The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents

Travels and Explorations

of the Jesuit Missionaries

in New France

1610—1791

THE ORIGINAL FRENCH, LATIN, AND ITALI-

IAN TEXTS, WITH ENGLISH TRANSLA-

TIONS AND NOTES; ILLUSTRATED BY

PORTRAITS, MAPS, AND FACSIMILES

 

EDITED BY

Reuben Gold Thwaites

Secretary of the State historical Society of Wisconsin

COMPUTERIZED TRANSCRIPTION BY

Thom Mentrak

Historical Interpreter at Ste. Marie Among The Iroquois

Vol. XXXI

Iroquois, Lower Canada, Abenakis

1647

CLEVELAND: The Burrows Brothers

Company, PUBLISHERS, M DCCC XCVIII

 

 

EDITORIAL STAFF

Editor Reuben Gold Thwaites

| Finlow Alexander [French]

| Percy Favor Bicknell [French]

| John Cutler Covert [French]

| William Frederic Giese [Latin]

Translators. | Crawford Lindsay [French]

| Mary Sifton Pepper [French & Italian]

| William Price [French]

| Hiram Allen Sober [French]

| John Dorsey Wolcott [Latin]

Assistant Editor Emma Helen Blair

Bibliographical Adviser Victor Hugo Paltsits

 

 

CONTENTS OF VOL. XXXI
Preface To Volume XXXI			9
Document:—
LXIII	Relation de ce qvi s’est passé la Novvelle France, svr le Grand Flevve de S. Lavrens en année 1647. [Chaps. Iv.–xiii., second installment of document.] Hierosme Lalemant; Quebek, October 20, 1647				15
Notes				289

[page 7]

 

PREFACE TO VOL. XXXI

The Relation of 1647, by Jerome Lalemant (Doc. LXIII. of our series), was commenced in XXX. by the publication of the first three chapters; we herewith present Chaps. iv.-xiii., leaving the last two chapters to Vol. XXXII. Continuing his narrative, Father Lalemant devotes much space to the labors, captivity, sufferings, and finally the death of Father Isaac Jogues, who was killed by the Iroquois in the preceding year. Much of this account is taken from Jogues's own narrative, written at the command of his superior. He describes his capture by the Iroquois in August, 1642; the cruelties inflicted on him and his fellow-prisoners; and the painful journey to the Iroquois villages. On the way, they encounter a large troop of warriors proceeding to attack the French, and these also vent their fury on the wretched prisoners, even more fiercely than their captors have done; Jogues and his companions—Goupil, Coûture, and over twenty Hurons—barely escape from this ordeal with their lives. They meet similar treatment upon entering the first Mohawk village, and thence are taken to the other two, at each one experiencing a repetition of these hideous cruelties,—Jogues himself being, in every case, the especial object of his captors' rage. The Frenchmen are sentenced to death, but are reprieved, and kept as prisoners in the [page 9] Indian villages. Having seen Goupil teaching a child to make the sign of the cross, the superstitious natives slay him, in Jogues's presence; and they threaten to kill him also,—making several unsuccessful attempts upon his life. In the midst of his sufferings and anxieties, he has a dream, sent by God for his instruction and consolation, which he recounts at length; he also describes reveries, meditations, and visions, that came to him in his desolate captivity. He is sent into the woods, as servant to a hunting party, where he suffers the utmost privations and hardships; returning thence, he saves the life of a poor Indian woman, at the risk of his own. Similar perils he repeatedly incurs throughout the winter, visiting the Huron captives who are kept in the Mohawk villages, and consoling and encouraging them in their sufferings. His patience and unselfishness win the hearts of the family to whom he has been given, and they treat him with some kindness. The Father is in continual danger and expectation of death; but his life is, for the time, spared.

In April, 1643, an envoy from the Sokoki tribe brings presents for the ransom of Jogues, because one of their tribesmen had, some time before, been redeemed by Montmagny from the Algonkins. The Mohawks accept these presents, but nevertheless violate both tribal and international law, by detaining their prisoner. He is comforted, however, by receiving through this envoy letters from Montmagny. These he answers, and one of them reaches its destination. Not long afterward, he is taken by his keepers on a fishing expedition, to a place below the Dutch settlement at the present Albany. This affords opportunity for his deliverance, which is [page 10] effected by the aid of the Dutch; they send him to Manate (New York), and, later, to Europe. After many hardships endured upon this voyage, he finally reaches the Jesuit college at Rennes, France, January 5, 1644. But he returns to Canada by the fleet of that year, and is sent to Montreal. Jogues and Bourdon depart on another voyage to the Iroquois country; May 16, 1646, as envoys of Montmagny; they return to Three Rivers about six weeks later. Jogues is not content to remain long among his brethren; he sets out on his last and fatal voyage on September 24 following, accompanied by a young French donné and some Hurons. News of his death is received at Quebec, some months later, through a letter sent by Kieft, the Dutch governor, to Montmagny. Lalemant explains Jogues's death as caused by the hatred felt by the savages toward the Christian doctrine,—imagining that it causes their illnesses and other misfortunes. He proceeds to eulogize the virtues of the martyr—notably his extreme humility and purity. His confessor asserts that Jogues's " greatest offenses were some feelings of complacency which he had felt at the sight of death,"

Lalemant recounts the pious and devout actions of the converted Indians at Sillery, where a church has been built for them, dedicated to St. Michael. The hospital still continues its noble work; it has, during the past year, cared for more than eighty patients, both French and Indian, and " not one Savage has died there without baptism." The superior, Marie de St. Ignace, has died; she has lived a most devoted and unselfish life in Canada, and accomplished great good for both races. Her death occurs at the very time when the new hospital at Quebec is ready [page 11] to receive the nuns; her unwearied charity and devotion are highly praised.

The Ursuline nuns have also been most useful; they have aided and instructed more than eighty girls, one of whom has married a Christian Indian. One of the nuns is well acquainted with the native languages, and in consequence several of the converts regard her as a confessor and teacher.

Father Druillettes has begun a mission among the Abenakis, who send to Quebec for him and gladly overcome his coming. He travels among them, voyaging even to the mouth of the Kennebec. He meets great success, both in learning the Abenaki language and in winning the hearts of the people. He visits the English settlements along the coast, where he is received with great kindness. At Pentagouet (Castine) he finds a residence of the Capuchins, who are in charge of the Acadian missions. Druillettes is soon able to instruct the natives, and induces them to promise that they drill abandon the use of intoxicating drinks, stop their intertribal and neighborhood quarrels, and forsake their manitous, or demons. This arouses the jealousy of the medicine-men, who attempt to frighten the savages away from such teachings; but these refuse to listen to them, and on their hunting expedition are accompanied by the Father. Even one of these " sorcerers " is Converted and abandons his craft; as a result, he is miraculously cured of an illness. Thirty persons are baptized, most of them when in danger of death; and several sick persons are healed. The savages take Druillettes with them to the nearest settlement of English; the latter approve his work among the Indians, and grant him permission to establish a mission on the [page 12] Kennebec. When the Father returns to Quebec, his people send with him an escort of thirty of their number.

A band of Attikamègues come down to Three Rivers to perform their religious duties, and astonish the Fathers by their goodness and devoutness. At a great gathering of various tribes, these Attikamègues Christians confound the Pagans by celebrating divine worship with all the display in their power, and allowing no unbeliever to enter their little church. Numerous instances of their faith and zeal are related.

The mission at Tadoussac is flourishing, being still served by De Quen. Many of the neophytes show great piety and constancy in their Christian practice. The tribes north of Tadoussac, which last year showed an inclination to receive the faith, are now somewhat cold; for they have been ravaged by epidemics, which are ignorantly ascribed to the new doctrine. A bell has been hung in the Tadoussac chapel, which excites the admiration of the Christian savages, but terrifies the Pagans. De Quen makes a journey into the country of the Porcupine tribe; a description of that region, and of the voyage up the Saguenay, is given from his letters. The Porcupines receive him very gladly, and promise to build a chapel for him on his return, the next year.

At the Three Rivers mission, several events have occurred which display the justice of God toward sinners and backsliders among these, is the death of an apostate by lightning, which terrifies the others. " Simon Pieskaret, who was a Christian only in appearances and through policy, became so in earnest; he confessed three times in twenty-four hours, so much was the fear of God's judgments urging him." [page 13] The Iroquet tribe come down to Three Rivers, and several of them are evidently converted. This year, the quarrels usual between the numerous tribes are very few; and Pieskaret is appointed by themselves as an agent to keep the peace between them; another man is deputed to see that all attend prayers.

R. G. T.

Madison, Wis., September, 1998.

[page 14]

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯

LXIII (continued)

 

Relation of 1647

PARIS; SEBASTIEN ET GABRIEL CRAMOISY, 1648

—————

 

The first three chapters were given in Volume xxx.; we herewith present chaps. iv.–xiii.; the remaining two will appear in Volume XXXII.

[56] CHAPTER IV.

HOW FATHER ISAAC JOGUES WAS TAKEN BY THE HIROQUOIS, AND WHAT HE SUFFERED ON HIS FIRST ENTRANCE INTO THEIR COUNTRY.

ATHER Isaac Jogues had sprung from a worthy family of the City of Orleans. After having given some evidences of his virtue in our Society, he was sent to New France, in the year 1636. In the same year, he went up to the Hurons, cohere he sojourned until the thirteenth of June in the year 1642, when he was sent to Kebec upon [57] the affairs of that important and arduous Mission.

From that time until his death, there recurred many very remarkable things,—of which one cannot, without guilt. deprive the public, since they are honorable to God and full of consolation for souls who love to suffer for Jesus Christ. What has been said of his labors ill the preceding Relations, came, for the most part. from some Savages, companions in his sufferings. But what I am about to set down has issued from his own pen and his own lips: it was necessary to use a Superior's authority and a gentle dexterity in the more intimate conversations, in order to discover that which the very low esteem in which he held himself kept concealed in a profound silence.

Some time before his departure from the Hurons in order to come to Kebec, finding himself alone before the Blessed Sacrament, he prostrated himself [page 17] to the ground, beseeching Our Lord to grant him the favor and grace of suffering for his glory. This answer was engraved in the depth of his soul, with a certainty similar to that which Faith gives us: Exaudita est oratio tua; fiet tibi sicut [58] à me petisti. Confortare et esto robustus,—"Thy prayer is heard; what thou hast asked of me is granted thee. Be courageous and steadfast." The results which followed have shown that these words, which were always very present smith him in all his sufferings, were verily substantial,—words issuing from the lips of him with whom saying and doing are only one and the same thing.

