At Petit Gonave La Salle did all in his power for the relief of the sick.

He was, however, stricken down himself by a violent illness that for a

while rendered his recovery hopeless. He recovered in time sufficiently to

attend to the prosecution of the voyage. He and Fathers Membré and Donay,

Cavelier, Chefdeville, and Joutel, were transferred to the _Aimable_, and

thus the two commanders were happily separated. In their misunderstanding

Beaujeu was greatly at fault in accepting a command inferior to that of La

Salle, as he well knew it to be, and in embarrassing by his petulant and

jealous course an undertaking which his instructions and his obvious duty

obliged him to promote. La Salle, too, would have acted more wisely and

discreetly in conciliating one whose good‐will and co‐operation were so

necessary to his success. The squadron, now reduced to three vessels,

sailed from Petit Gonave on the 25th of November.

After pursuing their course safely along the Cayman Isles, and anchoring

at the Isle of Peace (pines), where they stopped to take in water, and at

Port San Antonio, in the Island of Cuba, they entered the Gulf of Mexico

on the 12th of December. Sailing ten days longer, they descried land at

once from the _Belle_ and _Aimable_. So utterly unknown was the latitude

of the coasts, and so erroneous the sailing information given to them at

San Domingo, that no one could tell where they were; but it was

conjectured after much consultation that they must be in the Bay of

Appalachee, which is nearly three hundred miles east of the Mississippi.

On the contrary, they were near Atchafalaya Bay, about one hundred miles

west of the main mouth of the Mississippi. Guided by the general opinion

as to their locality, they now coasted to the westward, going still

further from the object of their search. No information could be obtained

from the natives on the shore, and finally, after twenty days’ sailing, it

was ascertained that they were approaching the borders of Mexico, near

Magdalen River and the Bay of Espiritu Santo. The _Joly_ now came up, and

the unfortunate misunderstanding between La Salle and Beaujeu was renewed,

in consequence of the latter charging that he had been designedly left

behind. The superior sailing capacity of the _Joly_, and Beaujeu’s evident

indifference about keeping company with the other vessels, flatly

contradicted this irritating charge. All now desired to return in the

direction of the Mississippi, except Beaujeu, who would not go without a

new supply of provisions. La Salle offered a supply of fifteen days, the

best he could do; but Beaujeu rejected the offer as insufficient. In the

meantime the vessels proceeded twenty miles along the coast, reaching the

outlet of the Bay of St. Bernard, to which La Salle gave the name of St.

Louis, now called Matagorda Bay. Joutel and Moranget were sent to explore

the bay, and afterwards La Salle joined them at a river they could not

cross without a boat. The pilots having reported insufficient depth of

water, the _Aimable_ was lightened and her captain ordered to run her into

the bay. The pilot of the _Belle_, knowing the harbor, was sent to his

assistance; but the captain of the _Aimable_ refused him admittance on

board, saying that he knew how to manage his own ship. The _Aimable_ was

soon upon a shoal. She bilged, and was a ruin. A portion of the cargo was

saved, Beaujeu himself sending his boats to assist, but most of the

implements and tools intended for the colony were lost. There was no

doubt, says Joutel, of the treachery of the captain of the _Aimable_ in

this affair. La Salle from the shore had the mortification of seeing all

his orders disobeyed, and witnessed this deplorable accident to the store‐

ship. He was embarking, in order to remedy the false movements of his

vessels, when over a hundred Indians made their appearance. First putting

them to flight, and then offering them the calumet, he made them his

friends. He also gave them presents, purchased some of their canoes, and

all seemed to promise a lasting friendship, from which great advantages

would have resulted to the expedition. But, alas! all upon whom La Salle

had to depend did not possess his prudence nor always follow his

injunctions. By the imprudence of some of his men a serious difficulty

sprang up with the Indians. A bale of blankets from the wreck of the

store‐ship was thrown ashore and seized by the Indians. La Salle ordered

his men to recover it by peaceable means; but they pursued just the

opposite course, by demanding its restoration with pointed muskets. They

became alarmed and fled, but returned at night, and, finding the sentinel

asleep, attacked the camp, killing the Sieurs Ory and Desloges, two of La

Salle’s most valued friends, two cadets, and dangerously wounding

Moranget. This and the numerous other disasters which they encountered

caused many a heart that started out full of hope and courage to falter or

despond, and many talked of abandoning the enterprise. But La Salle’s

example of calm determination and unflagging spirit sustained them under

the appalling gloom and ill‐luck that seemed to hang over the adventure.

But Beaujeu, whose hostility to La Salle and his enterprise increased with

the misfortunes of the latter, now resolved to return to France. All the

cannon‐balls were in his vessel, and he refused to deliver them, because

it would be necessary to remove a part of his cargo in order to get them

out. Thus the cannons were left with the colony, and the balls carried

back to France. He took on board the treacherous captain and crew of the

_Aimable_, and the 12th of March sailed for France. In the meantime the

company left at the fort sustained a severe loss in the death of the Sieur

de Gros from the bite of a rattle‐snake. Also, a conspiracy was set on

foot in the fort, with the design of murdering Joutel, and then escaping

with such effects as they could carry off. But the designs of these

traitors were discovered in time to be defeated. The colony now consisted

of about one hundred and eighty persons besides the crew of the _Belle_,

and their own faithful guns were their only means of obtaining food in

that vast and distant wild. A temporary fort was erected with the _débris_

of the _Aimable_ for their protection, and Moranget was left in command of

it. La Salle, accompanied by Fathers Membré and Le Clercq, started out

with fifty men to explore the shores of the bay, ordering the _Belle_ to

sail along to make soundings. Anchoring opposite a point—where a post was

established, to which Hurier gave his own name (being appointed to the

command of it), serving as an intermediate station between the naval camp

and that which La Salle intended to establish further on—in their course a

large river was discovered, to which La Salle gave the name of Vaches, or

Cow River, from the great number of cows he saw on its banks; and here the

intended station was erected. Holy Week and Easter intervening, were

celebrated with solemnity and fervor by these Christian colonists in the

wilderness, “each one,” as Father Membré remarks, “receiving his Creator.”

About the middle of July the entire colony, with their effects and

whatever could be of service, were transferred to this encampment from

those of Moranget and Hurier, which were destroyed. Here the men were

employed in cultivating the soil and in sowing seeds brought from France,

which, however, did not succeed, either because they had been injured by

the salt water or because the season was not suitable. They were next

engaged in erecting a habitation and fort, which was a work of huge labor

and hardship, as the trees for the timber had to be cut three miles off

and dragged to the spot, and many of the men sank under the toil. The

Sieur de Villeperdy and thirty others were carried off within a few days

by disease contracted at San Domingo, and among them was the master‐

carpenter, whose services could not well be spared. While under these

calamities the spirits of all around him were sinking, La Salle remained

firm and cheerful. Setting them the example himself, he kept all the

healthy men at work. He took the place of architect and chief carpenter

upon himself, marked out the beams, tenons, and mortises, and prepared the

timbers for the workmen. The fort occupied an advantageous position, was

soon finished, mounted with twelve pieces of cannon, and supplied with a

magazine under ground. It was called St. Louis, and placed under the

command of Joutel. The insolence of the Indians compelled La Salle to give

them a proof of his power. For this purpose he waged war upon them, but

only with sufficient rigor to make them respect him and his companions.

Among the captives was a very young girl, who was baptized, and died a few

days afterwards; of whom Father Le Clercq said: “The first‐fruits of this

mission, and a sure conquest sent to heaven.”

Detained some time by the sickness of his brother, La Salle did not resume

his exploration of the bay till towards the last of October, when, putting

his clothes, papers, and other effects on the _Belle_, he ordered the

captain to sail along the western shore in concert with his movements.

Wishing to ascertain how near the shore the _Belle_ could approach, he

sent the pilot and five men to make soundings, with instructions that all

should return on board at night. Attracted by the peaceful beauty of the

country, and proposing to cook and enjoy the supper on shore, the pilot

and five men, leaving their arms and canoe at low water, advanced a gun‐

shot on the upland. After their supper they fell asleep. La Salle,

becoming uneasy at their absence, went in search of them, and to his

horror found them all lying on the ground murdered, their bodies half

devoured by wild animals, and their arms and canoe destroyed. It was with

sad hearts that the survivors paid the last honors to their slaughtered

companions; for disasters followed in such quick succession that no one

could foresee the time or circumstances of his own fate. Of the colony now

described Bancroft remarks: “This is the settlement which made Texas a

part of Louisiana. In its sad condition it had yet saved from the wreck a

good supply of arms and bars of iron for the forge. Even now this colony

possessed from the bounty of Louis XIV., more than was contributed by all

the English monarchs together for the twelve English colonies on the

Atlantic. Its number still exceeded that of Smith in Virginia, or of those

who embarked in the _Mayflower_. France took possession of Texas; her arms

were carved on its stately forest‐trees; and by no treaty or public

document, except the general cessions of Louisiana, did she ever after

relinquish the right to the province as colonized under her banners, and

made still more surely a part of her territory because the colony found

there its grave.”

