Chapter XVIII: Front Matter (18)

Yet this was but romance. The real, detailed account of the missionary’s labors, the details which let us enter the sanctuary of his pious heart, were all the time lying unused in Canada. They were in the college of Quebec when Charlevoix was teaching in that institution as a young scholastic; but if he then already projected his history of the colony, no one of the old fathers seems to have opened to him the writings of the early founders of the mission. It was the same when he returned to make the tour through the country under the auspices of the government and with a view to its development.

The papers lay unnoticed, and when Louis XV.’s neglect of his American empire neutralized all the genius of Montcalm and the gallantry of his French and Canadian soldiery, the mission of the Jesuit Fathers was broken up. The precious archives were plundered; but some documents reached pious hands, who laid them up with their own convent archives, till the Society of Jesus returned to the land where it could boast of so glorious a career.

Among these papers were accounts of the last labors and death of Father Marquette and of the removal of his remains, prepared for publication by Father Dablon; Marquette’s journal of his great expedition; the very map he drew; and a letter left unfinished when the angel of death sheathed his sword by the banks of the Michigan River.

Father Felix Martin, one of the earliest to revive the old Canadian mission, received these treasures with joy, and has since gleaned far and wide to add to our material for the wonderful mission labors of the Jesuit pioneers. He has published many works, and aided in far more. With a kindness not easy to repay he permitted the writer to use the documents relating to Marquette in preparing a work on “The Discovery and Exploration of the Mississippi Valley.”

From these authentic contemporary documents we learn the real story of Father Marquette’s last labors. As he was returning from his voyage down the Mississippi, he promised the Kaskaskia Indians, who then occupied towns in the upper valley of the Illinois, that he would return to teach them the faith which he announced. His health, broken by exposure and mission labor on the St. Lawrence and the Upper Lakes, was very frail, but he had no idea of rest. Devoted in an especial manner to the great privilege of Mary—her Immaculate Conception—he named the great artery of our continent The River of the Immaculate Conception, and in his heart bestowed the same name on the mission which he hoped to found among the Kaskaskias.

To enter upon that work, so dear to his piety, he needed permission from his distant superior. When the permission came he took leave of the Mackinac mission which he had founded, and pushed off his bark canoe into Lake Michigan. The autumn was well advanced—for it was the 25th of October, 1674—and the reddening forests swayed in the chill lake winds as he glided along the western shore. Before he reached the southern extremity winter was upon him with its cold and snows, and the disease which had been checked, but not conquered, again claimed the frail frame. It could not quench his courage, for he kept on in his open canoe on the wintry lake till the 4th of December, when he reached Chicago. There he had hoped to ascend the river and by a portage reach the Illinois. It was too late. The ice had closed the stream, and a winter march was beyond his strength. His two men, simple, faithful companions, erected a log hut, home and chapel, the first dwelling and first church of Chicago. Praying to Our Lady to enable him to reach his destination, offering the Holy Sacrifice whenever his illness permitted, receiving delegations from his flock, the Kaskaskias, the winter waned away in the pious foundation of the white settlement at Chicago.

With the opening of spring Marquette set out, and his last letter notes his progress till the 6th of April, 1675. Two days after he was among the Kaskaskias, and, rearing his altar on the prairie which lies between the present town of Utica and the Illinois river, he offered up the Mass on Maundy Thursday, and began the instruction of the willing Indians who gathered around him. A few days only were allotted to him, when, after Easter, he was again stricken down. If he would die in the arms of his brethren at Mackinac, he saw that he must depart at once; for he felt that the days of his sojourning were rapidly closing. Escorted by the Kaskaskias, who were deeply impressed by the zeal that could so battle with death, the missionary reached Lake Michigan, on the eastern side. Although that shore was as yet unknown, his faithful men launched his canoe. “His strength, however, failed so much,” says Father Dablon, whose words we shall now quote, “that his men despaired of being able to convey him alive to their journey’s end; for, in fact, he became so weak and so exhausted that he could no longer help himself, nor even stir, and had to be handled and carried like a child. He nevertheless maintained in this state an admirable resignation, joy, and gentleness, consoling his beloved companions, and encouraging them to suffer courageously all the hardships of this voyage, assuring them that our Lord would not forsake them when he was gone. It was during this navigation that he began to prepare more particularly for death, passing his time in colloquies with our Lord, with his holy Mother, with his angel guardian, or with all heaven. He was often heard pronouncing these words: ‘I believe that my Redeemer liveth,’ or ‘Mary, Mother of grace, Mother of God, remember me.’ Besides a spiritual reading made for him every day, he toward the close asked them to read him his meditation on the preparation for death, which he carried about him; he recited his breviary every day; and although he was so low that both sight and strength had greatly failed, he did not omit it till the last day of his life, when his companions excited his scruples. A week before his death he had the precaution to bless some holy-water to serve him during the rest of his illness, in his agony, and at his burial, and he instructed his companions how to use it.