`The Reverend Father Hierosme Lalemant, at that time Superior of the Mission among the Hurons, knowing nothing of what had occurred, sent for him, and proposed to him the journey to Kebec,—a frightful one, on account of the difficulty of the roads, and very dangerous because of the ambuscades of the Hiroquois, who massacred, every year, a considerable number of the Savages allied to the French. Let us hear him speak upon this subject, and upon the result of his journey. "Authority having made me a simple proposition, and not a command, to go down to Kebec, I offered myself with all my heart,—and that the more willingly, because the necessity of undertaking this, might have cast some one else of our Fathers, much better than I, into the peril and hazards that we all anticipate. So there we severe on the [59] way and in the dangers all at once. We were obliged to disembark forty times, and forty times to carry our boats and all our baggage amid the currents and waterfalls that one encounters on this journey of about three hundred leagues. And, [page 19] although the Savages who were guiding us were very adroit, we nevertheless incurred some disasters, to the great peril of our lives, and with some loss of our small baggage. At last, thirty-five days after our departure from the Hurons, we arrived, much fatigued, at Three Rivers; thence we went down to Kebec. We blessed God everywhere, in that his goodness had preserved us. our affairs being finished in fifteen days, we solemnly observed the feast of saint Ignace; and the next day, the first day of August in the same year 1642, we left Three Rivers, in order to go up again to the country Whence we came. The first day was favorable to us; the second caused us to fall into the hands of the Hiroquois. We were forty persons, distributed in several canoes; the one which kept the vanguard, having discovered on the hanks of the great river some tracks [60] of men, recently imprinted on the sand and clay, gave us warning. A landing was made; some say that these are footprints of the enemy, others are sure that they are those of Algonquins, our allies. In this dispute, Eustache Ahatsistari, to whom all the others deferred on account of his exploits in arms and his virtue, exclaimed: ' Be they friends or enemies, it matters not; I notice by their tracks that they are not in greater number than we; let us advance, and fear nothing.' We had not yet made a half-league, when the enemy, concealed among the grass and brushwood, rises with a great outcry, discharging at our canoes a volley of balls. The noise of their arquebuses so greatly frightened a part of our Hurons that they abandoned their canoes and weapons, and all their supplies, ill order to escape by flight into the depth of the woods. This discharge did us no great [page 21] hurt, and no one lost his life; one Huron alone had his hand pierced through, and our canoes were broken in several places. We were four French,—one of fathom, being in the rear, escaped with the Hurons, who abandoned him before [61] approaching the enemy. Eight or ten, both Christians and Catechumens, joined us; having been made to say a brief prayer, they oppose a courageous front to the enemy; and although the latter were thirty men against twelve or fourteen, our people valiantly sustained their effort. But, having perceived that another band—of forty Hiroquois, who were in ambush on the other shore of the river was coming to attack them, they lost courage; insomuch that those who were least entangled fled, abandoning their comrades in the fight. A Frenchman named René Goupil, whose death is precious before God, being no longer sustained by those who followed him, was surrounded and captured, along with some of the most courageous Hurons. I was watching this disaster," says the Father, "from a place very favorable for concealing me from the sight of the enemy, being able to hide myself in thickets and among very tall and dense reeds; but this thought could never enter my mind. 'Could I, indeed,' I said to myself, 'abandon our French and leave those good Neophytes and those poor Cateehumens, without giving them [62] the help which the Church of my God has entrusted to me?' Flight seemed horrible to me; 'It must be,' I said in my heart, 'that my body suffer the fire of earth, in order to deliver these poor souls from the flames of Hell; it must die a transient death, in order to procure for them an eternal life.' My conclusion being reached without great opposition from my [page 23] feelings, I call the one of the Hiroquois who had remained to guard the prisoners. This man, having perceived me dared not approach me, fearing some ambush. ' Come on,' I say to him; ' be not afraid: lead me to the presence of the Frenchman and the Hurons whom you hold captive.' He advances and, having seized me, puts me in the number of those whom the world calls miserable. I tenderly embraced the Frenchman. and said to him: 'My dear brothers God treats us in a strange manner, but he is the master, and he has done what has seemed best in his sight; he has followed his good pleasure. May his holy Name be blessed forever.' This good young man at once made his confession; having given him absolution, I approach the Hurons, and instruct and baptize them; and, as at every moment those who were pursuing the fugitives brought back some of them, I heard these in confession, [63] making Christians those mho were not so. Finally, they brought that worthy Christian Captain named Eustache, who, having perceived me, exclaimed: ' Ah' my Father, I had sworn and protested to you that I would live or die with you. ' The sight of him piercing my heart, I do not remember the words that I said to him. Another Frenchman, named Guillaume Couture, seeing that the Hurons were giving way, escaped like them into those great forests; and, as he was agile, he was soon out of the enemy's grasp. But, remorse having seized him because he had forsaken his Father and his comrade, he stops quite short, deliberating aside with himself whether he should go on or retrace his steps. The dread of being regarded as perfidious makes him face about; he encounters five stout Hiroquois. One of [page 25] these aims at him, but, his arquebus having missed fire, the Frenchman did not miss him,—he laid him, stone-dead, on the spot; his shot being fired, the four other Hiroquois fell upon him with a rage of Lions, or rather of Demons. Having stripped him bare as the hand, they bruised him with heavy blows of clubs, and tore out [64] his finger-nails with their teeth,—crushing the bleeding ends, in order to cause him more pain. In short, they pierced one of his hands with a javelin, and led him, tied and bound in this sad plight, to the place where we were. Having recognized him, I escape from my guards, and fall upon his neck. ' Courage,' I say to him, ' my dear brother and friend; offer your pains and anguish to God, in behalf of those very persons who torment you. Let us not draw back; let us suffer courageously for his holy name; we have intended only his glory in this journey.' The Hiroquois, seeing us in these endearments, at first remained quite bewildered, looking at us without saying a word; then, all at once,—imagining, perhaps, that I was applauding that young man because he had killed one of their Captains,—they fell upon me with a mad fury, they belabored me with thrusts, and with blows from sticks and war-clubs, flinging me to the ground, half dead. When I began to breathe again, those who had not struck me, approaching, violently tore out my finger-nails; and then biting, one after another, the ends of my [65] two forefingers, destitute of their nails caused me the sharpest pain, grinding and crushing them as if between two stones, even to the extent of causing splinters or little bones to protrude. They treated the good René Goupil in the same way, without doing, at that time, any harm to [page 27] the Hurons: they were thus enraged against the French because the latter had not been willing to accept the peace. the preceding year, on the conditions which they wished to give them.

"All their men being assembled, and the runners having come back from their hunt for men, those barbarians divided among themselves their booty, rejoicing in their prey with great shouts of mirth. As I saw them engrossed in examining and distributing our spoils, I sought also for my share. I visit all the captives; I baptize those who were not yet baptized; I encourage those poor wretches to suffer with constancy, assuring them that their reward would far exceed the severity of their torments. I ascertained, on this round of visits, that we were twenty-two captives, without counting three Hurons killed on the spot. An old man, aged eighty years, having just received holy Baptism, said to the [66] Hiroquois who were commanding him to embark: 'It is no more for an old man like me to go and visit foreign Countries; I can find death here, if you refuse me life.' Hardly had he pronounced these words when they beat him to death.

"So there we were, on the way to be led into a country truly foreign. Our Lord favored us with his Cross. It is true that, during thirteen days that we spent on that journey, I suffered in the body torments almost unendurable, and, in the soul, mortal anguish; hunger, the fiercely burning heat, the threats and hatred of those Leopards, the pain of our wounds,—which, for not being dressed, became putrid even to the extent of breeding Worms,—caused us, in truth, much distress. But all these things seemed light to me in Comparison with an [page 29] inward sadness which I felt at the sight of our earliest and most ardent Christians of the Hurons I had thought that they were to be the pillars of that fling Church, and I saw them become the victims of death. The ways closed for a long time to the salvation of so many peoples, who perish every day for want of being succored, [67] made me die every hour, in the depth of my soul. It is a very hard thing, or rather very cruel, to see the triumph of the Demons over whole nations redeemed with so much love, and paid for in the money of a blood so adorable.

"Eight days after our departure from the shores of the great river of saint Lawrence, we met two hundred Hiroquois, who were coming in pursuit of the French and of the Savages, our allies. At this encounter we were obliged to sustain a new shock. It is a belief among those Barbarians that those who go to war are the more fortunate in proportion as they are cruel toward their enemies; I assure you that they made us thoroughly feel the force of that wretched belief.

"Accordingly, having perceived us, they first thanked the Sun for having caused us to fall into the hands of their Fellow-countrymen; they next fired a salute with a volley of arquebus shots, by way of congratulation for their victory. That done, they set up a stage on a hill; then, entering the woods, they seek sticks or thorns, according to their fancy. Being thus armed, they form in line,—a hundred on one side, [68] and a hundred on the other,—and make us pass, all naked, along that way of fury and anguish; there is rivalry among them to discharge upon us the most and the heaviest blows; they made me march last, that I might be more exposed to their [page 31] rage. I had not accomplished the half of this course when I fell to the earth under the weight; of that hail and of those redoubled blows. I did not strive to rise again,—partly because of my weakness, partly because I was accepting that place for my sepulchre. Quam diu multúmque in me sævitum est, ille scit pro cujus amore et gloria hæc pati, et jucundum et gloriosum est; tandem crudeli misericordia commoti, volentes me vivum in suam terram deducere, a verberando cessarurt." These are the very words of the Father, who has described in Latin a part of his labors. " Seeing me prostrates they rush upon me; God alone knows for how long a time and how many were the blows that were dealt n my body; but the sufferings undertaken for his love and his glory are filled with joy and honor. Seeing, then, that I had not fallen by accident, and that I did not rise again for being too near death, they entered upon a cruel compassion; their rage was not [69] yet glutted, and they wished to conduct one alive into their own country; accordingly, they Embrace me, and carry me all bleeding upon twit stage they have prepared. When I am restored to fly senses, they make me come down, and offer me a thousand and one insults, making me the sport and object of their reviling; they begin their assaults aver again, dealing upon my head and neck, and all any body, another hailstorm of blows. I would be too tedious if I should set down in writing all the rigor of my sufferings. They burned one of my fingers, and crushed another with their teeth, and those which were already torn, they squeezed and twisted with a rage of Demons; they scratched my wounds with their nails; and, when strength failed me, they applied fire to my arm and thighs. My companions [page 33] were treated very nearly as I was. one of those Barbarians, having advanced with a large knife in his right hand, took my nose in his left hand, wishing to cut it off; but he stopped suddenly, and as if astonished, withdrawing without doing aught to me. He returns a quarter of an hour later, as if indignant with himself for his cowardice; he again seizes me at the [70] same place; you know, my God, what I said to you at that moment, in the depth of my heart. In fine, I know not what invisible force repulsed him for the second time. It was over with my life if he had proceeded; for they are not accustomed to leave long on the earth those who are notably mutilated." Among the Hurons, the worst treated was that worthy and valiant Christian, Eustache. Having made him suffer like the others, they cut off both thumbs from his hands, and thrust through the incisions a pointed stick even to the elbow. The Father, seeing this excess of torment, could not contain his tears. Eustache, having perceived this, and fearing lest the Hiroquois should regard him as effeminate, said to them: " Do not suppose that those tears proceed from weakness; it is the love and affection that he feels for me, and not the want of courage, that forces them from his eyes. He has never wept in his own torments; his face has always appeared dry, and always cheerful. Your rage, and my pains, and his own love are the theme and the cause of his tears." " It is true, " the Father answers him, " that thy pains are more keenly felt by me than are my own; it is true that I am covered with [71] blood and wounds; my body, nevertheless, does not feel its torments as keenly as my heart is afflicted for thy sufferings. But courage, my dear brother; [page 35] remember that there is another life than this; remember that there is a God who sees everything, and who will well know how to reward the anguish that we suffer on his account." "I remember very well," flat good Neophyte said to him; " I will remain firm even till death ;" and, indeed, his constancy appeared ever admirable and ever Christian.

"Those warriors, having made a sacrifice of our Flood, pursued their course, and we ours. The tenth May after our capture, we arrived at the place where it was necessary to cease navigation and to proceed by land; that road, which was about four days long, was extremely painful for us. The man to whose guard I was given, unable to carry all his booty, put a part of it on my back, which was all torn; we ate, in three days, only a few wild fruits, which we gathered by the way. The heat of the Sun, at the warmest season of the Summer, and our wounds greatly weakened us, and caused us to walk behind the others. Seeing ourselves considerably separated from them, and near the [72] night, I told poor René' that he should escape,—indeed, we were able to do so; but, for myself, I would rather have suffered all sorts of torments than abandon to death those whom I could somewhat console, and upon whom I could confer the blood of my Savior through the Sacraments of his Church. This good young man, seeing that I wished to follow my little flock, would never leave me: 'I will die,' he said, 'with you; I cannot forsake you.'

"I had always thought, indeed, that the day on which the whole Church rejoices in the glory of the blessed Virgin—her glorious and triumphant Assumption—would be for us a day of pain. This [page 37] made me render thanks to my Savior Jesus Christ, because, on that day of gladness and joy, he was making us share his sufferings, and admitting us to participation in his crosses. We arrived on the eve ,f that sacred day at a little river, distant from the first village of the Hiroquois about a quarter of a league; we found on its banks, on both sides, many men and youths, armed with sticks which they let loose upon us with their accustomed rage. There remained to me now [73] only two nails,—those Barbarians tore them from me with their teeth, rending the flesh from beneath, and cutting it clean to the bone with their nails, which they allow to grow very long. A Huron, to whom they had given his liberty in that country, having perceived us, exclaimed: 'You are dead, Frenchmen, you are dead; there is no liberty for you. Think no more of life; you will be burned; prepare yourselves for death.' This fine reception did not afflict us to the degree that our enemies believed it would; my guard, nevertheless, seeing me all covered with blood, touched with some compassion, told me that I was in a pitiable state; and, in order to render me more distinguishable to the sight of his people, he wiped my face.

