The Life and Times of Kateri Tekakwitha Part 7

[43] Pierron had ridiculed the practices of the sorcerers and medicine men so effectually that they no longer attempted to use their charms and spells in his presence.

[44] See note of J. S. Clark in "Early Chapters of Mohawk History," by Dr. Hawley (no. xx., as printed in the "Auburn Advertiser").

[45] Gookin says of the Mohegans: "About fifty of their chief men, they confess, were slain in this fight; but I suppose more."

CHAPTER XI.

WILL TEKAKWITHA MARRY?

"It is time for Tekakwitha to marry," said her aunts. Her uncle was of the same opinion. "She will make a desirable wife," they thought, "a docile and a useful one. It will be easy to find a brave young hunter for her, who will be glad to live in the lodge of the leading chief at Caughnawaga. Then there will always be plenty of game brought to the lodge for food, and a good supply of furs to exchange at Albany for the goods of the _cloth-workers_." Thus the adopted parents of the young girl put their wise old heads together, and soon Tekakwitha's peace of mind was sadly disturbed by their new-laid plans. Until now she had been happy in her own way. Her uncommon skill and natural ingenuity developed and found vent in her daily tasks, though sometimes, to be sure, they must have become wearisome and monotonous. It was she who pounded the Indian corn and made the soup or sagamite, day after day. This sagamite took the place of bread with the Indians. She also distributed the food when prepared to the members of the family, and saw that each person's dish was properly filled at the right time. Like all generous natures, she was accustomed to take more than her share of the burden, and likely enough, less than her share of the sagamite. Chauchetiere speaks more than once of her _esprit_, her ready wit, and also of her skill. He says:--

"Judging from the work which I have seen her do, it will be easy for me to affirm that she worked delicately in porcupine and in elk-skin. She made the belts (or burden-straps) with which the Indian women and girls carry wood; she made those which the old men use in conducting the affairs of the nation, which are composed of beads of _porcelaine_ (wampum); and one of the occupations of the squaws is also to sew, since they have learned how to do it, either from those who have been slaves among them or from the wives of Christians from Europe.

She knew well how to make certain ribbons which the savages make with the skins of eels or strong bark. She prepared these skins or this bark, and she reddened them, applying the color with sturgeon paste, which is used very skilfully among the Iroquois. She knew more than other Iroquois girls, for she could make nets very well indeed and _quaisses_ (buckets which the savages use to draw water); thus her dexterity furnished her with plenty of occupation. Sometimes she was making a pestle or pounder for crus.h.i.+ng Indian corn, sometimes she was forming a mat out of bark, and again she was preparing poles on which to hang the ears of corn."

Although she was the youngest in her uncle's family, and was delicate from the time her mother died, she was always the first one at work and the last to take a holiday. It was quite a trial to her, then, when she found--the first symptom of trouble to come--that she would no longer be allowed to spend her time as best pleased herself. Her aunts now insisted that she should wear her prettiest moccasins and all her ornaments, and that she should go with them to dances and feasts, for which she had a distaste and some features of which were loathsome to her. She was so accustomed, from an inborn sense of duty, to obey those who stood to her in the place of father and mother, that she went as far toward fulfilling their wishes in regard to her costume and her attendance at popular amus.e.m.e.nts as her extreme timidity and acute sense of modesty would allow. These last-mentioned qualities were among her most marked characteristics. Her aunts, whose natures were of a very different fibre from her own, could have had little or no thought how this compliance on her part out of respect for them distressed her.

Although it could scarcely have cast the faintest shadow of a mist across the whiteness of her soul, she was known long afterwards to regret and to grieve bitterly for this indulgence in little vanities.

