KATERI'S DEATH.--"I WILL LOVE THEE IN HEAVEN."--THE BURIAL.--HER GRAVE
AND MONUMENT.
For nearly a year Kateri had been slowly losing strength. She had a
continuous low fever; but during the last two months of her life her
sufferings were very acute, and she could not change her position
without severe pain. It was in Passion Week that the children were
instructed by the blackgown at her bedside for the last time. Anastasia
and the other women of the lodge continued to attend to her few wants
morning and evening, before and after their work in the fields. They
knew, however, by this time, that the young girl could not recover.
Anastasia drearily watched her sinking day by day. She had never fully
understood Kateri, but she loved her very much, and did all that would
have been expected of an Indian mother under the circumstances. The dish
of Indian corn and a pot of fresh water were left beside her each day;
and towards the last, women were appointed to watch with the sufferer at
night. These watchers belonged to the Association of the Holy Family.
Kateri was not more neglected than others who were ill at these busy
times. She, however, was perfectly content, and even glad to be left
alone with God. This relish for solitude did not prevent her from
greeting with a smile or a gay, bright word any or all who came to her
side. There was one in the village at whose coming her heart bounded. It
is needless to say that this was Therese Tegaiaguenta. Of all hearts at
the Sault St. Louis, hers was the saddest through the days that Kateri
lay dying. It was hard to work in the corn-field; it was hard not to be
with her in the lodge. On Palm Sunday, at least, they could have a few
hours together between Mass and Benediction. Whenever Therese knelt at
prayer in the chapel, she felt that Kateri, lying on her mat, joined her
in spirit. But when she prayed for her friend's recovery, she knew that
Kateri's lips were unresponsive. They murmured no amen. The only prayer
they could form at such times was like unto this: "God pity Therese, and
give her the strength she needs!"
On Monday in Holy Week, she asked for permission to fast, in honor of
our Saviour's passion. She wished to pass the whole day without food.
They told her that this she could not do,--that she had not long to
live, and that she ought to be thinking of other things. Not long to
live? Was this in truth what they said? She could not conceal her
happiness at the thought of death. The angel with shadowy wings was
close at hand, waiting to show her the face of Rawenniio.
On Tuesday she failed rapidly in strength. They feared she would die,
and prepared to give her the last sacraments. Father Cholenec did not
intend for a moment that she should be deprived of the Viaticum,--that
strength of the wayfarer, and bread of angels, so needful to the dying.
But just how it should be administered was a question. Thus far the
Blessed Sacrament had never been carried to an Indian's cabin. The sick
were put on a bark litter and borne to the door of the church, where
they received Holy Communion. Kateri was too weak for this. The two
Fathers at the mission consulted together, and quickly resolved to make
an exception in her case. No one either then or afterwards murmured at
this distinction accorded to the Lily of the Mohawks. Father Cholenec at
once entered the sanctuary, took the sacred particle from the
tabernacle, and passed out of the church, following the shortest road to
Anastasia's cabin. All who were then in the village assembled to
accompany him, and knelt about the door of the lodge, leaving a passage
for the blackgown to enter. In the mean time Kateri heard of the honored
Guest whom she was to receive; whose sacramental presence had been so
long denied her, on account of her inability to drag herself to the
chapel. This had not been possible since the first weeks of Lent. She
was now overjoyed at the good news they brought her. Her face lighted up
with happiness. Then all at once she remembered the miserable condition
and great poverty to which long-continued sickness had reduced her. So
she held fast to the hand of Therese, who was then at her side, and
begged her earnestly not to leave her. As soon as they were left alone
for a moment, she confided to her friend that she owned no decent
garment in which to receive her Lord, who was about to visit her, having
only those she now wore. Therese, touched at this avowal from one who
knew so well how to care for herself and others when she had been able
to work, quickly brought a chemise of her own for Kateri, and dressed
her properly for the great event so near at hand. Kateri had hidden her
poverty even from Anastasia. All is at last in readiness, both within
the lodge and without; her heart's desire is at hand. "Behold He cometh,
leaping over the mountains."
The blackgown, with the sacred Viaticum, entered the rude bark cabin,
which was crowded with kneeling Indians. The _Confiteor_ was recited.