"After they had glutted their cruelty, they led us in triumph into that first village; all the youth were outside the gates, arranged in line,—armed with sticks, and some with iron rods, which they easily secure on account of their vicinity to the Dutch. Casting our eyes upon these weapons of passion, we remembered what saint Augustin says, that those who turn aside from the scourges of God, turn aside from the number of his children; on that account, [page 39] [74] we offered ourselves with great courage to his fatherly goodness, in order to be victims sacrificed to his good pleasure and to his anger, lovingly zealous for the salvation of these peoples. Here follows the order which was observed at that funereal and pompous entry. They made one Frenchman march at the head, and another in the middle of the Hurons, and me the very last. We were following one another at an equal distance; and, that our executioners might have more leisure to beat us at their ease, some Hiroquois thrust themselves into our ranks in order to prevent us from running and from avoiding any blows. The procession beginning to enter this narrow way of Paradise, a scuffling was heard on all sides; it was indeed then that I could say with my Lord and master, Supra dorsum meum fabricaverunt peccatores,—'Sinners have built and left monuments and marks of their rage upon my back.' I was naked to my shirt, like a poor criminal; the others were wholly naked, except poor René Goupil, to whom they did the same favor as to me. The more slowly the procession marched in a very long road, the more blows we received. One was [75] dealt above my loins, with the pommel of a javelin, or with an iron knob the size of one's fist, which shook my whole body and took away my breath. Such was our entrance into that Babylon. Hardly could we arrive as far as the scaffold which was prepared for us in the midst of that village, so exhausted were we; our bodies were all livid, and our faces all stained with blood. But more disfigured than all was René Goupil, so that nothing white appeared in his face except his eyes. I found him all the more beautiful as he had more in common with him who, bearing a face [page 41] most worthy of the regards and delight of the Angels, appeared to us, in the midst of his anguish, like a leper. Having ascended that scaffold, I exclaimed in my heart: Spectaculum facti sumus mundo et Angelis et hominibus propter Christum,—'we have been made a gazing-stock in the sight of the world, of Angels, and of men, for Jesus Christ.' We found some rest in that place of triumph and of glory. The Hiroquois no longer persecuted us except with their tongues,—filling the air and our ears with their insults, which did us no great hurt; [76] but this calm did not last long. A Captain exclaims that the Frenchmen ought to be caressed. Sooner done than it is said,—one wretch, jumping on the stage, dealt three heavy blows with sticks, on each Frenchman, without touching the Hurons. Others, meanwhile drawing their knives and approaching us, treated me as a Captain,—that is to say, with more fury than the rest. The deference of the French, and the respect which the Hurons showed me, caused me this advantage. And old man takes my left hand and commands a captive Algonquin woman to cut one of my fingers; she turns away three or four times, unable to resolve upon this cruelty; finally, she has to obey, and cuts the thumb from my left hand; the same caresses are extended to the other prisoners. This poor woman having thrown my thumb on the stage, I picked it up and offered it to you, O my God ! Remembering the sacrifices that I had presented to you for seven years past, upon the Altars of your Church, I accepted this torture as a loving vengeance for the want of love and respect that I had shown, concerning your Holy Body; you heard [77] the cries of my soul. one of my two French companions, having perceived me, [page 43] told me that, if those Barbarians saw me keep my thumb, they would make me eat it and swallow it all raw; and that, therefore, I should throw it away somewhere . I obey him instantly. They used a scallop or an oyster-shell for cutting off the right thumb of the other Frenchman, so as to cause him more pain. The blood flowing from our wounds in so great abundance that we were likely to fall in a swoon, a Hiroquois—tearing off a little end of my shirt, which alone had been left to me—bound them up for us; and that was all the dressing and all the medical treatment applied to them.

"Evening having come, they made us descend, in order to be taken into the cabins as the sport of the children. They gave us for food a very little Indian corn, simply boiled in water; then they made us lie down on pieces of bark, binding us by the arms and the feet to four stakes fastened in the ground in the shape of saint Andrew's Cross. The children, in order to learn the cruelty of their parents, threw coals and burning cinders on our stomachs,—taking pleasure in seeing us broil [78] and roast. Oh, my God, what nights ! To remain always in an extremely constrained position; to be unable to stir or to turn, under the attack of countless vermin which assailed us on all sides; to be burdened with wounds, some recent and others all putrid; not to have sustenance for the half of one's life: in truth, these torments are great, but God is infinite. At Sunrise, they led us back upon our scaffold, where we spent three days and three nights in the sufferings that I have Just described.

"The three days having expired, they parade us into two other villages, where we make our entrance [page 45] as into the first; they give us the same salutes of beatings? and, in order to enhance the cruelty of the earlier ones, they deal us severe blows on the bones,—either at random or on the shin of the legs, a place very sensitive to pain. As we were leaving the first village, a wretch took away my shirt and gave me an old rag to cover what ought to be concealed; this nakedness was very painful to me. I could not abstain from reproaching one of those who had had the bulk of our spoils, saying: [79] ' Art thou not ashamed to see me in this nakedness,—thou who hast had so great a share of my baggage?' These words somewhat abashed him: he took a piece of coarse cloth, with which a bundle was enveloped, and threw it to me. I put it on my back in order to defend myself from the heat of the Sun, which heated and corrupted my wounds; but—this cloth having glued itself fast, and, as it were, incorporated itself with my sores—I was constrained to tear it off with pain, and to abandon myself to the mercy of the air. My skin was detaching itself from my body in several places; and,—that I might say that I had passed per ignem et aquam, through cold and heat, for the love of my God,—while on the scaffold during three days, as in the first village, there fell a cold rain, which greatly renewed the pains of my sores. One of those Barbarians having perceived that Guillaume Cousture, although he had his hands all torn, had not yet lost any of his fingers, seized his hand, striving to cut off his forefinger with a poor knife. But, as he could not succeed therein, he twisted it, and in tearing it he pulled a sinew out of the arm, the length of a [80] span. At the same time his poor arm swelled, and [page 47] the pain was reflected from it even to the depth of my heart.

"On departing from that second village, they drag us into the third; these villages are several leagues distant from one another. Besides the salute and the caresses, and the reception which was given us at the two preceding ones, note what was added to our torture. The young men thrust thorns or pointed sticks into our sores, scratching the ends of our fingers, deprived of their nails, and tearing them even to the quick flesh; and, in order to honor me above the others, they bound me to pieces of wood fastened crosswise. Consequently, my feet not being supported, the weight of my body inflicted upon me a gehenna, and a torture so keen that, after having suffered this torment about a quarter of an hour, I plainly felt that I w as about to fall in a swoon from it, which made me beseech those Barbarians to lengthen my bonds a little. They ran up, at my call; and, instead of lengthening them, they strain them more tightly, in order to cause me more pain. A Savage from a more distant country, touched with compassion, broke through the press, and, drawing [81] a knife, boldly cut all the cords with which I was bound. This charity was afterward rewarded a hundredfold, as we shall see in its place.

"That act was not without providence: for, at the same time when I was unbound, word was brought that some warriors, or hunters of men, were conducting thither some Hurons, recently taken. I betook me to the place as best I could; I consoled those poor captives, and, having sufficiently instructed them, I conferred upon them holy Baptism; in recompense I am told that I must die with them. The sentence [page 49] decreed in the Council is intimated to me, the following night is to be (as they say) the end of my torments and of my life. My soul is well pleased with these words, but not yet was my God,—he willed to prolong my martyrdom. Those Barbarians reconsidered the matter, exclaiming that life ought to be spared to the Frenchmen, or rather, their death postponed. They thought to find more moderation at our forts, on account of us. They accordingly sent Guillaume Cousture into the largest village, and René Goupil and I were lodged together in another. Knife being granted us, they [82] did us no more alarm. But alas! it was then that we felt at leisure the torments which had been inflicted on us. They gave us for beds the bark of trees, flat on the ground; and for refreshment they gave us a little Indian meal, and sometimes a bit of squash, half raw. Our- ands and fingers being all in pieces, they had to feed s like children. Patience was our Physician. Some women, more merciful, regarded us with much charity and were unable to look at our sores without Compassion." [page 51]

CHAPTER V.

GOD PRESERVES FATHER ISAAC JOGUES AFTER THE MURDER OF HIS COMPANION. HE INSTRUCTS HIM IN A VERY REMARKABLE MANNER.

HEN those poor captives had recovered a little of their strength, the principal men of the country talked of conducting them back to Three Rivers, in order to restore them to the French; the affair made so much progress that it was considered [83] as settled. But, as their captors could not agree, the Father and his companions endured. more than ever, the pangs of death. Those Barbarians are accustomed to give prisoners, whom they do not choose to put to death, to the families who have lost some of their relatives in war. These prisoners take the place of the deceased, and are incorporated into that family, which alone has the right to kill them, or to let them live. The others would not dare to offend them; but when they retain some public prisoner, like the Father, without giving him to any individual, this poor man is every day within two finger-lengths of death. If some rascal beat him to death, no one will trouble himself about it, if he drag out his poor life, it is by favor of some individuals who have love for him. In such condition was the Father, and one of the Frenchmen; for the other had been given to take the place of a Hiroquois killed in war.

The young Frenchman who was the Father's [page 53] companion was accustomed to caress the little children, and to teach them to make the sign of the Cross. An old man, having seen him make this sacred sign upon the forehead [84] of his grandson, and that he took the child's hand in order to teach him to form it said to a nephew of his: " Go and kill that dog: the Dutch tell us that what he does is of no account; that act will cause some harm to my grandson." The nephew obeyed, as soon as possible; when he, accordingly, sought the opportunity to commit this murder outside the village, it presented itself thus: Father Jogues—having learned that their purpose to release the French was set aside, and that, in consequence, some young men had come to seek him even in his cabin, in order to torment him and to treat him as a victim destined to death—wished to forewarn and strengthen his poor companion. He leads him to a grove near the village, and explains to him the dangers in which they stood. They both offer prayers, and then recite the rosary of the Blessed Virgin; in a word, they cheerfully prepaid themselves for death, encouraged by strength from him who never fails those who seek and love him. While they were returning toward their village, talking of the blessings of the other life, the nephew of that old man, and another Savage, armed with hatchets and watching for an opportunity, go to meet them. [85] Having approached them, one of these men says to the Father, " March forward; " and at the same time he breaks the head of poor René Goupil, who, on falling and expiring, pronounced the Holy Name of Jesus. The Father, seeing him prostrate, falls upon him and embraces him; those Barbarians draw him away, and deal two more blows [page 55] with the hatchet on that blessed body. " Give me a moment's time," the Father said to them, supposing that they would accord him the same favor as to his companion. He then falls on his knees, he offers himself in sacrifice to the divinity; then, turning toward those Barbarians, " Do," he said to them, " what you please; I fear not death." " Get up," they reply; " thou wilt not die this time." They drag the dead man through the streets of the village, and then go and throw him into a very sequestered place. The Father, wishing to render him the last duties, seeks him everywhere; some children having informed him, he finds the corpse in a brook, and covers it with great stones in order to protect it from the claws and beaks of the birds, until he might come to bury it. But it rained all the following night, and this torrent became so violent and so deep that he could not find that blessed body. This death occurred on the [86] twenty-ninth of September, in the year 1642.

The following Spring, some children reporting that they had seen the Frenchman in a brook, the Father betakes himself thither without saying a word, withdraws those sacred remains, kisses them with respect, and hides them in the hollow of a tree, in order to remove them with himself, if it so happen that they would set him at liberty. He did not yet know the cause of his companion's death; but the old man who had caused him to be slain having invited him, some days later, to his cabin, and giving him food, when the Father came to offer the blessing and express the sign of the Cross, that Barbarian said to him: " Do not do that; the Dutch tell us that that act is of no account. Know that I have [page 57] had thy companion killed for having made it upon my grandson; the like Shrill be done to thee, if thou Continue.'' The Father answered him that this sign was adorable; that it could not do anything but good to those who should use it; that he had no intention of giving it up. That man dissimulated, for the time, and the Father employed no reserve in this devotion,—asking nothing better than to die for having expressed the mark and sign of the Christian; [87] but let us resume the sequence of our discourse.

