Chapter Thirteen.
Betsy, the Indian Wife.
She was not a bad looking woman, but she had such a sorrowful face that never seemed to have on it a smile. Mrs Young and I had both noticed this, and had spoken to each other about it. Her name was Betsy. She was the wife of an Indian whose name was Atenou, but who, when baptised, had, like most of his countrymen, asked for the addition to it of an English name, and so was known as Robert Atenou. His record seemed to be that of a quiet, industrious sort of an Indian, who fished and hunted as did the rest, and gave trouble to none. As he, like many of his people, was gifted with readiness of utterance, and was very faithful in his attendance at all of the religious services, and seemed to be living a godly life, he had been, given an official position in the church, which, he very much appreciated.
It was noticed however, that Robert’s advancement in the church, did not seem to remove the cloud that was on his wife’s face. While the other women were so bright and happy and thankful at the change which Christianity had brought into their lives, and were at times not slow in speaking about it, she was a very marked exception.
Not wishing to pry into her affairs, while perplexed, we were obliged for a time to remain in the dark, and could only conjecture as to the cause.
Perhaps the most marvellous and conspicuous evidence of the blessedness of the Gospel, next to its divine power in the salvation of the soul, is to be seen in the glorious way in which it uplifts women. Sad indeed is the condition of women in lands unreached by the blessed influences of Christianity. He whose wonderful and tender love for His mother, and for the goodly women who ministered to Him, was so manifested when He walked this earth of ours, is Jesus still. And wherever His name is successfully proclaimed, and hearts opened to receive Him, there at once is a glorious uplifting of woman from a condition of inferiority and degradation, into one where she is honoured and respected.
The northern Indian tribes on this continent, while not very warlike, or much in the habit of going after the scalps of their enemies, had other crimes and sins, which showed that they were fallen and sinful, and much in need of the Gospel. Among the defects and wickednesses of the men, was the almost universal contempt for, and cruelty to the women. If a man spoke or acted kindly to his wife, or mother, or daughter, it was by them considered a sign of weakness and effeminacy. To be harsh and cold toward the women, was supposed to be one of the signs of the ideal Indian toward which they were ever striving. All manual labour, apart from hunting and fishing, was considered degrading to be left to the women, and some, as much as possible, even left the fishing to them. Where there were no tribal wars, the perfect Indian was only the great hunter. And with the great hunter, his work ended when the game was killed. If it were at all possible to send his wife or mother to the spot where the animal lay, that his arrow or gun had brought down, he would scorn to carry or drag it back to camp. He had killed the bear, or moose, or reindeer, or whatever animal it might happen to be, and now it was woman’s work to take it to the wigwam, and as quickly as possible prepare for him his meal. Thus we have seen the great stalwart six-footed hunter come stalking into the village with his gun upon his shoulder, while the poor mother, or wife, or daughter, came trudging on behind, almost crushed down with the weight of the game upon her back. He carried the gun—she the game.
Then, no matter how tired she might be with the heavy burden, no time was allowed for rest. With a quick harsh “kinipe” (hurry); she was soon at work. The skin was quickly and skilfully removed, and some of the savoury meat was cooked and placed before her husband or son. Not a mouthful would she be allowed to taste until the despot had leisurely finished, unless it were to pick some of the bones which he condescendingly threw to her, as, at a distance from him, she sat with the girls and dogs. Thus she was treated as a slave, or drudge, or beast of burden. Then when sickness or old age came on, and she became unable to work and toil and slave, she was without mercy put out of existence: the usual method being strangulation.
This was the sad condition of women in various parts of this great continent ere the Gospel reached the Indian tribes. Very marvellous and striking have been the transformations which we have witnessed among those to whom we had gone with the truth. At some places we witnessed changes wrought by the labours of the worthy men who had preceded us; in other places we were permitted both to sow the seed and see the glorious harvest.
Although, from the white man’s standpoint the people here were poor, yet the little houses, where were the followers of the Lord Jesus, were homes of happiness, and the spirit of kindliness and affection everywhere prevailed. There men and women lived on terms of equality. No longer did the men eat alone and of the best of the game and fish, but all together men and women, boys and girls as one loving family, shared proportionately what had been secured. The result was, there was a spirit of contentment and happiness in our mission village that was very gratifying.
