The Life and Times of Kateri Tekakwitha, the Lily of the Mohawks

by Ellen H. Walworth

CHAPTER VI.

AN ARMY ON SNOW-SHOES.

THE year 1666 was, indeed, an eventful one. It opened with a heavy snow-storm, and others followed until the whole Mohawk Valley was covered with a depth of feathery whiteness. At its eastern end a dark pool lay at the foot of Cohoes Falls, where the frosty spray of the roaring cataract glistened on every tiny bush, and the black cliffs on either side frowned from under their snowy caps at the silent meeting of two frozen rivers; off to the west, at the distant Mohawk castle of Tionnontogen, the "Nose" lay frost-bitten at a sudden turn of the valley, its long, stiff point thrust down into the ice, and fastened there as if held in a vice. Throughout the length of the glittering, smooth depression between these two points, the Mohawk seemed to be fast asleep beneath its thick mantle of snow.

In the whole valley there was only one hamlet of quiet Dutchmen, who had settled themselves at Corlaer (or Schenectady), while in the great bend were nestled the snug bark huts of the Indians with their surrounding palisades. A chain of Mohawk castles lay on the south side of the river, linked together by a single trail,—a narrow footpath through the snow along the lower terrace, which is now occupied by the West Shore Railway. This trail connected the lodges of the three great Mohawk clans,—the Bears of Andagoron in the centre, with the Turtles of Gandawague and the Wolves of Tionnontogen on either side. Then it extended eastward through dreary solitudes to Schenectady and, on the other hand, far westward through lonely passes to the castles of the Oneidas; thence on to the Onondagas, the Cayugas, and, last of all, to the Senecas. How cold and yet how secure those Iroquois Indians of the Five Nations felt in their fastnesses! For hundreds of miles to the north and to the south of them lay the all-covering snow, unmarked by other human footprints than their own in search of game. The lands of their Algonquin foes, though bordering their own domain, were long journeys off. The Dutch settlers at Schenectady and Albany were right within their grasp, should they choose to distress them; but they had solemnly pledged their friendship to them in the Tawasentha Valley ("At the Place of many Dead"), and they meant to keep their word. The French, however, they delighted to torment. The settlements at Quebec, Three Rivers, and Montreal were separated from the Five Nations by the great pathless Adirondack wilderness of mountains and forest, and yet two ways were open by which they might reach the French. One of their war-paths led from Onondaga Lake along the Oswego River and Lake Ontario; then through the Thousand Islands and down the rapids of the St. Lawrence River. The reverse of this route was taken by the venturesome French colonists who, as we have seen, endeavored to make a settlement in the heart of the Iroquois country about the time of Tekakwitha's birth. Their hairbreadth escape from Onondaga soon after by the same route put an end to all thought of settling what the French considered a part of New France. This was the region now known as Onondaga County, which the Onondaga Indians themselves have claimed from prehistoric times as their birthright, and hold yet under the name of the Onondaga Reservation; and here, now, in the heart of this great State, in spite of the encroachments of two hundred years of civilization, in spite of the teachings of Christianity all about them, in spite of the covetous longings of many a white man, they still keep a foothold, and maintain the practice of their old pagan rites and customs.

The great western route through the Oswego and St. Lawrence rivers to Canada, belonging by first right to these Onondagas, was travelled many times during Tekakwitha's childhood by the Onondaga statesman Garacontié. He frequently restored captives to the French at Quebec, and tried often but in vain to keep peace between them and his own race.

The second and more direct of the two great war-paths to Canada was the route of the Mohawks. No wonder the Caniengas tormented the French settlements on the St. Lawrence. Starting from their castles in the Mohawk Valley, and taking any one of three or more trails that crossed or skirted our present Saratoga County, they had but to strike Lake George, follow the lake to its outlet, traverse the length of Lake Champlain, and thence pass through the Richelieu, Sorel, or Iroquois River (it was known by all these names), and they were ready to destroy the grain, and tomahawk or take captive the wives and children of the Canadian settlers. The French had built three forts on this Richelieu (or Iroquois) River to check their inroads,—Fort Richelieu, Fort St. Louis, and Fort St. Thérèse,—and were now only waiting till spring opened to erect a fourth, to be called Fort St. Anne, on an island at the northern end of Lake Champlain.