That young man. or that blessed martyr, being thus slain, the Father returns to his cabin; his people apply their hands to his breast, in order to feel whether fear did not agitate his heart. Having found it steady, they said to him: " Do not again leave the village, unless thou art accompanied by some one of us; they intend to beat thee to death; look out for thyself." He knew very well that they were seeking his life; a Huron, who had given him some shoes out of compassion, came to ask them of him again,—"Because," he said to him, "soon thou wilt have no more use for them, and another would use them." The Father gave them back to him, understanding very well what he meant to tell him.

Some time after, a young Hiroquois, wishing to kill him, came to find him in his cabin, and said to him: " Come with me to the next village." The Father, knowing by his bearing that he had some evil design in mind, said to him: " I am not my own master; if those to whom I belong, or who keep me send me, I will accompany thee." That wretch had nothing to answer; he went out and proceeded to communicate his intention to a good old man, who forbade him [88] that base enterprise,—warning the [page 59] Father and the Father's guards never to let him go out without good company.

As the Winter cold was beginning to make itself felt, another Barbarian asked the Father for the greater part of a piece of castelogne,{8} which served him as gown, mattress, and blanket. " I would gladly give it to thee," the Father answers him, " but it is already so short that it shelters only the half of my body; if thou cut off even a little, thou wilt reduce me to a nakedness unseemly in the sight of every one." That wicked man, who considered it a great slight to be denied, in anything whatsoever, by a dog,—this rank he assigned to the Father,—took the resolution to put him to death. He sends his brother to entice him out of his cabin and of the village; but not having been able to accomplish this, he himself goes in, speaks secretly to the Father's guard, and goes away. The next morning, this guard, being perhaps frightened by that insolent man, sends the Father to the fields with two women. Hardly have they left the village, when these two women flee, leaving the Father all alone at the mercy [89] of the wolves who were to devour him; and the murderer of the good René immediately appeared, hatchet in hand. The Father,—who saw all this game, and who had left the cabin through obedience,—strongly suspecting that he was on his way to death, looks at this man with assurance, and at the same time inclines his heart to God. Strange thing! that furious one becomes quiet; his strength and his weapons fall from his hands; he returns, as if astonished and terrified, without saying any word to the Father. In brief, this good Father was every day like the bird on the branch; his life held only by a [page 61] thread, and it seemed to him at every moment that some one was about to cut it; but he who held the end of it was not willing to let it go so soon. Some time after the death of his companion, God communicated to him in his sleep, as he did of old to those old Patriarchs, what I am about to relate. He himself has set it down in writing, with his own hand: he tells it thus in the Latin tongue, translated into our French. "After the death of my dearest companion, of happy memory, when they were seeking me every day for my death, and [90] when my soul was filled with anguish, what I am about to tell happened to me in my sleep."

Egressus eram à Pago nostro solito meo more ut tibi Deo meo liberius gemerem, these are his first words,—"I had gone forth from our village in my usual manner, in order to groan more freely before you, O my God; in order to offer to you my prayer, and to lift the sluice, in your presence, of my distresses and my complaints. At my return, I found all things new: those great stakes which surrounded our village appeared to me changed into towers, bulwarks, and walls of an illustrious beauty; so that, however, I saw nothing which was newly built, but indeed a city highly venerable for its antiquity. Doubting if it were our village, I saw some Hiroquois come out, with whom I was very well acquainted, who seemed to assure me that in truth it was our village. Filled with astonishment, I approached that City; having passed the first gate, I saw these two letters, L. N., engraved in large characters upon the right column of the second gate, and next a little lamb, slaughtered. I was surprised. [91] being unable to conceive [page 63] how Barbarians who have no knowledge of our letters could have engraved those characters; and, while I was seeking the explanation of it in my own mind, I saw overhead, in a roll, these three words written, Laudent nomen ejus. At the same time, I received a great light in the depth of my soul, which caused me to see that rightly were they praising the name of the lamb, who in their distresses and tribulations were striving to imitate the gentleness of him who, like a lamb, had said no word to those who, having robbed him of his fleece, were leading him to death.

"This sight having given me courage, I enter the second gate, built of great stones, hewn in every fashion, which made a great portico or entrance, enriched with an admirable vault. Continuing my way, I perceived about the middle of this portico a guard-house, well filled with arms of every pattern, without seeing any soldier; I made them a deep obeisance, remembering that one owed them this respect. While I was saluting them, a sentinel, stationed toward the place whither I was proceeding, exclaimed, ' Halt there.' [92] Now—whether I had my face turned in another direction, or whether the beauty of the things which I beheld strongly occupied my mind—I neither saw nor heard anything. The sentinel repeats, the second time, crying more loudly, 'Halt there;' and I stop quite short. ' How?' said this soldier to me, ' is that the way you obey the voice of him who is on guard before the royal Palace 2 Was it then necessary to call to you twice, " Halt there? " Come, be quick; appear before our Judge and our Captain.' I heard these two words, ' Judge ' and ' Captain.' ' Enter,' he said to me, ' through this gate, in order to receive the punishment of your [page 65] temerity.' ' I assure you, O my dear friend,' I answered him, ' that I neither saw nor heard you; ' but he hurried me away without receiving my excuses. The gate of the Palace before which he was on duty was a little below the guard-house of which I have just spoken. This place appeared to me at first like those gilded chambers in which Justice is dispensed in Europe; or like those beautiful places which one still sees in some old Monasteries, where formerly the Ecclesiastics held their Chapter. In this most delightful Hall or Palace, I [93] saw an old man, full of majesty, like to the Ancient of days; he was covered with a magnificent scarlet robe, of extreme beauty; he was not seated on his Throne, but was quietly walking about, rendering Justice to his people, from whom he was separated by high railings. I saw at the gate of this Palace many persons, of all sorts of conditions. The soldier who had conducted me having spoken, my Judge, without hearing me, draws a switch or rod from a bundle like those which were formerly borne before the Roman Consuls; he struck me long and severely with that switch, on the shoulders, neck, and head,—and, although only a single hand struck me, I felt as much pain as I experienced at my entrance into the first village of the Hiroquois, when all the youth of the country, being armed with sticks, treated us with unequaled cruelty. Never did I utter any complaint, never did I utter any groan under those blows; I suffered with pain all that was applied to me, finding patience in view of my own baseness. Finally, as if my Judge had admired [94] my patience, he laid down the rod, and, falling on my neck, embraced me; and, in banishing my griefs, he filled me with a consolation wholly divine and entirely inexplicable. Overflowing [page 67] with that celestial joy, I kissed the hand which had struck me; and, feeling myself fall as it were into an ecstasy, I exclaimed: Virga tua, domine mi rex, et baculus tuus, ipsa me consolata sunt,—'Your rod, O my Lord and my King, and your staff have comforted me.' That done, he conducts me back, and leaves me at the threshold of the door.

"Having returned to myself, I could not doubt that God had wrought wonders in my soul,—not only because of the connection which these things had among themselves, but especially because of the great fire of love which my Judge had kindled in the depth of my heart, the remembrance of which alone, several months later, drew from me tears of the sweetest consolation.

The belief also that my death was delayed, was several times impressed upon me in my sleep,—it seeming to me that I was following my dearest companion, received into blessedness, and was running after him in ways and byways which deprived me from seeing him. At other times, in pursuing him I came across [95] superb temples, into which I entered, attracted by their beauty; and, while I was offering prayers, and the sweetness of the voices which I heard in those great buildings was charming me, I would console myself in his absence; but, as soon as I left those delights, I returned to the desire of following him." All this is taken, almost word for word, from the memoir of that good Father,—who, at the time, did not understand that those blows which were dealt on his head by his Judge denoted his return into that country, where he was to find the entrance to the Holy Zion by a blow from a hatchet, which has lodged him with his dear companion. [page 69]

CHAPTER VI.

THE FATHER IS GIVEN AS SERVANT TO SOME HUNTERS. HE SUFFERS, HE IS CONSOLED; HE EXERCISES HIS ZEAL IN HIS JOURNEYS.

HEY gave this poor Father to some families, to serve them as a menial in their hunts; he follows them at the approach of Winter and makes thirty leagues with them, serving them through two months, as a [96] slave. All his clothes sheltered him no more than would a shirt and a sorry pair of drawers; his stockings and his shoes made like tennis slippers, and of a leather just as thin, without any soles.—in a word, he was all in rags. The sharp reeds and briars, the stones and pebbles, the thickets through which he had to pass, cut his legs and tore his feet. As they did not account him fit for hunting, they gave him a woman's occupation,—that is, to cut and bring the wood to keep up the cabin fire. The chase beginning to furnish supplies, he could to some extent repair his strength,—meat not being stinted to him; but when he saw that they were offering to the Demon of the chase all that they took, he told them plainly that he would never eat of flesh sacrificed to the devil. He therefore contented himself with a little very thin sagamité—that is to say, with a little Indian meal boiled in water; and even then he had it but seldom, because, gorged with meat, they despised their dry cornmeal.

He secretly confessed to one of our Fathers that [page 71] God tried him exceedingly [97] in that journey, and that he saw himself a long time without other support than Faith alone; his desolation was so great, and the sight of his miseries appeared to him so frightful that he knew not in what direction to turn. He had recourse to prayer; he would go to the woods as soon as it was morning, bringing back even more wood than was needed to keep up the fire which burns day and night in their cabins. His task done, he withdrew alone upon a hill covered with spruce trees; and there he spent eight or ten hours in prayer, without other conversation than that with God,—remaining most of the time upon his knees on the snow, before a Cross which he had himself set up. He continued these exercises during forty days, without house, without fire. without other shelter than the Sky and the woods, and a miserable scrap of I know not what, almost as transparent as the air. Those of his cabin, having perceived his retreat, espied him; and, supposing that he was there preparing some spells in order to make men die, they tormented him from time to time, playing upon him a thousand tricks. One would present his bow, pretending that he was about to let fly his arrows upon him; another would approach him, hatchet in hand, telling him that he would strike him dead if he did not [98] desist from his charms. They broke up the Cross which served him as oratory, but he engraved another on wood; they sometimes felled trees near him, in order to frighten him. Returning at evening to the cabin, he carried another great burden of wood; but, for all recompense, they cast reproaches at him that he was a wizard; that his prayers were sorceries, which prevented the success of their hunting. [page 73] In fine, they regarded him as an abomination,—even to the degree that whatever he touched was, as it were, polluted and contaminated among them, so that he might not use any of the articles in the cabin. He had his thighs and legs cracked and split by the rigor of the cold, not having wherewith to cover himself.

He had, in this retreat, some communications with God which I will faithful translate from the Latin of his memoir.

"It seemed to me," he says, " on a certain day, that I happened to be in the assembly of several of our Fathers, whose virtue I had honored while they were in the world. I recognized only three of them distinctly,—Father Jacques Bertric, Father Estienne Binet, and Father Pierre Coton.{4} I knew some more clearly than others, according as I [99] had more or less intercourse with them in Europe. I begged them, with all the strength of my heart, to commend me to the Cross, to the end that it might receive me as disciple of him who had been fastened between its arms. I adduced an argument which had never come into my mind, even while I was offering prayers or meditations at the Cross,—I alleged that I was a fellow-citizen of the Cross, since I had been born in a City whose principal and Metropolitan Church was dedicated to the Holy Cross.

