal_ Day-kau-ray. Whether he merited the appellation must be
determined hereafter. He was brother to the grand old chief of that
name, but as unlike him as it is possible for those of the same blood to
be.
The Day-kau-rays were a very handsome family, and this daughter was
remarkable for her fine personal endowments. A tall, well-developed
form, a round, sweet face, and that peculiarly soft, melodious voice
which belongs to the women of her people, would have attracted the
attention of a stranger, while the pensive expression of her countenance
irresistibly drew the hearts of all towards her, and prompted the wish
to know more of her history. As I received it from her friend, Mrs.
Paquette, it was indeed a touching one.
A young officer at the Fort had seen her, and had set, I will not say
his heart--it may be doubted if he had one--but his mind upon her. He
applied to Paquette to negotiate what he called a marriage with her. I
am sorry to say that Paquette was induced to enter into this scheme. He
knew full well the sin of making false representations to the family of
Agathe, and he knew the misery he was about to bring upon her.
The poor girl had been betrothed to a young man of her own people, and,
as is generally the case, the attachment on both sides was very strong.
Among these simple people, who have few subjects of thought or
speculation beyond the interests of their daily life, their affections
and their animosities form the warp and woof of their character. All
their feelings are intense, from being concentrated on so few objects.
Family relations, particularly with the women, engross the whole amount
of their sensibilities.
The marriage connection is a sacred and indissoluble tie. I have read,
in a recent report to the Historical Society of Wisconsin, that, in
former times, a temporary marriage between a white man and a Menomonee
woman was no uncommon occurrence, and that such an arrangement brought
no scandal, I am afraid that if such eases were investigated, a good
deal of deceit and misrepresentation would be found to have been added
to the other sins of the transaction; and that the woman would be found
to have been a victim, instead of a willing participant, in such a
connection.
At all events, no system of this kind exists among the Winnebagoes. The
strictest sense of female propriety is a distinguishing trait among
them. A woman who transgresses it is said to have "forgotten herself,"
and is sure to be cast off and "forgotten" by her friends.
The marriage proposed between the young officer and the daughter of
Day-kau-ray, was understood as intended to be true and lasting. The
father would not have exposed himself to the contempt of his whole
nation by selling his daughter to become the mistress of any man. The
Day-kau-rays, as I have elsewhere said, were not a little proud of a
remote cross of French blood which mingled with the aboriginal stream in
their veins, and probably in acceding to the proposed connection the
father of Agathe was as much influenced by what he considered the honor
to be derived as by the amount of valuable presents which accompanied
the overtures made to him.
Be that as it may, the poor girl was torn from her lover, and
transferred from her father's lodge to the quarters of the young
officer.
There were no ladies in the garrison at that time. Had there been, such
a step would hardly have been ventured. Far away in the wilderness, shut
out from the salutary influences of religious and social cultivation,
what wonder that the moral sense sometimes becomes blinded, and that the
choice is made, "Evil, be thou my good!"
The first step in wrong was followed by one still more aggravated in
cruelty. The young officer left the post, as he said, on furlough, but
_he never returned_. The news came after a time that he was married, and
when he again joined his regiment it was at another post.
There was a natural feeling in the strength of the "woe pronounced
against him" by more tongues than one. "He will never," said my
informant, "dare show himself in this country again! Not an Indian who
knows the Day-kau-rays but would take his life if he should meet him!"
Every tie was broken for poor Agathe but that which bound her to her
infant. She never returned to her father's lodge, for she felt that,
being deserted, she was dishonored. Her sole ambition seemed to be to
bring up her child like those of the whites. She attired it in the
costume of the French children, with a dress of bright calico, and a cap
of the same, trimmed with narrow black lace. It was a fine child, and
the only time I ever saw a smile cross her face was when it was
commended and caressed by some member of our family.
Even this, her only source of happiness, poor Agathe was called upon to
resign. During our absence at Green Bay, while the Sauks were in the
neighborhood, the child was taken violently ill. The house at
Paquette's, which was the mother's home, was thronged with Indians, and
of course there was much noise and disturbance. My husband had a place
prepared for her under our roof, where she could be more quiet, and
receive the attendance of the post physician. It was all in
vain--nothing could save the little creature's life. The bitter agony of
the mother, as she hung over the only treasure she possessed on earth,
was described to me as truly heart-rending. When compelled to part with
it, it seemed almost more than nature could bear. There were friends,
not of her own nation or color, who strove to comfort her. Did the
father ever send a thought or an inquiry after the fate of his child, or
of the young being whose life he had rendered dark and desolate? We will
hope that he did--that he repented and asked pardon from above for the
evil he had wrought.
Agathe had been baptized by M. Mazzuchelli. Perhaps she may have
acquired some religious knowledge which could bring her consolation in
her sorrows, and compensate her for the hopes and joys so early blasted.
She came, some months after the death of her child, in company with
several of the half-breed women of the neighborhood, to pay me a visit
of respect and congratulation on the advent of the _young
Shaw-nee-aw-kee._ When she looked at her "little brother," as he was
called, and took his soft, tiny hand within her own, the tears stood in
her eyes, and she spoke some little words of tenderness, which showed
that her heart was full. I could scarcely refrain from mingling my tears
with hers, as I thought on all the sorrow and desolation that one man's
selfishness had occasioned.