La Salle now determined to seek the mouth of the Mississippi by land

around the eastern part of the bay. Leaving provisions for six, he set out

with his brother, the Sieur Cavelier, and twenty men. He explored in

canoes every stream that might prove an outlet of the great river, and was

enchanted with the beautiful region which he traversed. But all was in

vain. After an absence of four months, and satisfying himself that none of

the outlets of the Mississippi emptied into the bay, and after losing

twelve or thirteen of his men, he returned in rags to Fort St. Louis. He

now sent out a party in search of the _Belle_, whose long absence caused

him great uneasiness; for in her were centred all his hopes of reaching

the mouth of the Mississippi by sea, of procuring assistance from San

Domingo, or of sending information of their forlorn condition to France,

or, perhaps, in his extremest necessity, of saving his colony from a

horrid death by famine or at the hands of the savages.

La Salle, with his characteristic courage and perseverance, now resolved

to undertake a journey to the distant Illinois, in order to obtain relief

from the faithful Tonty, whom he had stationed there on departing for

France. He selected as his companions on this dangerous and toilsome

journey his brother, Cavelier, Father Anastasius Donay, Father Le Clercq,

Moranget, Behorel, Hurier, Heins, a German surgeon who joined him at San

Domingo, and Nika, the Indian hunter, who was ever at his side, and

others, making in all twenty persons. The preparations for this great

journey consisted of four pounds of powder, four pounds of lead, two axes,

two dozen knives, as many awls, some beads, and two kettles. They first

repaired to the chapel, where the Divine Mysteries were celebrated and the

blessing of heaven invoked upon their undertaking. Committing the colony

left behind to the care of Joutel, La Salle and his companions set out on

the 22d of April, 1686, from Fort St. Louis. Their route lay in a

northeasterly direction and through a country of immense prairies and

mighty rivers, inhabited by various Indian tribes, who were exceedingly

friendly and hospitable; even the women, who were usually timid and

undemonstrative, coming forward to greet the wayworn, mysterious

travellers. In some instances they found that the Indians had had some

intercourse with the Spaniards. La Salle and the zealous Father Donay

endeavored on every occasion to instil into their minds some knowledge of

the one true God. It is supposed by some that La Salle was attracted in

this direction by the fame of the rich mines of Santa Barbara, the El

Dorado of Northern Mexico. They found large quantities of wild cattle,

which supplied them with meat. They crossed numerous rivers, such as the

Colorado, Brazos, and Trinity, which they knew by different titles, and

upon which they bestowed new names in honor of members of the party. They

endured incredible exposure, hardship, and toil, and many faltered and

gave out under their sufferings. In crossing the Brazos (which they called

the river Misfortune) on a raft of canoes, with one‐half of his party,

including his brother, La Salle and his companions were hurried violently

down the current, and almost immediately disappeared from sight. The

interval between this and evening was one of intense anxiety to those who

witnessed the accident; but at nightfall the raft and its occupants were

discovered safely disembarked on the opposite bank, their onward course

having been providentially arrested by the branches of a large tree in the

river. Those who remained on the other side had to cross over and join La

Salle on a raft of canes, the men having to wade into the water and draw

the raft ashore. Father Donay says: “I was obliged to put my Breviary in

my cowl, because it got wet in my sleeve.” He also says: “We had not eaten

all day, but Providence provided for us by letting two eaglets fall from a

cedar‐tree; we were ten at this meal.” The manner in which they crossed

these mighty rivers was to make one of the men swim to the other side and

fell trees across the stream, while those who remained did the same, so

that the trees from the opposite sides, meeting in the centre, formed a

bridge, upon which they crossed. This was done more than thirty times

during their journey. The Indians were in most instances friendly and

hospitable, and La Salle’s discernment and prudence always enabled him

either to conciliate their friendship in the first instance, or to

overcome by force of character and courage any hostile feeling they might

exhibit. Many of the tribes displayed evidences of civilization in their

dress, implements, and dwellings, and in the ease and cordiality with

which they received and entertained strangers. Horses were abundant among

them, and La Salle procured several, which proved of great service. Among

the Coenis Indians they found Spanish dollars and smaller coins, silver

spoons, lace, and clothes of European styles. One of the Indians became so

enamored with Father Donay’s cowl that he offered the father a horse in

exchange, but the good religious preferred to walk rather than to part

with the cherished habit of S. Francis. After crossing the Trinity River

La Salle and his nephew, the Sieur Moranget, were attacked by a violent

fever, which brought them very low and greatly retarded their march. Just

before this four of the party, unable to endure the fatigues and hardships

of the journey, deserted and retired to the Nassonis Indians; another was

swallowed by a crocodile while crossing a river; and Behorel was lost.

Their powder now began to give out; they had not advanced more than one

hundred and fifty leagues in a straight line, and one thousand miles of

travel lay before them; sickness, delay, and desertions had impaired their

ability to proceed; and they had no food except what the chase afforded.

Under these circumstances La Salle resolved to return to Fort St. Louis.

The extreme terminus of their travel is supposed to have been midway

between the Trinity and Red Rivers, near the head‐waters of the Sabine,

and fifty or sixty miles northwest of Nacogdoches. On the return the party

were greatly assisted by the horses procured from the Indians. After a

full month’s march they arrived on the 17th of October, the feast of S.

Bernard, and were welcomed by their friends at the fort with mingled

feelings of joy and sadness. Father Donay remarks: “It would be difficult

to find in history courage more intrepid or more invincible than that of

the Sieur de La Salle; in adversity he was never cast down, and always

hoped with the help of heaven to succeed in his enterprises, despite all

the obstacles that rose against him.”

Sad events awaited La Salle on his return. In a few days he saw to his

astonishment a canoe approaching in which were Chefdeville, Sablonnière,

and some others from the _Belle_. In this fact he read the sad story of

the vessel’s destruction, which was soon confirmed by their own lips. That

vessel, his last hope, had, by the negligence of the pilot, stranded on

the beach of the southern coast of the bay. The returning men,

providentially finding a canoe on the shore, were able to escape. In the

_Belle_ were lost thirty‐six barrels of flour, a quantity of wine, the

clothes, trunks, linens, and most of the tools. Among the few things saved

were the papers and clothes of La Salle. The good Father Le Clercq closes

his narrative of this sad accident, which completely disconcerted all of

La Salle’s plans, with the remark: “His great courage, even, could not

have borne up had not God aided him by the help of extraordinary grace.”

“Heaven and man,” says Bancroft, “seemed his enemies; and, with the giant

energy of an indomitable will, having lost his hopes of fortune, his hopes

of fame; with his colony reduced to about forty, among whom discontent had

given birth to plans of crime; with no Europeans nearer than the river

Panuco, no French nearer than Illinois, he resolved to travel on foot to

his countrymen at the north, and return from Canada to renew his colony in

Texas.”

During his absence Joutel had been under the necessity of guarding against

savage attacks upon his hunting parties from without, and against

disaffection from those within, the fort. The false Duhaut returned to the

fort, where he incited the men to mutiny—a task of no great difficulty

among men who had endured so many disappointments and hardships. And

though Joutel succeeded in suppressing the mutiny, disaffection lurked

behind. But the routine of the fort was occasionally relieved by gayety

and merriment, as was the case on the marriage of the Sieur Barbier to one

of the young women who came out with the expedition. The gentleness,

prudence, and experience of Father Membré went far to ameliorate the

condition of the company and make easy the duties of Joutel. Before

leaving them, La Salle provided for the greater comfort and accommodation

of those at the fort. As he was about to depart he was again stricken down

with illness, and was retarded ten weeks.

On his recovery La Salle selected from seventeen to twenty companions,

amongst whom were Father Donay, Cavelier the priest, young Cavelier the

nephew, Joutel, Moranget, Duhaut, Larcheveque, Heins, Liotel, Toten, De

Marle, Teissier, Saget, and the Indian hunter Nika. La Salle addressed

them in thrilling and encouraging words, and, as Father Donay says, “with

that engaging way which was so natural to him,” and on the 12th of

January, 1687, their simple preparations being made, it only remained for

them to turn their steps northward,

“And, like some low and mournful spell,

To whisper but one word—farewell.”