"While still in that same retreat, I found myself all at once in the shop of a Bookseller, stationed in the Holy Cross Cloister, in the city where I had my birth. I asked him if he had not some Book of piety and edification; he answered me that he had one, on which he placed great value. At the same time when it was put in my hands, I heard this voice: ' This Book contains Illustres pietate viros et fortia bello [page 75] pectora,—the acts and deeds of men Illustrious in piety and of hearts brave in war.' These are the very words which I heard, which stamped this truth upon my soul, that we [100] must enter into the Kingdom of Heaven through many tribulations. Now, as was leaving that shop, I saw it all covered with Crosses.—insomuch that I told the master of the house that I would return to buy some, and that I wished to have some; I saw them of all patterns and ill great number." This good Father lived only by the Cross, he meditated only on the Cross, he dreamed of nothing but the Cross, his mind was enlightened by the Cross; he made loving Litanies upon it, which were found, after his death, on scraps of paper, whereon he had also written some words in the Hiroquois language.

In that same solitude, where those Barbarians were tormenting him beyond measure, Our Lord, as I have already remarked, cast him into the utmost desolation, and then consoled him in this way. Let us hear him speak.

"The snows being already deep, I found myself half dead in hunger, in cold, and in nakedness; I was the mud and the mire of those Barbarians, the shame and the sport of men. I suffered mortal anguish in my soul at the sight of the omissions and sins of my past life; the pains of the death which I was to [101] expect, in a little while, at the hands of those Barbarians, as they told me; and the perils of Hell that surrounded me on all sides. I distinctly heard a voice which condemned the pusillanimity of my heart, and which gave me warning, sentirem de Deo In bonitate, that I should fix my thoughts upon the goodness of my God, and cast myself entirely [page 77] upon his bosom. I heard these other words, which I believed were from saint Bernard,{5} Servite Domino in illa charitate quæ foras mittit timorem; meritum non intuetur,—'Serve God in the charity and love which expels fear; he does not turn his eyes upon our merits, but upon his own goodness.' These admonitions were given to me very opportunely, for I felt that truly I was not in a loving and filial fear, but in a servile dejection. I had not sufficient constancy; and, instead of groaning for my offenses, committed against God, I was grieved to see myself removed from the midst of life and led away to Judgment, without having sent before me any good works. Now these words changed me in a moment; they banished my vexations, and threw me into a fire of love so vehement that, before having [102] returned to myself, I pronounced with great impetuosity these words of saint Bernard: Non immerito vitam ille sibi vindicat nostram, qui pro nobis dedit et suam,—'Not without reason does he ask our life, who has given up his own for us.' Finally, God so greatly enlarged the soul of his poor servant, that I returned full of joy to our village,—at the entrance to which, as I believed, they were to beat me to death."

Having learned that some old men wished to return to their village, this poor Father asked permission to accompany them; they send him without tinder, without shoes, and amid the snows of the month of December; and, after all that, they command him to carry on this march of 30 leagues a bundle of smoked meat, which would have served as burden to a stout porter. He had no answer to make; all the Savages are like carriers or packhorses. Steadfast charity and patience beget strength where there is [page 79] none. There happened to be on this journey a pregnant woman, who also carried a heavy burden and a little child. As they came to cross a small stream, very deep and very swift, [103] and which had no other bridge than a tree thrown across, this woman, swayed I)y her burden, fell into the torrent. The Father, w ho was following her,—seeing that the rope about her bundle had slipped to her neck, and that this burden was dragging her to the bottom,—plunges into the water, overtakes her by swimming, disengages her from her burden, and takes her to the shore, saving her life and that of her little child, which he baptized at once, seeing it very ill; in fact, it took its flight, two days later, to Paradise. I leave you to think whether the cold made itself felt by that poor worn-out body. The fire which was made for that revived woman preserved their lives, which they would have lost without this help.

Having arrived at the village, he had no leisure to refresh and rest himself,—they command him to carry a great sack full of corn to those hunters. This burden astounds him; theist throw it on his shoulders, but he does not go far,—his weakness and the sleet, which caused him to fall at each step, make him turn back. Those who had sent him, seeing him return, overwhelmed him with insults,—calling him a dog, a misshapen fellow, who knew nothing but to eat. Then, by way of punishment, they put him in the cabin of a man who is all putrid through a loathsome and [104] vile disease,—a cruel man, who had torn out his nails at his entrance into the country; and is-ho. moreover, in his filthiness, had no other corn fort than a little corn boiled in water. The Father serves him as a menial during fifteen days, with an [page 81] iron patience and a charity wholly of gold. Finally, those of his cabin, having returned from the hunt, called him back; a young woman and a young girl offered themselves to him to serve him in the manner of the country, showing him much compassion. When he saw them alone, the men being still absent, he thanked them,—or, rather, he rebuked them, all the more severely because he perceived that a young Hiroquois was associating with them too wantonly. This licentiousness, which he could not remedy, was more painful to him than his own past sufferings; it is not credible how present God is to those w ho suffer for his name.

He visited during all the Winter, at the peril of his life, the three villages of the Hiroquois named Agneronons, in order to console the captive Hurons, and to animate and encourage them to remain firm in the Faith,—administering to them, from time to time, the Sacrament of penance. The mother of his [105] guard, or host,—whom he called " his aunt,"—began to admire and respect his virtues; she gave him a deerskin to lie down on, and another with which to cover himself. They had a neighbor, all covered with wounds: this man was among the number of those who had treated the Father with most rage and cruelty. When he saw this man in such extremity, he visited him often, consoling him in his disease, and went to gather small fruits with which to refresh him. This charity won for him affection, and increased the respect which his people entertained for him.

His aunt took him to the fishing, about the month of March; his occupation was the same as while hunting,—he furnished the firewood for his cabin; but [page 83] they treated him with more mildness. This retreat outside the villages and tumult of the Hiroquois was very acceptable to him; he made a little cabin of fir branches, in the form of a chapel, where he erected a Cross. This Church was all his consolation,—he spent in it the greater part of the day in prayers without being molested by any one; but this repose was not of long duration. An old man, seeing that his kinsman [106] did not return from the war, supposed that he had been killed; and, in order to comfort or honor that man's soul, he wished to sacrifice to it the Father's. Accordingly, knowing that he was at several days' distance from the village, he sends a young man to warn those fishermen that the enemy had been seen prowling about in that quarter. It required nothing more to inspire fear in them, and to make them return very quickly to their village. Happily for the Father, at the very time when he was entering the gates, a messenger arrived, who brought news that that warrior and his comrades about whom they were anxious were returning victorious, bringing twenty Abnaquiois prisoners, six months after their departure from the country. Behold them all joyful; they leave the poor Father; they burn, they flay, they roast, they eat those poor victims, with public rejoicings. I suppose that the Demons do something similar in Hell, at the sight of souls condemned to their braziers.

From the month of August till the end of March, the Father was every day in the pains and terrors of [107] death. A lesser courage had died a hundred times, from apprehension. It is easier to die all at once than to die a hundred times. Toward the end of April, a Savage Captain from the country of the [page 85] Sokokiois appeared in the land of the Hiroquois, laden with presents, which he came to offer for the ransom and deliverance of a Frenchman named Ondesson,—thus the Hurons and Hiroquois named Father Jogues. This man related that one of his fellow-countrymen, a man of note, having fallen into the hands of the Algonquins, had been very badly treated; but that Onontio and the French had made great gifts to redeem him, and had saved his life; and thereupon he drew forth some letters from the Captain of the French, to be delivered to Ondesson. This embassy gave some credit to the Father, and caused him to be regarded for a short time with more compassionate eyes; but those Barbarians, having accepted the gifts, nevertheless did not set him at liberty,—violating the law of nations, and the law accepted among all these tribes.

This new benevolence did not prevent a madman from almost beating to death this poor Father; this man entered with fury into his cabin, [108] and gave him two heavy blows with a war-club on the head, prostrating him half dead; and if some persons had not hindered him, he would have taken the Father's life. Nothing else happened, except that his poor aunt began to weep; and, from that time, she warned him secretly of the evil designs which were brewed against him, urging him to escape and to extricate himself from that harsh captivity. I will say, in passing, that these madmen—of whom there is a great number in that country, and in many other regions of America—are rather agitated, and, as it were, possessed, by some Demon, who causes in them this fury from time to time, than injured in the brain by any natural disease. [page 87]

In the months of May and June, the Father wrote several letters, by warriors who were coming to hunt men upon the great stream of Saint Lawrence; he told them that they should fasten these letters to some poles on the banks of that great river. Be this as it may, one of them was delivered to Monsieur our Governor, on the occasion which we have described in chapter 12 of the relation for the year 1642, where the copy of that letter is written at full length.

[109] About that time,—some Hiroquois Captains going to visit some small nations which are, as it were, tributary to them, in order to get some presents,—that man who had the Father in custody, being of the party, led him in his train; his design was to display the triumphs of the Hiroquois over even the nations which are in Europe. God was intending to save some soul by the means of his servant, who did not fail, as soon as he had entered into any village, to visit all the cabins and to baptize the dying children,—and, even further, fully adult persons, when he had the means to instruct them. Going, then, from cabin to cabin, he perceived a young man who was very ill; the latter, turning to the Father, said to him, " Ondesson,"—calling him by the Savage name which he bore in those regions,—"dost thou not know me? Dost thou remember well the favor that I did thee at thy entrance into the country of the Hiroquois?" " I do not remember having ever seen thee," said the Father to him; " but, then, what favor didst thou do me?" " Dost thou indeed remember,' he replies, " a man who cut the bonds, in the third village of the Agneronon Hiroquois, when thou wert at the end of thy strength?" [110] " I remember it very well; that man greatly obliged [page 89] me. I have never been able to thank him; give me, I beg thee, some news of him, if thou art acquainted with him." " It was I myself," answers this poor invalid. At these words the Father falls upon him and embraces him,—showing him with heart, eyes, and voice the grateful emotions which he felt for such a benefit. " Ah! how sad I am," he said to him, " to see thee in this pitiful state; what regrets I feel, to be unable to help thee in thy sickness! I have often, without being acquainted with thee, prayed for thee to the great master of our lives. Thou seest me in great poverty; but, nevertheless, I will do thee a favor greater than that which thou didst to me." The sick man listens; the Father announces to him the gospel of Jesus Christ; he makes him understand that he can enter a life of pleasure and glory; in a word, he instructs him. The sick man believes, and gives indications of his belief; the Father baptizes him; and shortly after, he took his Sight to Heaven, rewarded more than a hundredfold for the compassion which he had extended to the servant of Jesus Christ.

The Father's fatigues in that journey of more than eighty leagues were fully soothed and rewarded by the [111] salvation of his Benefactor. There was never Anchorite more abstemious than this poor captive on that journey; his living was only a little wild purslane which he went to gather in the fields, with which he made a soup without other seasoning than clear water. They gave him, indeed, certain seeds to eat,—but so insipid and so dangerous that they served as a very quick poison to those who knew not how to prepare them; and he would not touch them. [page 91]

CHAPTER VII.

THE FATHER ESCAPES FROM THE HIROQUOIS AND PROCEEDS TO FRANCE THROUGH THE INTERVENTION OF THE DUTCH.

HE RETURNS TO CANADAS; HAVING ARRIVED THERE, HE MAKES A JOURNEY TO THE COUNTRY OF THE HIROQUOIS.