“On the eve of his death, which was a Friday, he told them, all radiant with joy, that it would take place on the morrow. During the whole day he conversed with them about the manner of his burial, the way in which he should be laid out, the place to be selected for his interment; how they should arrange his hands, feet, and face, and how they should raise a cross over his grave. He even went so far as to enjoin them, only three hours before he expired, to take his chapel-bell, as soon as he was dead, and ring it while they carried him to the grave. Of all this he spoke so calmly and collectedly that you would have thought he spoke of the death and burial of another, and not of his own.

“Thus did he speak to them as he sailed along the lake, till, perceiving the mouth of a river, with an eminence on the bank which he thought suited for his burial, he told them that it was the place of his last repose. They wished, however, to pass on, as the weather permitted it and the day was not far advanced; but God raised a contrary wind, which obliged them to return and enter the river which the father had designated.

“They then carried him ashore, kindled a little fire, and raised a wretched bark cabin for his use, laying him in it with as little discomfort as they could; but they were so depressed by sadness that, as they afterwards said, they did not know what they were doing.

“The father being thus stretched on the shore like St. Francis Xavier, as he had always so ardently desired, and left alone amid those forests—for his companions were engaged in unloading—he had leisure to repeat all the acts in which he had employed himself during the preceding days.

“When his dear companions afterwards came up, all dejected, he consoled them, and gave them hopes that God would take care of them after his death in those new and unknown countries; he gave them his last instructions, thanked them for all the charity they had shown him during the voyage, begged their pardon for the trouble he had given them, directed them also to ask pardon in his name of all our fathers and brothers in the Ottawa country, and then disposed them to receive the sacrament of penance, which he administered to them for the last time. He also gave them a paper on which he had written all his faults since his last confession, to be given to his superior, to oblige him to pray to God more earnestly for him. In fine, he promised not to forget them in heaven, and as he was very kind-hearted, and knew them to be worn out with the toil of the preceding days, he bade them go and take a little rest, assuring them that his hour was not yet so near, but that he would wake them when it was time—as, in fact, he did two or three hours after, calling them when about to enter into his agony.

“When they came near he embraced them again for the last time, while they melted in tears at his feet. He then asked for the holy water and his reliquary, and, taking off his crucifix, which he always wore hanging from his neck, he placed it in the hands of one of his companions, asking him to hold it constantly opposite him, raised before his eyes. Feeling that he had but a little while to live, he made a last effort, clasped his hands, and, with his eyes fixed sweetly on his crucifix, he pronounced aloud his profession of faith, and thanked the divine Majesty for the immense favor he bestowed upon him in allowing him to die in the Society of Jesus, to die in it as a missionary of Jesus Christ, and above all to die in it, as he had always asked, in a wretched cabin, amid the forests, destitute of all human aid.

“On this he became silent, conversing inwardly with God; yet from time to time words escaped him: ‘_Sistinuit anima mea in verbo ejus_,’ or ‘_Mater Dei, memento mei_,’ which were the last words he uttered before entering into his agony, which was very calm and gentle.

“He had prayed his companions to remind him, when they saw him about to expire, to pronounce frequently the names of Jesus and Mary, if he did not do so himself; they did not neglect this; and when they thought him about to pass away one cried aloud, ‘Jesus! Mary!’ which he several times repeated distinctly, and then, as if at those sacred names something had appeared to him, he suddenly raised his eyes above his crucifix, fixing them apparently upon some object, which he seemed to regard with pleasure; and thus, with a countenance all radiant with smiles, he expired without a struggle, and so gently that it might be called a quiet sleep.

“His two poor companions, after shedding many tears over his body, and having laid it out as he had directed, carried it devoutly to the grave, ringing the bell according to his injunction, and raised a large cross near it to serve as a mark for all who passed....

“God did not permit so precious a deposit to remain unhonored and forgotten amid the forests. The Indians, called Kiskakons, who have for nearly ten years publicly professed Christianity, in which they were first instructed by Father Marquette when stationed at La Pointe du St. Esprit, at the extremity of Lake Superior, were hunting last winter not far from Lake Illinois (Michigan), and, as they were returning early in the spring, they resolved to pass by the tomb of their good father, whom they tenderly loved; and God even gave them the thought of taking his bones and conveying them to our church at the mission of St. Ignatius, at Missilimakinac, where they reside.

“They accordingly repaired to the spot and deliberated together, resolving to act with their father as they usually do with those whom they respect. They accordingly opened the grave, unrolled the body, and, though the flesh and intestines were all dried up, they found it entire, without the skin being in any way injured. This did not prevent their dissecting it according to custom. They washed the bones and dried them in the sun; then, putting them neatly in a box of birch bark, they set out to bear them to our house of St. Ignatius.

“The convoy consisted of nearly thirty canoes in excellent order, including even a good number of Iroquois, who had joined our Algonquins to honor the ceremony. As they approached our house, Father Nouvel, who is superior, went to meet them with Father Pierson, accompanied by all the French and Indians of the place, and, having caused the convoy to stop, he made the ordinary interrogations to verify the fact that the body which they bore was really Father Marquette’s. Then, before they landed, he intoned the _De Profundis_ in sight of the thirty canoes still on the water, and of all the people on the shore. After this the body was carried to the church, observing all that the ritual prescribes for such ceremonies. It remained exposed under his catafalque all that day, which was Whitsun Monday, the 8th of June; and the next day, when all the funeral honors had been paid it, it was deposited in a little vault in the middle of the church, where he reposes as the Guardian-Angel of our Ottawa missions. The Indians often come to pray on his tomb.”