Kateri Tekakwitha renewed her baptismal vows and the solemn offering she
had made of her body to Almighty God. She recalled the graces bestowed
upon her, and especially such as had enabled her to preserve her
chastity through life. She then received the Body and Blood of Christ,
and after a few moments of silent adoration, all present joined with her
in prayer. Throughout the afternoon other Indians of the village, as
they came in from the hunt or the field, were constantly going back and
forth to the lodge where she lay. All wished to see her and to hear her
dying words. Not one was indifferent to the passing of her soul. Many
were the signs of love and of reverence shown for her on that day. It
would seem as if she had been to each one of them like a favorite
sister. All were eager to gain a remembrance in her prayers.
"The Father profited by this occasion," says Chauchetiere, "and obliged
Catherine to exhort some persons who needed to be encouraged in virtue."
He adds that the words of the dying always had great effect at the
mission in converting those who could not be brought otherwise to be
baptized or to confess their sins. If this were the case ordinarily, how
doubly effective must have been the words thus wrung from Kateri,
despite her humility, by the command of her director! But after all, it
was her example, in life and in death, that preached most forcibly to
them. The effort she made to speak--for, indeed, it was more natural for
her to be silent--exhausted her very much. Thinking she was about to
expire, Father Cholenec wished to anoint her at once, and ran in haste
as far as the church; but her calm assurance to Therese, to the Father,
and to others that there was no occasion for hurry, caused them to
believe afterwards that the hour of her death, as well as the place of
her burial, had been privately revealed to her by God.
During the evening of Tuesday Therese left her friend for a time. In the
night she was again watching by Kateri's side with another woman.[68]
The sufferer asked them to take turns in order to get more rest, or they
would be too weary the next day. When Therese remained alone with her,
Kateri, who had looked forward to this moment, said: "I know very well,
my sister, what I am saying. I know the place from which you came, and I
know what you were doing there. Take courage!" she continued with great
tenderness; "you may be sure that you are pleasing in the eyes of God,
and I will help you more when I am with Him." The eyes of Therese opened
wide at these words, and then filled with tears. How could Kateri have
known what she had done? She had stolen off to the woods without saying
a word to any one, and had cruelly scourged herself as she prayed from
her heart for her dying friend. But Kateri, it seems, did know about it;
and in the morning early, when Therese wished to stay by her lest she
should not be there at the last, she said in a decided tone: "You may go
to the field, Therese; do not fear. You will be back in time." In this,
too, she was not mistaken.
Father Martin, in describing these last hours of Kateri, gives the
following conversation which took place that same morning, and which
shows the touching simplicity of her Indian friends. "If we must go,"
they said to her, "ask God not to let you die while we are away." Kateri
again assured them that there was time enough. "On your return you will
find me still living," she said. They went away satisfied, and God
blessed their confidence.
It will be remembered that this was the morning of Wednesday in Holy
Week. What follows is from Chauchetiere, who says that the companion of
the dying girl was sent for about ten o'clock that day.
"Marie Therese Tegaiaguenta arrived in the cabin shortly before
Extreme Unction was given. After she [Kateri] had received all
the sacraments, she conversed with her companion. She was
failing, however, all the time, and at last, speaking with
difficulty and unable to raise her voice, seeing her comrade
weeping bitterly, she bade her this last farewell: 'I leave
you,' said Catherine; 'I am going to die. Remember always what
we have done together since we knew one another. If you change,
I will accuse you before the judgment-seat of God. Take
courage; despise the discourse of those who have no faith. When
they would persuade you to marry, listen only to the Fathers.
If you cannot serve God here, go away to the mission of
Lorette. Never give up mortification. I will love you in
heaven,--I will pray for you,--I will help you--'
"The Father who was near by on his knees to say the prayers for
the dying, heard a little of what Catherine was saying. He kept
his eyes fixed upon the face of Catherine to notice what was
passing, and at the same time he encouraged them both.
Catherine had her face turned towards Heaven, and her companion
embraced her with one hand, having the other resting on the
cheek of Catherine, and listening with attention to the last
words of the dying one.
"This blessed girl in saying to her companion, 'I will love
thee in Heaven,' lost the power of speech. It had been a long
time since she closed her eyes to created things. Her hearing,
however, still remained, and was good to the last breath. It
was noticed several times that when some acts were suggested to
her she seemed to revive. When she was excited to the love of
God, her whole face seemed to change.[69] Every one wished to
share in the devotion inspired by her dying countenance. It
seemed more like the face of a person contemplating than like
the face of one dying. In this state she remained until the
last breath. Her breathing had been decreasing since nine or
ten o'clock in the morning, and became gradually imperceptible.
