The Life and Times of Kateri Tekakwitha Part 12

Before she could be fitted, however, for the friendship of so pure a soul as that of the Mohawk girl, she had to pa.s.s a terrible ordeal. When she left the Oneida country and went to live at the Praying Castle with her husband's family, only a partial change was brought about in her lax, easy-going life; for Therese Tegaiaguenta, though capable of deep religious convictions, had an impulsive, pleasure-loving nature, very different from the reserved, self-sacrificing spirit of Kateri. The Lily of the Mohawks, from the first moment of her life, had never ceased to be attentive to the lightest whisper of divine grace. Tegaiaguenta could not be brought to listen to this voice till it spoke to her through the gaunt lips of bereavement and starvation. Then she forgot it again, till suddenly she recognized its echo in the looks and words of Kateri, when she met her at the chapel. The following is a brief account of the strange winter adventure of Therese Tegaiaguenta in the woods of Canada, as told by Cholenec:----

"She had gone with her husband and a young nephew to the chase, near the river of the Outaouacks [Ottawas]. On their way some other Indians joined them, and they made a company of eleven persons,--that is, four men and four women, with three young persons. Therese was the only Christian. The snow, which this year fell very late, prevented them from having any success in hunting; their provisions were in a short time consumed, and they were reduced to eat some skins, which they had brought with them to make moccasins. At length they ate the moccasins themselves, and finally pressed by hunger, were obliged to sustain their lives princ.i.p.ally by herbs and the bark of trees.

In the mean time the husband of Therese fell dangerously ill, and the hunters were obliged to halt. Two among them, an Agnie [Mohawk] and a Tsonnontouan [Seneca], asked leave of the party to make an excursion to some distance in search of game, promising to return, at the farthest, in ten days. The Agnie, indeed, returned at the time appointed; but he came alone, and reported that the Tsonnontouan had perished by famine and misery. They suspected him of having murdered his companion and then fed upon his flesh; for although he declared that he had not found any game, he was nevertheless in full strength and health. A few days afterwards the husband of Therese died, experiencing in his last moments deep regret that he had not received baptism. The remainder of the company then resumed their journey, to attempt to reach the bank of the river and gain the French settlements. After two or three days' march, they became so enfeebled by want of nourishment, that they were not able to advance farther. Desperation then inspired them with a strange resolution, which was to put some of their number to death, that the lives of the rest might be preserved."

When they were eating the flesh of the first victim, who was an old man, they asked Therese if it was allowable to kill him, and what the Christian law said upon that point, for she was the only one among them who had been baptized. She dared not reply. They gave her their reasons, which were that the old man had given them the right that he had to his life, saying that he would cause them a great deal of suffering on the journey.[61]

The little nephew of Therese had already died from hunger and fatigue.

When her husband lay at the point of death, she and the boy had remained with him till he breathed his last, and then she had hastened on through the woods, carrying her nephew on her shoulder, till she caught up with the band, who had journeyed on in advance of her. The child died a little later, in spite of her care; and when the man of the party was devoured before her eyes, misery and starvation rendered her speechless.

She saw that they were determined to sustain life at the expense of those among them who were unable to resist.

"They, therefore, selected the wife of the Tsonnontouan [Seneca] and her two children, who were thus in succession devoured. This spectacle terrified Therese, for she had good reason to fear the same treatment. Then she reflected on the deplorable state in which conscience told her she was; she repented bitterly that she had ever entered the forest without having first purified herself by a full confession; she asked pardon of G.o.d for the disorders of her life, and promised to confess as soon as possible and undergo penance. Her prayer was heard, and after incredible fatigues she reached the village with four others, who alone remained of the company. She did, indeed, fulfil one part of the promise, for she confessed soon after her return; but she was more backward to reform her life and subject herself to the rigors of penance."

