FOOTNOTES:[51]Chauchetière mentions Easter Sunday, 1675, as the date of Kateri Tekakwitha's baptism. Cholenec and others give the date as above, 1676.[52]This description of the chapel at the time of Tekakwitha's baptism is taken principally from a manuscript of Rev. Felix Martin, entitled "Une Vierge Iroquoise."
[51]Chauchetière mentions Easter Sunday, 1675, as the date of Kateri Tekakwitha's baptism. Cholenec and others give the date as above, 1676.
[51]Chauchetière mentions Easter Sunday, 1675, as the date of Kateri Tekakwitha's baptism. Cholenec and others give the date as above, 1676.
[52]This description of the chapel at the time of Tekakwitha's baptism is taken principally from a manuscript of Rev. Felix Martin, entitled "Une Vierge Iroquoise."
[52]This description of the chapel at the time of Tekakwitha's baptism is taken principally from a manuscript of Rev. Felix Martin, entitled "Une Vierge Iroquoise."
PERSECUTIONS.—HEROIC CALMNESS IN A MOMENT OF PERIL.—MALICE OF TEKAKWITHA'S AUNT.
AFTER her baptism, Katherine Tekakwitha was supremely happy. Her deft hands were as busy as before, providing for the general comfort in her uncle's lodge. Besides this she went back and forth twice each day to the chapel, where the blackgown assembled his dusky flock for morning and evening prayers. On Sundays she heard Mass at the same bark-covered shrine of St. Peter, and later on in the day she joined in chanting the prayers of the chaplet with alternate choirs of the Christian Indians. This was a favorite religious exercise at all the Iroquois missions. These people were gifted by nature with sweet voices, and sang well together. If at any time the Mohawk girl was beset with some difficulty or perplexity, she went at once to tell it with all simplicity to Father de Lamberville, who pointed out to her with great care the path which he believed would lead her most directly on to holiness of life. Once sure of her duty, Tekakwitha walked straight forward, with timid, downcast eyes, but joyous spirit, swerving neither to the right nor to the left. The rule of life that the Father prescribed for his other Christians to keep them from the superstitious, impure feasts and drunken debaucheriescommon among the Indians, was too general and not advanced enough for Tekakwitha. She had always avoided these excesses even in her heathen days, and now her craving for a higher and deeper knowledge of spiritual things was so great that the blackgown soon found himself called on to direct her in the way of special devotional exercises and unusual practices of virtue.
In December, 1676, an event occurred of much interest to the Christian Indians. On the feast of the Immaculate Conception, the blessing of the statue of Notre Dame de Foye took place at Tionnontogen, or the Mission of St. Mary's. This statue was a fac-simile of a highly venerated one of the Blessed Virgin in Belgium. It was made of oak from the place where the first originated, and had been sent out from France to the Indians. Father Bruyas received it at Tionnontogen as a precious gift to his Christian Mohawks. All the neophytes of the neighboring villages assembled to see it unveiled and solemnly blessed. It was placed in the chapel in such a way that a bright ray of light falling through a small opening in the bark wall fell directly upon the Madonna. The Indians had not seen anything so beautiful and new to them since Boniface showed them on Christmas day at Caughnawaga the little statue of the Christ-child lying in a manger. Father Martin, speaking of the unveiling of this statue of the Madonna, says that Katherine Tekakwitha would not fail to be present at this pious rendezvous. She was baptized, it will be remembered, at Easter time; and the blessing of the statue of Notre Dame de Foye took place on the 8th day of the following December.
Charlevoix says, alluding to Tekakwitha's Christian life:—
"From the first, her virtues gained admiration even from those who were the furthest from imitating them; and those to whom she was subject left her free to follow the promptings of her zeal for a short time. The innocence of her life, and the precautions she took to avoid all occasions of sin, and above all her extreme reserve with regard to all which might in the slightest degree wound modesty, appearing to the young people of the village a tacit reproach to the licentious life which they led, several endeavored to turn her astray, in the hope of tarnishing the splendor of a virtue which dazzled them."On the other hand, although she neglected none of her domestic labors and was ever ready to assist others, her relatives murmured greatly at her spending all her free time in prayer; and as she would not work on Sundays and feast-days, when forbidden by the Church, they would deprive her of food the entire day. Seeing that they gained nothing by this means, they had recourse to more violent measures, often ill-treating her in the most shameful manner: when she went to the chapel they would send boys to throw stones at and calumniate her; while drunken men, or those pretending to be such, would pursue her and threaten her life; but fearless of their artifices, she continued her exercises as if in the enjoyment of the most perfect liberty and peace."
"From the first, her virtues gained admiration even from those who were the furthest from imitating them; and those to whom she was subject left her free to follow the promptings of her zeal for a short time. The innocence of her life, and the precautions she took to avoid all occasions of sin, and above all her extreme reserve with regard to all which might in the slightest degree wound modesty, appearing to the young people of the village a tacit reproach to the licentious life which they led, several endeavored to turn her astray, in the hope of tarnishing the splendor of a virtue which dazzled them.
"On the other hand, although she neglected none of her domestic labors and was ever ready to assist others, her relatives murmured greatly at her spending all her free time in prayer; and as she would not work on Sundays and feast-days, when forbidden by the Church, they would deprive her of food the entire day. Seeing that they gained nothing by this means, they had recourse to more violent measures, often ill-treating her in the most shameful manner: when she went to the chapel they would send boys to throw stones at and calumniate her; while drunken men, or those pretending to be such, would pursue her and threaten her life; but fearless of their artifices, she continued her exercises as if in the enjoyment of the most perfect liberty and peace."
