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into their favor, and were cordially invited to return with them to their homes on the confines of the Great Lake, the charms of which they depicted in glowing colors. The missionaries, ever anxious to extend the dominion of the cross, joyfully accepted the invitation. Charles Raymbault, a Father thoroughly versed in the Algonquin language and customs, and Isaac Jogues, equally familiar with the Huron, were selected, and were the first who planted the cross within the limits of our State. On the 17th of June, 1641, they started upon their adventurous voyage, and for seventeen days plied the paddle on the clear waters of the northern lakes and through the channel of the Ste. Marie River, gemmed by a thousand beautiful islands. They were kindly and and hospitably received by the Chippewas at the Sault, who urged them to remain with them that they might profit by their word. They told them of the Great Lake, of the fierce Dacotahs, and of numerous other tribes of whom the Fathers had never before heard. But they were compelled to return, and after planting the cross they left, hoping soon to be able to establish a mission at this promising point among the docile Chippewas. Raymbault died with consumption the following year, and Jogues met a martyr's death among the Iroquois.

No further attempt was made to send the gospel to the great Northwest until 1656. After the destruction of the Hurons, the Iroquois reigned in proud and haughty triumph from Lake Erie to Lake Superior. Upper Canada was a desolation, and even the route by the Ottawa River was not safe from the war-parties of these bold marauders. This year some Ottawas made their way to the St. Lawrence. Two missionaries left to return with them, one the celebrated and devout Dreuillettes. They were attacked by attacked by the Iroquois. Father Gareau was mortally wounded, and Dreuillettes brutally abandoned. Another company of Ottawas and other Algonquins appeared in Quebec in 1660, and asked a missionary.

Missions had now received a fresh impulse from the pious Lalle, the first bishop of Quebec, who came out in 1669, and Father Menard was selected as the first ambassador of the cause on the shores of Gitchie Gumee, the Big Sea Water. The choice was a fit one. He had been a compeer of the noble men who had en

riched Huronia with their blood, and had experienced every vicissitude of missionary service and suffering. He had rejoiced in baptizing many a convert on the banks of the beautiful Cayuga, and his seamed face attested the wounds he had received in the cause of truth. The frosts of many winters adorned his brow, and severity of toil and suffering had somewhat broken his frame, but his spirit was still strong and he was ready for the sacrifice. Although not buoyed up by the enthusiasm of youth or inexperience, he not only did not recoil from the labor, peril, suffering and death which he felt awaited him, but he cheerfully looked. forward to a death of misery in the service of God as the truest happiness. Alone in August, 1660, he leaves the haunts of civilization, puts himself into the hands of savage strangers. They treat the aged priest with coarse brutality. From morning until night they compel him in a cramped position to ply the unwelcome paddle, to drag the canoe up the rapids, and at portages to carry heavy burdens. He is subjected to every form of drudgery, to every phase of insult and contempt. Want, absolute and terrible, comes in to enhance the horrors of the voyage. Berries and edible moss are exhausted, and the moose-skin of their dresses is made to yield its scanty and disgusting nutriment. Finally, with his bre. viary contemptuously cast into the water, barefoot, wounded by sharp stones, exhausted with toil, hunger and brutal treatment, without food or the means of procuring any, he is abandoned on the shores of Lake Superior to die. But even savage cruelty relents. After a few days, during which time he supports life on pounded bones, his Indian companions return and convey him to their winter rendezvous, which they reach October 15th, St. Theresa's day, and from that circumstance he called it St. Theresa's Bay (probably Keweenaw Bay). Here, amidst every discouragement and privation, and with no white brethren nearer than Montreal, he began a mission and said mass, which, he says, "repaid me with usury for all my past hardships." For a time he was permitted a place in the dirty camp of Le Bouchet, the chief of the band--he who had so cruelly abandoned him-but he was soon thrust out, and this aged and feeble servant of God spent two long, bitter, cold winters on that inhospitable shore in a little cabin of fir branches piled

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one upon another, through which the winter winds whistled freely, and which answered the purpose, “not so much," says the meek missionary, “to shield me from the rigor of the season, as to correct my imagination and persuade me that I was sheltered." Want, famine, that frequent curse of the improvident tribes that skirt the great northern lake, came with its horrors to make more memorable this first effort to plant the cross by the waters of Lake Superior.