But her face did not change. One of the Fathers who was on his
knees at her right side noticed a little trembling of the nerve
on that side of her mouth, and she died as if she had gone to
sleep. Those beside her were for a time in doubt of her death.
"When they felt certain that all was over, her eulogy was
spoken in the cabin, to encourage others to imitate her. What
her father confessor said, together with what they had seen,
made them look upon her body as a precious relic. The
simplicity of the Indians caused them to do more than there was
need for on this occasion, as, for instance, to kiss her hands;
to keep as a relic whatever had belonged to her; to pass the
evening and the rest of the night near her; to watch her face,
which changed little by little in less than a quarter of an
hour. It inspired devotion, although her soul was separated
from it. It appeared more beautiful than it had ever done when
she was living. It gave joy, and fortified each one of them in
the faith he had embraced. It was a new argument for belief
with which God favored the Indians to give them a relish for
the faith!"
Thus died Kateri Tekakwitha, on Wednesday, April 17, 1680. She was
twenty-four years of age.
The change in her countenance after death, mentioned by Chauchetiere, is
described at some length by Cholenec. He recalls the fact that when
Kateri was four years old she was attacked by the small-pox, and that
some marks of it were left on her face. It had been much more
disfigured, however, by her austerities and by her last illness. "But
this face," says Cholenec, "thus emaciated and marked, changed all at
once, about a quarter of an hour after her death; and it became in an
instant so beautiful and so fair that, having perceived it at once (for
I was in prayer near her), I gave a great cry, so much was I seized with
astonishment, and I had the Father called, who was working on the
repository for Thursday morning. He ran to see it at once, and with him
all the Indians, at the news of this prodigy, which we had leisure to
contemplate until her burial. I must admit frankly," her confessor
continues, "that the first thought which came to me was that Catherine
might have indeed entered at that moment into heaven, and that on her
virginal body was reflected in advance a small ray of the glory which
was dawning on her soul!"
The spirit of Kateri Tekakwitha rejoiced in leaving its casket of clay;
but the friend who had known her best still lingered disconsolate by her
mat, till at last the crowd was scattered and none remained but those
who belonged to the cabin wherein she died. Then the body was cared for
in the usual manner. Therese, whose loving task it was to bring the
necessary garments, now assisted Kateri's adopted sister and the good
matron, Anastasia, in their last sad duties to the gentle inmate of
their lodge. Her hair was oiled and braided. New moccasins were put on
her feet. She was tenderly laid out on a mat, and the entrances of the
lodge were again left open for visitors. A moving throng passed in and
out. Many lingered for a long, long time, unable to withdraw their eyes
from the face of the Iroquois maiden so long hidden by her blanket, and
now so wondrous fair to behold. It was aglow with a miraculous beauty
that gave deep joy to those who looked upon it; with the joy came also a
longing to be pure and holy, and to possess the happiness reflected on
those noble features. As she lay thus motionless on her mat, two
Frenchmen from La Prairie, who had come to the Indian village to be
present at the services there on Holy Thursday, wandered idly into the
cabin. They passed close to the body of Kateri. "How peacefully that
young woman sleeps!" said one of them. It did not occur to them that
she was dead, and they were about to pass on. "But they were very much
surprised," writes Cholenec, "when they learned a moment after that it
was the body of Catherine, who had just expired. They immediately
retraced their steps, and casting themselves on their knees at her feet,
recommended themselves to her prayers. They even wished to give a public
evidence of the veneration they had for the deceased, by immediately
assisting to make the coffin which was to enclose those holy relics."
Thus it happened that Kateri's body, instead of being borne to the
grave, according to the Indian custom, on an open bier of bark, covered
only with a blanket, was enclosed in a wooden coffin after the custom of
the white men. This made it easier to identify her remains later when
they were carried to the new village site farther up the river, to which
the Indians of the Sault moved some years later. They took Kateri's
bones with them as their most precious treasure, and have kept them at
the church ever since.[70]
[Illustration: STREET SCENE AT CAUGHNAWAGA IN CANADA
(_St. Lawrence River_) 1889 (_Church of St. Francois Xavier_)]
When the two Frenchmen who had come to Caughnawaga for Holy Thursday had
finished their self-imposed task, the body of Kateri was lifted from her
mat into the coffin, but the lid was not adjusted at once over the
face. The Indians continued to gaze upon it, and would not consent to
have it covered until she had been lowered into the grave which they had
prepared for her. This was on the side of the cemetery nearest to the
river, at the foot of the tall cross, where she had loved to pray.