She did not hesitate to say, when there was occasion for it, that she would die rather than give up the practice of the Christian religion. Her resolution was put to severe tests, but she never wavered. Chauchetière thus wrote concerning the persecutions she had to endure at this time:—
"There are those who dare not declare themselves when they are the only Christians in their cabin; but Katherine showed an extraordinary firmness of spirit against human respect. When the children pointed their fingers at her, when they called her no longer by her Indian name, but called her by the name ofChristianin derision, as though they meantdog,—which lasted so long that they forgot her name, giving her none other at all but that of theChristian, because she was the only one in the cabin who was baptized,—far from afflicting herself on account of this scorn of which she was the object, she was happy to have lost her name."She had much to suffer from the mockeries of the sorcerers, of the drunkards, of all the enemies of 'The Prayer,' likewise of her uncle."
"There are those who dare not declare themselves when they are the only Christians in their cabin; but Katherine showed an extraordinary firmness of spirit against human respect. When the children pointed their fingers at her, when they called her no longer by her Indian name, but called her by the name ofChristianin derision, as though they meantdog,—which lasted so long that they forgot her name, giving her none other at all but that of theChristian, because she was the only one in the cabin who was baptized,—far from afflicting herself on account of this scorn of which she was the object, she was happy to have lost her name.
"She had much to suffer from the mockeries of the sorcerers, of the drunkards, of all the enemies of 'The Prayer,' likewise of her uncle."
He too, as time went on, seems to have taken an active part in persecuting the young girl who was entirely dependent on him for protection from insult. When her own uncle, the chief man of the castle, turned against her, what could she expect from others but ill-treatment of every sort? Her firmness, which nothing could shake, irritated her heathen relatives more and more. They called her a sorceress. Whenever she went to the chapel they caused her to be followed by showers of stones, so that to avoid those who lay in wait for her, she was often obliged to take the most circuitous routes. Was it not strange that one so shy by nature as Tekakwitha should have had the strength of will to undergo all this without flinching? She seemed to be utterly devoid of fear; though timid as a deer, she had the courage of a panther at bay, and was no less quick to act when the time for action came.
One day when she was employed as usual in heruncle's lodge, a young Indian suddenly rushed in upon her, his features distorted with rage, his eyes flashing fire, his tomahawk raised above his head as if to strike her dead at the least opposition. Tekakwitha did not cry out, or make an appeal for mercy, or promise to abandon the course she was taking in the midst of this ever increasing torrent of threats and abuse. With perfect composure, without the tremor or twitch of a muscle, she simply bowed her head on her breast, and stood before the wild and desperate young savage as immovable as a rock. Words were not needed on either side. With all the eloquent silence of the Indian sign language, her gesture and attitude spoke to the youth and said: "I am here, I am ready. My life you can take; my faith is my own in life or in death. I fear you not!" The rage in the Indian's eye died out, and gave place to wonder, then awe. He gazed as if spellbound. The uplifted tomahawk dropped to his side. Her firmness unnerved him. Admiration, then a strange fear, overmastered the young brave, whose brain perhaps had been somewhat clouded with liquor when he thus undertook to rid the old chief's niece of her Christian whims. Be that as it may, he could not have been more astonished at what he beheld if a spirit had appeared before him and ordered him out of the lodge. Cowed and abashed, he slunk away, as if from a superior being; or rather, in the words of Charlevoix, "he turned and fled with as much precipitation as if pursued by a band of warriors."
Thinking Tekakwitha meant to join the Mohawks on the St. Lawrence, they had sought by threatening her life in this way to prevent her from carrying out herpurpose. They now let her live in peace for a time. No stone had been left unturned to weary her out and break her spirit; it had all proved to be of no avail. They might as well have tried to frighten the stars from their accustomed course through the heavens as to turn this quiet Mohawk girl from the path her conscience marked out. Her hold on faith and virtue was stronger than torture or death. These first caprices of her tormentors were followed a little later by a more dangerous persecution, and to one possessed of Tekakwitha's sensibilities, the most cruel of all.
It was the last trial she was called upon to endure in the land of her birth. It was the only one, perhaps, that could have estranged her from her nearest kindred and her beloved Mohawk Valley; for we are told that she was particularly sensitive to the reproach they made to her of having no natural affection for her relations and of hating her nation. Had this been true, she would never have remained in her uncle's lodge as she did, till its inmates hardened their hearts against her to the exclusion even of the commonest sentiments of humanity. This was particularly the case with one of her aunts, who succeeded only too well in making the life of her niece a torture. She was the direct cause of Tekakwitha's last and severest trial in the Mohawk country.
In 1677 the Lily of the Mohawks accompanied her relatives on the usual spring hunt. They went in the direction of the Dutch, we are told, or in other words, towards the settlement at Schenectady. Had their object been to fish, they would most likely have gone on from there to the fishing village at the mouth of theNorman's Kill, near Albany, passing down through the "vale of Tawasentha." As these Indians went to hunt and not to fish, they probably took instead one of the many trails leading through the pine-forest of Saratoga, any one of which would quickly bring them to a region frequented by deer and game from the Adirondacks. There, at a certain spot known to the Mohawks from time immemorial, a strange medicine-spring bubbled over the top of a round, high rock, and scattered its health-giving waters at random over the ground. Then, and for a hundred years to come, its existence was known only to the Indians. No white man had ever been permitted to lift its pungent water to his lips.
