4. The Successes of the Mission. “The Scourge of the Infant Church.” Raids of the Iroquois. The Fearless Missionary. Death and Destruction. The Destruction of the Converted Tribe and the Downfall of the Mission

The epidemic wrought terrible devastation in the Huron villages. “Where eight years ago,” writes Jesuit Vimont, there were a hundred huts, now scarcely five or six are to be seen. The leader who once had eight hundred warriors now has only thirty or forty; and instead of fleets of three or four hundred canoes, we see less than a tenth of that number[1]. Such a calamity had an overwhelming effect on the moral state of the Hurons. They became weak and cowardly. They suffered constant failures both in hunting and in clashes with hostile tribes. But the weaker they became, the bolder and more daring became their bitterest enemies, the Iroquois. They began to make raids on neighboring Huron villages more frequently and attacked their parties on the Saint Lawrence River more boldly, constantly capturing and taking away captives, sometimes by the hundreds[2]. A particular advantage over the Hurons was given to them by weapons which they obtained from the Dutch in exchange for furs and which they mastered with remarkable speed. They were, in the words of Vimont, “the scourge of the infant church” of the Hurons[3]. Winter was still a relatively safer time; but as soon as the ice broke on the rivers, Iroquois appeared everywhere on their swift canoes and spread death and destruction. Soon they penetrated into the interior of Huron territory, and the story of their deeds there is a story of horror and terrible atrocities.

By 1645, the Jesuits had spread their mission network throughout the entire Huron country. There was not a village without one or two missionaries. Oppressed by misfortunes, the Hurons proved more receptive, willingly yielded to the persuasion of the Jesuits, and were baptized. In the principal villages, the population was already half Christian, and in all of them chapels were established and proper divine worship was conducted, marked by the ringing of bells. The most important center of the mission was the village of Ossosane, or, as the Jesuits called it, the Mission of the Annunciation, near Lake Huron. Other missions were located in the villages of Saint Joseph, Saint Ignatius, Saint Michael, and Saint John the Baptist—names given by the Jesuits in honor of the saints for whom the missions were named[4]. Christianity was not merely nominal but touched the moral life of the Native peoples. Thus, the converts rarely participated in the burning of captives, and sometimes even protested against it[5]. The pagan faction was still strong and at times produced outbursts of fury against the Jesuits, accusing them of the people’s misfortunes. “Your prayer[6] is killing us,” the pagans said. Your books and your prayer-cord rosaries have bewitched our country. Before you arrived, we were happy and prosperous. You are sorcerers. Your magic is killing our corn and bringing diseases and the Iroquois. Sometimes they resorted to fabrications to stir up animosity against the Jesuits and spread monstrous rumors that found credence among the credulous savages[7]. In 1648, the fury of the pagan faction grew to such a point that a Frenchman, a novice of the Jesuits, fell victim to it and was killed by Native peoples[8]. But this was the last outbreak of paganism, and the Native peoples themselves afterward solemnly repented before the Jesuits, asking their forgiveness and help in their sufferings[9]. The Jesuits were then able to continue their missionary work peacefully. Dividing the Huron settlements among themselves, they performed masses in all of them, taught the savages the truths of faith, and rejoiced in a rich harvest. But their joy was short-lived. The “scourge of the new church” soon dealt it a mortal blow.

In the southern reaches of the Huron country lay a fairly large settlement named by the Jesuits the city of Saint Joseph. It consisted of four hundred families and was one of the strongest bulwarks against attacks from the Iroquois. In the summer of 1648, all the warriors of the settlement set out on a raid and war against the Iroquois. In the village remained only women and children, and among them was the Jesuit Daniel. On the morning of July 4th, he was celebrating mass in a birch-bark chapel. The mass had just ended and the Native peoples, kneeling, were listening to the final blessing, when suddenly a terrible cry rang out: “Iroquois! Iroquois!” Everything immediately fell into confusion. Daniel ran out of the church, saw the Iroquois climbing over the palisade, gathered several warriors for defense, and himself rushed back to the church where trembling and weeping crowds of women and children had gathered. Some of them had not yet been baptized, and the missionary hastened to secure their eternal salvation in view of inevitable earthly ruin. He moistened his cloth and, sprinkling the crowd with it, pronounced the words of baptism. “Brothers,” he said, “today we will be in heaven.” But the Iroquois, breaking through the weak defense, had already burst into the village. The air resounded with wild cries of triumph. “Flee,” the missionary cried to his wretched flock, “I will stay here and we shall meet again in heaven.” The flock fled and many were able to slip away into the forest by hidden paths. The wild band of beast-like creatures approached the chapel. Daniel walked toward them with courage and calm. When they saw him in his brilliant church vestments, with fearless gaze fixed upon them, they stopped in astonishment; but then recovered, drew their bows, and a shower of arrows pierced him through and through, and as he fell he whispered the name of Jesus. With a cry the savages rushed at him, tore off his garment, cut his body, and gathering handfuls of his blood, washed their savage faces with it to acquire his fearless courage. The entire settlement was then enveloped in flames, and by the next day nothing remained but a heap of ash and a mass of charred bodies, while the Iroquois returned home triumphantly with seven hundred captives for their bloody orgies[10].

Footnotes

[9] In recounting this matter, Rageneau presents a remarkable specimen of Indian eloquence. At a council assembled for this purpose, an old Indian chief addressed the Jesuit Rageneau with the following speech: “My brother,” began the eloquent speaker, “see here, all our tribes have gathered. (He named them in turn). We are only a handful; you are the support and strength of this people. Thunder has fallen from heaven and the earth has cracked. We shall fall into the crevasses if you do not support us. Have mercy upon us. We are here not so much to speak as to weep over our losses and yours. Our country is only a skeleton, without flesh and sinews, and its bones hang by threads. The demon of hell has placed a tomahawk in the hand of a murderer. Is it you, sun, whose rays shine upon us, who brought him to do this deed? Why did you not darken your light so that he would be struck with horror at his wickedness? Were you his accomplice? No, because he walked in darkness and did not see where he was striking. This wretched murderer thought he was aiming at a Frenchman’s head, but the blow fell on his country and dealt it a mortal wound. The earth opens to receive the blood of an innocent victim, and its crevasse will swallow us. We are all guilty. The Iroquois rejoice at his death and exult; they see that our weapons have turned against us, and they know well that our people are near their end. Brother, have mercy on this people. You alone can restore it to life. You can gather its scattered bones and close the crevasse that has opened to swallow us. Have mercy on your country. I call it yours because you are its master; and we have come here, like criminals, to receive your judgment, if you do not have mercy on us. Have mercy on those who condemn themselves and come begging forgiveness. You gave strength to the people by settling among them; and if you abandon us, we shall be like a scrap of straw torn from the earth and scattered by the wind. This country is like an island, flooded by waves before the first storm, which will altogether sweep it away. Strengthen it in its foundation and posterity will never cease to praise you. When we first heard of this murder, we could do nothing but weep; and now we are ready to accept your orders and fulfill your demands. Speak then, and ask for whatever satisfaction you desire; our life and our possessions are all yours. And even if we must rob our own children to satisfy you, we shall tell them they must not blame you, but rather the one whose crime has made us all guilty. Our anger is against him; but toward you we feel only love. He destroyed our life, and you will restore it, if only you will speak and tell us what we must do for you.” After quoting this speech, Rageneau says it is a faithful translation. If so, his remark that eloquence is more a gift of nature than an art is beyond question.