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
Garacontie. 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. Therese,--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-Salieres, 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. Therese, 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.
As the army passes over Lake George, in the shadow of Black Mountain,
how eagerly De Courselle looks back at his staggering column of men!
Were he in a less serious mood, he might be inclined to smile at the
efforts of the gallant troops of the regiment Carignan-Salieres to
maintain an orderly march on the unaccustomed snow-shoes; but the
anxious commander has other thoughts than these. Where are his
Algonquin guides? Have the rascals failed him? Calling the Jesuit
chaplain, Father Raffeix, to his side, a consultation ensues. They are
already nearing the future site of Fort William Henry, and there the
trails divide. They scan the shores of the lake and search the islands,
but neither Algonquin friend nor Iroquois foe is in sight. They know
that if they march on until they reach the Hudson and follow it down,
they will find the Dutch at Fort Orange, but that is not their object.
They long for a chance to strike a decisive blow at the Mohawk castles.
If they can once convince the Mohawks that they are not secure in their
forest homes from the armies of France nor the strong revengeful arm of
Onnontio,[30] a treaty will afterwards be of some value. The Jesuit
Father who talks with De Courselle dreams already of a mission
established among them as the result of that future treaty. With ardent
enthusiasm he sees in anticipation an army of Jesuits march to a
spiritual attack on the citadel of Satan upreared in the Iroquois
country. His heart thrills at the thought of reaching the spot where
Isaac Jogues was martyred. Father Lemoyne, the second Ondessonk, has
died since then. The Onondagas that very year sent presents to Quebec to
wipe away the tears shed for his death, thus expressing their sorrow and
their admiration for his character. Father Raffeix cheers with zealous
words the drooping spirits of the soldiers, then kneels amid the snows
of Lake St. Sacrament, and in the true spirit of his order, prays in his
heart for a share in the glorious work of continuing Ondessonk's
mission.
The army of De Courselle at the southern end of Lake George was
uncertain which trail to follow. At the Turtle Castle on the Mohawk the
Indians had no knowledge of the march of their enemies, else there would
have been great alarm at Gandawague; for all the ablest warriors of the
three castles, in company with the Oneidas, were making war on the tribe
called Wampum-makers. Only boys and helpless old men were left in the
lodges with the women. They knew nothing of De Courselle and his army so
near at hand, but, like their Dutch neighbors at Schenectady, were
earnestly fighting their nearer and more pitiless foe the bitter winter.
All the fuel near their lodges had been burned long ago; and now they
are searching the snow-drifts for fagots and branches fallen from the
trees. The cold is intense. The wind that whistles through the palisades
of the Turtle village is the same sharp blast that is pinching De
Courselle's army.
At Gandawague, outside of the palisade is a little girl on snow-shoes,
only nine years old, who with imperfect sight is groping her way through
the blinding storm. The snow is drifting wildly about. The one whom she
calls mother is only an aunt, and the aunt is cold and cross to-day. She
sits by the dying embers there in the lodge of the absent chief, and by
turns she shivers and scolds. The other women beside her are equally
cheerless. The little niece, who has missed the kindly look she knows
well how to win from her Mohawk uncle by welcome services when he is
there in the lodge, has taken it into her head this comfortless day to
surprise her cross old aunts and her adopted sister. So she has quietly
tied on her snow-shoes and ventured out. She is in the forest, alone,
searching for fagots. On her forehead is a burden-strap, made from
filaments of bass-wood bark, the ends twisted into a kind of Indian
rope. With it she fastens the fagots together, bearing them on her back.
Her hands are tingling with cold; but she plunges them deep into the
snow in an effort to break the larger twigs, while she hurries on to
increase her load. She is happier now in the howling storm than she was
in the pent lodge, and smiles as she thinks of the blazing fire she will
make to warm the feet and thaw the heart of her morose old aunt. Ah!
Tekakwitha, that grim old squaw is training you, without knowing it, for
heroic things. But after all, the aunt is not a neglectful guardian.
After a while she misses the child, and questions all in the lodge; then
peers out into the storm and shrinks back, shuddering. Has she indeed
allowed Tekakwitha to wander out and perish in the cold? In that case
what will she be able to say to the uncle when he returns; what will
become of her own plans for the girl? As time goes on, there comes a
faint scuffling at the door; the heavy curtain is lifted a little and
falls again. No one has entered. Hurrying to the door, the old squaw
thrusts the curtain aside, and there she beholds the child staggering
under her load of wood, stiff and helpless from the cold. Leaving the
fagots at the door, she lifts her gently in her arms and takes her to
the fire, which is soon blazing brightly, fed by the new supply of wood
quickly thrown upon it. But the glow of the fire, round which they all
gather, is not half so cheering to the heart of the frostbitten child as
the glow of love she has awakened in the lodge by her sweet unselfish
care for their comfort. This once, at least, they give her the warmest
seat, and fill her bowl brimful with the freshly made sagamite; then
they question her about her walk, and wonder how she escaped being
buried in the snow. Tekakwitha smiles with happy content, and answers
their questions with a ready wit. She makes them laugh as she tells them
a merry story of how the north-wind slapped her in the face and bound
her fast to the hickory-tree against which she stumbled in the storm. In
her heart she is saying all the time, as she watches the cheery light of
the fire, "I will do it again."