To this place, called "Serachtague" in his report of the colony, Governor Dongan tried in vain to recall the Iroquois Christians of Canada, by promising them English blackgowns,[53]and undisturbed possession of their favorite hunting-ground. With this interesting fact of early Saratoga history, however, we are not now concerned. As for the one involving Tekakwitha, here is Chauchetière's account of what occurred at the Mohawk hunting-camp, and of the report that was carried back from there to the village:—
"In the spring or during the time of the chase she had gone with her relations towards the Dutch, with her uncle. The wife of this hunter did not like Catherine, perhaps becausethe good life of Catherine was a reproach to the contrary life led by this infidel; this woman examined all the actions and all the words of Catherine, that she might discover something with which to find fault. It is a common thing among the Indians to treat an uncle like a father, and to call him by the very name of father. Catherine chanced one day, in speaking of this old man in company with others, to let slip his name without using the name of 'father' or 'my father;' this woman noticed that, and judged rashly of Catherine, and said that Catherine had sinned with her husband. She did not fail to seek out Father Lamberville, and tell him that she whom he esteemed so much had sinned. The Father wished to examine the reasons which this woman had for treating in such a way this good Christian, and having found out that the strongest was that which I have just related, he sharply reproved this evil-speaking tongue; but he did not neglect to speak to Catherine and to instruct her on the sin, and the pains of hell that God has prepared for punishing it, and then he questioned Catherine, who replied with firmness and modesty that never had she fallen into this sin either on this occasion or on any other, and that she did not fear to be damned [for it]; but much sooner, for not having courage enough to let them break her head rather than to go to work in the fields on Sunday. She believed she had not done enough by remaining whole days without eating, for when she did not go to work in the fields on Sundays, they would hide everything there was to eat in the cabin, and they left her nothing of what had been prepared for that day. This was in order that hunger might oblige her to go to the fields, where they would have forced her to work."
"In the spring or during the time of the chase she had gone with her relations towards the Dutch, with her uncle. The wife of this hunter did not like Catherine, perhaps becausethe good life of Catherine was a reproach to the contrary life led by this infidel; this woman examined all the actions and all the words of Catherine, that she might discover something with which to find fault. It is a common thing among the Indians to treat an uncle like a father, and to call him by the very name of father. Catherine chanced one day, in speaking of this old man in company with others, to let slip his name without using the name of 'father' or 'my father;' this woman noticed that, and judged rashly of Catherine, and said that Catherine had sinned with her husband. She did not fail to seek out Father Lamberville, and tell him that she whom he esteemed so much had sinned. The Father wished to examine the reasons which this woman had for treating in such a way this good Christian, and having found out that the strongest was that which I have just related, he sharply reproved this evil-speaking tongue; but he did not neglect to speak to Catherine and to instruct her on the sin, and the pains of hell that God has prepared for punishing it, and then he questioned Catherine, who replied with firmness and modesty that never had she fallen into this sin either on this occasion or on any other, and that she did not fear to be damned [for it]; but much sooner, for not having courage enough to let them break her head rather than to go to work in the fields on Sunday. She believed she had not done enough by remaining whole days without eating, for when she did not go to work in the fields on Sundays, they would hide everything there was to eat in the cabin, and they left her nothing of what had been prepared for that day. This was in order that hunger might oblige her to go to the fields, where they would have forced her to work."
They declared that Christianity was making her lazy and worthless. Had she been accustomed to idle awayas much of her time in amusement as the other young squaws, she would not have been so treated; but her ill-natured aunts, for whom she had worked industriously all her life, now begrudged her the one day of rest out of seven which she took for conscience' sake. Thus Sunday generally proved not a feast, but a fast-day to Tekakwitha. Her life was becoming intolerable. Her cruel and morose aunt, whom Martin rightly callsun esprit bizarre, had received from Father de Lamberville a reprimand which covered her with confusion. She visited her chagrin upon the head of her innocent victim. "Well!" she had said to the blackgown, "so Katherine, whom you esteem so virtuous, is notwithstanding a hypocrite who deceives you." As such her aunt now treated her. This evil-minded old squaw, who looked through the murky cloud of her own sins at the brightness and holiness of the young life so close to hers, disliked its radiance. It caused her to blink uncomfortably, and she refused to believe in its truth. She shrank back into the dark, which suited her better. In her fruitless efforts to hide from her wicked eyes the bright light that shone about the pathway of Tekakwitha, she tried by every means in her power to brand the virtue of her niece as a mere pretence, assumed to cover worse deeds than her own.
There was no longer for the Lily of the Mohawks even a shadow of protection in her home at Caughnawaga Castle. Her uncle had beset her path with drunken men and taunting children; she had been deprived of food, she had been threatened with death, and last of all, her aunt had done what she could to defame her to the blackgown. He, however, was now her onlyfriend; and his advice to her was to leave the country as soon as possible, and take refuge at the Praying Castle. What wonder, then, that Tekakwitha, after having thus spent a year and a half in her home as a Christian, began to look with longing eyes towards the new Caughnawaga on the St. Lawrence, whither her adopted sister and Anastasia Tegonhatsihongo had already gone. She turned to the mission settlement in her thoughts as to a land of promise and peace, an asylum where her religion and her innocence would be respected.
