Читать книгу The Life and Times of Kateri Tekakwitha, the Lily of the Mohawks - Ellen H. Walworth - Страница 8

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A CRADLE-SONG.—CAPTIVES TORTURED.—FLIGHT OF THE FRENCH FROM ONONDAGA.—DEATH IN THE MOHAWK LODGES.

LET the reader, in imagination, look into Tekakwitha's home at Gandawague on the Mohawk, as it appeared in the month of April, 1658, and learn if the news that is spreading from nation to nation has yet reached there. To find the lodge he wishes to enter, he will follow a woman who is passing along the principal street of the village with an energetic step. The corners of a long blanket, that envelops her head and whole form, flap as if in a breeze from her own quick motion, for the air is quite still. It is early spring-time. There are pools of frozen water here and there; but the dogs of the village have chosen a sunny spot to gnaw at the bones they have found near the cabin of a fortunate hunter, who gave a feast the night before to his more needy neighbors. All shared in his good cheer. So long as there is food in the village, no one is allowed to go hungry. Such is the Indian law of hospitality.

Tegonhatsihongo, who will be better known by and by under the name of Anastasia, gathers her blanket about her, and with the usual greeting, "Sago!" she passes a matron at a neighboring doorway, who withdraws the heavy bear-skin curtain she has placed there for keeping out the cold, in order that she may see where to put away the snow-shoes, now no longer needed. She stores them high above her head among the poles that support the snug bark roof. The keen eye of Tegonhatsihongo notes at a glance what the matron is about; and as she turns her head for a second look, one can see by the lines in her face that she is already on the downward slope of middle age. She passes on through an open space where a scaffold is prepared for the exhibition of any captives the warriors may chance to bring back from their raid on Montreal. Tegonhatsihongo scarcely notices these familiar preparations for the torture, but directs her steps to the lodge of a chief opening on the square. She is about to visit her friend the Algonquin, whose brave is away on the war-path. The quiet ways of this younger woman have attracted her and won her friendship. As she lifts the hanging skin to enter, she pauses a moment. Surprised, perhaps, and well pleased too to find the Algonquin in a merry mood, romping with her baby, now more than a year old, she stands and watches her. Catching the child from the clean-swept earthen floor, the mother holds it laughing and struggling in her lap, while she sings the Algonquin "Song of the Little Owl."[10] A pretty picture she makes, seated by the nearest fire of faggots, in the dim, smoky light of the long-house; and these are the words of her cradle-song and their literal translation:—

Ah wa nain?	Who is this?
Ah wa nain?	Who is this?
Wa you was sa	Giving eye-light
Ko pwasod.	On the top of my lodge.

Here the young mother looks up, as if she really saw the eyes of the little white owl glaring from among the rustic rafters or through the hole in the roof. The dark eyes of the dark little baby, which follow the direction of hers, are opening wide with wonder at this sudden break from song to pantomime; and now the Algonquin answers her own questions, assuming all at once the tone of the little screech-owl:—

Kob kob kob,	It is I, the little owl,
Nim be e zhau.	Coming, coming.
Kob kob kob,	It is I, the little owl,
Nim be e zhau.	Coming.
Kitche! kitche!	Down! down!