* * * * *
Early in February, 1833, my husband and Lieutenant Hunter, in company
with one or two others, set off on a journey to Chicago. That place had
become so much of a town (it contained perhaps fifty inhabitants) that
it was necessary for the proprietors of "Kinzie's Addition" to lay out
lots and open streets through their property. All this was accomplished
during the visit in question.
While they were upon the ground with a surveyor, the attention of my
husband was drawn towards a very bright-looking boy in Indian costume,
who went hopping along by the side of the assistant that carried the
chain, mimicking him as in the course of his operations he cried,
"Stick!" "stuck!" He inquired who the lad was, and, to his surprise,
learned that he was the brother of the old family servants Victoire,
Genevieve, and Baptiste. Tomah, for that was his name, had never been
arrayed in civilized costume; he was in blanket and leggings, and had
always lived in a wigwam. My husband inquired if he would like to go to
Fort Winnebago with him and learn to be a white boy. The idea pleased
him much, and, his mother having given her sanction to the arrangement,
he was packed in a wagon, with the two gentlemen and their travelling
gear, when they set forth on their return-journey.
Tomah had been equipped in jacket and trousers, with the other articles
of apparel necessary to his new sphere and character. They were near the
Aux Plaines, and approaching the residence of Glode (Claude)
Laframboise, where Tomah knew he should meet acquaintances. He asked
leave to get out of the wagon and walk a little way. When the gentlemen
next saw him he was in full Pottowattamie costume: although it was
bitter winter weather, he had put on his uncomfortable native garb
rather than show himself to his old friends in a state of
transformation.
On his arrival at Fort Winnebago, our first care was to furnish him
with a complete wardrobe, which, having been placed in a box in his
sleeping-apartment, was put under his charge. Words cannot express his
delight as the valuable possessions were confided to him. Every spare
moment was devoted to their contemplation. Now and then Tomah would be
missing. He was invariably found seated by the side of his little trunk,
folding and refolding his clothes, laying them now lengthwise, now
crosswise, the happiest of mortals.
Our next step was to teach him to be useful. Such little offices were
assigned to him at first as might be supposed not altogether new to him,
but we soon observed that when there was anything in the shape of work,
Tomah slipped off to bed, even if it were before he had taken his
supper. Some fish were given him one evening to scale; it was just at
dark; but Tom, according to custom, retired at once to bed.
The cook came to inquire what was to be done. I was under the necessity
of calling in my husband's aid as interpreter. He sent for Tomah. When
he came into the parlor Mr. Kinzie said to him, in Pottowattamie,--
"There are some fish, Tomah, in the kitchen, and we want you to scale
them."
"Now?" exclaimed Tom, with an expression of amazement. "It is very
late."
A young lady, Miss Rolette, who was visiting us, and who understood the
language, could not refrain from bursting into a laugh at the simplicity
with which the words were uttered, and we joined her in sympathy, at
which Tom looked a little indignant; but when he understood that it was
the _white custom_ to scale the fish at night, and put salt and pepper
on them, he was soon reconciled to do his duty in the matter.
His next office was to lay the table. There was a best service of
china, which was only used when we had company, and a best set of
teaspoons, which I kept in the drawer of a bureau in my own room
above-stairs. I Was in the habit of keeping this drawer locked, and
putting the key under a small clock on the mantel-piece. The first time
that I had shown Tomah how to arrange matters for visitors, I had
brought the silver and put it on the table myself.
Soon after, we were to have company to tea again, and I explained to
Tomah that the best china must be used. What was my surprise, on going
through the dining-room a short time after, to see not only the new
china, but the "company silver" also, on the table! I requested our
mother, who could speak with him, to inquire into the matter.
Tomah said, very coolly, "He got the silver where it was kept."
"Did he find the drawer open?"
"No--he opened it with a key."
"Was the key in the drawer?"
"No--it was under that thing on the shelf."
"How did he know it was kept there?"
This was what Mr. Tomah declined telling. We could never ascertain
whether he had watched my movements at any time. No one had ever seen
him in that part of the house, and yet scarcely an article could be
mentioned of which Tomah did not know the whereabouts. If any one was
puzzled to find a thing, it was always,--
"Ask Tomah--he will tell you." And so in fact he did.
He was a subject of much amusement to the young officers. We were to
have a tea-party one evening--all the families and young officers from
the Fort. To make Tomah's appearance as professional as possible, we
made him a white apron with long sleeves to put on while he was helping
Mary and Josette to carry round tea--for I must acknowledge that Tomah's
clothes were not kept in as nice order out of the trunk as in it.
Tom was delighted with his new costume, as well as with the new
employment. He acquitted himself to perfection, for he had never any
difficulty in imitating what he saw another do. After tea we had some
music. As I was standing by the piano, at which one of the ladies was
seated, Lieutenant Vancleve said to me, in a low tone,--
"Look behind you a moment."
I turned. There sat Tom between two of the company, as stately as
possible, with his white apron smoothed down, and his hands clasped
before him, listening to the music, and on the best possible terms with
himself and all around him. Julian and Edwin were hardly able to
restrain their merriment, but they were afraid to do or say anything
that would cause him to move before the company had had a full enjoyment
of the scene. It was voted unanimously that Tomah should be permitted to
remain and enjoy the pleasures of society for one evening; but, with
characteristic restlessness, he got tired as soon as the music was over,
and unceremoniously took his leave of the company.