Читать книгу Phantom Ships - Susan Ouriou - Страница 9

“Suffering,” he said, “was nearly the sole occupation of those poor people; they were stricken by illness, and death took away many of them. Father du Marché had to go back to France; Father Turgis resisted for a while, comforting his small flock, listening to the confessions of some, giving strength to others through the sacraments of the Eucharist and Last Rites, burying those whom death spirited away. But eventually the work and the unhealthy air he breathed around the sickly felled him as they had others. He fought until the last breath, though. He had himself carried to the bedside of the sick and the dying, he inspired them, gave them strength, encouraged them, and after having buried the captain, the clerk, and the surgeon, in other words all the other officers and eight or nine other working people, he himself succumbed, leaving only one sick man to face death, whom he accompanied to that point before breathing his last. …He was the first of our Company to die of illness in this land. He was sorely missed by the French and the Savages who held him in high regard and loved him dearly.”

–“Account” of the Jesuits in Miscou in 1647, quoted by W.F Ganong in The History of Miscou and Shippegan

In late August, the Jesuit Ignace de la Transfiguration, wearing a tricorn hat with a wide, turned-up brim, arrived in Ruisseau. The news spread like an autumn fire through a pile of dead leaves. The missionary had devoted his life to bringing the gospel to the native peoples, and no weakness of the flesh had any hold over his asceticism. Not even a love for good food and drink. In fact, suffering made him happy, and mosquito bites replaced the hair shirt for God’s greater glory. Come from Quebec by water, he navigated the St. Lawrence and the Matapedia rivers then, after a halt at the Restigouche post, he entered the Baye des Chaleurs. During the ten long days the journey took, the missionary meditated on the difficulties he encountered. Only a few baptisms in ten years of evangelization. Why? How can I make them understand good and evil? As for transsubstantiation and the Trinity, the three persons of God, and the two natures of Christ, I’ll never get that across… he thought.

What the Jesuit did not realize was that even St. Peter would not have been able to teach the catechism, with its abstract concepts that had no connection with the daily concerns of the Mi’kmaq. “Black Robe has arrived! The patriarch is here!” Such were the names some used to designate the missionary. Several Mi’kmaq, without actually abandoning their own beliefs, had converted to Catholicism and venerated the priest, whom they saw as having magical powers. Not everyone did, however; several found his religion incompatible with their beliefs and maintained in front of the missionary that the laws of the Great Creator were written in the rivers, the trees, and the nature of human desire, which was pure… “You’ve made it into something evil!” They were surprised to see white men acting like rutting moose around native women when Black Robe was absent. The Mi’kmaqs’ own sexual freedom meant they felt no need for such excess. “Your men desire our women so badly it makes one wonder whether they’ve never seen a woman before.”

The shaman was among the priest’s detractors. As the tribe’s high priest and magician, he had a tacit agreement with Saint-Jean on authority regarding earthly matters. Saint-Jean always consulted him and gave him credit for provident decisions. As well, Angélique in her healer’s role – a gift the shaman did not have – often called on him for healing rituals. His nickname was Fiery Elouèzes because his eyes threw off sparks when he was angry. He harboured intense hatred for those he called “fat pigs covered in dirty hair”; to make matters worse, the missionary was also a competitor. The shaman s head was shaved bare except for one strip running from his forehead to the nape of his neck. His nose was painted a bright blue and his eyes were ringed with yellow ochre. He was careful to tend his terrifying look.

The shaman’s faithful disciple was a giant, the warrior Foaming Bear, a strapping fellow: as dark as a crow, fierce, and impermeable to any influence from the whites and Catholics, whom he accused of destroying the Mi’kmaq way of life. At fifteen, on Anticosti Island, he had had to choose between dying under the claws of a huge white bear or slaying the monster with his tomahawk. He chose to fight, and the effort caused him to foam so wildly at the mouth that his hair turned white, earning him his nickname. “Those damn white men and the missionaries who represent them say we’re poor and ignorant, faithless and lawless, like wild animals. They say their country is paradise. If so, why did they abandon their families and make the difficult ocean crossing to come to our snowbound lands to steal our worthless beaver pelts and eat nothing but cod morning, noon, and night? They waste their time accumulating useless things while we enjoy the seasons fishing and hunting. Paradise is here, and they want to turn it into hell,” he proclaimed.

Fiery Elouèzes had just as many complaints. “Their beliefs are stupid: they eat the body and blood of their god and then accuse us of cannibalism. They claim the earth is the kingdom of darkness; yet if they just opened their eyes, they would see the sun and if they opened their ears, they would hear the rivers, trees, and animal spirits. Their idea of building log cabins that can’t be moved is a trick to keep us in one spot and enslave us. What’s more, the Black Robes aren’t normal; they don’t sleep with our women.

The shaman could have gone on grumbling all day long, but he had an incantation session planned to neutralize the missionary’s influence so he headed for his tent.

* * *

Ignace de la Transfiguration, who was not the most tolerant of Jesuits, did not look favourably on the alliance of a white man and a Métis woman. He had the usual prejudices of learned Europeans, with their scorn and paternalism vis-à-vis the First Nations.