As they journeyed on they had to cross many large rivers—resorting to the

same means as in their trip towards New Mexico—and to traverse vast

prairies, to visit and be entertained by the Indian tribes on the route,

to conciliate their friendship, to secure most of their food by hunting,

and, in fine, encounter similar scenes and incidents as on their previous

excursions. On the 15th of March they arrived at a place where La Salle

had caused a quantity of Indian corn and beans to be buried, and he sent

Duhaut, Heins, Liotel, Larcheveque, Teissier, Nika, and his footman,

Saget, for it. The corn and beans had disappeared, discovered, probably,

by the unerring scent of the Indians; but the gun of Nika supplied their

place with two buffaloes. They sent Saget to request La Salle to allow

them horses to bring the meat, and he accordingly despatched Moranget, De

Marle, and Saget with two horses for that purpose. On arriving at the

scene Moranget found that the meat, though quite fresh, had been smoked,

and that the men had selected certain parts of it and set them aside for

their own enjoyment, as was usual with them. In a moment of anger Moranget

reproved them, took away both the smoked meat and reserved pieces, and

threatened to do as he pleased with it. Duhaut, in whose heart an old

grudge against Moranget still survived, became enraged, and adopted the

guilty resolve of ridding himself of his enemy. He enticed Liotel and

Heins into a conspiracy to murder not only Moranget, but also Saget and

Nika, whose faithful gun had so often saved them from famine. Liotel was

the willing instrument to do the horrid deed; at night, while they were

buried in sleep, he despatched his victims. A blow extinguished the life

of Nika; a second that of Saget; but Moranget lingered for two hours,

“giving every mark of a death precious in the sight of God, pardoning his

murderers, and embracing them,” till De Marle, who was not in the plot,

was compelled to complete the bloody tragedy.

“Come, thick night,

And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell!

That my keen knife see not the wound it makes;

Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark

To cry, Hold! hold!”

The bloodthirsty desperadoes did not, alas! stop at this triple murder;

adding treason to their horrid purposes, they resolved upon the death of

their commander, the great and good La Salle, who had ever been to them a

father no less than a leader. Three days elapsed, and the dark purpose was

only the more firmly fixed in their guilty souls. In the meantime La Salle

became alarmed for the safety of Moranget, and, as if anticipating what

had happened, he asked in the encampment if Duhaut and his associates had

not shown signs of disaffection. He resolved at once to go in search of

his faithful friend. The remainder of this bloody tragedy we will give in

the language of Father Donay, who was an eyewitness of it:

“Asking me to accompany him, he took two Indians and set out. All

the way he conversed with me of matters of piety, grace, and

predestination; expatiating on all his obligations to God for

having saved him from so many dangers during the last twenty years

that he had traversed America. He seemed to me particularly

penetrated with a sense of God’s benefits to him. Suddenly I saw

him plunged into a deep melancholy, for which he himself could not

account; he was so troubled that I did not know him any longer. As

this state was far from being usual, I roused him from his

lethargy. Two leagues after we found the bloody cravat of his

lackey (Saget), he perceived two eagles flying over his head, and

at the same time perceived some of his people on the edge of the

river, which he approached, asking them what had become of his

nephew. They answered us in broken words, showing us where we

should find him. We proceeded some steps along the bank to the

fatal spot where two of these murderers were hidden in the grass,

one on each side, with guns cocked; one missed M. de La Salle, the

other at the same time shot him in the head. He died an hour

after, on the 19th of March, 1687.

“I expected the same fate; but this danger did not occupy my

thoughts, penetrated with grief at so cruel a spectacle. I saw him

fall a step from me, with his face all full of blood; I watered it

with my tears, exhorting him to the best of my power to die well.

He had confessed and fulfilled his devotions just before we

started; he had still time to recapitulate a part of his life, and

I gave him absolution. During his last moments he elicited all the

acts of a good Christian, grasping my hand at every word I

suggested, and especially at that of pardoning his enemies.

Meanwhile his murderers, as much alarmed as I, began to strike

their breasts and detest their blindness. I could not leave the

spot where he had expired without having buried him as well as I

could, after which I raised a cross over his grave.

“Thus died our wise commander; constant in adversity, intrepid,

generous, engaging, dexterous, skilful, capable of everything. He

who for twenty years had softened the fierce temper of countless

savage tribes was massacred by the hands of his own domestics,

whom he had loaded with caresses. He died in the prime of life, in

the midst of his course and labors, without having seen their

success.”

It has not been precisely ascertained where the place of La Salle’s death

is located; but it is supposed to have been on one of the streams flowing

into the Brazos, about forty or fifty miles north of the present town of

Washington, in the State of Texas.

As soon as Father Donay re‐entered the encampment, the good and

apostolical Cavelier, the brother of the deceased, read the sad tragedy in

his friend’s countenance, and exclaimed: “Oh! my poor brother is dead.”

The grief of Cavelier, Joutel, and the other faithful companions of La

Salle was uncontrollable. When the assassins entered the encampment to

plunder the effects of their murdered commander, they found these faithful

men on their knees, prepared for death. But the sight of the venerable

Cavelier, and perhaps some regret at the deed they had committed, stayed

their bloody work; and these were spared, on condition that they would not

return to France, though they several times afterwards heard the murderers

say among themselves that they must get rid of them, in order to save

themselves from the avenging arm of justice. The assassins seized upon the

effects of La Salle, elected Duhaut their leader, and resolved to return

to the Coenis Indians. During several days they travelled together, these

wretches treating the missionaries and friends of La Salle as servants,

imposing upon them every hardship in crossing the many rivers they

encountered. “Meanwhile,” says Father Donay, “the justice of God

accomplished the punishment of these men, in default of human punishment.”

A dispute arose between Duhaut and Heins over the stolen property of La

Salle, in which the various guilty members of their party took the one

side or the other. Heins, two days afterwards, seizing the opportunity,

shot Duhaut through the heart with a pistol in the presence of the whole

company. He died upon the spot. At the same moment Ruter shot Liotel, the

murderer of Moranget, who survived several hours; and, while thus

lingering, another fired a blank cartridge near his head, which set fire

to his hair and clothes, and he expired amidst the flames. Heins now

assumed command, and would have killed Larcheveque, a third member of the

band of assassins, but for the intercession of Joutel. On reaching the

Coenis camp they found these warriors about to start with a large army

against the Kanoatins, and Heins, dressed in the rich mantle of La Salle,

to the great disgust of his surviving relatives and friends, went with

them to join in fresh deeds of carnage and crime. Father Donay, Cavelier

the priest, Cavelier the nephew of La Salle, Joutel, De Marie, Teissier,

and a young Parisian named Barthelemy, now took their departure for the

Illinois, and, after journeying till the 24th of July, they were greatly

relieved at beholding on the opposite side of the river a large cross and

log hut, at the junction of the Illinois and Mississippi, and in a few

moments they were united with a small detachment stationed there by Tonty.

After remaining a few days for rest and refreshment, they started again on

the 1st of August, and on the 14th arrived at Fort Crevecœur, where they

were led immediately to the chapel, and chanted the _Te Deum_, in

thanksgiving for their safe deliverance from so many dangers, to which

others had fallen victims. Tonty was absent from the fort on their

arrival, on a visit to the Illinois; but on his return he received them

with great kindness, and supplied them with every assistance. They

concealed from the faithful and devoted Tonty the death of his beloved

friend and commander. In the spring of 1688 they left the fort for Quebec,

whence they sailed for France in August, arriving there in October.

The fort in St. Bernard’s Bay was, after the death of La Salle, attacked

by the Indians, and the whole company massacred except three sons and a

daughter of Talon and a young Frenchman named Eustace de Breman, who were

led into captivity. The Spaniards also, hearing of La Salle’s movements

and of the presence of Frenchmen among the Coenis Indians, sent out a

military force, who captured Larcheveque and Grollet, who were sent to

Spain, where for some time they were confined in prison, and afterwards

sent to Mexico to work in the mines. The Talons were rescued and sent to

Mexico. The two elder brothers entered the Spanish navy, but were

afterwards restored to their country by the capture of their vessel. The

younger brother and his sister were retained some time in the service of

the Viceroy of Mexico, and afterwards accompanied him to Spain. Nothing

further is known of Breman and the others who were taken captives by the

Indians.

The will of La Salle, bearing date the 11th of August, 1681, leaves his

property to his cousin, M. François Plet, in gratitude for his kindness

and the assistance he rendered to the great explorer in his expeditions.