There, on the afternoon of Thursday in Holy Week, the Lily of the
Mohawks and the "Genevieve of New France" was laid to rest. So great was
the fame of her sanctity that her grave soon became a much-frequented
spot. Pilgrim after pilgrim has directed his footsteps to that cross and
mound. In the long list of these we find the names of governors,
bishops, military commanders, and well-known authors.[71] Even after her
bones were removed, the place where Kateri had prayed, and where her
body rested for a time, was looked upon as sacred ground. From the day
of her burial in 1680 to the present time, it has been distinctly and
unmistakably marked with a tall wooden cross. Whenever the old one
crumbled away, a new one was erected to replace it. John Gilmary Shea
gives the following graphic account of what occurred at her grave in
1843:--
"The old cross was mouldering; and a new one, twenty-five feet
high, was prepared, in which were encased some relics of the
holy virgin of Caughnawaga. On Sunday, the 23d of July, 1843,
the Caughnawagas, headed by their missionary and chiefs,
repaired to the little river Portage, near which their former
church and village had stood, on a bluff between that little
stream and the lordly St. Lawrence. The space on the left was
soon filled by whites, drawn thither by interest or curiosity,
both of French and English origin. The banner of La Prairie and
the pennons of the Sault floated above the crowd on either side
of the highly adorned cross, at the foot of which was a
painting of the Christian heroine. At the signal given by the
discharge of artillery on the right and left, the clergy in
procession advanced into the centre, chanting the "Vexilla
Regis." At another discharge Father Felix Martin, one of the
first Jesuits to whom it was given to return to the land
enriched by the sweat and blood of his Society, rose to address
the assembled throng in French. Then, after a hymn in Iroquois,
the Rev. Joseph Marcoux,[72] the pastor of the tribe,
pronounced a discourse in the guttural language of his flock,
and gave place to the Rev. Hyacinth Hudon, Vicar-General of
Montreal, who delivered a third address in English, and then
performed the ceremony of blessing the cross. That sign of
faith was then slowly raised, amid the chants of the Church,
the thunder of the cannon, and the mingled shouts of men of
many climes and races who, differing in language, bowed to the
symbol of a common faith."
In September, 1884, the author of this volume visited her grave, and
found that the cross described above had been blown down in a recent
storm. It was lying in broken fragments on the river-bank, near the
little enclosure of wooden pickets surrounding the grave. Pious hands
were soon at work there, however, and on Sunday, Oct. 5, 1884, another
cross was raised. Again a large gathering of Canadians and Indians
assembled to assist at the ceremony. Rev. Father Burtin, Oblate
missionary, and successor to Father Marcoux, preached both in French and
Iroquois. The following words of the preacher (which were translated
into English and published in an Albany journal) must have made a
profound impression upon his hearers, the Iroquois people of
Caughnawaga. "There have been," he said, "in this village, chiefs
renowned in war, who had dealings with governors of Canada, and were
widely spoken of during their lives. Now that they are dead, their names
are mostly forgotten, while the name of Catherine Tekakwitha is well
known not only here, but throughout Canada and beyond the ocean."
In the month of June, 1888, the author, having travelled by the
ferry-boat from Montreal to La Prairie, and thence driven a few miles
westward along the river-bank, was fortunate enough to stand once again
by the grave of Tekakwitha.[73] There, in addition to the new cross,
which stood firm and erect within the little enclosure, a large granite
monument was to be seen lying close beside it, partially unboxed and
ready to be placed upon the grave. It had been sent to Canada from the
land of Tekakwitha's birth. It has since been set in place, and
protected by a strong canopy and enclosure of wood. The initials of the
two donors of this substantial token are carved on a lower corner of the
monumental stone. It is a solid piece of Barre granite, in the shape of
a sarcophagus,--six feet six inches long, two feet ten inches wide, two
feet six inches high. On the top a cross is carved, and the following
inscription in the Iroquois language:--
KATERI TEKAKWITHA.