Samuel de Champlain, the first Frenchman who set foot on New York soil, was chiefly responsible for the long-continued wars between his countrymen and the Iroquois, he having fired without provocation on a band of Iroquois warriors, probably Mohawks, when he first sailed into the lake which bears his name. By repeated outrages on the Canadian frontier the Mohawks had amply revenged themselves for that first affront; and by the end of the year 1665 they had goaded the French into a determination to brave unheard of risks and frightful sufferings, that they might punish their savage enemies in a manner that would for once and all humiliate and subdue them. Thus it was that on the 9th of January, 1666, a heroic army composed of three hundred regular French troops of the regiment Carignan-Salières, veterans who had seen service in Turkey in the wars of Louis XIV., together with two hundred habitans, or hardy volunteers from the Canadian colony, all under the command of M. de Courselle, Governor of Canada, were fairly started on a march from Quebec to the Mohawk castles. They intended to push on without delay to their destination through snow and ice, over rivers and lakes, by the great Mohawk route. It had been travelled hitherto only by Indians, captives, and a few missionaries, with now and then perhaps a solitary adventurer; rarely, indeed, by any even of these in the depth of winter. This army of De Courselle's was the very first of a great succession of pale-face armies that have come tramping over the same route during the last two centuries. If Burgoyne's march to the Saratoga battle-field was the most famous of all these, De Courselle's march to the Mohawk was certainly the first and the most heroic in its struggle with unparalleled difficulties.

"This march could not but be tedious, every one having snow-shoes on his feet, to the use of which none were accustomed; and all, not excepting the officers or even M. de Courselle himself, being loaded each with from twenty-five to thirty pounds of biscuit, clothing, and other necessaries."[29] It did, indeed, require a French courage to undertake such an expedition. "Many had, as early as the third day, parts of the body frozen, and were so benumbed by the cold that they had to be carried to the place where they were to pass the night." The 25th of January was especially severe, and many soldiers were obliged to be taken back to the settlements, "of whom some had the legs cut by the ice, and others the hands or the arms or other parts of the body altogether frozen." The ranks were filled up again at Forts St. Louis and St. Thérèse, on the Richelieu River, where the troops assembled on the 30th of the same month; and being still five hundred strong, they pushed bravely on over the snow that lay so level and smooth on the frozen bosom of Lake Champlain. Here the route lay plainly before them, and they were counting on Algonquin guides to show them the way to the Mohawk castles after they got to the southern end of Lake St. Sacrament (Lake George). The snow was "hard frozen, though in most places four foote deep; and besides using Indian snow-shoes, which hath the very form of a Rackett tyed to each foote, whereby the body and feet are kept from sinking into the snow, ... the Governor caused slight sledges to be made in good number, and laying provisions upon them drew them over the snow with mastive doggs."

The shivering troops wrapped their blankets tightly round them as they lay down to sleep on the snow at the foot of Mount Defiance, or threaded the narrow valley leading to Lake George. The awkward soldier striding over the snow fumbles with frost-bitten fingers in his knapsack for the last of his biscuits. As one might have foretold, he has stepped on the snow-shoe of his comrade, and both go plunging head-foremost into the snow. The dogs jogging on beside them, unchecked for a moment, run wildly on, barking aloud and scattering the load of the toboggan to which they are attached. The articles are rescued piecemeal by the soldiers all along the line. There is no time to stop, however,—they must march on or starve; so, giving their fallen comrades momentary help to set them on their feet again, they are left to fall into line as best they may and just in time to bring up the rear.