The following notice of La Salle is given by a Catholic writer:

“Robert Cavelier de La Salle, the first explorer who navigated

Ontario, Erie, Michigan, and Huron, deserves to be enumerated

among the great captains. A native of Rouen, early employed in the

colonies, he had been instigated by the reports of missionaries to

seek, through the northern lakes, a passage to the Gulf of Mexico.

Building a schooner on the Cayuga Creek, he ascended the lakes in

1679, chanting the _Te Deum Laudamus_. Carrying his boats over

land from the Miami to a branch of the Illinois River, he forced

or found his way into the upper Mississippi. For many years, with

most heroic constancy, this soul of fire and frame of iron was

devoted to the task of opening routes between the Gulfs of St.

Lawrence and of Mexico, until he perished in his enterprise by the

hands of two of his own unworthy followers, on an excursion into

Texas, in 1687. The Catholic character of La Salle is marked in

every act of his life. He undertook nothing without fortifying

himself by religion; he completed nothing without giving the

first‐fruits of the glory to God. He planted the cross wherever he

landed, even for an hour; he made the western desert vocal with

songs, hymns of thanksgiving and adoration. He is the worthy

compeer of De Soto and Marquette; he stood, sword in hand, under

the banner of the cross, the tutelary genius of those great States

which stretch away from Lake Ontario to the Rio Grande. Every

league of that region he trod on foot, and every league of its

water he navigated in frail canoes or crazy schooners. Above his

tomb the northern pine should tower; around it the Michigan rose

and the southern myrtle should mingle their hues and unite their

perfumes.”(206)

In reviewing the history of the last great enterprise of this remarkable

man, we can but recognize three principal reasons of its failure: first,

the inferior character of the men selected at Rochelle by his agents to

accompany the expedition—a cause of disaster which the virtues and

capacity of a Tonty, Joutel, and Moranget could not neutralize; second,

the hostility and narrow‐minded jealousy of Beaujeu, upon whose co‐

operation so much depended; and, third, the misinformation in regard to

the Gulf of Mexico which he received at San Domingo, and the prevailing

ignorance of the times of the bearings of the coast and of the latitudes,

which caused his expedition to miss the object of its search. Mr. Sparks,

while according to him the possession of the highest qualities of mind and

soul, considered him wanting in those qualities which are necessary in

order to secure the hearty co‐operation of men, to win their affections as

well as their obedience, and, by yielding a little to their weaknesses,

secure the benefit of their faithful services. It may be said, however,

that no man ever had more faithful, self‐sacrificing, and devoted

followers than he, and those who did not sympathize with him were too

ignorant and sordid to appreciate his noble character or his magnificent

plans. The learned historian at the same time remarks that La Salle labors

under the disadvantage of having to be judged from the accounts of others,

not all of whom were his friends, and knew little of his plans; for “not a

single paper from his own hand, not so much as a private letter or a

fragment of his official correspondence, has ever been published, or even

consulted by the writers on whose authority alone we must rely for the

history of the transactions in which he was concerned.”

Mr. Sparks then pays the following well‐merited and eloquent tribute to

the character and services of the illustrious commander:

“On the other hand, his capacity for large designs and for

devising the methods and procuring the resources to carry them

forward, has few parallels among the most eminent discoverers. He

has been called the Columbus of his age; and if his success had

been equal to his ability and the compass of his plans this

distinction might justly be awarded to him. As in great battles,

so in enterprises, success crowns the commander with laurels,

defeat covers him with disgrace, and perhaps draws upon him the

obloquy of the world, although he might have fought as bravely and

manœuvred as adroitly in one case as in the other. Fortune turns

the scale and baffles the efforts of human skill and prowess. In

some of the higher attributes of character, such as personal

courage and endurance, undaunted resolution, patience under

trials, and perseverance in contending with obstacles and

struggling through embarrassments that might appall the stoutest

heart, no man surpassed the Sieur de La Salle. Not a hint appears

in any writer that has come under notice that casts a shade upon

his integrity or honor. Cool and intrepid at all times, never

yielding for a moment to despair, or even to despondency, he bore

the heavy burden of his calamities manfully to the end and his

hopes expired only with his last breath. To him must be mainly

ascribed the discovery of the vast regions of the Mississippi

Valley, and the subsequent occupation and settlement of them by

the French; and his name justly holds a prominent place among

those which adorn the history of civilization in the New World.”

The Log Chapel On The Rappahannock.

Erected A.D. 1570—The First Christian Shrine In The Old Dominion.

Virginia is proud of her antiquity. She assumes the title of Old Dominion;

she was long styled the Mother of Presidents. But really her antiquity is

greater than many know. Before the English settlers landed on the shores

of the James, Stephen Gomez and other Spanish navigators had entered the

waters of the Chesapeake and consecrated that noble sheet of water to the

Virgin daughter of David’s line, as the Bay of St. Mary, or the Bay of the

Mother of God.

The soldier of the cross followed hard on the steps of the explorer. As

early as in 1536 St. Mary’s Bay is laid down on Spanish maps. Oviedo

mentions it in 1537, and from that time pilots ranged the coast, David

Glavid, an Irishman, being recorded as one who knew it best. All agree as

to its latitude, its two capes, the direction of the bay, and the rivers

entering into it, identifying beyond all peradventure our modern

Chesapeake with the St. Mary’s Bay of the early Spanish explorers. Though

his attention was called to it, the latest historian of Virginia, misled

by a somewhat careless guide, robs his State of the glory which we claim

for her. The sons of S. Dominic first planted the cross on the shores of

the Chesapeake, and bore away to civilized shores the brother of the chief

of Axacan or Jacan, a district not far from the Potomac. Reaching Mexico,

this chief attracted the notice of Don Luis de Velasco, the just, upright,

disinterested Viceroy of New Spain—one of those model rulers who, amid a

population spurred on by a fierce craving for wealth, never bent the knee

to Mammon, but lived so poor that he died actually in debt. This good man

had the Virginian chief instructed in the Christian faith, and, when his

dispositions seemed to justify the belief in his sincerity and faith, the

chieftain of the Rappahannock was baptized, amid all the pomp and splendor

of Mexico, in the cathedral of that city, the viceroy being his god‐

father, and bestowing upon him his own name, Don Luis de Velasco, by which

the Virginia chief is always styled in Spanish annals.

Meanwhile, Coligny’s French Huguenots attempted to settle Florida, but

their colony, which was doomed to early extinction from its very material

and utter want of religious organization or any tie but a mere spirit of

adventure, was crushed with ruthless cruelty by Pedro Melendez, a brave

but stern Spanish navigator and warrior, in whose eyes every Frenchman on

the sea was a pirate. Soon after accomplishing his bloody work, which left

Spain in full possession of the southern Atlantic coast, Melendez, who had

sent out vessels to explore the coast, began his preparations for

occupying St. Mary’s Bay. The form of the northern continent was not then

known; much indeed of the eastern coast had been explored, but so little

was the line of the western coast understood that on maps and globes the

Pacific was shown as running nearly into the Atlantic coast, as may be

seen in a curious copper globe possessed by the New York Historical

Society, but which once belonged to Pope Marcellus II. Believing that the

Chesapeake, by the rivers running into it, would easily lead to the

western ocean, Melendez spent the winter of 1565 studying out the subject

with the aid of Don Luis de Velasco and Father Urdaneta, a missionary just

arrived from China by the overland route across Mexico. Combining all the

information, he was led to believe that, by ascending for eighty leagues a

river flowing into the bay, it was necessary only to cross a mountain

range to find two arms of the sea, one leading to the French at

Newfoundland, the other to the Pacific. To many this will seem wild; but

it is evident that Don Luis referred to the great trail leading from the

Huron country through the territory of the Five Nations to the land of the

Andastes on the Susquehanna, by which the last‐named tribe sold furs on

the upper lakes, which went down to the French at Brest on the Gulf of St.

Lawrence, while the upper lakes were the arm of the sea stretching

westward, as was supposed, to China. An adventurous Frenchman, Stephen

Brulé, some few years later followed this trail from the St. Lawrence to

the Susquehanna. Melendez, however, misinterpreted it. To his mind the

upper waters of the Chesapeake, the Potomac and Susquehanna, then known as

the Espiritu Santo and Salado, were to be the great carrying place of

eastern trade.

Anxious to secure for his own country so important a pass, Melendez, in

1566, despatched to St. Mary’s Bay a vessel bearing thirty soldiers and

two Dominican Fathers to begin a station in Axacan or Jacan, near the

Chesapeake. These pioneers of the faith were escorted or guided by Don

Luis de Velasco. Of these missionaries we seek in vain the names. Perhaps

their fellow‐religious now laboring on the banks of the Potomac will be

stimulated to trace up these early labors of the sons of S. Dominic;

though we must admit that Spanish chronicles do not speak of them with

praise. In fact, they assert that these missionaries, corrupted by an easy

life in Peru, had no taste for a laborious mission in Virginia, though

perhaps they learned the real state of affairs in that land, and, taught

by Father Cancer’s fate, felt that the attempt would be fatal to all.