Travelling Indians from the Sault came and went among their tribesmen in the Mohawk Valley. Sometimes they were joined by new recruits, who returned with them to Canada. Tekakwitha now greeted the arrival of each band of these Christian Indians with a hopeful smile; but again and again she saw them depart with a weary sigh, for when they were gone, she felt that her only chance of release from her trials had vanished with them. Thus far none of them had offered to take her to the Praying Castle, and indeed, she knew of no one with whom she would have cared to go had she been asked. She saw no way out of her troubles. Her uncle, grown harsh and unkind to her, was displeased with all that she did in the lodge, and yet he would not consent to her going away. The old chief was moody and sullen at sight of his half-untenanted castle. Who then would dare to tamper with his niece, or assist her in any way to escape? Who would ever be found willing to undertake so dangerous a venture? Tekakwitha sadly realized her position, and felt that she could only gather together the powers of her soul for patient and persistent endurance even unto death. She knewthat if her relatives could once force her by long-continued persecution to yield to them, their old kindness would return; they would then be only too glad to choose a husband for her, and to give her a place among the oyanders, or noble matrons of the nation. But the national life of the Mohawks was still thoroughly heathen, and her part was already taken with the Christians. She would not retreat one step, nor entertain for a moment the thought of surrender, though she was cut off almost entirely from communication with those of her own faith. She stood apart from them all, and suffered and made no moan. During this time Tekakwitha was learning the bitterest lesson of life; she was daily sounding the depths and unlocking the secrets of unshared sorrow. In this the heart of the Lily was waxing strong; but alas! her very soul was athirst for the "living water" that was so cruelly denied her. She had scarcely as yet been allowed to taste of its sweetness. She knew that those who lived at the Sault were permitted to drink deep of the precious draught, and revelled in wealth of spiritual food. Thus checked and deprived of instruction, how could she ever hope to obtain the "bread of life" that was given out so freely at the mission village? Was she alone, of all the Iroquois Christians, to hunger and thirst for these things without relief till she died? Was she to be all her life "the only one in the lodge baptized"? And would she be always treated as now? She felt that she could not endure it much longer and live; for the Lily was left quite alone among thorns, and the thorns were pricking her almost to death.
FOOTNOTES:[53]These promises were of no great account. Kryn, the great Mohawk warrior, said in 1687, "If a priest would settle at Saragtoga, many [Indians] would return; for they had longed and waited a long time for it." Colonial History, vol. iii. p. 436. As this hope failed, and neutrality was not possible, we find Kryn thenceforth in close alliance with the French.
[53]These promises were of no great account. Kryn, the great Mohawk warrior, said in 1687, "If a priest would settle at Saragtoga, many [Indians] would return; for they had longed and waited a long time for it." Colonial History, vol. iii. p. 436. As this hope failed, and neutrality was not possible, we find Kryn thenceforth in close alliance with the French.
[53]These promises were of no great account. Kryn, the great Mohawk warrior, said in 1687, "If a priest would settle at Saragtoga, many [Indians] would return; for they had longed and waited a long time for it." Colonial History, vol. iii. p. 436. As this hope failed, and neutrality was not possible, we find Kryn thenceforth in close alliance with the French.
HOT ASHES PLANS TEKAKWITHA'S ESCAPE.
THE Indian chief Louis Garonhiagué, known to the English as Hot Ashes, and called by the French La Poudre Chaude or La Cendre Chaude, was, as his name implies, a quick-tempered, impulsive, and fiery man. He was an Oneida by birth, and was known to have been one of the executioners of the heroic missionary Brebeuf, who, with his companion Lalemant, was tortured and slain in the Huron country by Iroquois warriors. Since that time Hot Ashes had become a Christian. His career and character are interesting and characteristic of the times. As this impetuous chief,dogique, and apostle was bold enough to come forward and assist the Lily of the Mohawks to escape from her uncle's lodge to the Sault St. Louis, some further account of him may well be given.
