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.
Chauchetiere 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
Jesuites," 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.