This she did not undertake in earnest until she met Kateri. From that time they were inseparable. They went together to the church, to the forest, and to their daily labor. They told each other their pains and dislikes, they disclosed their faults, they encouraged each other in the practice of austere virtues. They agreed that they would never marry. An accident occurred in the early days of their friendship that gave their thoughts at once a serious turn. One day when Kateri was cutting a tree in the woods for fuel, it fell sooner than she expected. She had sufficient time, by drawing back, to shun the body of the tree, which would have crushed her by its fall; but she was not able to escape from one of the branches, which struck her violently on the head, and threw her senseless to the ground. They thought she was dead; but she shortly afterward recovered from her swoon, and those around her heard her softly ejaculating, "I thank thee, O good Jesus, for having saved me in this danger." She rose as soon as she had said these words, and taking her hatchet in her hand would have gone immediately to work again, if they had not stopped her and bade her rest. She told Therese that the idea in her mind at the time was that G.o.d had only loaned her what still remained to her of life in order that she might do penance; and that therefore it was necessary for her to begin at once to employ her time diligently.

Such words from such a source could not fail to stir the zeal and emulation of her warm-hearted, impetuous friend. Hand in hand, they now hastened to climb the th.o.r.n.y path of penance, guessing eagerly where certain information was denied them as to what might be the perfect Christian life they were seeking so earnestly to lead.

FOOTNOTES:

[61] See Chauchetiere, livre ii. chapitre 2.

CHAPTER XX.

MONTREAL AND THE ISLE-AUX-HeRONS, 1678.

It is certain that Kateri Tekakwitha visited the French settlement on the north side of the river; for Cholenec thus writes:--

"While pa.s.sing some days at Montreal, where for the first time she saw the nuns, she was so charmed with their modesty and devotion that she informed herself most thoroughly with regard to the manner in which these holy sisters lived, and the virtues which they practised."

Kateri and Therese--for the two were inseparable--with other Indians from the Sault, probably laden with goods to barter, must have crossed over to Montreal in canoes. They paddled out into the broad smooth waters of the St. Lawrence below the great rapid, where the river widens out like a lake. They left far behind them their village, with its tall wooden cross on the river-bank, and the wild Isle-aux-Herons, bearing up its st.u.r.dy clump of foliage in the midst of the splashing foam. They pa.s.sed at a distance the Jesuit chapel at La Prairie, where a few Frenchmen had built houses and formed the nucleus of a settlement, and then moved quietly and rapidly on in their light canoes until they neared the Isle St. Paul. The southern sh.o.r.e of the river swept away in a great curve as they left the Sault, and the prairie lands stretched away towards Lake Champlain, while Mount Royal blocked the northern horizon. Finally, after rounding the Isle St. Paul, they approached near enough to the northern bank to see where the first French fort had been built by the Sieur de Maisonneuve on level land at the mouth of a little stream. The spot is now called Custom-House Square; and the wild Ilot Normandin has been transformed into Island Wharf. This fort had fallen into disuse, and a second one was built on higher ground. The great French guns that were pointed toward the river meant no harm to the Christian Indians, who pa.s.sed safely by, and landed on vacant ground in the rear of a cl.u.s.ter of fortified buildings fronting on the Rue St.

Paul. This was the princ.i.p.al thoroughfare of the infant city of Ville-Marie. Every house on the island of Montreal was strongly built for defence. Each farm in the vicinity was connected with the town by a chain of redoubts. Not only the fort and the governor's mansion, but the mills, the brewery, the Hospital or Hotel Dieu, and the chief residences had high walls and outlying defences. These buildings were so placed along the Rue St. Paul that a cross-fire from them and from the bastioned fort across the little stream (which has since disappeared in the maze of modern streets) could be maintained in a way to render the position of the colonists impregnable against an Indian a.s.sault. This had all been done under the leadership of the first governor. At the time of Kateri's visit, the chivalric De Maisonneuve had been recalled to France, and De Courselles was Governor-General. The Sulpicians, whose seminary was centrally located on the princ.i.p.al street, were lords of the _seigneurie_ of Montreal and could give grants of land, though the recently arrived officers of the King disputed their right to dispense justice, and to appoint the governor of Ville-Marie.