Hot Ashes had been betrothed to his wife in childhood. They had lived together from the time he was eight years old. The violence of his nature was held in check to a certain extent by the unalterable patience, the gentleness, and the yielding disposition of his worthy squaw. Their union was what Chauchetière calls one of the good marriages that are sometimes made among the savages. Hot Ashes was chief or captain of his village in the Oneida country, and was held in highesteem by his tribesmen. His own quick temper was the cause of his leaving them. At one time the question of moving the village to a new site—an event of frequent occurrence among the Indians—gave rise to a quarrel between the leading chiefs. While still angry on this account, Hot Ashes went off to the hunt. Thereupon a second event occurred, of so irritating a nature that he was enraged beyond all bounds. News came to him that his favorite brother had been killed. The bearer of the news did not tell him who had committed the fatal deed. The furious and excitable chief immediately persuaded himself that it had been done by the French. Without waiting to learn the particulars, he hurried off toward Montreal to wreak his vengeance on the Canadian settlers. On his way, however, he learned that his brother had been killed in an entirely different quarter, and not by these people at all. Hot Ashes was now in a quandary. What should he do next? He was near the Praying Castle on the St. Lawrence, whose hospitable doors were always open to travellers, and he paused there for a time to consider the situation. The Indians of that place liked him from the first; he soon made friends among them, and his wife was charmed with the quiet, orderly, and peaceful life of the Christian Indians who dwelt there. Hot Ashes thus had ample time to cool down and think matters over. Should he now decide to return to his own country, he would feel bound to avenge his brother's death, according to custom, on the people by whom he had been slain. He knew that this would involve his whole nation in a bloody war. This he disliked to do; for when not in a tempest of anger, Hot Ashes was a generous,good-hearted man. Then, too, the longer he remained at the Sault the more contented and calm he became. Won over by his wife Garhoit, he consented to be instructed and to be baptized with his whole family. The baptism of so important a chief was a great event for the mission. All his own people who were in the vicinity, and many even from the distant Oneida country, assembled at the Praying Castle for the occasion. A number of these remained and became Christians. There were soon so many Oneidas dwelling at the Sault that they needed a ruler of their own nation, and Hot Ashes was chosen to preside over them. He thus became the fourthdogique, or captain of the Praying Castle. He soon ranked first of all in importance, notwithstanding the ability of his stanch friend Kryn, the "great Mohawk." Still his unruly temper would break forth at times, as it did on the occasion of his reception as captain. The men of the Sault assembled in due form, lighted the fire for him, gave him the calumet to smoke, and went through all the ceremonies save one, which most unfortunately was forgotten. Hot Ashes, indignant at the oversight, went to Father Fremin, the missionary, and gave vent to his ire. He said that they had mocked him, that they had treated him like a child, that he was a chief without a mat, that he would be obliged to hold his council out of doors. In short, he could not be pacified till the old men reassembled, and the whole ceremony from beginning to end was gone over.
Once duly installed, Hot Ashes ruled the village with ability and vigor up to the time of his death. He outlived Tekakwitha, and was finally killed in battle. Many incidents are told of his courage, piety, and zeal,his devotion to his religion and the good of the settlement, and also of his tenderness to his wife while suffering from grievous ailments which afflicted the later years of her life. He had a natural talent for exhorting and teaching. He won many of his own people to Christianity, and when war was threatened he did what he could to maintain peace between the Oneidas and the French. While thus engaged he was suspected of double dealing; but taking no notice of the evil things that were said of him, Hot Ashes held to his own disinterested course with head erect, confiding in his good wife, who alone remained true to him, till at last he succeeded in living down all suspicion of treachery on either side. He it was, more than all others, who opposed and prevented the introduction of the liquor traffic into the settlement at the Sault. A lively incident is given by Chauchetière to show his love of temperance. Soon after his baptism he chanced to be hunting at the end of the island of Montreal, when he fell in with a band of Oneidas. They were being supplied with liquor by an unscrupulous Canadian trader. They sat around a great bowl of fire water, from which they drank freely, and which was constantly replenished by the crafty Frenchman. Hot Ashes was asked to join them. He did so, through courtesy, and drank with the rest. Finding that he was expected and urged to take more than he ought, an expedient came into his ready brain for preventing further mischief. As there were older men than himself in the band, it would not have been considered proper for him to reprove them openly. This, then, is what he did. He stood up and began to sing like a drunken man, and to dance. Suddenly he pretendedto take a false step, and at the same time gave the bowl a great kick with his foot. This scattered its contents over the ground. The Indians, not suspecting his intention, looked upon the accident as a good joke. They began to laugh uproariously and to make fun of Hot Ashes, who went on with his mimicry. In the mean time night came on, and they thought no more of drinking, but all fell asleep. Hot Ashes then retired, well pleased with having put a stop to the debauch.
Other anecdotes might be given to show the character and spirit of this Indian; but it is enough to know that he was just the one to assist the Lily of the Mohawks in the accomplishment of her now well-defined purpose,—to escape at all hazards, and turn from her uncle's lodge to the Praying Castle.
Tekakwitha's adopted sister, already in Canada, knew well the condition of affairs in the Mohawk country, and above all, in the lodge of the chief, with whom she had formerly lived at Caughnawaga. She was fully aware that Tekakwitha's life there as a Christian would necessarily be a thorny one. She and her husband often spoke of the unhappy condition in which the young Mohawk was placed, and of the desirability of having her with them. When it became known that Hot Ashes was about to visit the Long House of the Five Nations on an errand of zeal, they realized at once that the wished-for opportunity had come. They would now be able to assist Tekakwitha. The Oneida chief intended to speak to his people concerning the faith that was in him, and to persuade as many of them as possible to return with him to the Sault. Tekakwitha's brother-in-law, urged by his wife, resolved to accompany Hot Ashes on his proposed journey, and in order to make sure of carryingout his own immediate purpose,—which was to bring his sister-in-law back with him,—he took into his confidence a good friend of his from Lorette, a mission village of the Hurons, near Quebec. This Indian of Lorette and the brother-in-law of Tekakwitha consulted with Hot Ashes, and the three together planned their journey as best they could beforehand. Then they stepped lightly into a canoe, just large enough to hold them, and soon were speeding southward over Lake Champlain, and thence through Lake George on their way to the Mohawk Valley.