Certain it is that the whole party took alarm. They forced the captain to

weigh anchor, and, leaving the capes on either hand, steer straight to

Spain. The Dominican missions in Spanish Florida, which began with the

glorious epic of Father Cancer’s devoted heroism, closed with this feeble

effort to plant the Gospel on the shores of the Chesapeake; yet they, too,

like the earlier discoverers, undoubtedly consecrated to Mary and the

Rosary the land which in its names, Virginia and Maryland, yet recalls the

Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom the bay was first consecrated.

Four years later saw Melendez himself in Spain, full of his projects, and

bent on carrying them out. The sons of S. Ignatius Loyola, full of the

early vigor of their institute, were in Florida. The new mission, begun in

1566, had already a martyr in Father Peter Martinez, of Celda, in the

Diocese of Saragossa, who was shipwrecked on the coast, and put to death

by the Indians not far from St. Augustine. It had its devoted laborers in

Father John Rogel, of Pamplona, Father Sedeño, and Brother Villareal, who

sought to win to Christ the Indians near St. Augustine and Port Royal, and

who had established an Indian school at Havana to help the great work,

Brother Baez being the first to compile a grammar. To extend these

missions as far as the Chesapeake was a subject which Melendez laid before

S. Francis Borgia, then recently made general of the order, after having

acted as commissary of the Spanish missions. A letter of S. Pius V.

encouraged Melendez, and with the co‐operation of these two saints the

projected mission to the Chesapeake took form at last. Perhaps some of the

clergy in Maryland and Virginia remember the personal interest of these

saints in the field where they are now laboring; but we fear that the fact

has been forgotten. Let us trust that more than one church of S. Pius V.

will be monuments of his interest in the land where the next pope that

bore his name established the first episcopal see on the coast—that of

Baltimore—and religion has taken such gigantic steps under the fostering

care of Popes Pius VII. and Pius IX.

When the founder of Florida was thus earnestly engaged in Spain in

promoting the spiritual welfare of the colony, Don Luis de Velasco, the

Virginian chief, was still beyond the Atlantic, a grave, intelligent man

of fifty, well versed in Spanish affairs, to all appearance a sincere and

correct Christian and a friend of the Spaniards. With every mark of joy he

offered to return to his native land of Axacan, and there do all in his

power to further the labors of the missionaries who should be sent to

instruct his brother’s tribe. So powerful a coadjutor was welcomed by all,

and ere long Don Luis stood on the deck of a staunch Spanish ship, with a

band of Jesuits destined to reinforce those already laboring on the

Florida mission. This pious party consisted of Father Luis de Quiros, a

native of Xerez de la Frontera, in Andalusia, with Brothers Gabriel Gomez,

of Granada, and Sancho de Zevallos, of Medina de Rio Seco, all selected

for the great work by S. Francis Borgia himself. In November the vessel

anchored before the Spanish fort Santa Elena, which stood on the island of

South Carolina’s famous Port Royal, that still bears the name of the

sainted mother of Constantine.

The Jesuit mission of Florida had been erected into a vice‐province under

Father John Baptist Segura. This estimable religious was a native of

Toledo, who had, while pursuing his theological course of study, entered

the Society of Jesus at Alcalà on the 9th of April, 1566. S. Francis, who

knew him well, entertained the highest esteem for Segura’s virtues and

personal merit, and took him from the rectorship of the College of

Vallisoleta in 1568 to assume the direction of the vice‐province of

Florida. For two years had he labored with sad discouragement in the

forbidding field among the Floridian tribes, cheered by letters of his

superiors rather than by any hope of success that as yet seemed to dawn on

his exertions.

He was at Santa Elena when Father Quiros arrived, bearing the instructions

for the establishment of the new mission on the shores of the Chesapeake.

That missionary had become discouraged and disheartened. All his labors

and those of his associate missionaries among the Calos Indians, on the

southern coast of Florida, had proved utterly unavailing. No impression

could be made on the flinty hearts of those treacherous and cruel tribes,

which, indeed, to the end resisted the calls of divine grace. The labors

of the Jesuit missionaries on the coast of South Carolina were scarcely

more encouraging. The attempts to civilize and convert found hearers only

as long as food and presents were given.

Father Segura resolved for a time to abandon the unpromising field, and

turn all their energies to an Indian school at Havana, where children from

the Florida tribes could be carefully instructed, so as to form a nucleus

for future Christian bands in their native tribes. But the voice of S.

Francis recalled him to sterner labors, and he resolved to go in person to

the new field opened to them in Axacan, where the influence of Don Luis

and the character of the tribes seemed to promise more consoling results.

He accordingly directed the experienced Father Rogel to remain at Santa

Elena in charge of the missions there, and selected eight associates for

his new mission. These were Father Luis de Quiros, Brothers Gabriel Gomez

and Sancho Zevallos, already mentioned, with Brother Peter de Linares and

John Baptist Mendez, Christopher Redondo, and Gabriel de Solis, who with

Alphonsus, destined to be the sole survivor, seem to have been four Indian

boys from their school at Havana, and regarded as novices, trained already

to mission work as catechists. Such was the missionary party that was to

plant the cross in Axacan and open the way for Christianity to China by a

new route.

With the influence and support of Don Luis they would need no Spanish aid;

and as experience had shown them that soldiers were sometimes a detriment

to the mission they were intended to protect, these devoted missionaries

determined to trust themselves entirely, alone and unprotected, in the

hands of the Indians.

On his side Don Luis made every promise as to the security of the persons

of the missionaries confided to his care by the adelantado of Florida.

“They shall lack nothing,” he declared. “I will always be at hand to aid

them.”

On the 5th of August, 1570, this little mission colony sailed from Santa

Elena, and in that enervating heat must have crept slowly enough along the

coast and up the Chesapeake; for it was not till the 10th of September

that they reached the country of Don Luis, which is styled in Spanish

accounts Axacan or Jacan.

Where was the spot termed “La Madre de Dios de Jacan”?—Our Lady of Axacan

(or, as we should write it, Ahacan or Hacan). Precisely where no map or

document has yet been found to show. It was evidently near the Susquehanna

(Salado) or the Potomac (Espiritu Santo), the two rivers at the head of

the bay known to Melendez, and by which he hoped to reach China. That it

could not have been the Susquehanna seems clear from the fact that, being

to the eastward, it would not naturally be the shortest route; and,

moreover, that river was in those days, and till far in the ensuing

century, held by a warlike tribe of Huron origin, living in palisaded

towns, while the tribe of Don Luis, who dwelt at Axacan, were evidently

nomads of the Algonquin race.

We are therefore led to look for it on the Potomac, the Espiritu Santo of

the early Spanish navigators. The vessel that bore the devoted Vice‐

Provincial Father Segura and two other Spanish vessels some time

afterwards ascended this river for a considerable distance to a point

whence they proceeded to the country of Don Luis, which, as letters show,

lay on a river six miles off, and which they might have reached directly

by ascending that river, though it was always passed by the pilots, being

regarded, apparently, as less navigable and safe. The Rappahannock at once

suggests itself as answering the conditions required to explain the

Spanish accounts.

On the Potomac there is to this day a spot called Occoquan, which is near

enough to the Spanish Axacan to raise a suspicion of their identity. Not

far below it the Potomac and Rappahannock, in their sinuous windings,

approach so closely as to increase the resemblance to the country

described.

The land that met the eyes of the missionary pioneers in the wilderness of

Virginia was not one to raise fond hopes or sustain delusions. A long

sterility had visited Florida and extended even to the Chesapeake. Its

effects were even more striking. Of all that the descriptions of Don Luis

had prepared them to find in Axacan there was absolutely nothing to be

seen. Just come from Florida and its vicinity, with its rich, luxuriant

vegetation, with fruits of spontaneous growth, they beheld a less favored

land, bare and parched with a six years’ sterility, with the starving

remnants of decimated and thrice decimated tribes. The wretched

inhabitants looked upon Don Luis, their countryman, as if sent from

heaven, and, seeing him treated with honor, they received the Spaniards

with every demonstration of goodwill, though they were so destitute that

they could not offer the newcomers any fruit or maize.

With the winter fast approaching, it seemed almost madness for Father

Segura and his companions to attempt to establish themselves in this

unpromising land; but the previous failure of the Dominican Fathers, the

almost chiding words of S. Francis Borgia, and the deep interest

manifested by Melendez in the success of the attempt, apparently decided

the question against all ideas of expediency or mere worldly prudence.

