CHAPTER XIV.
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 debaucheries common 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."
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 of Christian in derision, as though they meant dog,—which lasted so long that they forgot her name, giving her none other at all but that of the Christian, 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 her uncle'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 her purpose. 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 the Norman'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 because the 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 away as 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 calls un 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 only friend; 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 knew that 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.