Ah, Tekakwitha, why is your step so weary there in the village street? Why do you pause at the cabin door as though you did not care to enter? Why are you sad and faint? Have they hidden the food away from you again, lest you should find a morsel to eat, and will you be greeted with angry words if you enter your uncle's lodge? Is it no easier for you to bear it now than it was at first? Poor child! you are both hungry and hungry-hearted; human nature is strong within you to-day. The craving for peace and comfort and human love will not be hushed and trampled under by faith, and the hope of a far-away heaven. Has Rawenniio forgotten the Mohawk girl? She seems to be drifting away from the sound of his voice. The strength of her spirit is gone. She is sad unto death. Why not give up the struggle at once, go into the lodge, and consent to do like the rest? For one who has grown too weary to swim, it can scarcely be wrong to drift with the current. Are these your thoughts, Tekakwitha? See! They have startled her out of her weariness!With a sudden return of energy and a quick determination, as if afraid to trust herself in the lodge, she turns and takes the path to the chapel. She will find the blackgown, if it is possible to do so; she will tell him her wicked thoughts, and be guided by what he says. He is wise and good. He can tell her how to chase such thoughts away, and perhaps she can keep them from coming back. At all events, he will speak to her the comforting words of forgiveness and tell her to go in peace. Then she will be sure that Rawenniio loves her and is not angry. She knows the path so well that she quickly comes within sight of the chapel. As it is not her usual hour for prayer, no one is around to waylay or disturb her.
Close at hand is De Lamberville's cabin. Tekakwitha does not find him at once, for the blackgown has guests. They are Christian Indians, who have come from the Sault, and there are three of them. Father de Lamberville is well pleased to have such visitors; he welcomes the Christians from the Sault who come to the Mohawk as if they were angels come from heaven. He gladly receives them into his cabin, and leaves them free to come and go as they please. "One could see the spirit of Christianity and the mortification of the passions depicted on the faces of these new apostles." The novelty of seeing and hearing them on this occasion has already attracted a crowd of Indians to the spot. One of the blackgown's guests has risen to make a speech.
Tekakwitha finds herself in the midst of the old men and the chiefs of Caughnawaga who are assembled there, and she listens with eager interest to all that is said.Her uncle is away on a visit to the Dutch, which happens well for her. It is no less a personage than Hot Ashes who is addressing the people. In his impetuous, headlong way he tells them that "as they all know, he was formerly captain at Oneida, that he was a warrior, and that he acted like them in those days, but that after all he was only a dog; that he had begun to be a man a few months back and he said many touching things," continues Chauchetière, "but nobody profited by them at all except Catherine. The old men withdrew, one after another, and left the speaker almost entirely alone. Catherine could not separate herself from these new-comers. She declared to the Father that she must indeed go away, even at the cost of her life." She was too unhappy and distrustful of herself and her own powers of endurance to remain longer in the country where she was exposed to so many and such constant trials of her strength and her faith. Father de Lamberville, moved by her earnest words, spoke to Hot Ashes and his companions about her. He asked if it would be possible for them to take her back with them to Canada. "Certainly," they said. It was in the hope of assisting her to escape that they had come to Caughnawaga. Hot Ashes at once offered Tekakwitha his own place in the canoe. He said that he intended to go on to Oneida and to pass through all the Iroquois nations, preaching the faith. Her brother-in-law, therefore, and the Indian from Lorette, could take the canoe and return with Tekakwitha to the Praying Castle. God had provided a means of escape for her most unexpectedly. It was the very best opportunity she could have to go; her uncle was away, and her aunts, either throughindifference or ignorance of the plan, put no obstacle in her path.
Tekakwitha was never known to falter when the moment came for prompt decision and instant action. Chauchetière says: "The resolution was no sooner taken than it was carried into execution."
The two companions of Hot Ashes put Tekakwitha secretly into the canoe with them, and immediately took the route leading towards the Dutch;[54]that is to say, they embarked on the Mohawk River and followed its course for some distance, before taking any one of the different woodland trails leading to Lake George.
FOOTNOTES:[54]According to Cholenec's account of Tekakwitha's escape, her brother-in-law went on a hurried visit to the Dutch and back again to Caughnawaga, before he started with her at all. This he did in order to mislead her uncle, who would think he had come to that vicinity for no other purpose than to trade in beaver-skins. The minor details of her journey are somewhat confused in the two accounts of Cholenec and Chauchetière, but the main facts are the same in both.
[54]According to Cholenec's account of Tekakwitha's escape, her brother-in-law went on a hurried visit to the Dutch and back again to Caughnawaga, before he started with her at all. This he did in order to mislead her uncle, who would think he had come to that vicinity for no other purpose than to trade in beaver-skins. The minor details of her journey are somewhat confused in the two accounts of Cholenec and Chauchetière, but the main facts are the same in both.
[54]According to Cholenec's account of Tekakwitha's escape, her brother-in-law went on a hurried visit to the Dutch and back again to Caughnawaga, before he started with her at all. This he did in order to mislead her uncle, who would think he had come to that vicinity for no other purpose than to trade in beaver-skins. The minor details of her journey are somewhat confused in the two accounts of Cholenec and Chauchetière, but the main facts are the same in both.
FROM THE OLD TO THE NEW CAUGHNAWAGA.