We are not writing his life, and will not enter upon the supernatural favors ascribed to his intercession by French and Indians. His grave was revered as a holy spot, and many a pilgrimage was made to it to invoke his intercession.

The remains of the pious missionary lay in the chapel undoubtedly as long as it subsisted. This, however, was not for many years. A new French post was begun at Detroit in 1701 by La Motte Cadillac. The Hurons and Ottawas at Michilimackinac immediately emigrated and planted new villages near the rising town. Michilimackinac became deserted, except by scattered bands of Indians or white bush-lopers, as savage as the red men among whom they lived. The missionaries were in constant peril and unable to produce any fruit. They could not follow their old flocks to Detroit, as the commandant was strongly opposed to them and had a Recollect father as chaplain of the post. There was no alternative except to abandon Michilimackinac. The missionaries, not wishing the church to be profaned or become a resort of the lawless, set fire to their house and chapel in 1706 and returned to Quebec. The mission ground became once more a wilderness.

In this disheartening departure what became of the remains of Father Marquette? If the missionaries bore them to Quebec as a precious deposit, some entry of their reinterment would appear on the Canadian registers, which are extremely full and well preserved. Father Nouvel and Father Pierson, who received and interred them at the mission, were both dead, and their successors might not recall the facts. The silence as to any removal, in Charlevoix and other writers, leads us to believe that the bones remained interred beneath the ruined church. Charlevoix, who notes, as we have seen, their removal to Mackinac, and is correct on this point, was at Quebec College in 1706 when the missionaries came down, and could scarcely have forgotten the ceremony of reinterring the remains of Father Marquette, had it taken place at Quebec.

Taking this as a fact, that the bones of the venerable missionary, buried in their bark box, were left there, the next question is: Where did the church stand?

A doubt at once arises. Three spots have borne the name of Michilimackinac: the island in the strait, Point St. Ignace on the shore to the north, and the extremity of the peninsula at the south. The Jesuit Relations as printed at the time, and those which remained in manuscript till they were printed in our time, Marquette’s journal and letter, do not speak in such positive terms that we can decide whether it was on the island or the northern shore. Arguments have been deduced from them on either side of the question. On the map annexed to the Relations of 1671 the words Mission de St. Ignace are on the mainland above, not on the island, and there is no cross or mark at the island to make the name refer to it. On Marquette’s own map the “St. Ignace” appears to refer to the northern shore, so that their testimony is in favor of that position.

The next work that treats of Michilimackinac is the Recollect Father Hennepin’s first volume, _Description de la Louisiane_, published in 1688. In this (p. 59) he distinctly says: “Missilimackinac is a point of land at the entrance and north of the strait by which Lake Dauphin [Michigan] empties into that of Orleans” (Huron). He mentions the Huron village with its palisade on a great point of land opposite Michilimackinac island, the Ottawas, and a chapel where he said Mass August 26, 1678. The map in Le Clercq’s _Gaspesie_, dated 1691, shows the Jesuit mission on the point north of the strait, and Father Membré, in Le Clercq’s _Etablissement_, mentions it as in that position. In Hennepin’s later work, the _Nouvel Découverte_, Utrecht, 1697, he says (p. 134): “There are Indian villages in these two places. Those who are established at the point of land of Missilimackinac are Hurons, and the others, who are at five or six arpens beyond, are named the Outtaouatz.” He then, as before, mentions saying Mass in the chapel at the Ottawas.

The Jesuit Relation of 1673–9 (pp. 58, 59) mentions the “house where we make our abode ordinarily, and where is the church of St. Ignatius, which serves for the Hurons,” and mentions a small bark chapel three-quarters of a league distant and near the Ottawas. This latter chapel was evidently the one where Father Hennepin officiated in 1678 or, as he says elsewhere, 1679.

The relative positions of the Indian villages and the church thus indicated in Hennepin’s account are fortunately laid down still more clearly on a small map of Michilimackinac found in the _Nouveaux Voyages_ de M. le Baron de La Hontan, published at the Hague in 1703. Many of the statements in this work are preposterously false, and his map of his pretended Long River a pure invention, exciting caution as to any of his unsupported statements. But the map of the country around Michilimackinac agrees with the Jesuit Relation and with Father Hennepin’s account, and has all the appearance of having been copied from the work of some professed hydrographer, either one of the Jesuit Fathers like Raffeix, whose maps are known, or Jolliet, who was royal hydrographer of the colony. The whole map has a look of accuracy, the various soundings from the point to the island being carefully given. On this the French village, the house of the Jesuits, the Huron village, that of the Ottawas, and the cultivated fields of the Indians are all laid down on the northern shore. In the text, dated in 1688, he says: “The Hurons and the Ottawas have each a village, separated from one another by a simple palisade.... The Jesuits have a small house, besides a kind of church, in an enclosure of palisades which separates them from the Huron village.”