PON the return from this journey, they command the Father to go and accompany some fishermen, who conducted him 7 or 8 leagues below a Dutch settlement. While he was engaged in that exercise, he learned frown the lips of some [112] Hiroquois who came to that quarter that they were awaiting him in the village to burn him. This news was the occasion of his deliverance, of which,— having sufficiently mentioned it in the Relation for the year 1642 and 1643, chapter 14,—I will relate here only some particulars of which there has been but little if any mention. The Dutch having given him the opportunity to enter a ship, the Hiroquois complained of it;—he was withdrawn thence and conducted to the house of the Captain, who gave him in custody to an old man, until they should have appeased those Barbarians. In a word, if they had persevered in their demand, and rejected some presents that were made to them, the Father would have been given up into their hands, to be the object of their fury and food for their lyres. Now, while they were awaiting the opportunity to send him back to Europe, he remained six weeks under the guard of that old [page 93] man, who was very miserly, and lodged him in an old garret,—where hunger, and thirst, and heat, and the fear at every moment of falling back into the hands of the Hiroquois, gave him excellent reason to cast and submerge himself within the providence of him who had so often caused him to realize his presence. [113] This man was the sutler of that settlement; he made lye every fortnight, then carried back his tub to the garret, in which he put water which served the Father for drink until the next lye-making. This water, which soon spoiled in the Summer heat, caused him a severe pain in the stomach. They gave him to eat as much as was necessary, not to live, but not to die. God alone, and his Saints, were his company. The Minister visited him sometimes, and bethinking himself one day to ask him how they treated him,—for never would this good Father have mentioned it, if he had not been spoken to about the matter,—he answered that they brought him very few things. " I suspect as much, " the Minister answers, " for that old man is a great miser, who no doubt retains most of the provisions that are sent to you." The Father assured him that he was content, and that his sufferings had long since been acceptable to him. In this garret where the Father was, there was a recess to which his Guard continually led Hiroquois Savages, in order to sell some produce which he locked up there: this recess was made of planks so [114] slightly joined that one might easily have passed his fingers into the openings. " I am astonished," says the Father, " that those Barbarians did not hundreds of times discover me; I saw them without difficulty; and unless God had turned away their eyes, they would have [page 95] perceived me a thousand times. I concealed myself behind casks, bending myself into a constrained posture which gave me gehenna and torture two, three, or four hours in succession? and that very often. To go down to the court of the dwelling, or to go to other places, was casting myself headlong; for every place was filled with those who were seeking me to death. Besides, to increase my blessings,—that is to say, my crosses,—the wound which a dog had inflicted upon me, the night that I escaped from the Hiroquois, caused me so great a pain that, if the Surgeon of that settlement had not put his hand to it, I would have lost not only the leg, but life; for gangrene was already setting in.

"The Captain of the principal settlement, called Manate, distant sixty leagues from the one where I was, having learned that I was not overmuch at my ease in that vicinity of the Hiroquois,—or Maquois, as the Dutch name them,—commanded [115] that I be taken to his fort. By good fortune, at the same time when they received his letters a vessel was to go down, in which they made me embark in company with a Minister, who showed me much kindness. He was supplied with a number of bottles, which he dealt out lavishly,—especially on coming to an Island, to which he wished that my name should be given with the noise of the cannon and of the bottles; each one manifests his love in his own fashion." This good Father was received in Manate with great tokens of affection; the Captain had a black coat made for him, sufficiently light, and gave him also a good cloak and a hat in their own style. The inhabitants came to see him, showing, by their looks and their words, that they felt great sympathy for him. Some asked [page 97] him what recompense the Gentlemen of New France would give him,—imagining that he had suffered those indignities on account of their trade. But he gave them to understand that worldly thoughts had not caused him to leave his own country; and that the publication of the Gospel was the sole good that he had had in view when casting himself into the dangers [116] into which he had fallen. A good lad, having met him in a retired place, fell at his feet,—taking his hands to kiss them, and exclaiming, "Martyr, Martyr of Jesus Christ! " He questioned him, and ascertained that he was a Lutheran, whom he could not aid for want of acquaintance with his language; he was a Pole.

Entering a house quite near the fort, he saw two images on the mantelpiece,—one, of the blessed Virgin; the other, of our Blessed Louys de Gonzage. When he betokened some satisfaction at this, the master of the house told him that his wife was a catholic. She was a Portuguese, brought into that country by I know not what chance; she appeared very modest and bashful. The arrogance of Babel has done much harm to all men; the confusion of tongues has deprived them of great benefits. An Irish Catholic, arriving at Manate from Virginia, confessed to the Father and told him that there were some of our Fathers in those regions; and that latterly one of them—following the Savages into the woods in order to convert them—had been killed by other Savages, enemies of those whom the Father accompanied. Finally, the Governor of the country, sending [117] a bark of one hundred tons to Holland, sent the Father back, at the beginning of the month of November. He suffered much in that [page 99] voyage; his bed was the deck, or a pile of cordage, very often washed by the waves of the sea. The scanty provisions and the severe cold did not agree with a man rather lightly covered, and who had so long fasted among Barbarians.

They anchored in a port of England, toward the end of December; the Mariners wishing to refresh themselves a little, all went away to a village, leaving the Father with a sailor to guard the bark. Toward evening, some robbers arrive in a boat: they enter this bark, which they believe to be laden with great riches because of just coming from a long voyage. They present a pistol at the Father; but, having recognized that he was French, they did him no other harm than to rob him of everything that he had,—that is to say, his cloak and his hat, with all the baggage of those poor Hollanders. The man who commanded that bark, being notified of this robbery, was indeed astounded; while he came and went, seeking everywhere the authors of [118] this crime, the Father met a French vessel, which gave him the means to live until he had found the means to cross over to France.

On Christmas eve he embarked, like a poor man, in I know not what boat or little bark laden with mineral coal, which landed him the next day on the coast of lower Brittany. The poor Father, having perceived a little house all by itself, went to ask those who inhabited it, where the Church was. These good people showed him the way; and, supposing by his modesty that he was some poor Irish catholic, they invited him to come and take his repast in their dwelling, when he should have accomplished his devotions,—which he accepted very willingly, on account of the great necessity to which he was [page 101] reduced. He therefore proceeded to the house of Our Lord, the day of his nativity on the earth. But, alas ! who could express the sweet consolations of his soul, when, after having been so long with Barbarians, and consorted with Heretics, he saw himself with the children of the true Church? " It seemed to me," he said, " that from that time I was beginning to live again; it was then that I tasted the sweetness of [119] my deliverance." Having confessed and received communion, and been present at the Blessed Sacrifice of the Mass, he went to visit those who had so charitably invited him; they were poor people, but endowed with a charity truly Christian. Having seen his hands all torn, and learning how he had suffered that martyrdom, they knew not what welcome to give him. This good host had two young daughters who presented to the Father their alms with so much humility and modesty, that the Father was greatly edified thereby. I suppose that they gave him each two or three sots,—it was possibly their entire treasure; but he had no need of their riches. An honest Merchant of Rennes, happening to be in that house,—not by chance, but by a providence which leads everything to its issue,—having learned the Father's history, offered him a horse, assuring him that he would account it a favor to escort him as far as the first of our houses. This offer, so courteous, was accepted with deep emotion at the goodness of God, and a sweet gratitude toward his benefactor.

Finally, on the fifth of January in the year 1644, in the morning, he was knocking at the door of [120] our College at Rennes. The porter seeing him in such plight, clad in garments so incongruous, did not [page 103] recognize him. The Father besought him to bring the Father Rector, that he might impart to him, he said, some news from Canada. The Father Rector was putting on the Sacerdotal vestments, in order to go and celebrate holy Mass; but the porter having told him that a poor mall, come from Canada, was asking for him, that word " poor" touched him. " Perhaps,'' he said to himself, " he is in haste; and he may be in need." He then lays aside the sacred vestments with which he was partly robed, in order to perform an act of charity. He goes to find him; the Father, without revealing his identity, offers him letters signed by the Governor of the Dutch; before reading these, he puts various questions to the Father, without recognizing him; and then, at last, he asks him if he were indeed acquainted with Father Isaac Jogues. " I know him very well," he answers, "we have had word that he was taken by the Hiroquois; is he dead ? is he still captive ? Have not those Barbarians slain him ? " " He is at liberty, and it is he, my Reverend Father, who speaks to you; " and thereupon he falls upon his knees to receive his blessing. The Father Rector, overcome [121] with an unaccustomed joy, embraces him, and has him enter the house; every one hastens thither; the joy and consolation of a deliverance so little expected interrupt their words. In fine, they regard him as a Lazarus raised from the dead,—who is destined to go and die for the last time in the country where he has already suffered so many deaths.

From Rennes he comes to Paris; the Queen having heard mention of his sufferings, says aloud: "Romances are feigned; but here is a genuine combination of great adventures." She wished to see [page 105] him; her eyes were touched with compassion at the sight of the cruelty of the Hiroquois. He made no long sojourn in France; the Spring of the year 1644 having come, he betook himself to la Rochelle in order to cross back to the country of his martyrdom,—where, having arrived, he was sent to Montreal. His memory is still living there; the odor of his virtues still refreshes and comforts all those who have had the happiness to know him and converse with him. Peace being made with the Hiroquois, as has been seen in the Relations, the Father was taken from Montreal, in order to go and lay the foundations of a Mission in their country, which was named "the Mission of the martyrs." The Reverend Father Jerosme Lalemant, [122] Superior of our Missions, having written to him again, notice how he answered him.

"The letter which it has pleased Your Reverence to write me, has found me in the retreat and the exercises which I had begun at the departure of the canoe which carries our letters. I have taken this time because the Savages, being at the chase, allow us to enjoy a greater silence. Would you believe that, on opening the letters from your Reverence, my heart was, as it were, seized with dread at the beginning ? apprehending lest what I desire, and what my spirit should most prize, might happen. Poor nature, which remembered the past, trembled; but our Lord, through his goodness, has calmed it and will calm it still further. Yes, my Father, I desire all that our Lord desires, at the peril of a thousand lives. Oh, what sorrow I would have, to fail at so excellent an opportunity ! Could I endure that it should depend on me that some soul were not saved [page 107] I hope that his goodness, which has not forsaken me on [past] occasions, drill assist me still; he and I are able to trample down all the difficulties which might oppose themselves. It is much to be in Medio nationis [123] pravæ, to be all alone in the midst of a depraved nation without Mass, without Sacrifice, without Confession, without Sacraments; but his holy will and his sweet command are well worth that. He who has preserved us without these helps, by his holy grace, the space of eighteen or twenty months, will not refuse us the same favor,—us who do not intrude ourselves, and who undertake this journey only to please him alone, against all the inclinations of nature. He who shall go with me must be good, virtuous, qualified for leadership, courageous, and willing to endure something for God. It would be expedient that he should be able to make canoes, so that we may go and come independently of the Savages. "

On the sixteenth of May, 1646, this good Father left three rivers, in company with Sieur Bourdon, the engineer of Monsieur the Governor. His journey having been described in the preceding Relation, I will not speak of it further: Sieur Bourdon has told me that this good Father was indefatigable; that they suffered extremely on that road of iron. In short, they arrived [124] at three rivers,—having accomplished their embassy,—on the day of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, the 29th of the month of June. [page 109]

CHAPTER VIII.

FATHER ISAAC JOGUES RETURNS FOR THE THIRD TIME TO THE COUNTRY OF THE HIROQUOIS, WHERE HE IS PUT TO DEATH.

ARDLY had the poor Father been refreshed among us two or three months, w hen he recommenced his expeditions; on the twenty-fourth of September in the same year, 1646, he embarks with a young Frenchman, in a canoe conducted by some Hurons, in order to return to the land of his crosses. He had strong premonitions of his death, which he communicated to some persons in confidence. spite have recovered a letter which he wrote to one of our Fathers in France, a little before he left us for the last time; Wherein he speaks as follows.