“Have you thought this over, Joseph? The Indians are like rude children who have trouble adapting to our religious beliefs and customs.”

“You’re wrong, Father. Angélique is Métis. In any case, the Indians are a devoted and pure people. They don’t speak with a forked tongue, they’re hospitable, and they help me forget the white man’s hypocrisy. Why should we strip them of their traditions and change their way of life?”

The Jesuit refused to admit that good people could exist outside the Church. The fact the Mi’kmaq had no word to express concepts such as virtue, vice, temptation, angels, and forgiveness led him to believe they were heathens. He was, however, intrigued by the discovery in Acadia’s forests of an old moss-covered cross found by Champlain and Poutrincourt in 1607. He had also read in a book by Lescarbot that during their first contact with the white man, the Mi’kmaq peppered their conversations with Hallelujahs, while those living in Miramichi used the cross as a totem, a custom that predated the arrival of the white man. In fact, that was why the whites were called Crossbearers. Legend had it that after a terrible illness decimated the tribe, a handsome man carrying a cross appeared to the wise elders and suggested they adopt the symbol to protect them from illness. This was done, and the illness was conquered. Others claimed that Irish monks, including St. Brendan and St. Colomban, ended up in the region prior to the first millennium. The thought of the many legends made Ignace de la Transfiguration dream of perpetuating the tradition of the cross and building an empire in America to the greater glory of God…

His daydream was interrupted by Joseph, “She is white on her father’s side, and she loves me.”

“Ah… my son, but her father belongs to that verminous race of Protestants,” the Jesuit retorted.

Angélique arrived just in time to hear these startling words. “You have no right to pass judgment on your neighbour,” she exclaimed.

“We hold the truth, and we are advisors to popes,” the Jesuit said, haughtily

The discussion had soured.

“I know your opinions on Indians. You decreed we are heathens, even though we believe in one God. Your civilization is the one that has brought us illness, alcohol, and evil through your religion that preaches nothing but fear and suffering…”

Angélique was beside herself. Joseph shared her opinion and thought it intolerable the way white men called the native people a race of lazy, immoral drunks and thieves. He took issue with the term “lazy.” The natives lived according to nature’s rhythm, which they respected, careful never to take more from nature than what they needed to survive. They could not be called “drunkards,” either, for white men had introduced brandy to destroy the native way of life and obtain their furs at ridiculously low prices. In the native custom of sharing and hospitality, Joseph saw the opposite of “thieves,” as some called them. How can there be theft if everything belongs to the group? he wondered.

As for the native notion of good and evil, he preferred it to the white man’s view since their morality allowed ill-paired couples to look for happiness elsewhere. But Joseph was conscious of the immunity guaranteed by a Catholic marriage. The Jesuits had long arms, and excommunication was feared even more than leprosy. The excluded were banished from the body of the Church as unworthy members and deprived of prayers and sacraments. And of a Christian burial. Worse yet was the way other faithful were prohibited from speaking to or greeting the excommunicated, and were urged to flee them as though they carried the plague.

Who in such a tiny society can survive rejection? he thought. Perhaps I could with my Indian friends, but why expose our children needlessly?

Joseph realized he had to be seen to agree with the missionary, especially since the latter looked extremely upset. “Father,” he said, “we sincerely admire the courage and faith that have led you to travel the breadth of huge countries and to suffer hunger, cold, slander, and rejection. Your knowledge of the Mi’kmaq language is a testimony to your perseverance… Angélique has what many Christians are without: a pure heart, simplicity, great honesty, and she will abide by the truth.”

The word “truth” clearlv lent itself to a number of different interpretations. Angélique understood Joseph’s strategy, but she had no desire to deal with this priest she considered to be an instrument of white authority designed to destroy the Mi’kmaq way of life in order to better subjugate them. She was furious, but her love for Joseph ran deep. So a semblance of calm could be restored, she began playing with small stones in the sand, rearranging them and creating designs that reflected her agitation.

As for the missionary, he hated to admit to himself that he found this woman both exotic and beautiful and, for that reason, all the more threatening.A non-submissive woman is the devil incarnate! he thought.

“I’m not making myself understood very well,” Angélique continued. “The Mi’kmaq believe in one God as well, but we have trouble understanding why we have to abandon our traditions. We leave profit, property, and material goods to the white man. When the colonies began, the Indians welcomed you with open arms; we helped you survive scurvy thanks to the healing powers of anneda…

The missionary was openly touched by Angélique’s mention of the sorry state of the new arrivals who died of scurvy during their first winters, and the miracle cure, the white cedar herbal tea the Indians brought for them.

“Yes, that was a gift from heaven,” the priest admitted. “God certainly allowed the Indians to be His instruments to allow France to expand its empire… Will you respect the teachings of our Holy Mother the Church as promised on the day of your baptism?” he asked suddenly.

Angélique murmured assent.

So Ignace de la Transfiguration let them have their way.