The publication a quarter of a century ago of the contemporaneous account of the death and burial of Father Marquette, the humble discoverer of a world, excited new interest as to his final resting-place. The West owed him a monument, and, though America gave his name to a city, and the Pope ennobled it by making it a bishop’s see, this was not enough to satisfy the yearnings of pious hearts, who grieved that his remains should lie forgotten and unknown. To some the lack of maps laying down the famous spots in the early Catholic missions has seemed strange: but the difficulty was very great. Every place required special study, and the random guesses of some writers have only created confusion, where truth is to be attained by close study of every ancient record and personal exploration of the ground. Michilimackinac is not the only one that has led to long discussion and investigation.[62]

Where was the chapel on the point? A structure of wood consumed by fire a hundred and seventy years ago could scarcely be traced or identified. A forest had grown up around the spots which in Marquette’s time were cleared and busy with human life. Twenty years ago this forest was in part cleared away, but nothing appeared to justify any hope of discovering the burial-place of him who bore the standard of Mary conceived without sin down the Mississippi valley. One pioneer kept up his hope, renewed his prayers, and pushed his inquiries. The Rev. Edward Jacker, continuing in the nineteenth century the labors of Marquette—missionary to the Catholic Indians and the pagan, a loving gatherer of all that related to the early heralds of the faith, tracing their footsteps, explaining much that was obscure, leading us to the very spot where Ménard labored and died—was to be rewarded at last.

A local tradition pointed to one spot as the site of an old church and the grave of a great priest, but nothing in the appearance of the ground seemed to justify it. Yet, hidden in a growth of low trees and bushes were preserved proofs that Indian tradition coincided with La Hontan’s map and the Jesuit records.

On the 5th day of May, 1877, the clearing of a piece of rising ground at a short distance from the beach, at the head of the little bay on the farm of Mr. David Murray, near the main road running through the town, laid bare the foundations of a church, in size about thirty-two by forty feet, and of two adjacent buildings. The Rev. Mr. Jacker was summoned to the spot. The limestone foundation walls of the building were evidently those of a church, there being no chimney, and it had been destroyed by fire, evidences of which existed on every side. The missionary’s heart bounded with pious joy. Here was the spot where Father Marquette had so often offered the Holy Sacrifice; here he offered to Mary Immaculate his voyage to explore the river he named in her honor; here his remains were received and, after a solemn requiem, interred.

But Father Jacker was a cautious antiquarian as well as a devoted priest. He compared the site with La Hontan’s map. If these buildings were the Jesuit church and house, the French village was at the right; and there, in fact, could be traced the old cellars and small log-house foundations. On the other side was the Huron village; the palisades can even now be traced. Farther back the map shows Indian fields. Strike into the fields and small timber, and you can even now see signs of rude Indian cultivation years ago, and many a relic tells of their occupancy.

The report of the discovery spread and was noticed in the papers. Many went to visit the spot, and ideas of great treasures began to prevail. The owner positively refused to allow any excavation to be made; so there for a time the matter rested. All this gave time for study, and the conviction of scholars became positive that the old chapel site was actually found.

The next step towards the discovery of the remains of the venerable Father Marquette cannot be better told than by the Rev. Mr. Jacker himself:

