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

by Ellen H. Walworth

We who have followed the course of her life more closely, can easily single out Tekakwitha from the crowd that has gathered to witness the strange ceremonies that are taking place in the woods not far from the castle. The bones of all the friends and relations of these people who have died within the last ten years have been carefully and reverently cleaned, scraped, and collected together to be deposited in a common pit prepared for their reception. The best and richest of beaver-skins and other furs are freely brought forward, that the pit may be lined with their beautiful warm surfaces. It is at night, amid the wailing chants of the women and the flaming of torches, that the relics of the dead, with many a last caressing touch, are deposited in the great pit; they are encased in separate robes with precious gifts. There are many tragic demonstrations of grief. A weird, pathetic scene it is; and it makes a strange and lasting impression on the minds of the young people who witness it for the first time. After the pit has been filled and covered over, the women are to be seen trudging back and forth to the village with hampers of food, to be deposited on the gigantic grave for the use of their departed friends. It is only after the Feast of the Dead is over that the soul is supposed to take its final journey to the spirit-land. Previous to this celebration they believe that it hovers near the body, which they expose on a bark scaffold, or else put in a sitting posture in a temporary grave covered lightly with bark or twigs.

During the progress of this feast quite a dispute arises among the assembled chiefs concerning the treatment received by Pierron. He has been cordially invited to be present, and now stands among the dignitaries of the Mohawk nation in company with Tekakwitha's uncle and other chiefs. The blackgown lets no part of the ceremony escape his notice. Distinguished guests from Oneida and Onondaga have placed themselves in separate groups, according to custom. An Onondaga chief has risen to make a speech. Near enough to see and hear what is going on are the women of Caughnawaga, who so lately took part in the defence of the castle. Tekakwitha's blanket partly conceals her face, but she is quite as richly dressed as the other young squaws. What she does not see or hear directly she can quickly gather from the talk of those about her. When the Onondaga has finished speaking, the Mohawk chiefs recount in turn the leading superstitions and fables of the nation; they are well known already to most of the people, who only half listen to what is being said. Presently there is a stir among the Mohawk dignitaries, which centres the attention of all within earshot on the group. Pierron, it seems, has ceased to be a silent listener to what passes. He begins in his turn to tell fables, giving them here and there an extremely ridiculous turn. In the midst of it he is abruptly ordered by one of the chiefs to be silent. All are now eager to get at the truth of what has occurred. Some loudly upbraid the chief for his discourtesy; others bitterly accuse Pierron of an untimely interference with their customs. They say that he has been openly ridiculing their beliefs; his mouth must be stopped at once. But Pierron, knowing full well his influence with the people, and judiciously appealing to their love of fair play, boldly addresses the offending chief in these words, now distinctly heard by the listening throng: "Dost thou know, indeed, that thou hast given me the keenest affront I could have received? But who art thou to order me to be silent, and am I here to obey thee? If I had treated thee after this sort at Quebec, wouldst thou not have had cause to complain; but in what have I spoken evil, that my mouth should be closed? And if I speak the truth, why art thou not willing to hear?" The chief replied that it was their custom on these occasions to keep up their fables. Pierron stoutly rejoined: "It is your custom to get intoxicated; honestly, is it a good custom, and ought I to approve it? It is your custom to violate every law of reason, and to live as the beasts; think you it is not my duty to reprove you for all these vices? And yet you impose silence upon me when I would speak to you. Is this reasonable?" As Pierron and the chief could come to no agreement, the blackgown withdrew from among the Mohawks when the singing began, and took his place in the group of Onondaga guests, who received him with marked respect.

The ceremony lasted five hours. When it was over Pierron returned at once to Caughnawaga village, leaving the Mohawks still in the forest on the spot where the solemnity was conducted. A rumor was circulated there to the effect that the blackgown meant to return to Quebec. It was not long before the brusque Mohawk chief who had given offence came to him in the village to offer an apology for his conduct, saying: "My brother, up to this hour we have acted toward each other as the two best friends in the world." Then placing his hand on his heart, he added: "Tell me then, frankly, in what humor is thy soul? They say that thou goest to Quebec, and will no more come to live with us. If this be so, I implore thee not to get us into difficulty with Onnontio; for this would bring trouble upon thyself, if so many, both old and young, who greatly love and honor thee, should for this reason receive ill-treatment. Tell me, then, what is in thy heart, and what are thy sentiments?"