* * *

After the wedding, Fiery Elouèzes opened the banquet by offering his red clay pipe to each of the spirits of the four directions then to the spirit of the sky before lowering his pipe to the spirit of the earth. He beat on his drum (two smooth hides stretched over a wooden hoop case containing stones) to give the signal for the feast to begin. Great bonfires burned both along the shore and in Ruisseau, and long pine tables covered in birchbark buckled under the weight of all the local and European food. Saint-Jean had dug into his stores. From a French ship that had stopped over in Ruisseau, he also bought goods meant for Quebec’s high society. For his daughter’s wedding, he had decided on French gastronomy and European-looking menus. As well as barrels of French wine and rum from Martinique, he had brought out truffles and chocolates from Rouen, ham from Mayence, oranges from Brazil, spices from the East Indies and Mocha coffee from Yemen. In his view, food was close to a religion, a rite he followed with art and sophistication.

The feast took on gargantuan proportions. An exceptionally late summer made it possible to gather all the fruits of the sea and the forest. On that September 1, 1740, on the Ruisseau beach, seafood was abundant. The wedding menu included red oyster soup seasoned with wild mint, clam chowder seasoned with wood garlic, smoked salmon with loon eggs. Clams, halibut, lobster, and crab were served, scallop and shrimp brochettes on cedar sticks, cod with mussel sauce, and trout seasoned with black mustard and seasalt wrapped in clay and cooked in the embers. The fruits of the land and the sky had their own place of honour: goose, teal, doves, caribou, and bear roasted on the spit (on a bed of blueberries, cranberries, and raspberries). Accompanying dishes were not forgotten either: wild rice, corn on the cob, and greens (watercress, wild leek, wood garlic, sorrel, fiddleheads¹, and dandelions) tossed in a birch sap vinaigrette. A few women prepared the desserts: wild currants and jumper berries with moosemilk cream, pumpkin and maple nut pies, barley bread full of almonds and wild cherries. There were also all kinds of drinks: tea made of pine needles or the leaves of strawberries, raspberries, cherries or rosehip. However, the Mi’kmaq preferred either the cider from Ile d’Orléans, rum from the West Indies, the p’tit caribou¹, root beer, dandelion, and blackberry wine or the barrels of wine from Gascogne and Bordeaux with which to make merry.

Finally, they could eat no more. Some had overindulged on their traditional corn-based dish, called “migan” – corn either mashed and boiled with fish or grilled and ground, then mixed in with a meat and fish soup. Foaming Bear had stuffed himself on all kinds of game and had nearly finished off a quarter caribou by himself. Revved up by the rum vapours, he hovered around the missionary, just waiting for a pretext to warm the man’s behind on the embers. But the shaman thought it better to temper Foaming Bear’s enthusiasm. Fiery Elouèzes, proudly wearing around his neck a black and red medicinal stone carved into an oval shape, called on the Great Creator to ensure the missionary felt the evil effects of the talisman that had been found in evil Gougou’s hideout.

Membertou was hiding behind some fat, still-steaming pumpkins that had been cooked in the embers. Armed with a slingshot, he shot small stones into the migan dishes. As for Ignace de la Transfiguration, he had not been able to resist the lure of the beaver tail dough dipped in maple syrup and cooked in a lilypad leaf. Slow, wild music enveloped the bay. The concert began with flutes made of elderwood and tamtams. There were water drums³ too, whose faint beat still managed to travel great distances. Other bigger drums on stands mimicked the beating of the heart and the vibrations of the earth in the four directions. Angélique began to dance, the stark sensuality of her slender body heightened by the crescendo of sounds rising to meet the rays of the setting sun. Father Ignace began to feel a prickling at the base of his spine. He had no idea the beaver tails he’d been eating were considered to be an aphrodisiac. Fiery Elouèzes could feel the Black Robes growing consternation, which he attributed to the powers of his magic stone. Then the rhythm switched to a devilish cadence, and the dancers turned into shadow figures projected by the flames. The frenzied dancing gave off such sensuality that the missionary was obliged to walk alone farther down the shore to regain some semblance of composure.

Smoke from the fires and from the many tobacco pipes perfumed the heavens with their earthly aromas. The smoke wafting its way skyward mingled with the cries of those who, after their sauna in the sweat lodge, plunged into the creek. The missionary began dreaming about the French and Catholic empire of America, in which he would be Gods right hand and the Kings representative to this refractory people. But it was a disappointing time for him since many baptized natives refused in extremis a burial in the Catholic cemetery. It was not uncommon to see the families come for their dying family member to bury him or her in their ancestors’ sacred sites.

Kings and popes fear us, he consoled himself, but here we are faced with resistance not easily shaken by questions of right and wrong

His thoughts were interrupted by Joseph, who had come to join him. “What’s the news of Quebec?” Joseph asked.

“The Canadiens are worried. The survival of the colony is not assured, and there’s always the fear of an English victory. The colonies of Virginia and Boston are already twenty times more heavily populated.”

With Angélique’s scent still on his skin, Joseph felt far removed from such concerns. The mention of Quebec did not even stir up memories of Emilie for him… He was sufficiently alert, however, to notice that Black Robe did not mention the corruption of certain leaders, who were more interested in lining their own pockets than in fortifying New France.