However, amidst these happy faces and notes of thanksgiving, here was this one sorrowful face and silent tongue. What was the cause? The truth came out at last, and in a way that was almost dramatic.
Mrs Young and I were busy one day with our routine duties, when Betsy came into our home, and hardly taking time enough to give the usual morning salutation exclaimed in a most decided way; “Robert is not kind to me, and does not treat me like the other men, who profess to be Christians, treat their wives.”
This strong emphatic remark startled us, and at once gave us the clue to the cause of the sorrowful face. At first we hardly knew just how to answer such an emphatic utterance, and so in silence waited for her to proceed. But there she sat quietly her face nearly hidden in her black shawl, seeming to be afraid to proceed further. So we had at length to break the awkward silence, by saying we were very sorry to hear her words and could not understand their meaning, as Robert seemed to be a very good man, and an earnest Christian.
This at once caused her to break her silence, and turning around to me, she said:
“Yes, that is it. If he did not so profess to be a Christian, I would never mind it, and would silently bear it; but he professes to be a Christian, and does not treat me in the way in which the other Christian men treat their wives.”
Then she quieted down, and in a very straightforward way told us her story, which was as follows:
“When Robert goes out and shoots a deer, it is true he does not come home with the gun upon his shoulder, and make me go out on his trail and bring in the game; he brings it in himself, like the other Christian Indians; but when it is brought in, he makes me skin it; and then takes the two haunches over to the fort, and there exchanges them with the fur-traders for some flour, tea and sugar, which he brings home. I have to cook for him a fore-shoulder of the deer, make cakes at the fire, out of his flour, and then when the tea is made and supper is ready, sit and watch him, and our boys, and any men visitors who happen to be there—and a number are generally around by that time—eat until all is consumed. He never gives any of these good things to me, or to the girls. We have to go out in a canoe, and, with a net, catch some fish for our food. And yet,” she added, with some bitterness, “he calls himself a Christian; and treats us in this way, as though he had never heard the missionary.”
Of course we were both indignant as she told her story, and were not slow in letting her know of our annoyance at her having been, so treated. But wife-like, and woman-like, when I said:
“Robert shall hear of this, and shall be straightened out forthwith,” her fears were aroused, and it seemed as though she were now frightened at what she had said. However there was not much difficulty in quieting her fears, although at first it did seem as though she would rush out of the house, and return to her tent, and submit to the humiliating life which she saw should not have continued so long.
After a little consultation with Mrs Young, our course of action was agreed upon. It was, that Betsy should be kept at the mission house until I had assembled in the church a number of the elderly Christian men; and later Robert, whom we learned from his wife was then at his tent, was to be summoned.
But little time was required in which to gather the men I wanted, as most of the people were then at their homes. They were completely in the dark as to the object for which I had called them together. When in the church. I sent for Mrs Young and Betsy to join us. Poor Betsy was now so frightened, that it seemed as if, like a startled deer, she would run to the woods. However, she was in good hands. Mrs Young spoke soothing words, and cheered her much by telling her, that what she had done in coming to us with the story of her wrongs was perfectly right, and that very soon every thing would be cleared up.
Shortly after the two women came in and took seats together, Robert, for whom I had sent two men, walked in.
At first he was much surprised at the gathering, and especially puzzled and perplexed at seeing his wife sitting there by the side of the wife of the missionary. Before he could say anything, I pointed out a seat for him where he would be in full view of his brother Indians, and yet, where his presence would not overawe, or crush down his wife. Soon after, I locked the church door and said:
“Let us pray.”
After prayers I turned to Betsy, and said:
“Now Betsy, if what you told Mrs Young and me in the mission house is true, and I believe it is, I want you now to tell the story over again that these Christian men may hear it. Never mind the fact of Robert’s being here; if he is a Christian, as he says he is, the hearing of it will, I hope, do him good.”
The faces of those Indians were studies. None knew, not even Robert himself, what Betsy had to say; and so they waited in amazement to hear her story.
With an encouraging word from Mrs Young, she began; and although at first she was timid and nervous, she soon recovered her self-possession, and in a perfectly natural manner told the story of the treatment she and the girls had received from the hands of her husband. With renewed emphasis she dwelt on that which seemed to have given her the most sorrow? “If he had not so professed to be a Christian, I would not have so much minded it.”