Pierron, in a grave and serious manner seldom assumed by him, replied: "It has been told thee that I have an irritated mind and a heart full of grief. This is true, and thou knowest well that thou art the cause; thou hast treated me with the greatest indignity. Thou hast even presumed to impose silence when I would speak of the faith, which is the thing of all else, as thou art not ignorant, I have most at heart. Did it not confuse thee to see me so well received by the Onondagas, whom I did not know, driven out by those who professed to be our friends?"

After listening patiently till he was through, the chief said with earnestness: "My brother, I see what is at the bottom of this quarrel; it is that we are not yet Christians. But if thou wilt leave this important affair to me, I promise thee success. This is what thou must do: First convoke a council, and then having given three belts to our three families, at each present speak out thy mind. After this, leave me to act, and I trust all will go well."

All did go well, to the great delight of Father Pierron. The old chief, who was high in authority, went to work so energetically, sending his nephews out in every direction, that he soon assembled all the grandees of the Mohawk nation in the cabin of Pierron. The blackgown did indeed speak out his mind with such decided effect that his words were received with loud cries of applause. He threw down a fathom of wampum, saying: "Agnié, my brother, if it is true that thou art willing to hear me, there is my voice, which warns thee and entreats thee wholly to renounce Agreskoue, and never speak to him, but to adore the true God and follow His law."

He threw down a second fathom of wampum, to oblige the medicine men no more to invoke demons for the cure of diseases, but to use natural remedies. Again and again the speaker was applauded; even the medicine men who were present in the assembly showed their good will on this occasion. The last present to destroy the superstition of the dances was received with no less acclamation than the other two. It was Pierron's moment of triumph, the reward of his unceasing efforts in their behalf! The whole Mohawk nation seemed ready to do his will. The council which met some days after, included the delegation from Onondaga. These distinguished strangers had just returned from the visit they made to the Dutch after taking part in the Feast of the Dead.

Garacontié, the chief of the Onondagas, himself soon to become a Christian, now raised his powerful voice in support of Pierron, saying to the people, "Take his word, for he has sacrificed all for you." The blackgown triumphed at last. The sorcerers of the village cast their turtle-shell rattles into the fire, the women no longer called in the medicine men to cure their diseases, no dances were allowed which were not approved by Pierron, and the oyanders (or nobles) brought their youth in crowds to the chapel to be instructed. What more could the blackgown wish? Alas! he knew the Indians too well; and he adds in the moment of his success, "Their natural inconstancy still divides my heart between fear and joy."

So far as Tekakwitha was concerned, no fear as yet disturbed the calm content of her spirit. The Lily of the Mohawks, quite unnoticed in the retirement of her lodge, was taking note of all these things, and was waxing fairer every day in the sunny light of Rawenniio's presence in the land. The true God, the Great Spirit, they tell her, is now to be worshipped by all the people. She hears them cry out through the village, "Hail to Rawenniio! Down with sorcery! Down with Aireskoi!" These words are like sweet music in the ears of Tekakwitha. She is in a dream of happiness, a day-dream of the spirit. Her busy fingers drop their work, unconscious of this unaccustomed idleness; her thoughts are all of God. Tekakwitha's first and last and only love is Rawenniio. She hears his voice, she feels his presence in the purer air she breathes, for Aireskoi has fallen from his throne. In the quiet and seclusion of the long-house, all alone, she hears the noises of the crowd outside, like distant murmurs; but the name of "the true God" echoes in her ears, and she is happy. Why not leave her so? Let us not disturb her. Why should she be roused to suffer? Must the Lily droop her head and thirst and die, like the rest of Rawenniio's flowers? Alas! it must be so. But let us not forget that this Lily of the Mohawks has a soul, though it is still like a little bird that breathes and just begins to move, but has not tried its strength. In sorrow the wings of the soul are developed. When once they have grown strong, it will be easy for Tekakwitha to fly away through the door of death to Rawenniio.

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