AS they left Caughnawaga Castle, and paddled around the sharp bends of the Mohawk River, the two Indians who were conducting this stirring adventure used the utmost caution to prevent an encounter between Tekakwitha and her uncle, who might be at that very time returning from Schenectady. This they dreaded above all things. If the old chief should meet her in company with them, he would suspect their purpose at once, and the lives of the three would be in danger. They followed the course of the river current, however, as it carried them in the general direction of their journey more swiftly than they could otherwise travel. They wished to make the most of their time before the uncle could be warned of their departure from the castle. It was probably not far from the spot where the Chuctanunda Creek at Amsterdam[55]comes tumbling down the hill into the Mohawk, or in that vicinity, that she and her two companions left the canoe by the river-side and took to the woods; as in the thickets alongthe less frequented trail by land, it would be easier for Tekakwitha to conceal herself quickly in case of alarm, than if they were to continue the journey further by way of the river. Had they followed the latter course, they would have been obliged to take a more easterly trail across Saratoga County.[56]
As they feared, the uncle was soon on their trail; for shortly after the three mission Indians had disappeared from Caughnawaga Castle Tekakwitha's absence was noticed. It was quickly inferred that she had gone to Canada. She was not in the lodge, not in the chapel, nor with the girls at the spring. Instantly a runner was despatched to the Dutch settlement to warn the Turtle Chief of what had occurred. The news filled him with rage. Leaving his Dutch friends abruptly, he started homeward to learn if it were indeed true that his niece had vanished, and if so, speedily to follow her. On his way to the castle he passed an Indian travelling rapidly in the opposite direction from himself, whom he scarcely noticed and did not recognize. Nevertheless this Indian was no other than Tekakwitha's brother-in-law,—the very man he wanted to capture. The unrecognized relative knew the chief as soon as he saw him, but he was too near to avoid passing him without exciting suspicion. So, feigning an unconcern which he was far from feeling, he kept straight on, and passed the old man safely. He then continued his journey to Schenectady. The chief, on the other hand, was in quite as great a hurry to reach the Mohawk village. Perhaps he had doubts as to the truthfulness of what he had heard. At all events, when he arrived at Caughnawagahe went directly to his own lodge, and found that Tekakwitha was indeed not there, and had not been since the departure of Hot Ashes. Immediately he gathered what information he could at the castle, "loaded his gun with three balls, declaring that he would kill somebody," and started in pursuit of the fugitives. Once thoroughly roused, his unaided sagacity put him on the trail by which he might overtake them before they could reach Lake George.
In the mean time what had become of Tekakwitha? Why was her brother-in-law travelling alone? Ah! she and the good Indian of Lorette were concealed in the bushes, either near the river-bank at Amsterdam or on the high ground to the northeast of that town. Her brother-in-law had left them there, while he made a brief trip to Schenectady and back in order to buy bread. They had started from Caughnawaga Castle in haste, without provision for the journey. He soon returned to the secluded spot where his companions were waiting for him. Tekakwitha was greatly relieved to see him. When he gave them a graphic account of his narrow escape from discovery, she looked upon it as a certain proof that God was watching over them. She resolved that on reaching the Sault, as she now hoped to do, she would endeavor in every way to show her gratitude to Him. Up to this time she had lived in great seclusion and subjection, and of late had suffered constant persecution and torture of spirit. This sudden freedom, then, from all the bonds that bound her to her lodge and tribe; the intense excitement attending her sudden departure; these days of concealment in the weird and gloomy forest; this unforeseen companionshipwith strangers, who proved to be as gentle and as solicitous for her safety as if she were indeed a beloved sister; and more than all the wonderful way in which everything seemed to concur in aiding her escape,—could not fail to make a deep and lasting impression on her sensitive soul. Every spiritual and religious tendency of her nature was intensified by this new and strange experience. In leaving her home and undertaking so perilous a journey she had thrown herself without reserve into the arms of Providence, and now resting there, she was carried almost without an effort through hair-breadth escapes from dangers that no earthly consideration would ever have nerved her to face. She felt that she could not henceforth do otherwise than devote her all to Rawenniio,—the true God.
Their probable route to Lake George was through what is now the township of Galway in Saratoga County, and thence up the valley of the Kayaderosseras Creek, skirting the eastern side of the long mountain-ridge that carries Lake Desolation high on its back. Through this region one can travel almost in a straight line of open country from Amsterdam on the Mohawk to Jessup's Landing on the Hudson. There the river is fordable, just above Palmer's Falls and below the old scow-ferry. A well-worn trail followed the eastern bank of the river from there to Luzerne, and then turned northeast, through a beautiful valley, to the mountainous shores of Lake George. Somewhere on this direct route across the country, Tekakwitha's uncle overtook one of the two Indians who were escorting her to Canada. Apparently this Indian was engaged in hunting. Just as the chief approached, the hunter took aim as if at a birdand fired his gun. This was a preconcerted signal to his companion, who was some distance in advance, to conceal the Indian girl. It was so understood. In an instant Tekakwitha was hidden in a clump of thick undergrowth. Her ready-witted companion threw himself on the ground near her, took out his pipe, lit it, and lazily watched the curling smoke as he puffed it from his mouth. Tekakwitha's uncle, coming upon the second Indian in this attitude, was completely disconcerted. Where then was his niece? Assuredly not in company with these men. They were fully absorbed in their own affairs, and scarcely noticed his approach. She might be even then at work in the corn-fields down by the Mohawk, or saying her prayers in the woods behind the castle. In either case he would not have found her in the lodge. He had acted foolishly, and followed an idle rumor without sufficient thought. He would not expose his folly further by questioning these men about her. Having reached this determination, he turned without a word as to what was uppermost in his mind, and silently retraced his steps to the Mohawk Valley.
