"Blackhawkiana"

Thursday, June 27, 1833

At a little after ten, ---------- came to take us to see the savages. We drove down, D------, my father, he, and I, to their hotel. We found, even at that early hour, the portico, passage, and staircase, thronged with gazers upon the same errand as ourselves. We made our way, at length, into the presence chamber; a little narrow dark room, with all the windows shut, crowded with people, come to stare at their fellow wild beasts. Upon a sofa sat Black Hawk, a diminutive, shrivelled looking old man, with an appearance of much activity in his shrunk limbs, and a calmness and dignified self-composure in his manner, which, in spite of his want of size and comeliness, was very striking. Next to him sat a young man, the adopted son of his brother the prophet; whose height and breadth, and peculiar gravity of face and deportment, were those of a man nearly forty, whereas he is a little more than half that age. The undisturbed seriousness of his countenance was explained to me by their keeper, thus: he had, it seems, the day before, indulged rather too freely in the delights of champagne, and was suffering just retribution in the shape of a head-ache,---unjust retribution I should say, for in his savage experience no such sweet bright poison had ever before been recorded, I guess, by the after pain it causes. Next to him sat Black Hawk's son, a noble, big young creature, like a fine Newfoundland puppy, with a handsome, scornful face, which yet exhibited more familiarity and good-humoured amusement at what was going on than any of the rest. His hair was powdered on the top and round the ears with a bright vermillion-colored powder, and knots of scarlet berries or beads, I don’t know which, hung like ear-rings on each side of his face. A string of glass beads was tied round his naked throat; he was wrapped in a large blanket, which completely concealed his form, except his legs and feet, which were clothed in common leather shoes, and a species of deerskin gaiter. He seemed much alive to what was going on, conversed freely in his own language with his neighbour, and laughed once or twice aloud, which rather surprised me, as I had heard so much of their immovable gravity. The costume of the other young man was much the same, except that his hair was not adorned. Black Hawk himself had on a blue cloth surtout, scarlet leggings, a black silk neck handkerchief, and ear-rings. His appearance altogether was not unlike that of an old French gentleman. Beside him, on a chair, sat one of his warriors, wrapped in a blanket, with a cotton handkerchief whisped round his head. At one of the windows apart from their companions, with less courtesy in their demeanour, and a great deal of sullen savageness in their serious aspects, sat the great warrior, and the prophet of the tribe---the latter is Black Hawk's brother. I cannot express the feeling of commiseration and disgust which the whole scene gave me. That men such as ourselves, creatures with like feelings, like perceptions, should be brought, as strange animals at a show, to be gazed at the livelong day by suceeding shoals of gaping folk, struck me as totally unfitting. The cold dignity of the old chief, and the malignant scowl of the prophet, expressed the indecency and irksomeness of such a situation. Then, to look at those two young savages, with their fine muscular proportions, and think of them cooped up the horrible day long, in this hot prison-house full of people, made my heart ache. How they must loathe the sight of these narrow walls, and the sound of these strange voices; how they must sicken for their unmeasured range of wilderness! The gentleman who seemed to have the charge of them pressed me to go up and shake hands with them, as every body else in the room did; but I refused to do so from literal compassion, and unwillingness to add to the wearisome toil they were made to undergo. As we were departing, however, they reiterated their entreaties that we would go up and shake hands with them,---so I did. Black Hawk and the young men received our courtesy with great complaisance; but when we went to the great warrior and the prophet, they seemed exceedingly loath to receive our hands, the latter particularly, who had, moreover, one of the very worst expressions I think I ever saw upon a human countenance. I instinctively withdrew my hand; but when my father offered his, the savage's face relaxed into a smile, and he met his greeting readily. I wonder what pleased him about my father's appearance, whether it was his large size or not. I had a silver vinaigrette in my pouch, which I gave Black Hawk's son, by way of keepsake: it will make a charming keepsake for his squaw.