Her aunts could not and did not try to understand her. They thought she was queer. It seemed strange to them that Tekakwitha took so little pleasure in the festive customs of the Mohawks. They decided that it was due to her Algonquin origin. In other words, she was like her mother. So much the worse for her. It would have pleased them better to have had her resemble her father's family. But after all, the Algonquins were a gentle, yielding race, and they thought they would soon bend her to their will. When they stated plainly the object they had in view in thus bringing her forward,--which was that she should marry,--Tekakwitha's whole nature was roused to resistance at the mere mention of such a thing, and every power of her soul was brought into action to thwart their plan. Though long accustomed to be docile and obey, she showed at this time a sudden development of will, with inherent force to mould its own fate, and a strength of character that had not before a.s.serted itself. This must have proved to her aunts that after all there was something of the Mohawk in her nature. Sure of her own natural and inalienable right to decide for herself in this important question, she was unconquerable. This is clearly shown in the struggle of will against will, in which she was now enlisted and in which the odds were decidedly against her. But though her whole nature was roused at the well-meant, though in this case unwelcome and premature proposition of her aunts, Tekakwitha was too wise and too self-poised to break at once into open rebellion. She did not announce her secret determination to go through fire and water, if necessary, rather than submit to the plan of her relatives. Why she did not wish to marry was perhaps at that time as much a mystery to herself as to others; but the fact remained. She could not and would not think of it for a moment. "When, therefore, they proposed to establish her in life," says Cholenec, "she excused herself under different pretexts, alleging, above all, her extreme youth and the little inclination she had to enter into marriage. The relatives seemed to approve of these reasons;" but the matter was not allowed to rest for any length of time. Charlevoix tells us that she made an energetic resistance to all offers. For the moment it was not insisted upon; but soon they returned to the charge, and to spare themselves the trouble of listening to her remonstrances, engaged her without her knowledge to a young man. As his alliance appeared desirable to the family of the chief, the proposition was made, according to custom, both to him and to the members of his family; while Tekakwitha alone, the very one to whom it was of the utmost consequence, was kept in entire ignorance of the proceeding. This was easily done, owing to her habitual seclusion and the peculiar custom of the country.

"Whenever marriage is in agitation," to use once more the words of Cholenec, "the business is to be settled by the parents, and the parties most interested are not even permitted to meet. It is sufficient that they are talking of the marriage of a young Indian with a young female to induce them with care to shun seeing and speaking with each other.

When the parents on both sides have agreed, the young man comes by night to the wigwam of his future spouse and seats himself near her; which is the same as declaring that he takes her for his wife and she takes him for her husband." The bride then presents the young man with sagamite or corn-cakes and sometimes with wood, in token of what is to be her duty in the lodge. He, on his part, sends presents of beaver-skins to the family of the bride. Thus marriages were made among the Iroquois Indians.

Tekakwitha's relations, not knowing the force of the young girl's will, decided among themselves that the shortest and easiest way to overcome her unaccountable opposition would be to take her by surprise. They did not even allow her to choose the person to whom she was to be united.

They desired to entrap her unaware into the simple and silent ceremony of an Iroquois marriage. Thus her fate would be sealed and she forced to submit. Would she be able to thwart this wicked plan? And what effect would it be likely to have on her future conduct? Her aunts acted coldly and harshly in this momentous matter, quite disregarding her rights and her feelings. They felt too confident of success to look beyond the present moment, or else they presumed very far indeed on her well-known sweet temper and kindly disposition.

Chauchetiere, who received his information chiefly from Tegonhatsihongo, says of her character and reputation at this time:--

"She was neither vicious, nor a gad-about, nor a great chatterer, nor idle, nor proud, which is a common vice among the young savages. She was not attached to visions nor to dreams, neither had she ever cared much to a.s.sist at dances or games; and she had shown on several occasions that she was prudent; but she was naturally timid, not daring to show herself when there was need that she should."

Tekakwitha sat one evening on a low seat by the fire,--her own lodge-seat, which had been a.s.signed to her by the chief matron in her uncle's household. The light of the blazing f.a.gots before her played on her beaded moccasins and showed off to advantage her richly embroidered skirt. In her sitting posture it hung far over and half concealed her pretty leggings. Strings of wampum beads in curious devices were about her neck, and the end of a long rich scarf or girdle which she wore lay on the ground beside her. Her work for the day was done, and she had donned these things in obedience to her aunt's desire. Why, she did not know, and little cared. They often had company; then why not to-night?

One of her aunts had given the finis.h.i.+ng touch to her costume, and dressed her hair with her own hands. It was not by any means the first time she had done so. The guests, whoever they might prove to be, seemed to have changed their minds and gone elsewhere, for she was now left quite to herself. She was just weary enough to enjoy fully the rest and quiet, and was thinking perhaps of a pattern which she intended to work into a wampum belt for her uncle to be used in making a treaty,--likely enough it would be for the treaty of peace between the Mohawks and Mohegans which was brought about after the battle of Kinaquariones, by the people of Albany. Or she may have had in mind, as she sat there musing by the fireside, one of the blackgown's pictures which she had lately seen. If she had noticed at all the rich gift of furs that had been brought to the lodge and carefully put away, she never suspected that it was meant for a wedding present from the family of a young man for whom her aunts had expressed great esteem. But now, while her thoughts are far from any such idea, the young man who desires her for his wife, and who has been kept by the laws of Indian decorum from approaching her for some time past or addressing her himself on the subject, enters the wigwam in holiday attire. He is accompanied by some of his relatives, whilst those of Tekakwitha step forward to receive them. The eye of the young Indian kindles with pleasure at sight of his bride so gayly bedecked with all the insignia of her rank. Her apparent unconcern at what is pa.s.sing he easily attributes either to maiden coyness or Indian stoicism. Besides, all know that she is extremely shy.