The researches of the late Buckingham Smith in the Spanish archives not

only brought to light many points tending to fix the position of Axacan,

but were also rewarded by finding two letters written at this point by

these early apostles of Virginia. The father provincial wrote to the king;

his associate, Father Quiros, addressed his letters to Melendez, and

Father Segura added a few words, urging prompt relief. These last have

fortunately thus reached us. Father Quiros wrote: “Seeing, then, the good‐

will which this people displayed—although, on the other hand, as I said,

they are so famished that all expected to perish of hunger and cold this

winter, as many did in preceding winters, because it is very hard for them

to find the roots on which they usually sustain themselves—the great snows

which fall in this land preventing their search—seeing also the great hope

there is of the conversion of this people and the service of our Lord and

his Majesty, and a way to the mountains and China, etc., it seemed to the

Provincial Father Segura that we should venture to remain with so few

ship‐stores and provisions, though we ate on the way two of the four

barrels of biscuit and the little flour they gave us for the voyage.”

They resolved to stay, seeing no danger except that of famine; for they

urged speedy relief. “It is very necessary that you should endeavor, if

possible, to supply us with all despatch; and if it be impossible to do so

in winter, at least it is necessary that in March, or, at the furthest,

early in April, a good supply be sent, so as to give all these people

wherewith to plant.”

The pilot of the vessel, short of provisions from the time lost on

reaching Axacan, put the missionaries hastily ashore on the 11th of

September, and the next day sailed, “leaving us in this depopulated land

with the discomforts already described,” say the missionaries.

It was arranged between the missionaries and this pilot that, about the

time of his expected return, they would have Indians on the lookout,

apparently at the mouth of the river, who were to build signal‐fires to

attract attention. On seeing these beacons he was to give them a letter

for the missionaries.

The little band of Christians beheld the vessel hoist her sail and glide

down the river. They stood alone in a wild land, far from aid and

sympathy. Two priests, three religious, Don Luis, and four other Indian

converts, formed the little Christendom. But their destination was not yet

reached. Guided by Don Luis, they took up their march for the river six

miles off, Indians bearing some of their scanty supplies, the missionaries

themselves carrying their chapel service, books, and other necessaries.

After this portage they embarked on the river—which they might have

ascended, and which seems evidently the Rappahannock—and thus penetrated

some two leagues or more further into the country to the villages of the

tribe.

Yet, even before they left the banks of the Potomac they were called upon

to commence their ministry. “The cacique, brother of Don Luis, having,”

says Father Quiros, “a son three years old very sick, who was seven or

eight leagues from here, as it seemed to him to be on the point of death,

he was instant that we should go to baptize it; wherefore it occurred to

the vice‐principal to send one of us by night to baptize it, as it was

very near death.”

The Indians on the Rappahannock did not dwell in palisaded towns, like the

Conestogas on the Susquehanna, and their kindred, the Five Nations, in New

York. From the Spanish accounts they dwelt in scattered bands, each

forming a little hamlet of a few cabins, each house in the midst of its

rude garden; for they cultivated little ground, depending on the

spontaneous productions of the earth: acorns, nuts, berries, and roots.

Such were they when Smith described them thirty years later, when

Powhatan, residing on the James, ruled over the scattered bands as far as

the Rappahannock. It was evidently among that tribe, so well known to us

by Smith’s descriptions, that Father Segura and his companions began their

labors, and Powhatan may well have been a son of the cacique, brother of

Don Luis.

The accounts of the subsequent proceedings of the little mission colony

are derived from Alphonsus, one of the Indian boys, and are somewhat

obscure. They make the journey to the hamlets of the tribe a weary one

through wood and desert and marsh, loaded with their baggage, and living

on roots, and not the short journey which Father Quiros anticipated. His

letter stated that the Indian canoes were all broken; it was probably

found impossible to attempt to repair them, and the whole party trudged on

by the riverside to their destination.

The hamlet first reached was a wretched one, tenanted only by gaunt and

naked savages, who bore the famine imprinted on their whole forms. Here

amid the tent‐like lodges of the Indians, made of poles bound together and

covered with mats and bark, Father Segura and his companions erected a

rude house of logs, the first white habitation in that part of

America—first church of the living God, first dwelling‐place of civilized

men; for one end was devoted to their chapel, while the other was their

simple dwelling. Here doubtless, before the close of September, 1570, the

little community recited their Office together, and, under the tuition of

Don Luis, began to study the language. Here, at this modest altar, the

Holy Sacrifice was for the first time offered by the two priests. Nowhere

on the continent to the northward were the sacred rites then heard,

unless, indeed, at Brest, in Canada. Greenland, with its bishop and clergy

and convents, was a thing of the past; Cartier’s colony, on the St.

Lawrence, had been abandoned. The Chapel of the Mother of God, at Jacan,

was the church of the frontier, the outpost of the faith.

As Father Segura had foreseen that he must winter there, and might not

receive any supplies before March or April, he doubtless began, like his

Indian neighbors, to lay up a store of provisions for the long winter.

Acorns, walnuts, chestnuts, and chinquapins were regularly gathered by the

natives, as well as persimmons and a root like a potato, growing in the

swampy lands. Game must have been scarce on that narrow peninsula between

two rivers, and they had no means of hunting. Though the rivers of

Virginia teemed with fish, we find no indication that the missionaries

were supplied with means of deriving any food from that source.

For a time Don Luis remained with them, showing all deference and respect

to Father Segura. In his letter to Melendez Father Quiros gives the

impression he had made upon them up to that time, and from which it is

evident that they had no suspicion of his treachery. “Don Luis,” says he,

“acts well, as was expected of him, and is very obedient to all that the

father enjoins on him, with much respect as well for the provincial as for

the rest of us that are here, and he commends himself earnestly to your

worship, to all his other friends and masters.”

This good disposition may have been sincere at first, but, as too often

happens in such cases, old habits returned; he became Indian with the

Indians, rather than Spanish with the Spaniards. Ere long he abandoned the

missionaries altogether, and went off to another hamlet, distant from it a

day’s journey and a half.

The mission party were not yet sufficiently versed in the language to

dispense with the aid of Don Luis as interpreter, and his influence was

constantly needed among the lawless natives. Feeling this, Father Segura

several times sent one of the young men to urge Don Luis to return, but he

put them off constantly with false statements or unmeaning promises. In

this way the winter wore away, with gloomy forebodings in the hearts of

the pioneer priests in the log chapel on the Rappahannock. The only hope

that cheered and sustained them was that the ship would speedily return

from Santa Elena with the supplies they needed for themselves and the

seed‐corn for the natives, whom they hoped to persuade to cultivate more,

and depend less on the precarious means of sustenance. Meanwhile, as

January, 1571, was drawing to a close, Father Segura resolved to make a

last effort to move the heart of the recreant Don Luis. He sent Father

Quiros, with Brothers de Solis and Mendez, to the hamlet where he resided,

to make a last appeal. The priest, who had so long known him, endeavored

to recall him to higher and better feelings. The unhappy man made many

excuses for his absence, and continued to beguile the missionary with

promises; but his heart was given up to deadly malice. He had renounced

Christianity, and doomed its envoys to death. As Father Quiros and his two

companions turned sadly away to depart from the place and rejoin their

suffering companions, a shower of arrows whizzed through the air. Quiros

and his companions fell, pierced by the sharp flinty arrows of the

apostate and his followers. Virginia had its first martyrs of Christ.

Their bodies were at once stripped and subjected to all the mutilations

that savage fancy inspired.

Father Segura, with the three brothers and two other Indian youths, had

spent the interval in prayer, anxiety deepening as no sign of Father

Quiros appeared. On the fourth day the yells and cries that were borne on

the chilly air announced the approach of a large party, and in a short

time Don Luis appeared, arrayed in the cassock of Father Quiros, attended

by his brother, the cacique, and a war party armed with clubs and bows. He

sternly demanded from the missionaries their knives and axes used for

chopping wood, knowing that with them alone could they make any defence.

These were surrendered without remonstrance. Father Segura saw that the

end was come. The long‐delayed ship would be too late. He prepared his

companions to die. They doubtless gathered around the altar where the Holy

Sacrifice had just been offered. Then the apostate gave a signal, and his

warriors rushed upon the defenceless and unresisting mission party, and

slaughtered all but Alphonsus, who was protected by a brother of Don Luis,

more humane than that fallen man.