But where is De Courselle now and his army on snow-shoes? We left them
at the southern end of Lake George. There they took the trail that met
the Hudson at its great bend to the southward near Glenn's Falls. Then
after crossing the river they followed a straight trail leading a little
west of south, and passed between Saratoga Lake and Owl Pond or Lake
Lonely. Next they followed up the valleys of Kayaderosseras Creek and
the Mourning Kill to Ballston Lake; but there, happily for Tekakwitha's
people, they made a mistake.[31] Instead of taking the trail that
branched off to the west at the northern end of Ballston Lake, and led
directly to the Mohawk castles, they followed the straight trail
southward; so instead of surprising the Mohawks, they themselves were
indeed surprised to find that it brought them to a hamlet, not of
Indians, but of Dutchmen,--not subjects of Holland at all, but colonists
subject to England. They were greatly bewildered. We are told in an old
London document[32] at M. de Courselle encamped--
"upon the 9th of February within 2 myles of a small village
called Schonectade, lying in the woods beyond fort Albany in ye
territoryes of his Royall highness, and 3 dayes march from the
first castle of the Mohaukes.
"The French suposed they were then come to their designed
place, and the rather because y^t evening they did rancounter
w^{th} a party of the Mohaukes who made appearance of
retreating from the French, whereupon a party of 60 of their
best Fuzileers after them, but that small party drew the French
into an ambuscade of neare 200 Mohaukes planted behind trees,
(who taking their advantage as it fell into their hands) at one
volley slew eleuen French men whereof one was a Lieuten^t
wounded divers others, the french party made an honorable
retreit to their body, w^{ch} was marching after them close at
hand, w^{ch} gave the Mohawkes tyme and opportunity to march
off w^{th} the loss of only 3 slaine upon the plaice and 6
wounded, the report whereof was soone brought to Schonecktade
by those Indians, with the heads of 4 of the ffrench to the
Commissary of the Village who immediately despatched the newes
to Fort Albany, from whence the next day 3 of the principle
inhabitants were sent to Monsier Coursell the Governo^r of
Canada to inquire of his intention to bring such a body of
armed men into the dominions of his Ma^{tie} of Great
Brittaine, w^{th}out acquainting the Governo^r of these parts
w^{th} his designes. The Governo^r reply^d that he came to
seeke out and destroy his ennemyes the Mohaukes without
intention of visiting their plantations, or else to molest any
of his Ma^{ties} subjects, and that [he] had not heard of the
reducing those parts to his Ma^{ties} obedience, but desired
that hee and his soldiers might bee supplied with provisions
for their money, and that his wounded men might be sucoured,
and taken care for in Albany; To all which the Emissaryes
freely consented and made a small but acceptable present of
wine and provisions to him, further offering the best
accommodations y^e poore village afforded, w^{ch} was civilly
refus'd, in regard there was not accommodacon for his soldyers,
with whom he had marcht and campt under the blew canopye of the
heavens full six weekes, but hee prudently foresaw a greater
inconvenience if hee brought his weary and half starv'd people
within the smell of a chimney corner, whom hee now could keepe
from stragling or running away, not knowing whither to runn for
feare of y^e Indians; The next day Monsieur Corsell sent his
men to the village where they were carefully drest and sent to
Albany, being seaven in number, the Dutch bores carryed to the
camp such provisions as they had, and were too well payd for
it; Especially peaz and bread, of w^{ch} a good quantity was
bought; y^e Mohaukes were all gone to their Castles, with
resolution to fight it out against the ffrench, who being
refresht and supplyed w^{th} the aforesaid provisions made a
shew of marching towards the Mohaukes Castles, but with faces
about and great sylence and dilligence return'd towards
Cannada.... Those who observed the words and countenance of
Monsieur Coursell, saw him disturbed in minde that the king was
Master of these parts of the Country, saying that the king of
England did graspe at all America.... Two prisoners taken by
the Mohaukes in the retreate tell them y^t this summer another
attempt will be made upon their country, with a greater force
and supplyes of men, the truth or success of which I shall not
now discourse upon, having given the trew relation of what past
from ye 29^{th} December to the 12^{th} of February."
Another and larger force did attack the Mohawk castles in the year 1666,
as hinted at in the lines just quoted, but not until late in the autumn;
and at that time Tekakwitha was disturbed and distressed far more than
she had been by the misdirected march of the "army on snow-shoes."
FOOTNOTES:
[29] See O'Callaghan's "Documentary History of New York," vol. i. for
papers relating to this expedition of Governor de Courselle to the
Mohawk River.
[30] A name which the Indians gave to the Governor of Canada.
[31] These facts are to be found in a note by Gen. J. S. Clark, given in
the Appendix, Note D, "Mohawk Trails."
[32] See O'Callaghan's "Documentary History," vol. i., from which are
quoted all the passages here given referring to De Courselles and De
Tracy's expeditions.