Marguerite Bourgeois was still a leading spirit in the colony, and was actively engaged in founding and conducting her schools for the Indian and Canadian children. Her convent of Sisters of the Congregation of Notre Dame, after much delay and many trials, was at last successfully established opposite the Hotel Dieu on the Rue St. Paul. Monseigneur de Laval, Bishop of Quebec, on his visit to Ville-Marie in 1676, had formally recognized and approved her new order. There were at this time ten nuns in all a.s.sociated with her in the work of teaching. They taught day-scholars free of charge, and worked diligently out of school-hours to support themselves. In 1657 the Sieur de Maisonneuve had given Marguerite Bourgeois a tract of land near the Hotel Dieu, on which was a well-built stable, which she used for her first school-house. The cla.s.ses were a.s.sembled in the lower part of the building, while this indefatigable schoolmistress and her first a.s.sistants slept in the loft, to which they ascended by an outside staircase. As her school and community increased, she built a house that would shelter twelve persons. This also had proved insufficient, and she was now established in a fine large stone building, where a number of girls were safely housed, and taught to read, write, and sew. The King of France allowed her a certain amount each year for the support of her Indian pupils.

These were mostly at the school of the newly founded Sulpician mission on the mountain-side. There the number of Indians was daily increasing.

M. Belmont, a Sulpician, taught the boys, and two of the Congregation sisters had charge of the girls. Their favorite pupil, Marie Therese Gannensagwas (meaning, "She takes the arm"), was in a few years to become herself a successful teacher in the Indian school, and a gentle, lovable nun. At this time she was about eleven years old. When still younger, she had come with her aged grandfather from the Seneca country.

He was a Christian, having been baptized in the Huron country by the great missionary Brebeuf. The little Gannensagwas was adopted by Governor de Courselles, and placed under the care of Marguerite Bourgeois in the convent on the Rue St. Paul. When the school at the Mountain was opened, in 1676, she was sent there. In one or other of these two places she spent the remainder of her life, as pupil, novice, and then schoolmistress. Her memory has sometimes been confused with that of Kateri Tekakwitha, though she was ten years younger than the Mohawk, and led a very different sort of life. Gannensagwas grew up, lived and died in a convent, and was the first real Indian nun. A tablet to her memory is preserved in one of the towers of the old fort at the mission on Mount Royal. This stone tower stands in the same enclosure with the costly modern buildings of the Sulpicians in a beautiful part of the present city of Montreal. At the time of Kateri's visit, however, this same tower and fort was in the woods; for the buildings of the old town extended no farther from the river than the Rue St. Jacques. From there to the Indian schools of the Mountain was a lonely road leading past a solitary fortified farm belonging to the Sulpicians,--La ferme St. Gabriel. It was there that a priest, M. Le Maistre, had been tomahawked, in August 1661. He was on guard while the laborers gathered in the harvest. His tragic death warned them to withdraw at once from the fields, and defend themselves within the farm-house. Such incidents as this were then fresh in the minds of the people, and gave pathetic interest to many a spot near Ville-Marie.

In 1678 Rue Notre Dame was a new street, not yet built up, and the foundations of the parish church were uncompleted; but already the Hotel Dieu had a long history. Just five years had pa.s.sed since Mademoiselle Manse, the former friend of Marguerite Bourgeois, and the one who founded the Hotel Dieu and brought the hospital nuns from France to conduct it, had been laid to rest. She died in 1673. Her last request was that her body might be buried at the Hotel Dieu, and her heart be placed under the sanctuary lamp in the new church of the parish.[62] It was but right that this should be done, for she had given her whole life to founding not only the hospital but the city and colony at Mount Royal. Till the new church of Notre Dame should be finished, the heart of the brave lady, encased in a metal vase, was hung in the chapel of the Hotel Dieu. It was there for many years; but the building of the church was delayed so long that the transfer of the precious deposit never took place. The relic was lost at the time of a fire that destroyed the old chapel and hospital in 1695. Kateri may have seen the metal vase in the chapel of the hospital, but could scarcely have had time to learn its significance. Mademoiselle Manse had fulfilled a twofold task. She had distributed guns and ammunition to the colonists, and had nursed the wounded soldiers and Indians. Her life was often in danger. At times she was quite alone in the hospital. Her courage, enthusiasm, and womanly care for the sick and suffering were a mainstay of the colony, all through what has well been called its heroic age.