“Mr. David Murray, the owner of the ground in question, had for some time relented so far as to declare that if the chief pastor of the diocese, upon his arrival here, should wish to have a search made, he would object no longer. Last Monday, then (September 3, 1877), Bishop Mrak, upon our request, dug out the first spadeful of ground. On account of some apparent depression near the centre of the ancient building, and mindful of Father Dablon’s words, ‘_Il fut mis dans un petit caveau au milieu de l’église_,’ we there began our search; but being soon convinced that no digging had ever been done there before, we advanced towards the nearest corner of the large, cellar-like hollow to the left, throwing out, all along, two to three feet of ground. On that whole line no trace of any former excavation could be discovered, the alternate layers of sand and gravel which generally underlie the soil in this neighborhood appearing undisturbed. Close to the ancient cellar-like excavation a decayed piece of a post, planted deeply in the ground, came to light. The bottom of that hollow itself furnished just the things that you would expect to meet with in the cellar of a building destroyed by fire, such as powdered charcoal mixed with the subsoil,[63] spikes, nails, an iron hinge (perhaps of a trap-door), pieces of timber—apparently of hewed planks and joists—partly burned and very much decayed. Nothing, however, was found that would indicate the former existence of a tomb, vaulted or otherwise. Our hopes began to sink (the good bishop had already stolen away), when, at the foot of the western slope of the ancient excavation fragments of mortar bearing the impress of wood and partly blackened, and a small piece of birch-bark, came to light. This was followed by numerous other, similar or larger, fragments of the latter substance, most of them more or less scorched or crisped by the heat, not by the immediate action of the fire; a few only were just blackened, and on one side superficially burned. A case or box of birch-bark (_une quaisse d’escorce de bouleau_), according to the Relation, once enclosed the remains of the great missionary. No wonder our hopes revived at the sight of that material. Next appeared a small leaf of white paper, which, being quite moist, almost dissolved in my hands. We continued the search, more with our hands than with the spade. The sand in which those objects were embedded was considerably blackened—more so, in fact, than what should be expected, unless some digging was done here _after the fire_, and the hollow thus produced filled up with the blackened ground from above. Here and there we found small particles, generally globular, of a moist, friable substance, resembling pure lime or plaster-of-paris. None of the details of our search being unimportant, I should remark that the first pieces of birch-bark were met with at a depth of about three and a half feet from the present surface, and nearly on a level, I should judge, with the floor of the ancient excavation. For about a foot deeper down more of it was found, the pieces being scattered at different heights over an area of about two feet square or more. Finally a larger and well-preserved piece appeared, which once evidently formed part of the bottom of an Indian ‘mawkawk’ (_wigwass-makak_—birch-bark box), and rested on clean white gravel and sand. Some of our people, who are experts in this matter, declared that the bark was of unusual thickness, and that the box, or at least parts of it, had been double, such as the Indians sometimes, for the sake of greater durability, use for interments. A further examination disclosed the fact that it had been placed on three or four wooden sills, decayed parts of which were extracted. All around the space once occupied by the box the ground seemed to be little disturbed, and the bottom piece lay considerably deeper than the other objects (nails, fragments of timber, a piece of a glass jar or large bottle, a chisel, screws, etc.) discovered on what I conceived to have been the ancient bottom of the cellar. From these two circumstances it seemed evident that the birch-bark box had not (as would have been the case with an ordinary vessel containing corn, sugar, or the like) been placed on the floor, but sunk into the ground, and perhaps covered with a layer of mortar, many blackened fragments of which were turned out all around the space once occupied by it. But it was equally evident that this humble tomb—for such we took it to have been—had been disturbed, and the box broken into and parts of it torn out, after the material had been made brittle by the action of the fire. This would explain the absence of its former contents, which—what else could we think?—were nothing less than Father Marquette’s bones. We, indeed, found between the pieces of bark two small fragments, one black and hard, the other white and brittle, but of such a form that none of us could determine whether they were of the human frame.[64]

“The evening being far advanced, we concluded that day’s search, pondering over what may have become of the precious remains which, we fondly believe, were once deposited in that modest tomb just in front of what, according to custom, should have been the Blessed Virgin’s altar. Had I been in Father Nouvel’s place, it is there I would have buried the devout champion of Mary Immaculate. It is the same part of the church we chose nine years ago for Bishop Baraga’s interment in the cathedral of Marquette. The suggestion of one of our half-breeds that it would be a matter of wonder if some pagan Indian had not, after the departure of the missionaries, opened the grave and carried off the remains _pour en faire de la medicine_—that is, to use the great black-gown’s bones for superstitious purposes[65]—this suggestion appeared to me very probable. Hence, giving up the hope of finding anything more valuable, and awaiting the examination by an expert of the two doubtful fragments of bone, I carried them home (together with numerous fragments of the bark box) with a mixed feeling of joy and sadness. Shall this, then, be all that is left us of the saintly missionary’s mortal part?

“I must not forget to mention a touching little incident. It so happened that while we people of St. Ignace were at work, and just before the first piece of bark was brought to light, two young American travellers—apparently Protestants, and pilgrims, like hundreds of others all through the summer, to this memorable spot—came on shore, and, having learned the object of the gathering with joyful surprise, congratulated themselves on having arrived at such a propitious moment. They took the liveliest interest in the progress of the search, lending their help, and being, in fact, to outward appearances, the most reverential of all present. ‘Do you realize,’ would one address the other with an air of religious awe, ‘where we are standing? This is hallowed ground!’ Their bearing struck us all and greatly edified our simple people. They begged for, and joyfully carried off, some little memorials. Isn’t it a natural thing, that veneration of _relics_ we used to be so much blamed for?

“Some hundred and fifty or two hundred of our people witnessed the search, surrounding us in picturesque groups—many of them, though nearly white, being lineal descendants of the very Ottawas among whom Father Marquette labored in La Pointe du St. Esprit, and who witnessed his interment in this place two hundred years ago. The pure Indian element was represented only by one individual of the Ojibwa tribe.

“On Tuesday our children were confirmed, and in the afternoon I had to escort the bishop over to Mackinac Island. Upon my return, yesterday evening, a young man of this place entered my room, with some black dust and other matters tied up in a handkerchief. He had taken the liberty to search our excavation for some little keepsake, taking out a few handfuls of ground at a little distance from where the box had lain, in the direction of what I presume to have been the Blessed Virgin’s altar, and at about the height of the ancient cellar-floor. The result of his search was of such a character that he considered himself obliged to put me in possession of it. What was my astonishment when he displayed on my table a number of small fragments of bones, in size from an inch in length down to a mere scale, being in all thirty-six, and, to all appearances, human. Being alone, after nightfall, I washed the bones. The scene of two hundred years ago, when the Kiskakons, at the mouth of that distant river, were employed in the same work, rose up before my imagination; and though the mists of doubt were not entirely dispelled, I felt very much humbled that no more worthy hands should have to perform this office. So long had I wished—and, I candidly confess it, even prayed—for the discovery of Father Marquette’s grave; and now that so many evidences concurred to establish the fact of its having been on the spot where we hoped to find it, I felt reluctant to believe it. The longer, however, I pondered over every circumstance connected with our search, the more I became convinced that we have found what we, and so many with us, were desirous to discover. Let me briefly resume the train of evidence.