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But the good Father found sources of consolation even here, and desired not to be taken down from the adorable wood. "One of my first visits," says he, was in a wretched hut, dug out under a large rotten tree, which shielded it on one side, and supported by some fir branches which sheltered it from the wind. I entered on the other side almost flat on my face, but creeping in I found a treasure-a poor woman, abandoned by her husband and her daughter, who had left her two dying children, one about two and the other about three years old. I spoke of the faith to this poor afflicted creature, who listened to me with pleasure. 'Brother,' said she, 'I know well that our folks reject thy words, but for my part I like them well; what thou sayest is full of consolation.' With these words she drew from under the tree a piece of dry fish which, so to say, she took from her very mouth to repay my visit. I thanked her, however, valuing more the happy occasion which God gave me of securing the salvation of these two children, by conferring on them holy baptism. I returned some time after to this good creature, and found her full of resolution to serve God; and in fact from that time she began to come to morning and evening prayers so constantly that she did not fail once, however busied or engaged in gaining her livelihood." A pure and noble young man also embraced the faith, and a few others gladly received "the prayer."

Spring came and relieved the pressure of suffering, and hopefully did the missionary labor on. The band of partially Christianized Hurons, who on the destruction of their nation had sought refuge from the Iroquois in these northern fastnesses, were now at Bay de Noquet, and sent to Father Menard to come and see them and administer to them the rites of religion. It was a call that he could not resist, although warned that the toil of the journey

was too great for his failing strength, and that danger beset his path. He replied: "God calls me thither. I must go if it cost me my life." He started, and, at a portage, while his only attendant was getting the canoe over, on the 10th of August, 1661, he wandered into the forest and was never more seen. Whether he took a wrong path and was lost in the wood, or whether some straggling Indian struck him down, was never known.

Thus ended the life of Father Menard, the first Christian missionary who labored within the bounds of our Commonwealth. Without striking qualities, by his fervent piety, by his faithful and incessant toil, by his calm endurance of suffering and hardship, by his noble Christian courage, by his earnest faith and Christian hope, he had become one of the most useful missionaries in the New World, commanding the respect of his superiors, the love of his equals, and the veneration of the Indians. As a pioneer in our own State, Michigan should cherish his memory and seek to perpetuate a knowledge of his virtues; but as yet, not a stream, not a bay, not a headland, bears his honored name, and on the shores of the great lake where he first raised the cross, that emblem of our faith, even his existence is hardly known.

Hardships, discouragements, persecutions and death seemed only to excite the Jesuits to renewed and more energetic effort to carry the gospel to the poor Indian. In 1665, Claude Allouez left Quebec to commence a Christian mission on the shores of Lake Superior. He may well be called the founder of the northwestern missions, the real pioneer of Christianity and civilization in the region bordering on the great northern and western lakes. He had not that cultivated intellect, that refined taste, that genial heart, that elevation of soul, that forgetfulness of self, that freedom from exaggeration, that distinguished Father Marquette; but his was a strong character of dauntless courage, of ceaseless and untiring energy, full of zeal, thoroughly acquainted with Indian character, and eminently a practical man, and for a full quarter of a century he was the life and soul of the missionary enterprise into Wisconsin and Illinois, and, to some extent, in Michigan.

In his voyage to the Sault he was subjected, as was generally the case with the missionaries

until the arm of French power was distinctly felt in those remote regions, to keenest insult and coarsest brutality from his Indian conductors. He passed on beyond the Sault; for a whole month he coasted along the shores of the great lake, and in October, at Chegoimegon, the beautiful La Pointe of our day, he raised the standard of the cross and boldly preached its doctrines. The Hurons, in search of whom Father Menard lost his life, some of the converts of Father Menard, and many heathen bands, gathered around the solitary priest and listened to his words, yet they opened not their hearts readily to "the prayer." He visited remote tribes; and after seeing how broad was the harvest and how ripe for the sickle, he descended in 1667 to Quebec for more laborers. Quickly he moved, promptly he acted. In two days after his arrival he was on his way back to the beautiful northern field, with an additional priest and a lay-brother in his company.

He remained at La Pointe until Father Marquette took his place in the fall of 1679, when he founded the mission of St. Francis Xavier at Green Bay. After Father Marquette's death he succeeded him in the Illinois mission, and afterwards founded the mission of St. Joseph on our own beautiful river of that name. It does not fall in with our purpose to trace the interesting career of this man, and point out his abundant labors and untiring zeal as a missionary, or his valuable services as an explorer, as our own soil was but incidentally the field of his efforts.

Of all the men whose names are connected with the early history of our State, there is none toward whom we turn with so warm a love, so high a veneration, as to Father Jacques Marquette. His cultivated mind, his refined taste, his warm and genial nature, his tender love for the souls in his charge, his calm and immovable courage in every hour of danger, his cheerful submission to the bitter privations and keen sufferings of the missionary life, his important discoveries, his devotion to truth, his catholic faith, and last but not least, his early, calm, joyous and heroic death, all entitle him to that high place in the regard of posterity which he has been slowly but surely acquiring.