"Alas! my very dear Father, when shall I begin to serve and love him who has never begun to love us; and [125] When shall I begin to give myself utterly to him who has given himself to me without reserve? Although I am worthless in the extreme, and though I have made a bad use of the graces which our Lord has shown me in this country, I do not lose courage, since he takes care to render me better,—still furnishing me With new opportunities for dying to myself and uniting myself inseparably to him. The Hiroquois have come to make some present to our Governor, in order to redeem certain prisoners whom he had, and to treat for peace with him in the [page 111] name of the whole country. It has been concluded, to the great satisfaction of the French; it will last as long as our Lord shall please. It is judged necessary here, in order to maintain it, and to ascertain quietly what can be done for the instruction of those tribes, to send thither some Father. I have reason to believe that I shall be employed therein, as I have some knowledge of the language of the country; you see well how I have need of efficient aid from prayers while in the midst of those Barbarians. It will be necessary to dwell among them almost without having liberty to pray,—without Mass, and without Sacraments. I must be responsible for [126] all the accidents between the Hiroquois, French, Algonquins, and Hurons. But what of that? my hope is in God, who has no need of us for the execution of his designs. It is for us to try to be faithful to him, and not to spoil his work by our own baseness. I hope that you will obtain for me this favor from our Lord; and that, after having led so slothful a life hitherto, I shall begin to serve him better. My heart tells me that, if I have the blessing of being employed in this Mission, Ibo et non redibo; but I would be happy if our Lord were willing to finish the Sacrifice where he has begun it, and if the little blood which I have shed in that land were as the pledge of that which I would give him from all the veins of my body and my heart. In fine, that people sponsus mihi sanguinum est; hunc mihi despondi sanguine meo. our good master who has acquired it by his blood, opens to it, if he pleases, the door of his Gospel,—as also to four other nations, its allies, who are near to it. Adieu, my dear Father; entreat him that he unite me inseparably to himself." [page 113]

But he was too humble to listen to [127] his feelings; and too courageous to recede in a good undertaking, or be alarmed at the thought or the sight of death. We have learned that he was slain directly upon his entrance into that country full of murder and blood: here follows a letter announcing this, from the Governor of the Dutch, to Monsieur the Chevalier de Montmagny. " The present letter is sent to thank your Lordship for the remembrance that you have had of me,—a favor which I will try to reciprocate, if God please to grant me the opportunity" (these are his terms). " Moreover, I send this by way of the northern regions,—by means of either the English or Monsieur d'Aunay,—in order to inform you of the murder which the Barbarous and inhuman Maquois, or Hiroquois, have committed upon Father Isaac Jogues and his companion. I would also inform you of the design which they have, to surprise you under pretext of a visit, as you will see by the letter enclosed herewith; Which, although it is poorly worded and spelled, acquaints you, to our great regret, with the details of it all. I am grieved that the subject of this is not more agreeable; but the importance of the matter has not allowed me to be silent. Our [128] Minister up yonder"(that is to say, at a settlement situated on the upper part of the river) " has carefully inquired, from the principal men of that canaille, concerning the reason of this wretched deed; but he could not obtain other answer from them, except that the Father had left the Devil among some clothes which he had left in their custody, who had caused their Indian corn to be devoured. This is all I can write, for the present, to your Lordship." The enclosure mentioned in the preceding, written by [page 115] a Dutchman to Sieur Bourdon, is expressed in the following terms.{6}

"I would not miss this opportunity of acquainting you with my welfare. I am in good health, thank God; and pray God that it may be so with you and your children. For the rest, I have not much to tell you, except how the French arrived, on the 17th of this present month of October, 1647, at the fort of the Maquois. This is to inform you how those ungrateful Barbarians did not wait after they had actually arrived in their cabins,—where they were stripped all naked, without shirts, save that they gave them each a breech-clout to hide their wretched plight. The very day of their coming, [129] they began to threaten them,—and that immediately, with heavy blows of fists and clubs, saying: 'You will die to-morrow; be not astonished. But we will not burn you; have courage; we will strike you with the hatchet and will set your heads on the palings' (that is to say, on the fence about their village), ' so that when we shall capture your brothers they may still see you.' you must know that it was only the nation of the bear which put them to death; the nations of the wolf and the turtle did all that they could to save their lives, and said to the nation of the bear: ' Kill us first.'{7} But alas, they are not in life for all that. Know, then, that on the 18th, in the evening, when they came to call Isaac to supper, he got up and went away with that Barbarian to the lodge of the bear. There was a traitor with his hatchet behind the door, who, on entering, split open his head; then immediately he cut it off, and set it on the palings. The next day, very early, he did the same to the other man, and their bodies were thrown into the river.. [page 117] Monsieur, I have not been able to know or to learn from any Savage why they have killed them. For the rest, their desire and undertaking is [130] to go away, three or four hundred men, that they may try to surprise the French, so as to do the same with them as they have done with these others. But God grant that they may not accomplish their design. "

Such is, word for word, what the Dutch have written concerning the death of Father Isaac Jogues. One of these two letters is dated the thirtieth of October; the other, the fourteenth of November, of last year, 1646. They were not delivered to Monsieur our Governor until the month of June in this year, 1647. A little before having received them, some Algonquin women and a Huron, having escaped from captivity among those Barbarians, had indeed told us of this murder; but they did not describe the particulars of it,—we shall know them still more fully some day.

We have honored this death as the death of a Martyr; and, although we were in various places, several of our Fathers,—without knowing aught from one another, because of the distance between those places, although they could not resolve to celebrate for him the Mass of the dead, have indeed offered this adorable sacrifice by way of thanksgiving for the [131] blessings that God had extended to him. The laymen who knew him intimately, and the Religious houses, have honored this death,—feeling inclined rather to invoke the Father than to pray for his soul.

It is the thought of several learned men, and this idea is more than reasonable, that he is truly a martyr before God, who renders witness to Heaven and earth that he values the Faith and the publication of the [page 119] Gospel more highly than his own life,—losing it in the dangers into which, with full consciousness, he casts himself for Jesus Christ, and protesting before his face that he wishes to die in order to make him known. This death is the death of a martyr before the Angels. It was with this in view that the bather yielded up his soul to Jesus Christ and for Jesus Christ. I say much more than this,—not only did he embrace the means for publishing the Gospel which have caused his death, but one may besides affirm that he was killed through hatred for the doctrine of Jesus Christ, as here follows.

The Algonquins and Hurons—and next the Hiroquois, at the solicitation of their captives—have had, and some have still, [132] a hatred and an extreme horror of our doctrine. They say that it causes them to die, and that it contains spells and charms which effect the destruction of their corn, and engender the contagious and general diseases wherewith the Hiroquois Now begin to be afflicted. It is on this account that we have expected to be murdered, in all the places where we have been; and even now we are not without hope of one day possessing this happiness. Now, just as of old, in the primitive Church, the reproach was cast against the children of Jesus Christ, that they caused misfortunes everywhere, and as some of them were slain on that account, likewise are we persecuted because by our doctrine, Which is no other than that of Jesus Christ, we depopulate—as they say—their countries; and it is for this doctrine that they have killed the Father, and consequently we may regard him as a martyr before God .

Moreover, it is true that, speaking humanly, these [page 121] Barbarians have apparent reasons for thus reproaching us,—inasmuch as the scourges which humble the proud precede us or accompany us [133] wherever we go, as they have preceded and accompanied those who have gone before us in the publication of the Gospel; but, in token of the soundness of the adorable truths which it contains, the result is that finally these peoples will not fail to yield themselves to Jesus Christ; although he comes to them only with scourges in his hands.

One must not forget the young Frenchman who was slain with the Father. That good youth, called Jean de la Lande,—a native of the City of Dieppe, as has been said above,—seeing the dangers in which he was involving himself in so perilous a journey, protested at his departure that the desire of serving God was leading him into a country where he surely expected to meet death. This frame of mind has enabled him to pass into a life which no longer fears either the rage of those Barbarians, or the fury of the Demons, or the pangs of death.

We have been told that the Hiroquois, intending to burn any prisoner, ask him if he prays,—that is to say, whether he is baptized. If he answer that he has received this divine Sacrament, they lose hope of making him groan in his torments,—persuading themselves [134] that the Faith gives constancy to a soul. It is further said that they have seen issuing from the lips of a Christian, whom they were burning, a strange brightness which has terrified them; so, indeed, they have knowledge of our doctrine, but they regard it with horror, as of old did the Pagans in the early age of Christianity. Let us say a few words about the virtues of our Martyr. [page 123]

He was endowed with a humility altogether rare; he not only recognized his own lowliness, but he desired to be treated according to his nothingness. He approved from his youth those who chastised him, secretly kissing the rods and whips which were used for correcting him. Being in the country of the Hiroquois, he could not behold without joy the posts which supported the scaffold whereon he had suffered so much; he would go to kiss them and embrace them,—not only through a love for sufferings, but because they were, he said, the instruments of divine justice for his crimes. Never had the Society (according to his saying) received any one so base as he, or so unworthy of the garb which he wore. It was necessary to use skill and command upon him, in order to make him tell what we [135] have related,—not that he was restive against obedience, but because he really had so low an opinion of himself that he could not speak thereof but with contempt. To show him however little esteem for that which he had endured for Jesus Christ, was to afflict him. The Queen having desired to see him, he could not persuade himself that she really had that desire; it was necessary for this good Princess to repeat her command, in order to make him go. It was tormenting him, to ask him to see his hands all torn. The Father who was with him during the last year of his life at Montreal, plainly recognized that God was preparing him for Heaven, giving him the feelings of a child. He examined all the folds and recesses of his conscience, from the first use of his reason until then,—revealing them with the humility and candor of a little child. That made the Father believe that the Kingdom of Heaven belonged to [page 125] him, and that he was not distant from it. He asked in what manner he should offer prayer aright, and in what manner he should suitably perform his act of thanks after holy Mass,—not only to cover the lofty illumination and the deep emotions that he had [136] concerning God, but through a belief that whatever proceeded from others was always the best. He remained a great part of the day before the blest Sacrament; he heard as many Masses as he could,—and, after all, he had not, by his own saying, any devotion; but he wished to make amends for the time when he had not been able to offer that divine Sacrifice, and to anticipate that in which he should be deprived of this happiness.

The Father, wishing to relieve him in his little needs, would sometimes urge him to take things more suitable for sustaining his strength. "That is not what I lack," he said; "I do not wish, when I shall again find myself among those Barbarians, that my miserable nature shall turn its head toward the houses in which it had found its ease. I need only the things which are absolutely necessary for me." Having returned from the Hiroquois, he wrote to a Father of his acquaintance that he had indeed desired to spend another Winter with him, in order to train himself, more thoroughly than he had done, in virtue; " but I would like still better," he added, "to return for the third time to the country of the Hiroquois."

Never did he feel, in the midst of his sufferings, [137] or in the greatest cruelties of those treacherous people, any aversion against them. He looked at them with an eye of compassion, as a mother looks at a child of hers, stricken with a raging disease; at [page 127] other times he regarded them as rods which our Lord employed for punishing his crimes; and, as he had always loved those who corrected him, he adored the Justice of his God, and honored the rods with which he punished him. Having asked sufferings from God, and feeling that his prayer was heard, it is incredible what ardor he felt for enduring the rage of the Hiroquois for the sake of the Hiroquois themselves. I cannot persuade myself that God may not, in consideration for him give them some light,—unless they oppose themselves to the effort of his goodness. I believe that, being in Heaven, he has asked God for the salvation of the man who put him to death, and that it has been granted him; for that poor wretch, having been taken by the French, has been baptized and put to death, as we shall see in the chapter following. He gave, during his torments, indications of a predestinated soul.

One cannot express the care that he took to preserve his heart in purity; [138] the one to whom he intimately communicated his thoughts—from his departure from the Hurons until his return to New France, after his captivity and his voyage to Europe—asserts, to the glory of our Lord, that his greatest offenses had been some feelings of complacency which he had felt at the sight of death, believing himself by this means delivered from the sufferings of this life.

He was of a rather timorous temperament, which highly exalts his courage, and shows that his constancy came from above. He saw in a moment all the difficulties which might occur in a matter, and he felt the hurt naturally caused by these; this counter-poise kept him in a profound humility, and made him say that he was only a coward; and yet the Superiors [page 129] who knew him depended on him as firmly as on a Rock. He knew not what it was to recoil in difficulties; this word, " go," was enough for him,—there is no monster, there is no Demon that he would not have confronted with that word. Strange to say, he was to the last degree circumspect in affairs which depended on his conclusions,—examining the least difficulties with [139] considerations well weighed and balanced. But, if the Superior persuaded him, he had no more argument. God alone, for love of whom he had exposed himself to a thousand dangers, came to his thoughts and occupied his whole soul.

I have already remarked that he would rather content himself with a little water and Indian meal, for sustaining half his life (for he had not a sufficiency thereof by half), than eat meat which he knew to be sacrificed to the Demon. It was not that he might not have observed the counsel of saint Paul, and taken the things which were given him, without inquiring where they came from; lout he wished, with a courage which cost him dear, to have those Barbarians understand that there was another God than those Genii or Demons whom they honored solely for their temporal interest.