Indians are the best listeners in the world. They never interrupt anyone in his talk. And so, even Robert, who at first was simply dumbfounded and amazed, controlled himself and held his peace. Very few white men could have done so. I had purposely so placed him, that if he had suddenly attempted violence, stronger men could instantly have restrained him. But nothing of the kind was attempted. As his wife went on and on, showing the difference between his conduct toward her and their girls, and that of the other Christian men toward their wives and daughters, Robert’s head went lower and lower, until there he sat, humiliated and disgraced before his brethren. When Betsy finished her talk and sat down, I turned to the good men there assembled and merely said:
“What do you think of such conduct on the part of one who professes to be a Christian?”
Their indignation knew no bounds. Indian like, they had let Betsy tell her whole story without any interruption; but the looks on their faces as she proceeded, told how deeply affected they were. Now that they had heard her story, it seemed as though they all wanted to speak at ones; but there are well understood, although unwritten, rules of precedence among them, so the first in order spoke, and then the second, and then the third, and so on.
How they did dress the poor fellow down! While it was very severe, it was Christian and brotherly. They spoke as men who were grieved and wounded.
“Is this the way you have acted! You, Robert Atenou, who for so long a time have professed to be a Christian; you, to treat your poor wife and children like that; as though no Bible, or missionary had come among us! Now we know why Betsy has been so sad, and did not rejoice like the other women.”
Thus they faithfully chided him, and expressed their sorrow at his heartless conduct.
Poor Robert, I had soon to pity him. First, of course, I was a little anxious as to the way in which a once proud-spirited fiery Indian, would take his wife’s arraignment of his misdoings and selfishness, and also these reprimands from his brethren. However, it turned out all right. Robert just buried his bronzed face in his hands, and received it all in silence. When I thought it had gone far enough, and had decided in my own mind not then and there to question him, I asked for a cessation of the speaking, and went and opened the church door.
At once Robert arose and left the church.
Not one word had he spoken to anybody.
Betsy, wife-like, wished immediately to follow him, but Mrs Young persuaded her not to go for a little while. She took the poor frightened creature into the mission house, gave her a cup of tea and something to eat, and what she prized more, some loving sympathetic words. When she did return home, she found that Robert was absent. The children said that he had come in, and, after saying some kind words to them, had taken his gun and ammunition and had gone off hunting. He did not return until the next day, but he had with him a fine deer. This he skinned himself, and taking the two hind quarters, went as usual to the fort, and bartered them for flour, tea and sugar. When he returned to his tent, he handed these things to his wife, and desired her to cook them as usual. After all had been prepared he had all placed before his wife, daughters, and sons. Then, telling them to enjoy the meal, he left the tent. Taking a net, he went out upon the lake in a canoe, and after some time spent in fishing, was seen cooking and eating his catch upon the shore.
Thus he lived for weeks. He was a good hunter, and worked most industriously and successfully. All the game taken, he brought to his wife and children, upon which he insisted that they should feast, while he confined himself to a fish diet; although those caught at that season were far from being the best.
One Saturday evening, as we were standing in the front of our mission home enjoying the splendours of a most magnificent sunset, we saw Robert coming up the trail. As he drew near I accosted him kindly, but it was easy to see that he was in trouble, and that there was “something on his mind.” We chatted about various things, and I encouraged him to speak out freely. With a sudden effort he broke loose from his feeling of restraint, and said:
“Missionary, are you going to let me come to the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper to-morrow?”
Four times a year we had this sacramental service, and it was a great event to our native Christians. In answer to his question I replied:
“Why Robert, what is there to cause me to wish to prevent you from coming to the Lord’s table?”
Looking at me earnestly, he said:
“There is a good deal. Just think of the way I have treated my wife and daughters!”
“Yes,” I said, “I remember that; but I also know how you have been treating them during the last few weeks.”
With a face from which the shadows had now fled away, he said quickly:—
“Have you heard anything about that?”
“O yes, Robert,” I replied, “I know all about it. I have good eyes and ears, and I have seen and heard how nobly you have redeemed yourself. I am very glad of it. Of course I will welcome you to the Lord’s table.”
After a little further conversation, I said:
“Tell me, Robert, why did you act so selfishly toward your wife and daughters?”
He just uttered with emphasis the Indian word which means: “Stupidity,”—then after a little pause he quietly added; “But I think I have got over it.”
And so he had.