The bodies of his victims, Father Segura, Brothers Gomez, Linares, and

Zevallos, and the Indian novice, Christopher Redondo, were then, we are

told, buried beneath their chapel‐house. The shrine of the Mother of God

was doubtless pillaged, perhaps demolished; the lamp of Christian light

was extinguished, and pagan darkness again prevailed in the land.

As nearly as could be ascertained, the martyrdom of Father Quiros occurred

on Sunday, the 4th of February, 1571; that of Father Segura a few days

later.

Why had their countrymen in Florida so cruelly neglected them, in spite of

the urgent letters taken back by the pilot? It was probably because,

Melendez being absent, the letters were sent to Spain, and the pilot did

not fully reveal the destitute condition in which he had left the mission

colony. Brother Vincent Gonzalez was urgent to bear relief to the vice‐

provincial, but he was put off with the pretext that no pilot could be

found to run along the coast from Port Royal to the Chesapeake. It was not

till spring that the good brother succeeded in getting a vessel and some

Spaniards to proceed to the relief of his superior, as to whose welfare

great anxiety was now felt. They ran up the Potomac, and reached the spot

where Segura had landed. Indian runners had descried the vessel when it

entered the river, and, when the Spanish craft came to anchor, Indians

were there to meet them, and the garb of the missionaries was seen in the

distance. But the treacherous red men failed to lure them ashore with this

device, although some came forward, crying, “See the fathers who came to

us. We have treated them well; come and see them, and we will treat you

likewise.”

On the contrary, suspecting treachery from the fact that the pretended

fathers did not hasten down to meet them, the Spaniards not only avoided

landing, but, seizing two of the treacherous natives, sailed back to Port

Royal.

Melendez, soon after returning from Spain, heard their report, and with

characteristic energy resolved to punish the crime. Taking a small but

staunch and fleet vessel, with a sufficient force, he sailed in person to

the Chesapeake in 1572, bearing with him Father Rogel and Brother

Villareal. He evidently ran up the Potomac, as the other vessel had done,

to the spot already familiar to the pilots. Here he landed the Spanish

soldiers, and unfurled the standard of Spain on the soil of Virginia.

Marching inland, this determined man soon captured several Indians. They

were interrogated, and at once confessed that the whole mission party had

been cruelly murdered, but they laid the blame of the terrible crime on

the apostate Don Luis. Apparently, by one of them Melendez sent word to

the tribe that he would not harm the innocent, but he insisted on their

delivering up Don Luis. But that false Christian, on seeing the Spanish

vessel, fled with his brother, the cacique, and all attempts to arrest

them failed. The brother who had saved the Indian boy Alphonsus, however,

came forward to meet Melendez, bringing to him the only survivor of Father

Segura’s pious band. The adelantado received him with every mark of

pleasure.

From this boy was obtained a detailed account of all that had happened

after the departure of the vessel which left the missionaries on the bank

of the Potomac. The statement is, of course, the basis of all the accounts

we possess of the fate of the log chapel on the Rappahannock and the

little Jesuit community gathered to serve it.

The Spanish commander arrested a number of Indians; and when Alphonsus had

pointed out those concerned in the tragedy, Melendez hung eight of them at

the yard‐arm of his vessel. Father Rogel prepared them all for death,

instructing them, we presume, by the aid of the young survivor, and had

the consolation of baptizing them.

After this summary act of retributive justice, the founder of St.

Augustine, with his mail‐clad force, embarked, and the Spanish flag

floated for the last time over the land of Axacan.

Father Rogel was loath to leave the country without bearing with him the

precious remains of his martyred brethren; but Melendez could not venture

so far from his ship, and his force was too small to divide. The Jesuit

Father could bear away, as a relic, only a crucifix which had been in the

log chapel. Divine vengeance is said to have overtaken those who profaned

the sacred vessels, and especially an attempt to injure this crucifix;

first one, then two others, having been struck dead. It was subsequently

placed by Father Rogel in the College of Guayala.

Some thirty‐five years later an English colony entered a river, to which

they gave the name of Mary Stuart’s son. The Indians from that river to

the Rappahannock were ruled by Powhatan; and it is worthy of remark that

Raphe Hamor, one of the earliest settlers, states that Powhatan’s tribe

were driven from their original abode by the Spaniards. They were

Algonquins, and did not come from Florida. They were, in all probability,

the very tribe among whom Father Segura laid down his life. Powhatan,

represented as then a man of sixty, might, at twenty‐five, have witnessed

or taken part in the martyrdom.

Such is the history of the first community of the Society of Jesus in the

Old Dominion, of which they were the first white occupants. Dominicans

began the work by converting Don Luis, Jesuits followed it up by actual

possession, by erecting a chapel, by instituting a regular community life,

by instructing, baptizing, and hallowing the land by the Holy Sacrifice of

the Mass.

The flag of Spain and the flag of England have alike passed away, but on

the banks of the Potomac Jesuit and Dominican are laboring side by side

three hundred years after the martyrdom of Segura, Quiros, and their

companions.

Fredericksburg, which cannot be far from the early Chapel of the Mother of

God, revives its name in her Church of St. Mary of the Immaculate

Conception; and other churches of the same invocation seem to declare

that, as of old, so now we may say, “This is indeed the Blessed Virgin’s

land.”

New Publications.

A LETTER ADDRESSED TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF NORFOLK, ON THE

OCCASION OF MR. GLADSTONE’S RECENT EXPOSTULATION. By John Henry

Newman, D.D., of the Oratory. New York: The Catholic Publication

Society, 9 Warren Street. 1875.

This _Letter_ has two aspects. It is a reply on behalf of the Catholics of

England to Mr. Gladstone’s charge. It is also a polemical pamphlet

respecting a domestic controversy with other leaders of the Catholic body

in England. In its first aspect it is not only masterly in style and

argument, and marked with the evidence of rare learning, as anything from

the author’s pen is sure to be, but, to a certain point, conclusive and

unanswerable. It proves that Mr. Gladstone’s appeal to English Catholics

to separate themselves from the doctrine and polity of their spiritual

sovereign, the Pope, is an arrow shot in the air. It proves that his

charge against the Catholic hierarchy of having changed in spirit and

principle, in dogma and in action, in attitude and in aims, is baseless

and absurd. It refutes the charge that Catholics are intellectually and

morally in a state of servile bondage. Several other minor and incidental

things are proved, and on the whole it makes an important point in the

controversy about the relation of the Catholic religion to civil

sovereignty, and the civil rights and duties of the temporal order, as

distinct from the spiritual. It does not, and could not be expected to,

establish the great fundamental truth opposed to Mr. Gladstone’s error,

viz., the positive Catholic doctrine of the relation of the church to the

state, _in se_, and the firm, immovable basis which that doctrine places

for just political sovereignty and corresponding subjection to rest on,

while securing the divine rights of the church and her members, and the

duties correlative to those rights.

It is Dr. Newman’s misfortune that a base and dishonest act of some one of

the pestilent set of detectives of the press, or the other sneak‐thieves

who prowled about the purlieus of the Vatican Council, filching secret

information in order to make eligible paragraphs in newspapers, placed him

in a position before the world embarrassing both to himself and to many of

his warmest friends. The embarrassment of which we speak did not imply any

falling away from the faith of a Catholic or the holiness of a religious

priest. Yet it left a sentiment of disappointment, which the present

pamphlet does not altogether remove, that Dr. Newman failed to add lustre

to his arms, instead of merely preserving unstained what he had already

acquired.

The fading impression of this disappointment would have been wholly

effaced if Dr. Newman had not, in his reply to Mr. Gladstone, renewed it

by a certain manner of vague and general expression of discontent with a

number of his fellow‐Catholics considered by him as extreme or injudicious

in their doctrine, or way of expressing it, or their measures for

promoting the growth of the Catholic Church. There may, very well, be

individuals deserving his severe language. We have occasion in this

country to lament at extravagant representations of Catholic doctrines,

harsh and unjust censure of persons or opinions, and other excesses on the

part of individuals professing to be specially orthodox and devoted to the

Holy See. We think, however, that Dr. Newman’s language will be understood

to apply generally to those persons and those writers for the press in

England and Europe who were active and zealous in promoting the definition

of infallibility by the Vatican Council. If it is true that it has this

extension, we feel bound to express our painful sense of the wrong done to

a body of the best and truest advocates of the Catholic cause who are to

be found among our ranks.