“The local tradition as to the site of the grave, near the head of our little bay; the size and relative position of the ancient buildings, both in the ‘French Village’ and the Jesuits’ establishment, plainly traceable by little elevated ridges, stone foundations, cellars, chimneys, and the traces of a stockade; all this exactly tallying with La Hontan’s plan and description of 1688—so many concurring circumstances could hardly leave any doubt as to the site of the chapel in which Marquette’s remains were deposited.

“The unwillingness of the proprietor to have the grave of a saintly priest disturbed proved very opportune, not to say providential. Within the three or four months that elapsed since the first discovery many hundreds of persons from all parts of the country had the opportunity to examine the grounds, as yet untouched by the spade. We had time to weigh every argument _pro_ and _con_. Among those visitors there were men of intelligence and historical learning. I will only mention Judge Walker, of Detroit, who has made the early history of our Northwest the subject of his particular study, and who went over the grounds with the English edition of La Hontan in his hand. He, as well as every one else whose judgment was worth anything, pronounced in favor of our opinion. The balance stood so that the smallest additional weight of evidence would make it incline on the side of certainty as absolute as can be expected in a case like this.

“The text of the _Relation_, it is true, would make us look for a vault, or small cellar (_un petit caveau_), in the middle (_au milieu_) of the church. But if anything indicating the existence of a tomb in the hollow towards the left side and the rear part of the chapel were discovered, could we not construe those words as meaning ‘_within_ the church’? Besides, it must be remembered that Father Dablon, who left us the account, was not an eye-witness at the interment; nor did he visit the mission after that event, at least up to the time of his writing.

“We know, then, that Marquette’s remains were brought to this place in a birch-bark box; and there is nothing to indicate that, previously to being interred, they were transferred into any other kind of receptacle. In that box they remained under the _catafalco_ (_sous sa representation_) from Monday, June 8, to Tuesday, 9 (1677), and in it, undoubtedly, they were deposited in a vault, or little cellar, which may have previously been dug out for other purposes. The box was sunk into the ground on that side of the excavation which was nearest to the altar, or, at least, the statue of the Blessed Virgin, the most appropriate spot for the interment of the champion of Mary Immaculate. An inscription, on paper, indicating whose bones were contained in the box, might have been placed within it; of this the piece of white paper we found among the bark may be a fragment. The poor casket rested, after the Indian fashion, on wooden supports. It may have been covered with mortar or white lime, or else a little vault constructed of wood and mortar may have been erected over it. When the building was fired, twenty-nine years after the interment, the burning floor, together with pieces of timber from above, fell on the tomb, broke the frail vault or mortar cover of the box, burned its top, and crisped its sides. Some of the pagan or apostate Indians remaining in that neighborhood after the transmigration of the Hurons and Ottawas to Detroit, though filled with veneration for the departed missionary (as their descendants remained through four or five generations), or rather for the very reason of their high regard for his priestly character and personal virtues, and of his reputation as a _thaumaturgus_, coveted his bones as a powerful ‘medicine,’ and carried them off. In taking them out of the tomb they tore the brittle bark and scattered its fragments. The bones being first placed on the bottom of the cellar, behind the tomb, some small fragments became mixed up with the sand, mortar, and lime, and were left behind.

“Such seems to me the most natural explanation of the circumstances of the discovery. Had the missionaries themselves, before setting fire to the church, removed the remains of their saintly brother, they would have been careful about the least fragment; none of them, at least, would have been found scattered outside of the box. That robbing of the grave by the Indians must have taken place within a few years after the departure of the missionaries; for had those precious remains been there when the mission was renewed (about 1708?), they would most certainly have been transferred to the new church in ‘Old Mackinac’; and had this been the case, Charlevoix, at his sojourn there in 1721, could hardly have failed to be taken to see the tomb and to mention the fact of the transfer in his journal or history.

“Our next object, if we were to be disappointed in finding the entire remains of the great missionary traveller, was to ascertain the fact of his having been interred on that particular spot; and in this, I think, we have fully succeeded. Considering the high probability—_à priori_, so to say—of the Indians’ taking possession of the bones, the finding of those few fragments under the circumstances described seems to me, if not as satisfactory to our wishes, at least as good evidence for the fact in question as if we had found every bone that is in the human body. Somebody—an adult person—was buried under the church; buried before the building was destroyed by fire; and buried under exceptional circumstances—the remains being placed in a birch-bark box of much smaller size than an ordinary coffin—who else could it have been but the one whose burial, with all its details of time, place, and manner, as recorded in most trustworthy records, answers all the circumstances of our discovery?