Marquette was born in 1637, and was of gentle blood, being descended from the most

notable family in the small but ancient and stately city of Leon, in the North of France. The family have for centuries been eminent for devotion to military life, and three of its members shed their blood upon our own soil during the War of the Revolution.

Through the instructions of a pious mother he became at an early age imbued with an earnest desire to devote himself to a religious life. At the age of seventeen he renounced the allurements of the world, and entered the Society of Jesus. As required by the rules of the order, he spent two years in those spiritual exercises prescribed by its great founder. Then for ten long years he remained under the remarkable training and teaching of the order, and acquired that wonderful control, that quiet repose, that power of calm endurance, that unquestioning obedience to his superiors, that thirst for trial, suffering and death that marked the Jesuits in this golden age of their power. He took for his model in life the great Xavier, and longed like him to devote his days to the conversion of the heathen, and like him to die in the midst of his labors in a foreign land alone. Although he had not that joyous hilarity of soul, that gay buoyancy of spirit, and that wonderful power over men, that so distinguished the Apostle to the Indies, he had much of that sweetness of disposition, that genial temperament, that facile adaptation to the surrounding circumstances, that depth of love, and that apostolic zeal, that belonged tɔ that remarkable man. Panting for a missionary life, at the age of twenty-nine he sailed for New France, which he reached September 20, 1666. Early in October he was placed under the tuition of the celebrated Father Dreuillettes, at Three Rivers, to learn the native language. After a year and a half of preparation he left for the Sault Ste. Marie, to plant the first permanent mission and settlement within the bounds of our State.

There were then about two thousand Indians at this point, the facility with which they could live by hunting and fishing making it one of the most populous places in the Indian territory. They were Algonquins, mostly Chippewas, and received the teachings of the good Father with great docility and would gladly have been baptized, but the wise and cautious missionary withheld the rite until he could clearly instruct them in Christian duty. In the following year

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he was joined by Father Dablon, when the first Christian church on Michigan soil was erected. But he was not long to remain in this first field of his labors. In obedience to orders from his superiors, in the fall of 1669 he went to La Pointe to take the place of Allouez, who proceeded to found a mission at Green Bay. For a whole month, through much suffering and in constant peril of life, he coasted along the shores of the lake, contending with fierce winds, ice, and snow. At La Pointe he found four or five hundred Hurons, a company of Ottawas, and some other tribes. The Hurons had mostly been baptized, and, he says, "still preserve some Christianity." Other tribes were, to use his own language, “proud and undeveloped," and he had so little hope of them that he did not baptize healthy infants, watching only for such as were sick. It was only after long months of trial that he baptized the first adult, after seeing his assiduity in prayer, his frankness in recounting his past life, and his promises for the future. Here an Illinois captive was given to him, and he immediately commenced learning the language from the rude teacher, and as he gradually acquired a knowledge of it his loving heart warmed toward the kind-hearted and peaceful nation, and he longed to break to them the bread of life.

"No one," he exclaimed, "must hope to escape crosses in our missions, and the best means to live happy is not to fear them, but in the enjoyment of little crosses hope for others still greater. The Illinois desire us-like Indians—to share their misery, and suffer all that can be imagined in barbarism. They are lost sheep, to be sought through woods and thorns." Here it was, in the heart of this northern winter, surrounded by his Indians, talking in a broken manner with his Illinois captive, that he conceived the idea of a voyage of discovery. He hears of a great river, the Mississippi, whose course is southward. He says this great river can hardly empty into Virginia, and he rather believes that its mouth is in California. He rejoices in the prospect of seeking for this unknown stream with one Frenchman and this Illinois captive as his only companions, if the Indians will, according to their agreement, make him a canoe. “This discovery," he says, "will give us a complete knowledge of the southern or western sea." But his further labors at La Pointe, and his plans of present

discovery, were suddenly terminated by the breaking out of war. The fierce Dacotahs, those Iroquois of the West, who inspired the feeble tribes about them with an overpowering awe, threatened to desolate the region of La Pointe. The Ottawas first left, and then the Hurons-who seemed to be destined to be wanderers on the face of the earth, without a spot they could call their own-turned their faces toward the East. Their hearts fondly yearned for that delightful home from which they had been so cruelly driven twenty years before, and we may well imagine that the devoted missionary longed to labor in that field made sacred by the blood of Daniel, Brebeuf, Lalemant and others. But the dreaded Iroquois were too near and too dangerous neighbors for such an experiment, and with their missionary at their head they selected for their home the point known as St. Ignace, opposite Mackinaw.