With the last words, meaning "Dodge, baby, dodge!" she springs towards the child, and down goes the little head. This is repeated with the utmost merriment on both sides, till their laughter is interrupted by the entrance of Tegonhatsihongo, who seats herself near her friend, their talk soon taking a serious turn. Now for the first time the Algonquin notices that others in the same cabin are putting their heads together and talking in low voices. The very air seems full of mystery. The busy ones have dropped their accustomed occupations, and the idle ones have ceased their noisy talk and their games. All are wondering at the strange news from the Indian capital, telling of the unaccountable disappearance of the Frenchmen who formed the little colony at Onondaga. Mohawks who were there on a visit have returned with marvellous tales. The few facts of the history are soon known, but there is no end to the surmises that are afloat among the Iroquois. This is what they are all talking about. This is what happened. The French colonists whom we have already mentioned, fifty-three in number, had given a great feast at their small block fort on the east bank of Onondaga Lake.[11] All the Onondagas and their guests from other nations who chanced to be there at the time, were invited. Some of Tegonhatsihongo's friends from the Mohawk Valley were present among the rest, and knew all about it. They were completely carried away with admiration for their French hosts, who gave them a right royal feast. When it was over they fell into slumber and dreamed strange dreams. Then, awaking when the sun was high, the bewildered guests went about half dazed. Some of them, straggling near the French enclosure, heard the dogs bark and a cock crow within. As the day wore on, they gathered into groups and wondered why the foreign inmates slept so long. None of them were to be seen going to work; no voices were heard. Could they be at prayer or in secret council? No one answered when they knocked at the door. By afternoon there were strange whisperings and much misgiving among the Onondagas, till at last their curiosity outgrew their dread, and nerved a few to scale the palisade. With cautious step they entered, fearing some treacherous snare. The Frenchmen could not be asleep, they thought, for the noisy barking of the dog would almost wake the dead. Could they have slain one another in the night? No; all was peaceful as they entered,—no signs of a struggle, and the sunlight danced playfully in through utter vacancy. Every corner of the house and fort was searched; no human being, dead or living, was found, yet noisy and more noisy grew the barking of the fastened dog, and frightened chickens fluttered about. The Indians looked at one another, shuddering. What had happened? With guilty consciences they thought of their deep-laid treachery here brought to naught; for as the Algonquin now learned from the talk in the long-house, they had planned to massacre the colony invited to their land from policy. Having subjugated their savage foes of the Cat nation, they were ready to turn their arms once more against the French. They had felt quite sure of their prey; for even if warned, the colonists and missionaries could not have escaped, they thought, as the rivers were still frozen. Besides, it was out of the question to suppose they had gone by water, as no boat was missing. Had they taken to the woods, they would soon have perished in the cold, having no guides, or else they would have fallen again into the hands of their enemies, who could easily track and overtake them in the forest. No trace of them, however, was anywhere to be found. Never were the red men more completely baffled. Tegonhatsihongo and the others who talked it all over had two favorite explanations of the mystery,—either the Frenchmen had a magic power of walking on the lakes, or else strange creatures, seen by Onondagas in their dreams, had flown through the air bearing the pale-faces with them.

While Tekakwitha's mother was still wondering at this unaccountable story, the Mohawk braves returned from their raid on Montreal, and the people of the village were soon hurrying out with little iron rods, to take their stand on either side of the path that led up the hill to the principal opening in the palisade. There they were, ready to beat the prisoners as they approached, "running the gauntlet." Then the crowd eagerly watched the progress of the tortures on the scaffold, after which the prisoners were handed over, bound hand and foot, to the tender mercies of the children. These juvenile savages amused themselves by putting red-hot coals on the naked flesh of the captives, and tormented them in every way their mischief-loving brains could devise. Thus early did the warrior's son begin his education.

But this side of the Indian nature is too horrible to dwell on; let it pass. At times the Iroquois were like incarnate devils; and yet each tale of frightful cruelty that history preserves for us brings with it some redeeming trait, some act of kindness or humanity done in the face of savage enmity. There were always a few among them ready like Pocahontas to avert the threatened blow or to relieve the sufferers whenever it was possible. One of these in days gone by had administered to Jogues; and one of these in days now soon to come will prove to be our Tekakwitha.

There is little more to say about her parents. Her mother may have learned from some of the captives brought to Gandawague from Canada the true ending of the French colony at Onondaga. At all events, the following explanation of their sudden disappearance has been given by Ragueneau, who shared the fate of the adventurous little band. He says in one of his letters:—

"To supply the want of canoes, we had built in secret two batteaux of a novel and excellent structure to pass the rapids; these batteaux drew but very little water and carried considerable freight, fourteen or fifteen men each, amounting to fifteen or sixteen hundred weight. We had moreover four Algonquin and four Iroquois canoes, which were to compose our little fleet of fifty-three Frenchmen. But the difficulty was to embark unperceived by the Iroquois, who constantly beset us. The batteaux, canoes, and all the equipage could not be conveyed without great noise, and yet without secrecy there was nothing to be expected, save a general massacre of all of us the moment it would be discovered that we entertained the least thought of withdrawing.

On that account we invited all the savages in our neighborhood to a solemn feast, at which we employed all our industry, and spared neither the noise of drums nor instruments of music, to deceive them by harmless device. He who presided at this ceremony played his part with so much address and success that all were desirous to contribute to the public joy. Every one vied in uttering the most piercing cries, now of war, anon of rejoicing. The savages, through complaisance, sung and danced after the French fashion, and the French in the Indian style. To encourage them the more in this fine play, presents were distributed among those who acted best their parts and who made the greatest noise to drown that caused by about forty of our people outside who were engaged in removing all our equipage. The embarkation being completed, the feast was concluded at a fixed time; the guests retired, and sleep having soon overwhelmed them, we withdrew from our house by a back door and embarked with very little noise, without bidding adieu to the savages, who were acting cunning parts and were thinking to amuse us to the hour of our massacre with fair appearances and evidences of good will.