Apr. 17, 1680.
_Onkwe Onwe-ke Katsitsiio Teiotsitsianekaron._[74]
The French translation is the exact interpretation given by M. Cuoq, who
composed the Iroquois inscription. He says that _Onkwe Onwe_ means
literally, "The true men;" thus the Indians designate all who belong to
their own race. _Katsitsiio_ means "beautiful flower," and is here
applied to Tekakwitha, the Lily of the Mohawks. This title, given to her
by the English, is altogether foreign to the Iroquois language, as they
have no distinctive word for _Lily_ (nothing more definite than "white
flower"); and _Mohawks_ is a name they dislike, because it was first
given to them by their enemies; they prefer, therefore, their own term,
_Caniengas_. Tekakwitha was a Canienga and an Iroquois, but she was
also, on her mother's side, an Algonquin. Hence it is that the general
name which applies to the whole red race is used in the
inscription,--_Onkwe Onwe_! All "true men" are indeed akin to this
beautiful flower that bloomed in our Mohawk Valley.
FOOTNOTES:
[68] For this incident see Cholenec, in "La Vie de Catherine
Tegakouita," Carton O, Jesuit College Library, Montreal.
[69] Father Martin, in his account of this scene, says that Kateri,
after her last words to Therese, covered her crucifix with kisses and
tears, and finally cried out three times, "Jesus, I love thee!"
Chauchetiere himself, in another place, mentions these as her last
words. He and Cholenec were both eyewitnesses of her death. Cholenec
says, "At three hours after midday, after having pronounced the holy
names of Jesus and Mary, a slight spasm came on, when she entirely lost
the power of speech."
[70] They are now (1889) in a carefully secured chest of polished wood
in the sacristy of the church of St Francois Xavier du Sault at the
present village of Caughnawaga, about five miles up the river from their
first resting-place. The old wall and priest's house connected with the
above-named church date back to 1720, but the church itself is more
modern. It was rebuilt in 1845. The desk at which Charlevoix and Lafitau
wrote is still used by the missionary who occupies the _presbytere_. The
exact site of this mission of St Francois Xavier du Sault at the present
time and its four previous sites, also the position of Tekakwitha's
grave, with her cross and monument, and its direction from the city of
Montreal, are shown on the map in chapter xvii.
[71] Among those who have shown special honor to the memory of Kateri
Tekakwitha by visiting her grave and spreading her fame by means of
their writings, and who have not been already quoted in this work, we
find the following persons of note: the Marquis Denonville, Governor of
Canada; Monseigneur de Saint-Valier, second Bishop of Quebec; Capt. J.
du Luth, commander of Fort Frontenac in 1696; De la Potherie,
Commissioner of the King, and author of the "Histoire de l'Amerique
Septentrionale," and of verses in honor of Tekakwitha, written in 1722;
Chateaubriand,--see "Les Natchez," livre iv., as follows: "Les vertus de
Catherine (dit-il) resplendirait apres sa mort. Dieu couvrit son tombeau
de miracles riches et eclatants en proportion de la pauvrete et de
l'obscurite de la Sainte ici-bas, et cette vierge ne cesse de veiller du
salut de la Nouvelle France, et de s'interesser aux habitants du
desert." Poems on Kateri Tekakwitha have been written by the Abbe
Rouquette, of New Orleans, and by Rev. C. A. Walworth, of Albany; and to
crown all these efforts to do her honor, the touch of a gifted artist of
New York State, Mr. Charles M. Lang, has been brought to bear on this
ever-growing theme.
[72] Author of a very complete Iroquois-French dictionary, preserved and
still in use in manuscript form at the _presbytere_, or priest's house,
at Caughnawaga in Canada.
[73] Tekakwitha's cross and grave may also be reached by a drive of
about five miles across the reservation from Caughnawaga, which is now a
railroad station on the new Canadian Pacific road, and is connected by a
steam-ferry with Lachme, where the steamers touch before going over the
Great Rapid, and where trains arrive many times a day from Montreal.
[74] English translation,--"_The fairest flower that ever bloomed among
the redmen._" French translation,--"_C'est une belle fleur qui s'est
epanouie parmi les Indiens._"