Founded in a spirit of religious zeal for the conversion of the savages, its struggle for existence in a wild country of warring races fills up a strange and interesting chapter in early American history. Quebec, Three Rivers, and Montreal were for a long time the only settlements of any consequence in Canada. Quebec was the great stronghold and starting-point of French trade and colonization. There too the Jesuit missionaries had their headquarters, and sent their reports, which were combined into the famous "Relations," so valuable now as history. Three Rivers, the next important trading-post, was a long stride up the St.

Lawrence and into the wilderness. There, as elsewhere, the French sought to share their faith with the Indians. Kateri's Algonquin mother, it will be remembered, had been baptized at Three Rivers before her capture by the Iroquois. Beyond that point no permanent settlers had ventured until Montreal, the strange, solitary island city, was established for no other purpose than to convert the redmen to Christianity. The whole plan was made in France by a company of devout and wealthy persons. Two of the leading spirits, not yet mentioned, were M. Olier, an ecclesiastic, and M. de la Dauversiere, a pious layman. The site for the city was chosen, and the island bought, by men who had no practical knowledge of the country. It was far inland, and dependent entirely on its own resources when the Indians were at war. The people of Quebec did not always know whether Montreal existed or not, so beset were its inhabitants at times by the unconverted, warlike kindred of Kateri. The raids of the Mohawks were checked by De Tracy, in 1666; but after all, they were only one of five unfriendly nations who were liable to brandish the tomahawk at any time against the French. In 1678 there was a general peace along the whole line, except for local and religious persecutions, such as Kateri had endured before coming to the Sault.

The worst days for Montreal had been about twenty years before, when their allies the Hurons were annihilated as a nation by the terrible Iroquois. At that time the French lived in a whirlwind of war and havoc.

The remnant of Hurons that remained with them after the war, were gathered together in the mission village of Lorette near Quebec.

Sillery, in the same vicinity, was a settlement of the Christian Algonquins. In Kateri's time these two missions nestled under the protecting guns of Quebec; just as the Indians of the Praying Castle where Kateri lived, and the Iroquois of the Sulpician mission on the slope of Mount Royal, felt bound to maintain a close friendship for defence, as well as through inclination, with their French neighbors at Montreal. The people of the Sault and the people of the Mountain were always welcomed and graciously received by the colonists of Ville-Marie.

There were many things for them to see and learn there; but if the Hotel Dieu and the convent were at one end of the town, the brewery and the fort were at the other, and on the whole the Jesuit Fathers at the Sault liked it better when their Indians stayed at the mission. The trader of Montreal was much the same sort of man as the trader of Fort Orange. The early colonial town of the Frenchman, however, differed in many respects from the town of the Dutchman. It will be interesting, therefore, to follow Kateri as she leaves her canoe on the pebbly sh.o.r.e, and wander with her through the strange, new streets of the Canadian town, just as we followed her uncle long ago on his journey to Albany on the sh.o.r.e of the Hudson. His pack of beaver-skins was examined and handled by the well-to-do traders of Handelaer Street. So do the companions of Kateri dispose of their Indian wares with equal ease in the long and important Rue St. Paul. Like the Dutch thoroughfare, it runs parallel with the river; all the dwellings on one side have their backs turned to the water, but their gardens do not extend all the way to the water's edge, as at Albany; there are vacant building lots in the rear on the river-bank.