So, with ready a.s.surance of a welcome, he walks quickly toward her, and seats himself in silence by her side. Tekakwitha, utterly taken by surprise, is for a moment bewildered, disconcerted. Her aunts now bid her present the young man with some sagamite.[46] In a moment she realizes what they are doing,--that in spite of herself she is taking part in her own wedding. The hot blood rushes to her face. She blushes, but gives no other sign of what is in her mind. What can she do? For an instant she is in an agony of suspense. Then, with quick determination, she rises abruptly, and all aflame with indignation, pa.s.ses, quick as thought, out of the long-house. Could her relatives have fancied she had risen to do their bidding? Her aunts knew better. Unflinchingly she had met their scowling looks, and felt the keen, fierce eye of her uncle upon her as she moved toward the door. Had her path been over red-hot coals, it would have made no difference then to Tekakwitha. Her only and overmastering impulse was to escape at all hazards,--no matter how nor where. Once out of the stifling air of the cabin, she hurried on and on, taking an accustomed path, out of mere force of habit, till it brought her to the familiar corn-fields. There, breathless and trembling, she hid herself away, with a prayer to Rawenniio to save her from the young hunter whom she did not want, and also from the angry eyes of her relatives, which like burning irons pierced her heart. Soon they came to seek her, and urged her with threats and with entreaty to go back to the cabin. They had made excuses for her absence; and if she would but return with them now, all would yet be well. Tekakwitha, who was by this time calm and collected, replied quietly but firmly that she would not enter the lodge at all while the young man was there. Finding it impossible to move her, they returned and explained the affair as best they could to the relatives of the now indignant young hunter. He had been no less surprised at her strange conduct than she had been at his unexpected errand to the lodge. There was no course left for him but to withdraw. She then returned to the lodge, and having borne the brunt of angry words with which she was received, retired wearily to rest in the angry silence which followed.

It was many and many a long day to Tekakwitha before the storm which she thus raised about her own head had spent its fury in a series of domestic persecutions, till at last it was lulled to rest by the calm endurance of her firm but gentle spirit. Several times after this her relatives tried to force her into marriage. On one occasion she adroitly hid behind a case of Indian corn. "In everything else," says Chauchetiere, "she was good, industrious, peaceable, and agreeable. When she chose to give the word for a laugh, none ever had aught to complain of, and they liked her company. She never resented the raillery which was constantly aimed at her on account of her desire to remain unmarried. Her good-nature exempted her at this time from several difficulties into which she would have fallen if she had not been possessed of natural patience, and if she had not liked better to suffer everything herself rather than to make others suffer." Cholenec further says that the firmness of Tekakwitha rendered her relatives outrageous, for they felt as though they had received an insult.

"Artifice not having proved successful, they had recourse to violence. They now treated her as a slave, obliging her to do everything which was most painful and repulsive, and malignantly interpreting all her actions, even when most innocent. They reproached her without ceasing for the want of attachment to her relations, her uncouth manners, and her stupidity, for it was thus that they termed the dislike she felt to marriage. They attributed it to a secret hatred of the Iroquois nation, because she was herself of the Algonquin race.

In short, they omitted no means of shaking her constancy. The young girl suffered all this ill treatment with unwearied patience, and without ever losing anything of her equanimity of mind or her natural sweetness; she rendered them all the services they required with an attention and docility beyond her years and strength. By degrees her relatives were softened, restored to her their kind feelings, and did not further molest her in regard to the course she had adopted."

A custom of the Indians in which Tekakwitha must have taken part about this time, with the other Mohawk girls of her age, was the Corn-Feast.[47] On this supposition a brief description is here given of what was ever one of the merriest of their celebrations. The redmen, with the true poetic spirit of Nature's children, distinguished the various times of the year as the sturgeon month or moon, the beaver-month, the bear-month, and so on, according to the kind of hunting or fis.h.i.+ng then in progress; while the different seasons were known as the time when strawberries or chestnuts blossom, or as the time of corn-planting and when it is ripe.