"Our little lake,[12] on which we silently sailed in the darkness of the night, froze according as we advanced, and caused us to fear being stopt by the ice after having evaded the fires of the Iroquois. God, however, delivered us, and after having advanced all night and all the following day through frightful precipices and waterfalls, we arrived finally in the evening at the great Lake Ontario, twenty leagues from the place of our departure. This first day was the most dangerous; for had the Iroquois observed our departure, they would have intercepted us, and had they been ten or twelve it would have been easy for them to have thrown us into disorder, the river being very narrow, and terminating after travelling ten leagues in a frightful precipice where we were obliged to land and carry our baggage and canoes during four hours, through unknown roads covered with a thick forest which could have served the enemy for a fort, whence at each step he could have struck and fired on us without being perceived. God's protection visibly accompanied us during the remainder of the road, in which we walked through perils which made us shudder after we escaped them, having at night no other bed except the snow after having passed entire days in the water and amid the ice.

Ten days after our departure we found Lake Ontario, on which we floated, still frozen at its mouth. We were obliged to break the ice, axe in hand, to make an opening, to enter two days afterwards a rapid where our little fleet had well-nigh foundered. For having entered a great sault without knowing it, we found ourselves in the midst of breakers which, meeting a quantity of big rocks, threw up mountains of water and cast us on as many precipices as we gave strokes of paddles. Our batteaux, which drew scarcely half a foot, were soon filled with water, and all our people in such confusion that their cries mingled with the roar of the torrent presented to us the spectacle of a dreadful wreck. It became imperative, however, to extricate ourselves, the violence of the current dragging us despite ourselves into the large rapids and through passes in which we had never been. Terror redoubled at the sight of one of our canoes being engulfed in a breaker which barred the entire rapid, and which, notwithstanding, was the course that all the others must keep. Three Frenchmen were drowned there; a fourth fortunately escaped, having held on to the canoe and being saved at the foot of the sault when at the point of letting go his hold, his strength being exhausted....

"The 3d of April we landed at Montreal in the beginning of the night."

This escape, so wonderful to the Indian mind and so successful, made a profound impression at Gandawague as among all the Mohawks, and produced most important results in the neighborhood of Tekakwitha's home, interrupting the work of the missionary there.

Ondessonk or Lemoyne, the namesake of Jogues, who made a third visit to the Mohawk Valley in the fall of 1657, was no longer even tolerated by its people. He was held half a hostage, half a prisoner, at Tionnontogen, during the time that the French colony were in peril at Onondaga, and was finally sent back to Canada. He left the Mohawk country for the last time, just after Onondaga was abandoned by the French. He reached his countrymen on the St. Lawrence in May, 1658, to be greeted there with a glad welcome and many inquiries from the newly arrived refugees from Onondaga, concerning his experiences among the Mohawks; they were anxious to hear whether he had fared any better than themselves.

Not one blackgown was now left among the Five Nations of Iroquois. The Algonquin mother at Gandawague had been unable to profit by their brief stay in the land, and her life grew ever sadder towards its close. She was finally laid low by a terrible disease, the small-pox, which spread like wild fire through the Mohawk nation in 1659 and 1660. Her brave, an early victim to this redman's plague, soon lay cold in death, and with aching heart she too bade good-by to the world, leaving her helpless children alone and struggling with the disease in a desolate lodge in a desolate land.

Chauchetière relates what he learned long afterwards from Anastasia Tegonhatsihongo,—that in leaving her two little children the mother grieved at having to abandon them without baptism; that she was a fervent Christian to the last, and that she met death with a prayer on her lips.

FOOTNOTES:

[10] Schoolcraft's Red Race.

[11] The site of this fort is still pointed out between Salina and Liverpool, near the "Jesuit's Spring," or "Well," as it is called. For a plan of the fort made by Judge Geddes in 1797, from remains of it then in existence, see Clark's "Onondaga," p. 147. See also "Relations des Jésuites," and translations of the same in the "Documentary History of New York," vol. i., for a full account of the Onondaga Colony in 1658.

[12] Onondaga Lake.