"The houses built of wood, _piece sur piece_, or of rounded pebbles stuck together with cement, are all in the same style,--a rectangle covered with a steep roof slightly overtopped by the stone chimney; two skylights to admit light into the garret on the long sides; a door set between two windows, and the walls pierced with loop-holes for defence against the Iroquois. The interior is not less simple,--one large hall where all the family live, as in Bretagne; a bed or lounge, a sort of long coffer or chest with a cover that is opened out in the evening, into which a mattress is spread, and where the children sleep; some chairs or small benches; the extra clothing and the gun, hung up on the wall."[63]

This extra clothing was as unpretentious in style as the dwelling. A plain woollen garment, with capot, girdle, and _tuque_, was the uniform of the Canadian colonist. Even the first governor, Sieur de Maisonneuve, wore it the greater part of the year, except on state occasions. Of course, in the hottest weather this warm outer garment was exchanged for a cooler shirt and a broad-brimmed hat; then the woollen coats with snow-shoes and other winter belongings of the settler were hung on pegs against the wall.

The home-trained garrison of Montreal felt proud to hear the Viceroy de Tracy call them his "capots bleus," for they knew right well he could scarcely have triumphed over the Mohawks without their a.s.sistance. His veterans, scarred in the Turkish wars, were indeed a sorry sight to behold on the expedition of 1666, when they stumbled about in the snow, and lost their way in the forest of northern New York. Kateri remembered these soldiers well. She saw them in her childhood, when they were enemies and invaders of her home, and so she did not care to see them again. A glance at the fort and the fortified houses, the mills, the governor's house, and the _seminaire_ was enough for her. Already she stood at the corner of the Rue St. Paul and the Rue St. Joseph. If she chose to follow up the latter street, it would take her to the great square where the foundations of the new church of Notre Dame had been laid. But the chapel of the Hotel Dieu was right before her, and she entered there. The hospital Sisters were chanting their office behind a wooden grating. Why were they out of sight? What did it all mean? She questioned her comrades, and they told her what little they themselves knew about the nuns. Not content with visiting the chapel, they gained permission to enter the hospital. What Kateri saw at the entrance on the Rue St. Paul was a great, heavy wooden door, opening into a small building. Behind this was a large enclosure or yard surrounded by a high stockade wall for defence, and containing several buildings, mostly of wood and somewhat out of repair. The hospital Sisters, though chiefly of n.o.ble rank, were poorly lodged and suffered many privations. The hospital was endowed by a lady of fortune in Paris, but it had been built and equipped under the eyes of Mademoiselle Manse, who cared for the sick herself till the Sisters came from France. After that she had dwelt close by them, and continued in charge of their financial affairs until her death. The nuns possessed some cows and other domestic animals. There was also a little bakery in one part of the enclosure. In another place Soeur de Bresoles had a garden marked off, where she cultivated medicinal drugs. It was all very simple and primitive, but strange and marvellous to the eyes of Kateri. She saw how good the Sisters were to the sick, and how simply and poorly they lived themselves. Their own beds were in a rough attic above the wards for the sick. Their linen was spotless, but the observant Kateri could not fail to see that their dresses were patched in many places. Though each of these ladies brought a _dot_ with her to the convent when she entered the order in France, they were often left with no resources save what their own industry brought them in the wilds of Canada, and even the hospital fund was lost to them through bad management over the sea; but no misfortune could daunt them in their work of curing and converting the Indians, and caring for the disabled colonists. They refused every overture to return to Europe, and shared in all the vicissitudes of the struggling colony, rich at least in the good-will of its people.