As for Tekakwitha, she felt as sure just then of Rawenniio's direct protection and care, as if she had seen the Great Spirit himself standing in front of her hiding-place and concealing her from the suspicious eyes of her uncle. How else could the wise old chief have been so easily misled by such simple means? With a light heart she resumed her journey. Their worst danger was passed. When they reached the shore of Lake George, a little search among the bushes brought to light the canoe which her companions had left there on their journey southward with Hot Ashes. Oncefairly launched, they felt secure; and as they paddled up the lake, hugging the westward or leeward side, where canoes find the smoothest water, they woke its echoes with the chanting of Iroquois hymns. Thus did the daughter, a voluntary exile from her home in the Mohawk Valley, retrace the path over land and water travelled years before by her captive Algonquin mother. In her ears had sounded not sacred hymns, but only the wild music of the war-song and the plaintive strains of the Indian love-song. In those days of war and bloodshed the Christian hymn of the Iroquois had not yet been sung. The Mohawk mission had been but recently founded. The blood of the martyred Jogues still lay fresh on the ground, and the soul of the Lily had not yet come into existence.
During this long journey the many thoughts of Tekakwitha must have gone back to the dreary lodge on the banks of the Cayudutta, where her usual daily tasks were neglected, and where her baffled, deserted uncle now sat disconsolate by the hearth-fire. If these thoughts brought a pang to her warm heart, she could console herself with the remembrance that the blessing of her dead mother would not fail to follow her on the journey. As the three Christians left behind them "the tail of the lake" (Andiatorocte), and paddled past Ticonderoga, they did not pay the customary tribute tothe little people under the water. Their heathen tribesmen might, if they chose, cast their tobacco into the lake to gain the good-will of the sprites who were said to prepare the well-shaped arrow-flints with which the shore just there is strewn;[57]for when the surface of thelake was rough they thought the little people were angry. But Tekakwitha and her companions had renounced these superstitions of their race. They knew that God alone was ruler of wind and wave. On no account could they be induced to pay homage to any such mischievous sprites of the lake. They asked Rawenniio instead to forgive the people, and to turn their thoughts away from all such foolish worship. "Her journey," says Chauchetière, "was a continual prayer, and the joy that she felt in approaching Montreal could not be expressed. Behold then our young savage, twenty-one years of age, who escapes holy and pure, and who triumphs over the impurity, the infidelity, and the vice which have corrupted all the Iroquois! Behold the Genevieve of Canada, behold the treasure of the Sault, who is at hand, and who has sanctified the path from Montreal to the Mohawk, by which other predestined souls have passed after her!" When she found herself far from her own country, and realized that she had nothing more to fear on the part of her uncle, she gave herself entirely to God, to do in the future whatever would please him best. She arrived in the autumn of the year 1677,[58]the desire that she had to get there as soon as possible was the reason for not stopping on the way. On her arrival, she put the letters that Father de Lamberville had written into the hands of the Fathers, who, having read them, were delighted to have acquired a treasure; for these were the words of the letter: "I send you a treasure; guard it well." Her face told more than the letters. Her joy was unspeakable on findingherself in the land of light, freed from the sorrows of spirit which she had endured from not being able to serve God as she wished to serve him, freed too from the persecutions which were inflicted upon her in her country and in her cabin.
She was received at once into the lodge of Anastasia Tegonhatsihongo, her mother's old friend, with whom her sister and her sister's husband already dwelt.
From the time of her arrival at the new Caughnawaga, Chauchetière and Cholenec, the two biographers of Kateri Tekakwitha, were both close and observant witnesses of her life. They were also present at her death. Henceforth, then, we will let them speak often and at length, telling in their own way of the rapid unfolding of spiritual life which took place in this untaught child of Nature. Transplanted from the heart of a heathen wilderness into a settlement of fervent souls,—for such from all accounts was the mission village at the Sault,—the Lily of the Mohawks caught up with keenest relish the inspiration in the air about her. She was lifted with marvellous rapidity to a height of holiness that drew all eyes in Canada towards her. It was there in the land of her adoption that she won the title of "La Bonne Catherine." Those who have patience to read on to the end of her biography will see how the brief life of this Indian girl was indeed radiant with love of the true God.
The letter which she bore with her from the Mohawk Valley, written by Father de Lamberville, who had baptized her, and which was addressed to Father Cholenec, to whose flock she was henceforth to belong, is given in full by Martin, as follows:—
"Catherine Tegakouita va demeurer au Sault. Veuillez-vous charger, je vous en prie, de sa direction. Vous connaîtrez bientôt le trésor que nous vous donnons. Gardez le donc bien! Qu'entre vos mains il profite à la gloire de Dieu, et au salut d'une âme qui lui est assurément bien chère."[59]
"Catherine Tegakouita va demeurer au Sault. Veuillez-vous charger, je vous en prie, de sa direction. Vous connaîtrez bientôt le trésor que nous vous donnons. Gardez le donc bien! Qu'entre vos mains il profite à la gloire de Dieu, et au salut d'une âme qui lui est assurément bien chère."[59]