It was when the corn was ripe that the Corn-Feast began. The plentiful crop of Indian maize was gathered together in one place, and the Mohawk girls a.s.sembled with laugh and song to celebrate the harvest. The festival took place in a field in the open air. The warriors and old men, not deigning to take part in this woman's frolic, sat at one side, though not far away, and lazily smoked their pipes. They only betrayed now and then, and by the merest twinkle of an eye, that they took any notice of what was going on. The aged squaws hung on the outskirts of the group of girls, urging them on with jests and shrill screams of laughter. The young squaws were busily employed husking the ears of corn, and throwing them together into heaps, after which they braided them into bunches of twenty[48] to be hung up and dried. This is preparatory to sh.e.l.ling, pounding, and making the corn into cakes of fine flour for future use. But the part of the whole process which pleases the young squaws best is the husking. They sing together s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, and toss the ears of corn gayly from one to another.

All the while they keep a keen eye on each separate ear as the soft husk is torn from it, and the silky ta.s.sels fall loosely away from the thick set rows of juicy kernels. But what has happened to Tekakwitha there in the midst of them? How they shout with laughter! Why is she blus.h.i.+ng so? In her hand she holds a bright red ear of corn instead of a white one, and a saucy girl calls out the name of a young hunter,--most likely of the one from whom Tekakwitha so recently hid away. A red ear of corn is always the sign of a brave admirer. That is why it is watched for so eagerly. "Here he is," they say to the bashful girl; "see, he has come to woo you again!" She, who is easiest teased of them all on a subject like this, feels like running away once more to escape their jests, or throwing the ear of corn at the saucy girl. But she is brave though shy, and a maker of fun herself; so she does not move, but keeps her eyes well open and awaits her chance. As good fortune would have it, she soon spies her mischievous companion unsheathing a crooked ear of corn, tapering to a point and quite bent over, like a queer little man.

"Wagemin! wagemin!" she calls out to the unlucky girl, "Wagemin!

Paimosaid!" Although they have often plagued Tekakwitha in the lodge with being Algonquin rather than Mohawk, she does not hesitate on this occasion to recall the song of her mother's race, "Wagemin! wagemin!

Paimosaid!"--which are the words sung in the North and West when a crooked ear of corn is found. Enough of Algonquin tradition, learned from their captives, lingered among the Mohawks for them to understand these words, which mean, "The little old corn-thief,--walker at night!"

The laugh is now on the saucy girl who called attention to Tekakwitha.

Then catching at the suggestion conveyed by the word "Wagemin!" they break forth gayly into the cereal chorus of the Algonquin Corn-Song.

Playfully and with many gestures words like those which follow are recited by one of the girls, alternating again and again with the chorus.

Schoolcraft's version of the merry Indian Corn-Song is as follows:--

_Cereal Chorus._ Wagemin! wagemin!

Thief in the blade, Blight of the corn-field, Paimosaid!

_Recitative._ See you not traces while pulling the leaf, Plainly depicting the taker and thief?

See you not signs by the ring and the spot, How the man crouched as he crept in the lot?

Is it not plain, by this mark on the stalk, That he was heavily bent in his walk?

Old man, be nimble! The old should be good, But thou art a cowardly thief of the wood.

_Chorus._ Wagemin! wagemin! etc.

Where, little taker of things not your own,-- Where is your rattle, your drum, and your bone?

Surely a walker so nimble of speed,-- Surely he must be a juggler indeed.

See how he stoops as he breaks off the ear!

Nushka! he seems for a moment to fear.

Walker, be nimble,--oh, walker, be brief!

Hooh! it is plain the old man is the thief.

_Chorus._ Wagemin! wagemin! etc.

Wab.u.ma! corn-taker, why do you lag?

None but the stars see you,--fill up your bag.

Why do you linger to gaze as you pull?

Tell me, my little man, is it most full?

A--tia! see, a red spot on the leaf, Surely a warrior can't be a thief!

Ah, little night-thief, be deer your pursuit, And leave here no print of your dastardly foot.

_Chorus_ Wagemin! wagemin!

Thief in the blade, Blight of the corn-field, Paimosaid!

FOOTNOTES:

[46] For marriage ceremonies see Lafitau,--"Moeurs des Sauvages," vol.

i. p. 566; "De la Potherie," vol. iii. p. 14.

[47] For an account of the Corn-Feast and its attendant merry-making, see Schoolcraft's "Red Race."

[48] See Lewis H. Morgan on the Indian Collection in the State Cabinet of Natural History, etc. His Report for 1850 gives many details concerning the domestic customs and industries of the Iroquois. He mentions three varieties of corn,--white, red, and white flint,--and tells how they prepared it for use.