In the convent across the street from the Hotel Dieu, Kateri and her friend were warmly welcomed by Marguerite Bourgeois and the Sisters of the Congregation. It is probable that the two young Indian girls stayed over night at the convent, for Soeur Bourgeois delighted in entertaining just such guests, to shield them from all harm while in the city, and to win them to the practice of virtue and piety. There is every reason to believe that Kateri was much influenced and stimulated in her spiritual aspirations by what she saw there, and above all by coming in contact with the strong and saintly character of the woman who had founded so useful an order. Marguerite Bourgeois and her companions were successful in doing good from the very first; and to-day the great Villa-Maria, which is the outgrowth of her humble but earnest efforts, is set like a queenly diadem on the brow of Mount Royal. There the young girls of America are still attracted, sheltered, taught, and incited by the nuns of her order to a life of virtue and good deeds, in much the same spirit that the early colonial belles and Indian maidens were gathered together long ago by Marguerite Bourgeois herself, the very first schoolmistress of the town. She was accustomed to wear a plain black dress, with a deep pointed linen collar, almost a little cape; besides this, something that might be called either a short veil worn like a hood or a large black kerchief was drawn over her head and knotted loosely under her chin. In her later days the edges of a white cap which she wore under this sombre head-dress, showed about her face. Her nuns still wear a costume which she prescribed for them. There is nothing peculiar about their black dress or the usual nun's veil which falls in loose folds from the head and shoulders, but they wear an odd linen head-dress with three points, which is drawn together under the chin and projects downward in a stiff fold. Some of the sweetest of faces may be seen framed in this ungainly gear. The hooded kerchief of Marguerite Bourgeois was more pleasing, but she did not choose that it should be very comfortable. A sister of hers discovered one day that the cap she wore under this kerchief was all bristling with bent pins. She was, perhaps, allowing them to p.r.i.c.k her into a remembrance of her sins at the very time she received Kateri and her friend with a gracious smile and led them into the convent. Several of the nuns were teaching their cla.s.ses. Most of the children at the school were Canadians, but there were also Indian girls under her care, younger than Kateri, who could read and write and spin. Several of these were boarding pupils, supported by pensions from the King, Louis XIV. These became, under the care of the Sisters, like demure little convent girls, scarcely to be distinguished from the Canadian children, except by their Indian features. The studious and modest little Gannensagwas, though now sent to the new school at the Mountain for a time, felt more at home in the Rue St. Paul, where she had spent four or five years. An Onondaga girl, Attontinon, called Mary Barbara at her baptism, was nearer Kateri's age.

She also aspired to join the sisterhood, but was as yet too recently converted from heathenism to be admitted.

Kateri felt shy and out of place, no doubt, among the little scholars whom she saw at Ville-Marie, even though some of them were Indians. She felt, perhaps, as a wild deer of the forest might who chanced to stray into a park where petted fawns looked knowingly up at the half-frightened intruder, as they quietly nibbled gra.s.s from the hands of the keepers. If the young Mohawk girl did not turn suddenly about and take the nearest path to the woods and thickets, it was only because her timidity was held in check by a great eagerness to learn all she could about the life of those beautiful, quiet nuns. She knew they had come far away from their own country to teach the Iroquois and the Algonquins as well as the Canadian children to live like Christians. Kateri did not ask all the questions that came into her mind; but this much she certainly learned,--that the sisters lived unmarried, apart from the rest of the people, and spent much time in prayer. She had an opportunity also to observe some of their daily exercises and little practices of piety. It is more than likely that she went with them on a visit of devotion to the stone chapel of Bon Secours, a little way out of the town. It was just finished at that time; and a small statue of Our Lady, brought from France by Soeur Bourgeois, had been placed there. The officials of the town secured the garret of the church for a temporary a.r.s.enal to store their ammunition. There was no other place as yet in Ville-Marie that was fireproof. The Church of Bon Secours has always been a favorite shrine. Kateri's devotion to the Blessed Virgin would naturally lead her there before she left the city. She was both interested and attracted during her stay in Montreal by everything she saw at the Convent of Notre Dame and at the Hotel Dieu. But she gave no intimation of a wish to remain with the nuns at either of these establishments. Her whole life had been the life of an untamed Indian.