Going to visit the Dutch in the time of his captivity, they invited him and sometimes urged him to drink a little dash of those waters of fire, or burnt wines, which they use; he declined with thanks, in order to show the Hiroquois, who often become intoxicated with those drinks, that one must not touch that which caused [140] So great an evil. A Hiroquois, having fallen sick, fancied that it w as necessary to perform I know not what dance, or some other ceremony, for his health; and that Ondesson [page 131] must be of the company, holding his book in his hand and behaving as the French do when they pray to God. The Savages know not what it is to refuse what another has dreamed ought to be done for his health. This law is common throughout the countries of America of which we have knowledge. They go then to find the Father; they represent to him that such a one's health is in his hands; they do not suppose that he will make any difficulty about granting that which a whole world finds very reasonable. They encouraged him, urging, moreover, that this cure, which they accounted certain, would be very honorable for him. The Father, smiling, rebukes the vanity of their dreams. They urge him, but he refuses: other messengers are sent, representing that it is cruelty to allow a poor sick man to suffer and die. Finally, when they saw that he would not come, they take the resolution to conduct him thither by force, and send young men to seize him; but as he was agile, and very adroit and very [141] little burdened with flesh, he eludes their hands, and takes to his heels. They pursued him at full speed; they found that he had the legs of a Deer, and that, if he had wished to escape, he could have done so, since he outstripped the best runners of the country. In fact, charity alone kept him among the Hiroquois; for he preferred the salvation of the captives to his own life and liberty. In conclusion, he returned to the village resolved to die rather than connive, however little, at their superstitions. Our Lord willed that they spoke to him no more of these.

Although he was of a hasty and quick temper, he nevertheless knew so well how to submit when Christian humility and charity required it, and to assume [page 133] superiority when he saw the glory of his God involved, that those Barbarians sometimes said to him, laughing: "Ondesson, it would have been ill done to put thee to death; for thou actest the master well, when thou choosest, and the child when anything is commanded thee."

More than a hundred times, they said to him: "Thou wilt cause thine own death; thou speakest too boldly. And if in our country—where thou art a prisoner, and all alone in thy cause—thou opposest us, what wouldst thou do [142] if thou wert at liberty among thy own people? Never wilt thou speak in favor of the Hiroquois." All that did not confound him; as he obeyed the least in things lawful, however humble they were, he also resisted the greatest, when it was a question of the glory of his master. A man who clings to neither life, nor health, nor the world—who is satisfied with God alone and only—is very bold. Afterward, he was astonished at his own freedom; but, as he was expecting neither life nor deliverance,—in a word, as he had nothing to lose,—he had also nothing to fear or to dread. This courage caused him to be honored by those who had more sense, and procured him the hatred of all the common crowd who judge only by their senses, after the manner of beasts.

He sent to Heaven more than sixty persons of that wretched nation: their baptisms were the bond of his captivity. He would have escaped a hundred times if providence had not checked him, by offering him from time to time, through wonderful coincidences, the means of opening the gates of Paradise to some poor soul. He was invited on a certain day to go to see some sports and dances, which were to [page 135] take place in another village: [143] he betook himself thither in good company. He had no sooner arrived than he stole away from the tumult and the crowd, in order to slip into the cabins,—that he might console the sick and dying, in case he should encounter any. It seems that God led him by the hand on that journey. He found in a cabin five little children who were all in danger of death; he baptized them at his ease, and without noise,—every one having gone out to see those public rejoicings He learned, three days later, that those little innocents were no longer in the land of the dying. O my God! what a propitious encounter! What an admirable stroke of predestination for those little Angels who now praise and bless God with their good Father! oh, what thanks they give him in the holy Zion ! These opportunities, as I have remarked, retained the Father in his exile.

He was in unusual misery when he was Constrained to take the resolution that he would escape through the intervention of the Dutch; if he had not seen that it was all over with his life, and that he could no longer help those poor Barbarians unless he escaped, so that he might come and find them at another time, never could he have [144] abandoned them; but our Lord prolonged his life, that he might come and present it to him another time, as a burnt-offering, at the place where he had already begun his sacrifice. [page 137]

CHAPTER IX.

OF THE CHRISTIANS OF SAINT JOSEPH AT SILLERY.

PERSON of merit and piety, having founded alms for erecting in these new regions a little Chapel under the name of Saint Michael, we have exerted ourselves to supply what was lacking, in order to build a little Church dedicated to God, under the title of that glorious Archangel. The transept forms two Chapels, where the Blessed Virgin and her dear Spouse Saint Joseph are honored. This little building, made expressly for the Savages, has not, in truth, the magnificence of those great wonders of Europe; but it has some Parishioners whose candor and goodness is even more agreeable to God than the gold and azure of those great edifices. These good Neophytes are delighted with it, especially [145] the family whose head bears, according to the desires of those who have especially assisted it, the name of that glorious Archangel.

Their piety increases every day; the Faith takes strong roots in all these good Neophytes: and, if their bodies existed a little longer, they would compose a Church richer in the blessings of Paradise than in the grandeurs of the world. But you might say that Heaven is jealous of their dwelling upon the earth,—so much does it hasten them to enter into its glory.

I know well that there is expected every year a tribute of their actions, of their good sentiments. [page 139] This tribute is the more difficult to pay because new coin is always required. Certainly it would be necessary to have a great fund, to satisfy so many desires. The Holy Ghost touches hearts as he pleases: the feelings which he has already inspired in them, and which have seen light on paper, continue, through his favor and through his grace. I will report, this year, but very little concerning these, so as not to lapse into long repetitions.

The Father who has had the care of their instruction, having spoken to them, on the day of the feast of Saint Catherine, about the Faith and constancy [146] of that Christian Amazon, a Captain exclaimed before the whole assembly: " That is what it is to be a Christian,—it is to set value on the Faith, and not on one's life. Must a girl cover our faces with confusion ? There appear only too many among us who grow deaf and blind; they close their ears to the instructions which are given them; they put a veil before their eyes for fear of seeing what prayer and the Faith command them. Let us take courage; let us remain firm and constant; let not hunger, thirst, diseases, or death itself, shake the resolution that we have taken to believe in God and to obey him, even to the last sigh of our life." These unexpected little harangues in the Church itself have very often greater effect than the longest discourses. The Preacher, on these occasions, esteems himself much honored to become hearer to a Savage.

The day of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin, the Father having distributed torches to them, and given the explanation of that sacred ceremony, the same Captain cannot abstain from delivering his little Sermon. [147] There is no wish to deprive [page 141] them of this liberty, because it is greatly profitable, and they are so far from abusing it, that they become every day only too reserved in these gatherings. " Ah! my brothers," he said; " under what obligation are we to our Father for teaching us such beautiful truths! Do you indeed realize what that fire signifies, which you carry in your hands? It teaches us that Jesus is our day and our light; that it is he who has given us the Faith and knowledge; that it is he who discovers for us the way to Heaven. These torches instruct us that—just as Jesus has been consumed here below for our salvation, employing his whole life to save us—we are bound to render him the equivalent, burning every day with his fire and his love; consuming ourselves, like these tapers, for his service and his glory. There are among us young men, and there are some old ones, but all are tending to death while living; all is consumed,—all things move toward their end. Oh, how happy shall we be if, after we all have consumed ourselves for Jesus, we see ourselves with him in his glory!"

The great Chase of the Elk occurring [148] usually about the month of March, the Savages are not often present at the Ceremonies of holy week, unless the feast of Easter is very late in the month of April, as happened this year. It is incredible how assiduous these good Neophytes have been at the long prayers which are held in the Church during those days of mourning and sadness. Although they do not often appear, their devotion and feeling, nevertheless, do not fail to touch and delight those who most thoroughly observed them. They listened to the discourse about the passion of the Son of God with a bearing which sufficiently discovered the grief and [page 143] love and compassion of their hearts; they adored him on the wood of the cross without haste, without confusion,—uniting an outward modesty, not studied, to inward feelings which they cannot express. The mothers detached their little children from their breasts, in order to prostrate them and have them kiss the image of their Savior. In a word, the candor, the simplicity, the goodness, which render these people somewhat too rude in the sight of the world, guide them with great certainty to the port [149] of their salvation.

The Savages wishing to lodge in cabins in the forest, on account of the rigor of the cold, a poor sick woman, seeing that she would be distant from the Church, betook herself thither as best she could, and, having asked for a father, said to him: "I come to confess for the last time. The mountain is too steep,—I shall not be able to go down, and you will have too much trouble in going up; therefore I come to thank you, and to take leave of you. Pray for me, my Father, I shall see you no more in this world." "But I shall see you," the Father answers her; "I will go to visit you in your cabin," in which he failed not. The poor sick woman was consoled by him in a matter which cannot be told; she said to him one day, " My Father, will you not have me receive communion once again before I die?" "I am willing," he answered; "but it would be necessary to embellish your cabins a little at the coming of so great a Captain." "Alas! what ornament could one bestow on a place so wretched? It is much better that I be drawn to his house." No sooner said than done; two Neophytes offer themselves, wrap her in her blanket, bind her upon a sledge, and draw her [page 145] [150] over the snow, straight to the Church. The Father, at her entrance, offering her the Crucifix, she takes it, and embraces and kisses it with an admirable tenderness; and, though speech failed her, she nevertheless addressed it as she could: Kinakoumir, Kinakoumir, Jesous,—"I thank you, I thank you, O Jesus, that I am baptized; I would be cast into the fires which are under the earth, if I had died before baptism. I ask your pardon: have pity on me; you are good,—you will pardon me, I know it well." After having confessed, and having heard holy Mass with much difficulty, she was given her Savior, whom she desired with all her love. Having received him, the Father had her offer her act of thanks mentally, on account of the difficulty that she had in breathing. She followed with intelligence and affection what he said to her but at last she could not help pronouncing these few words, which she sent forth from her soul, like flames of her love: "Oh, how good you are to have come to visit me! I do not see you now,—you conceal yourself; but I shall see you very soon, for you have promised Paradise to those who are baptized, and who keep [151] the Faith and obey you. I am baptized; I have kept the Faith since my baptism; I will keep it even till death. I have tried to obey you; I ask your pardon for my offenses; you have promised it to those who should confess, and I have confessed, with pain. I willingly endure the great sufferings of my sickness; I await death joyfully when you shall please. I love you; I shall see you, and I will go with you; and there I will pray to you especially for those who have instructed me and who are the cause of my being baptized." The Father, seeing her beyond [page 147] all hope of recovering her health, speaks to her of Extreme Unction; she asks for it, and they give it to her; she receives it with a very special consolation,—feeling sure that Heaven could no longer escape her. It must be confessed that simplicity begets, in the souls of these good Neophytes, a constancy quite extraordinary. They deal very frankly with God; he has promised them Heaven if they persevere in the Faith. When they feel in their souls the witness of their belief, and sorrow for their offenses, they hold themselves assured of the contract which they have made with so good a Father. [152] In conclusion, they put this poor woman back on her sledge, and led her back to her cabin, very joyful to have once again visits the house of her God before her death, which occurred soon afterward.

Another woman, already somewhat aged, sick for six months, had not so great patience as the one of whom I have just spoken; but had found a son-in-law who piously supported her in her sufferings. This poor languishing creature said one day to the Father who was visiting her: "I am weary of living; the trouble that I give those of my cabin makes me desire death." Her son-in-law having heard her, arose and answered her: "Your words are not good; you do wrong to desire the end of your life on account of the trouble which you give us. Know that we will relieve you with good heart until your last sigh; take care, lest you seek rather your own deliverance than ours. Do not offend the orders of God; he has ordained the first moment of your life; it is for him to determine the last. you have obeyed him from your baptism until now,—continue steadfastly in the [page 149] way begun. The [153] term is not long; what remains is short; Heaven is very near you." As she was covering her face in her grief, he said to her: "Take away that veil, which prevents you from seeing the place whither you ought to aspire. Incline your eyes and your heart to the country whither you are to go; say to yourself, beholding the Skies,—'There is my house; there is the place of my eternal dwelling! Oh, how beautiful is that place! how ravishing it is! how pleasant it is there!' The Sky," he added, "is the first object which I behold on my awaking; I never see it without desiring it; it is all my joy,—the earth can no longer console me."

A woman, still a Pagan, had been in child-labor for three days; those who were assisting her came to fetch the Father to baptize her before her death. The Father, having seen her, and preparing her quietly