Bleak, barren and inhospitable as this spot was, it had some peculiar and compensatory advantages. It abounded in fish, and was on the great highway of a growing Indian com. merce. Here, in the summer of 1671, a rude church, made of logs and covered with bark, was erected, and around it clustered the still ruder cabins of the Hurons. Near the chapel, and enclosing the cabins of the Hurons, was erected a palisade, to protect the little colony against the attacks of predatory Indians. Thus did Marquette become the founder of Mackinaw, as he had before been of Sault Ste. Marie.

Some of the Hurons were still idolaters, and the Christians were wild and wayward, but he looked upon them with parental love. "They have," he writes in 1672, “come regularly to prayers, and have listened more readily to the instructions I have given them, consenting to what I have required to prevent their disorders and abominations. We must have patience with untutored minds, who know only the devil; who, like their ancestors, have been his slaves, and who often relapse into the sins in which they were nurtured. God alone can fix their feeble minds and place and keep them in his grace, and touch their hearts, while we stammer at their ears."

A large colony of Ottawas located near the mission, and though intractable, received his faithful and loving attention. This stammering at their ears and trusting that God would reach the heart, through privation, suffering,

and incessant toil, subject to every caprice, in sult and petty persecution, the good father labored at for two years, cheered by the privilege of occasionally baptizing a dying infant, and rejoicing in a simple, mournful, loving faith in its death. Hearing of a sick infant he says, " I went at once and baptized it, and it died the next night. Some of the other children, too, are dead, and are now in heaven. These are the consolations which God sends us, which make us esteem our life more happy as it is more wretched.”

Here again his attention was called to the discovery of the Mississippi, which he sought that new nations might be open to the gospel of peace and good will. In a letter to his Superior, after speaking of his field of labor, he says: "I am ready to leave it in the hands of another missionary and go on your order to seek new nations toward the South Sea who are still unknown to us, and teach them of our great God, whom they have hitherto unknown." His fond wishes in this regard were about to be gratified. The news of the great river at the westward, running to the South Sea, had reached the ears of the great Colbert, and through him of the great Louis XIV. himself. They did not fail to see the infinite advantage of discovering and possessing this great element of territorial power.

The struggle between the English and French. in America was then pending. If the English settlements, then feeble, scattered along the Atlantic coast, could be hemmed in by a series of French posts from the great lakes to the southern sea, France would control the continent and the ambitious schemes of Britain be nipped in the bud. Colbert authorized the expedition, and was ably seconded by the wise energy and sagacious forecast of Count Frontenac, Governor and Intendant of New France. Joliet, a young, intelligent, enterprising merchant of Quebec, and Marquette, were appointed to execute the project. In the fall of 1672 Joliet arrived at Mackinaw with the joyful news. Marquette had, as he says, long invoked the Blessed Virgin that he might obtain of God the grace to visit the nations of the Mississippi. He was enraptured at the good news that his desires were about to be accomplished, that he was to expose his life for the salvation of those nations, and especially of the Illinois They were not to leave until

spring. During that long, dreary winter on that desolate point, he spent his leisure time in gathering from the Indians all possible information of the unknown region they were about to visit, tracing upon the bark of the birch maps of the course of rivers, and writing down the names of the tribes and nations inhabiting their banks and of the villages they should visit.

On the 17th of May, 1673, in two bark canoes, manned by five men, and stocked with a small supply of Indian corn and dried venison, the two explorers left Mackinaw. "Our joy at being chosen," says the great Father, "for this expedition, roused our courage and sweetened the labor of rowing from morning till night," and merrily over the waters of Lake Michigan did they ply the paddles of their light canoe— "And the forest's life was in it, All its mystery and magic, All the lightness of the birch-tree, All the toughness of the cedar, All the larch's supple sinews; And it floated on the water

Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,
Like a yellow water-lily."

At Green Bay the Indians did all in their power to prevent the further progress of the expedition. They pictured to the explorers the fierce Dacotahs with their long black hair, their eyes of fire, and their terrible tomahawks of stone, who never spared strangers; they told of the wars then raging, and the war parties on every trail; they described the dangers of navigation-of frightful rapids and sunken rocks, of fearful monsters that swallowed up men and canoes together; of a cruel demon who stops the passage and engulfs the navigator who dares to invade his dominion; of excessive heats that would infallibly cause their death. The good Father told them that the salvation of souls was concerned, and that in such a cause he would gladly lay down his life; that of the dangers they described he had no fear.

On went the travelers, faithfully ascending the Fox River, dragging their canoes up the rapids over sharp stones that lacerated their bleeding and unprotected feet. In ten days from leaving Mackinaw they have passed the portage and launched their canoes upon the waters of the Wisconsin, and commenced their descent toward the Mississippi. For seven

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