She had accepted Christianity in the only way in which under the circ.u.mstances it could possibly have been offered to her,--that is to say, Christianity pure and simple, with few of the trappings of European civilization. She was a living proof that an Indian could be thoroughly Christianized without being civilized at all in the ordinary sense of the word. She was still a child of the woods, and out of her element elsewhere. It was with scarce a regret, then, that she returned with her friend to the Sault, and resumed her usual life there. But her visit to Montreal had given her an intimation of something well known to the Christians of Europe, which had not been taught at the mission. The married state was frequently praised there, and always recommended to the Indians. The blackgowns did not venture to give the counsel of Saint Paul concerning virginity, to a people that were but just learning to walk in the way of the commandments. But Kateri had been struck by the example of the Jesuit Fathers themselves, and her penetrating mind had already guessed that something was withheld from her on this point; after her visit to the nuns at Montreal she was confirmed more than ever in her resolve to remain unmarried.

Kateri and Therese talked the matter over when she returned to the Sault; and together they formed a plan for carrying out their idea of living a perfect life. It was a romantic rather than a practical project, but so quaint and beautiful that it is well worth telling. In the first place Therese was discreet enough to recommend that they should have an older woman with them who would know all about the affair from the first. She said she knew just the right sort of a person,--a good Christian, advanced in years, who had lived for some time at Quebec and also at Lorette, the older Huron mission which was conducted on the same plan as the Iroquois mission at the Sault. The name of this woman was Marie Skarichions. Kateri agreed to what her friend suggested, and on a certain day they all three a.s.sembled at the foot of the tall cross on the river-bank, that they might consult together without interruption. It was a quiet, dreamy spot, and always the favorite resort of Kateri for prayer and meditation, or confidential interviews with her friend. No sooner were they seated there, than the old woman began to talk, and to tell them that she also would gladly live as they wished to live; that she had been taken care of once by the Sisters at Quebec when she was sick; that she knew just how they lived, for she had noticed them particularly. She went on to say that she and Therese and Kateri must never separate, that they must all dress just alike, and live together in one lodge. Kateri listened eagerly to all this talk, hoping to gather some profit from it, and begging the woman not to conceal from her anything she knew that would make her soul more pleasing to G.o.d. As their imaginations grew more and more excited in picturing to one another the ideal life they would lead in their little community, shut off from everything that might distract them from prayer and holy thoughts, their eyes fell naturally enough upon the solitary unfrequented Isle-aux-Herons which lay off in the midst of the rapids.

"There!" they said, with sudden enthusiasm, as they pointed to the island,--"there is the place for our lodge of prayer!" and they began to portion it off in their thoughts, and to plan an oratory with a cross under the trees; they also tried to make out a rule of life for themselves. But all at once they remembered Father Fremin, the head of the mission, and wondered what he would think of their project. Kateri had great respect for authority, and a true spirit of obedience. They agreed to do nothing without the consent of the blackgown. One of them went at once to find him and told him why they were a.s.sembled, asking him at the same time if he did not approve of their plan. But alas! the unfortunate messenger came back to the other two covered with confusion.

The blackgown, she said, had only laughed heartily at all their beautiful projects, and made light of them, saying that they were too young in the faith to think of such a thing as founding a convent. It was too much out of the ordinary way, and quite unsuitable. The Isle-aux-Herons was altogether too far from the village. The young men going back and forth from Montreal would be always in their cabin. Upon further consideration, they concluded that, after all, what the Father said was reasonable, and _they thought no more of their convent of the_ "_Isle-aux-Herons_."

But Kateri, for her part, was determined to see the Father herself a little later, and get from him, if possible, some further information about the life she wished to lead. Unforeseen circ.u.mstances obliged her much sooner than she expected to seek the counsel and advice of Father Cholenec on this very subject, for the adopted sister of Kateri was even then forming plans of her own for the disposal of her young relative.

FOOTNOTES:

[62] The parish church of Notre Dame, with its two square towers, is often called by mistake the Cathedral. This t.i.tle belongs to St.

Peter's,--a more modern structure, with a great dome shaped like that of St. Peter's at Rome.