“_Sept. 7th._—Went again to the grave to-day, and, after searching a little while near the spot where that young man had found the bones, I was rewarded with another small fragment, apparently of the skull, like two or three of those already found. Two Indian visitors who have called in since declared others to be of the ribs, of the hand, and of the thigh-bone. They also consider the robbing of the grave by their pagan ancestors as extremely probable. To prevent profanation and the carrying off of the loose ground in the empty grave, we covered the excavation with a temporary floor, awaiting contributions from outside—we are too poor ourselves—for the purpose of erecting some kind of a tomb or mortuary chapel in which to preserve what remains of the perishable part of the ‘Guardian-Angel of the Ottawa missions.’

“I shall not send you this letter before having shown some of the bones to a physician, for which purpose I have to go outside.

“_Sheboygan, Mich., Sept. 11._—M. Pommier, a good French surgeon, declared the fragments of bones to be undoubtedly human and bearing the marks of fire.”

The result is consoling, though not unmixed with pain. It is sad to think that the remains of so saintly a priest, so devoted a missionary, so zealous an explorer should have been so heathenishly profaned by Indian medicine-men; but the explanation has every appearance of probability. Had the Jesuit missionaries removed the remains, they would have taken up the birch box carefully, enclosing it, if necessary, in a case of wood. They would never have torn the birch-bark box rudely open, or taken the remains so carelessly as to leave fragments. All the circumstances show the haste of profane robbery. The box was torn asunder in haste, part of its contents secured, and the excavation hastily filled up.

The detailed account of the final interment of Father Marquette, the peculiarity of the bones being in a bark box, evidently of small size for convenient transportation, the fact that no other priest died at the mission who could have been similarly interred, leads irresistibly to the conclusion that Father Jacker is justified in regarding the remains found as portion of those committed to the earth two centuries ago.

It is now for the Catholics of the United States to rear a monument there to enclose what time has spared us of the “Angel Guardian of the Ottawa Missions.”

JOHN GILMARY SHEA.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

MISCELLANIES. By Henry Edward, Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster. First
American Edition. New York: The Catholic Publication Society Co., 9
Barclay Street. 1877.

The various papers contained in this assortment of miscellaneous articles from the pen of Cardinal Manning consist of addresses before several _Academias_ or other societies, contributions to the _Dublin Review_, and short essays, most of which, we believe, have been before published in English magazines or newspapers, or in the form of pamphlets. They are on current topics of immediate interest, well adapted to the times, and written in a plain, popular style. One general tone of defence and explanation of the Catholic cause in respect to matters now of conflict and controversy between the Catholic Church and her opposers runs through them all, giving a real unity of purpose and objective aim to the collection, various and miscellaneous as are its topics. The most important and interesting papers, in which the force of the whole volume, of all the cardinal’s principal works, of the efforts of his entire career as a prelate in the church, is concentrated and brought to bear upon the central point of anti-Catholic revolution, are the first and last. The first one is entitled “Roma Æterna: a Discourse before the _Academia_ of the Quiriti in Rome on the 2615th anniversary of this city, April 21, 1863.” The last one is entitled “The Independence of the Holy See,” and we do not know whether or not it was published before it appeared in the present collection. It has always been characteristic of the cardinal’s mind, and of the doctrinal or polemic expositions of Catholic truth put forth by him, to perceive and seize the principle of unity. While he was still an Anglican archdeacon he embraced and advocated general principles of Catholic unity, so far as he then apprehended them, with remarkable clearness and precision. These principles led him into the bosom of Catholic unity, and their complete and consequent development in all their conclusions and harmonious relations has been the one great aim and effort of his luminous and vigorous mind since he became a Catholic ecclesiastic, both as an orator and as a writer. This clear, direct view of the logical order and sequence of constitutive, Catholic principles made him one of the most thorough and firm advocates of the spiritual supremacy of the Holy See, before and during the sessions of the Vatican Council. The Papacy, as the very centre and foundation of Christianity, and therefore the principal point of attack and defence in the war between the Christian kingdom and the anti-Christian revolution, has been the dominant idea in the mind of Cardinal Manning. The indissoluble union of the papal supremacy with the Roman episcopate, and therefore the dependence of Christendom on the Roman Church as its centre, its head, the great source of its life, is the topic to which at present his attention is more specially directed. The Roman Church, and, by reason of its near and close connection, the Italian Church, as the permanent, immovable seat of the sovereign pontificate, is identified with the prosperity of Christendom. The head and heart of the Catholic Church are there, whereas other members of the great, universal society of Christians are only limbs, however great and powerful they may be. The logical and juridical mind of Cardinal Manning grasps in its full import the whole Roman and Italian question of present conflict as the vital one for all Christendom. And, as we have said, the first and last papers in his volume of _Miscellanies_ are of permanent value and importance, on account of his clear and masterly exposition of this great controversy. We will quote a few salient paragraphs in illustration and confirmation of our opinion on this head:

“It is no wonder to me that Italians should believe in the primacy of Italy. Italy has indeed a primacy, but not that of which some have dreamed. The primacy of Italy is the presence of Rome; and the primacy of Rome is in its apostleship to the whole human race, in the science of God with which it has illuminated mankind, in its supreme and world-wide jurisdiction over souls, in its high tribunal of appeal from all the authorities on earth, in its inflexible exposition of the moral law, in its sacred diplomacy, by which it binds the nations of Christendom into a confederacy of order and of justice—these are its true, supreme, and, because God has so willed, _its inalienable and incommunicable primacy among the nations of the earth_.... The eternity of Rome, then, if it be not an exact truth, is nevertheless no mere rhetorical exaggeration. It denotes the fact that Rome has been chosen of God as the centre of his kingdom, which is eternal, as the depository of his eternal truths, as the fountain of his graces which lead men to a higher life, as the witness and guardian of law and principles of which the sanctions and the fruit are eternal.... I shall say little if I say that on you, under God, we depend for the immutability not only of the faith in all the radiance of its exposition and illustration, and of the divine love in all its breadth and purity and perfection; you are also charged with the custody of other truths which descend from this great sphere of supernatural light, and with the application of these truths to the turbulent and unstable elements of human society.... You are the heirs of those who renewed the face of the world and created the Christian civilization of Europe. You are the depositories of truths and principles which are indestructible in their vitality. Though buried like the ear of corn in the Pyramids of Egypt, they strike root and spring into fruit when their hour is come. Truths and principles are divine; they govern the world; to suffer for them is the greatest glory of man. “Not death, but the cause of death, makes the martyr.” So long as Rome is grafted upon the Incarnation it is the head of the world. If it were possible to cut it out from its divine root, it would fall from its primacy among mankind. But this cannot be. He who chose it for his own has kept it to this hour. He who has kept it until now will keep it unto the end. Be worthy of your high destiny for His sake who has called you to it; for our sakes, who look up to you as, under God, our light and our strength” (“Rom. Ætern.,” pp. 3–23). These words were spoken fourteen years ago, but they are reaffirmed now by their new republication, and the similar language of the closing paper of the volume.

In this last paper, on “The Independence of the Holy See,” the cardinal speaks more particularly and definitely of the temporal sovereignty of the Holy See. As the spiritual supremacy of the Pope, in his office as Vicar of Christ and successor of St. Peter, is closely bound to his Roman episcopate, and the unity of the church depends on the Roman Church, the “mother and mistress of churches,” so the peaceful and uncontrolled exercise of the supremacy depends on the freedom of the Pope in Rome. This freedom is secured only by complete independence, which requires the possession of both personal and political sovereignty as its condition. This citadel of all Catholic and Christian interests being now the very object of the most resolute and uncompromising attack and defence—the Plevna of the war between the Catholic religion and the anti-Christian revolution—the cardinal, as a wise leader and strategist, directs his principal efforts to sustain and advocate the right and necessity of the Pope’s temporal sovereignty. The spoliation of this temporal sovereignty has for its necessary effect, says the cardinal, “the disintegration and the downfall of the Christian world” (p. 860). Consequently, as the cardinal continually affirms, the redintegration and reconstruction of the Christian world require the restitution of that same sovereignty. “There is one hope for Italy. It is this: that Italy should reconcile itself to the old traditions of the faith of its fathers, and should return once more to the only principle of unity and authority which created it” (p. 848). “If the Christian world is still to continue, what is happening now is but one more of those manifold transient perturbations which have come through these thousand years, driving into exile or imprisoning the pontiffs, or even worse, and usurping the rightful sovereignty of Rome. And as they have passed, so will this, unless the political order of the Christian world itself has passed away” (p. 804).

In these last words is presented an alternative of the utmost consequence and interest. Is the perturbation and disintegration final or transient? If final, the church goes back to the state of persecution, the reign of Antichrist is at hand, and the end of the world draws near. _When Rome falls, the world._ If the Roman and Italian people, as such, have apostatized, or are about to apostatize, then the Roman Church, the foundation, sinking in the undermined and caving soil beneath it, will bring down the whole crumbling fabric of Christendom and of the universal world. If, therefore, there is any ground to hope that this evil day is not yet, but that there is a triumphant epoch for the church to be awaited, it is of the utmost consequence not to exaggerate the present revolution in Italy and Europe into a national and international apostasy, but to show that it is a revolution of a faction whose power is but apparent and temporary. This is the cardinal’s conviction, and a large part of his argumentation is directed to its proof and support. “Why, then, is this gagging law necessary in Italy? Because a minority is in power who are conscious that they are opposed by a great majority who disapprove their acts. They know, and are afraid, that if men speak openly with their neighbors the public opinion of Catholic Italy would become so strong and spread so wide as to endanger their power. And this is called _disturbing the public conscience_. The public conscience of Italy is not revolutionary, but Catholic; the true disturbers of the _public conscience_ of Italy are the authors of these Italian Falck laws.... I know of nothing which has imposed upon the simplicity and the good-will of the English people more than to suppose that the present state of Italy is the expression of the will of the Italian people” (pp. 842–47).