[63] Histoire et Vie de M. Paul de Chomedey, Sieur de Maisonneuve, 1640-1672, par P. Rousseau.

CHAPTER XXI.

"I AM NOT ANY LONGER MY OWN."

Kateri Tekakwitha had already refused to be united to a heathen brave.

"But a Christian marriage," said her sister to Anastasia, "is a very different affair." The matchmakers were again lying in wait for her. It is Father Cholenec who gives us the best account of this final contest with Tekakwitha on the matrimonial question. He was her spiritual director at the time, and was consulted by the parties on both sides.

While Fremin was absent in France, he had charge of the Mission, with Chauchetiere as a.s.sistant. The following version of what occurred to disturb Kateri in the fall of 1678 is taken entire from Cholenec's letter (dated the 27th of August, 1715):--

"Interested views inspired her sister with the design of marrying her. She supposed there was not a young man in the Mission du Sault who would not be ambitious of the honor of being united to so virtuous a female; and that thus having the whole village from which to make her choice, she would be able to select for her brother-in-law some able hunter who would bring abundance to the cabin. She expected indeed to meet with difficulties on the part of Catherine, for she was not ignorant of the persecutions this generous girl had already suffered, and the constancy with which she had sustained them, but she persuaded herself that the force of reason would finally vanquish her opposition. She selected, therefore, a particular day, and after having shown Catherine even more affection than ordinary, she addressed her with that eloquence which is so natural to these Indians when they are engaged in anything which concerns their interests.

'I must confess, my dear sister,' said she, with a manner full of sweetness and affability, 'you are under great obligations to the Lord for having brought you, as well as ourselves, from our unhappy country, and for having conducted you to the Mission du Sault, where everything is favorable to your piety.

If you are rejoiced to be here, I have no less satisfaction at having you with me. You, every day, indeed, increase our pleasure by the wisdom of your conduct, which draws upon you general esteem and approbation. There only remains one thing for you to do to complete our happiness, which is to think seriously of establishing yourself by a good and judicious marriage. All the young girls among us take this course; you are of an age to act as they do, and you are bound to do so even more particularly than others, either to shun the occasions of sin, or to supply the necessities of life. It is true that it is a source of great pleasure to us, both to your brother-in-law and myself, to furnish these things for you, but you know that he is in the decline of life, and that we are charged with the care of a large family. If you were to be deprived of us, to whom could you have recourse? Think of these things, Catherine; provide for yourself a refuge from the evils which accompany poverty; and determine as soon as possible to prepare to avoid them, while you can do it so easily, and in a way so advantageous both to yourself and to our family.'

There was nothing which Catherine less expected than a proposition of this kind; but the kindness and respect she felt for her sister induced her to conceal her pain, and she contented herself with merely answering that she thanked her for this advice, but the step was of great consequence, and she would think of it seriously. It was thus that she warded off the first attack. She immediately came to seek me, to complain bitterly of these importunate solicitations of her sister. As I did not appear to accede entirely to her reasoning, and for the purpose of proving her, dwelt on those considerations which ought to incline her to marriage, 'Ah, my Father,' said she, '_I am not any longer my own._ I have given myself entirely to Jesus Christ, and it is not possible for me to change masters.

The poverty with which I am threatened gives me no uneasiness.

So little is requisite to supply the necessities of this wretched life, that my labor can furnish this, and I can always find something to cover me.' I sent her away, saying that she should think well on the subject, for it was one which merited the most serious attention.

Scarcely had she returned to the cabin, when her sister, impatient to bring her over to her views, pressed her anew to end her wavering by forming an advantageous settlement. But finding from the reply of Catherine, that it was useless to attempt to change her mind, she determined to enlist Anastasia in her interests, since they both regarded her as their mother.

In this she was successful. Anastasia was readily induced to believe that Catherine had too hastily formed her resolution, and therefore employed all that influence which age and virtue gave her over the mind of the young girl, to persuade her that marriage was the only part she ought to take.