In respect to the infallibility and supreme authority of the Pope, we

consider that Dr. Newman, whose doctrinal soundness was always really

unquestionable, has given new and explicit evidence which must satisfy

every careful reader of the pamphlet who is competent to judge of

theological matters. We have carefully scrutinized every phrase and

proposition, and find nothing which in our judgment is contrary to

Catholic doctrine. In respect to the theological opinions and the tone of

argument and expression of the venerable and illustrious author, we think

he is sometimes open to criticism, as at least ambiguous, if not

inaccurate; and in respect to one point, which does not occur as a direct

statement of opinion, but as a record of a doubt in his mind expressed in

a letter to a friend written several years ago, viz., the famous question

of “moral unanimity,” that the position there taken is altogether

untenable.

Dr. Newman frankly assumes the _rôle_ of a “minimizer,” in which his

_confrère_, Father Ryder, figured with so much ability in his controversy

with Dr. Ward. We have always thought that Father Ryder proved fairly that

his own positions, essentially considered, are within the limits of that

liberty of opinion which the Catholic doctrine permits. To a certain

extent we approve of “minimizing.” That is, we approve of not exacting as

a test of orthodoxy, and as _per se_ obligatory under pain of sin, belief

in more than the law _certainly_ requires. But we are most cordially

hostile to the system of economy in teaching and practice, which

inculcates and recommends only the minimum in doctrine, pious opinion, or

devotion. We do not attribute the advocacy of such a system to Dr. Newman,

yet we think it important to caution the readers of his pamphlet against

drawing such an inference from his language.

In speaking of the Syllabus, in particular, we fear that he has spoken in

such a way that some readers will infer that they may disregard it

altogether. He says it has no dogmatic authority. That it has not, by

itself, the quality of a complete and independent dogmatic document, we

may concede. It is a supplement to a whole series of doctrinal

pronouncements, of the nature of a catalogue of the errors condemned in

them. Yet all the errors enumerated are really condemned by virtue of the

sentence pronounced against them in the whole series of pontifical acts.

It is not lawful for any Catholic to hold any one of them. Their

interpretation is to be sought, by those who are competent to do so, in

the original doctrinal pronouncements of the Holy Father, and by the rest

of the faithful in the explanation of their pastors, and others who

explain them under their sanction. So also, although a condemnation of

some particular system of mixed education—_e.g._, in Ireland—does not

involve infallibility, but only authority to which obedience is due, yet

an _ex cathedrâ_ judgment of the Pope defining as a general proposition

that mixed education is dangerous, is an infallible judgment on a question

of morals.

Moreover, although the condemnation of errors frequently leaves a margin

for discussion respecting the full import and extent of the condemned

error and the precise limits of the contradictory truth which is affirmed,

there is always something positively and certainly decreed, over and above

the fact that there is an error of some sort. Frequently, the meaning is

obvious; and, at least generally, it is soon settled by the agreement of

theologians, so far as its essence is concerned. We cannot criticise in

detail every particular statement or expression in this pamphlet which, in

our view, falls short of a clear and unmistakable and complete expression

of correct theological doctrine. Dr. Newman’s particular line has led

through so many caveats, exceptions, limitations, so much subtle balancing

of opposite weights, and of what he consents to call “minimizing,” with

which ordinary readers are not familiar, that he leaves the impression

that truth, infallible teaching, the authority of the church, even the

Catholic faith, is something to be afraid of, to be guarded against,

somewhat as Englishmen feel about a standing army. We would prefer that,

instead of being apparently so solicitous to assure weak brethren and

timid converts that they need not believe so much as they are afraid of

being made to, he would speak out with a more clear, ringing, and full

note of his own peculiar, unequalled melody, to persuade and encourage

them to believe and confide in the church of God and in their prelates,

joyously, fearlessly, enthusiastically, with the noble spirit worthy of

the children of God. We do not like to hear our enemies call Dr. Newman

the head of a party of liberal Catholics in England, and set him over

against his archbishop, and pervert his language into a weapon against the

Council of the Vatican. We do not like to have to vindicate him from the

praise of anti‐Catholic writers, and to qualify the approbation which we

would like to give to the productions of his subtile and erudite genius by

“minimizing” criticism. He once wrote of himself,

“Time was, I shrank from what was right,

For fear of what was wrong.”

Something of the same mood seems to have come over his sensitive heart in

his seclusion from active, ecclesiastical life, during the Council of the

Vatican, and to have not quite withdrawn its penumbra. We are reminded of

S. Gregory Nazianzen, complaining of councils and of S. Basil, as he went

away weary from Constantinople into retirement; and of S. Colman,

gathering up his relics to quit Lindisfarne and escape from S. Wilfrid.

These were weaknesses of saints, but still weaknesses, and it was their

heroism and not their weakness which made them worthy of our veneration.

We trust that Dr. Newman will remember that there are some others to be

thought of besides those who are weak in the faith and his own _petite

clientele_ in England; and that he will not close his career without one

more deed of prowess, which shall discomfit the enemies of the Holy See

and the Catholic faith, and show that his pennon still flutters beside

those of his fellow‐champions.

FATHER EUDES, APOSTOLIC MISSIONARY, AND HIS FOUNDATIONS,

1601‐1874. By the Chevalier De Montzey. With a brief of approval

from his Holiness Pius IX. Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1874.

We have read this book with pleasure, and have been glad to learn

something of the Congregation of Eudists—one which deserves especial honor

for its loyalty to the Holy See and the glorious death of some of its

members at the massacre of the _Carmes_ in Paris during the French

Revolution. The author, who is a grand‐nephew of Father Eudes and of the

famous historian Mezeray who was his brother, is a soldier by profession,

and his style has a freshness and novelty about it quite refreshing in

hagiography, and contrasting very favorably with some other specimens,

which reflect more credit on the piety than on the literary qualifications

of their writers. Father Eudes was originally an Oratorian; but after the

death of Father de Condren, when the Oratory became infected with

Jansenism, he left it to found a new congregation of priests, living in

community without religious vows, and devoted to missions and the

instruction of young ecclesiastics in seminaries. He was a truly apostolic

man, and his work was crowned with success. Dispersed by the French

Revolution, his congregation has been since revived, and appears to be at

present chiefly engaged in the work of secular education. The history of

the French Oratory is both singular and instructive. An institute formed

by Cardinal de Berulle, and including among its members such men as

Malebranche, Massillon, Mascaron, Father de Condren, and Father Eudes,

would seem to have promised a most complete success. Yet it perished

utterly and ignominiously through the deadly contamination of Jansenism.

It has been restored within a few years past, and is now as strongly

marked by fidelity to the Holy See and to the spirit of its saintly

founders as it was by faithlessness to both in the period of its

dissolution. Yet its past history will ever remain a grave and warning

lesson of the deadly effects of tampering or compromising with unsound

doctrines, and deviating into new and dangerous ways. Father Eudes

succeeded in accomplishing what the founders of the Oratory attempted but

did not carry out, though at the cost of much persecution, and in a way

comparatively obscure and humble. His character was an original and

admirable one, his institute seems to have been judiciously and solidly

organized, and we both trust and desire that his successors may carry out

the excellent work which he commenced to the most ample results. We

recommend this life particularly to all who are engaged in similar

undertakings.

THE RELIGIOUS STATE ACCORDING TO THE DOCTRINE OF S. THOMAS. By

Jules Didiot, D.D. Translated from the French. London: Burns &

Oates. (New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)

THE PERFECT LAY‐BROTHER. By Felix Cumplido, S.J. Same publishers.

THE MISTRESS OF NOVICES ENLIGHTENED UPON HER DUTIES. By M. L’Abbé

Leguay. New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1875.

The first of these three books, specially intended for religious, needs no

other recommendation than its title. The second is considered by the

Jesuits to be one of the best of its kind, and is equally useful for that

most excellent class of religious persons, the Lay‐Sisters, as for

brothers. The third will be welcome to the ladies in charge of the

numerous and crowded novitiates which are the most beautiful feature in

our American Catholic Church, and, from the recommendations it has

received, we have no doubt will prove satisfactory, though we have not had

time even to glance at its contents.

MARGARET ROPER. By Agnes Stewart. London: Burns & Oates. 1874.

(New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)

Miss Stewart is one of our best female writers. The sketch she has given

of Margaret Roper, in her usual felicitous style, is in the main

historical, with a little fictitious coloring to give it life.

CHARACTERISTICS FROM THE WRITINGS OF JOHN HENRY NEWMAN. Arranged

by W. S. Lilly, with the author’s approval. New York: Scribner,

Welford & Armstrong. 1875.

The American publishers have imported their edition at the retail price of

$2.50. It is a London‐printed book, which is all that need be said for its

typography. The selections are miscellaneous and made with taste and

discrimination. The volume must be welcome to thousands of admirers of the

matchless writings of a man who is one of the modern glories of English

literature, as well as one of the brightest ornaments of religion and the

church in the present century. One of the best portraits of Dr. Newman

which we have seen, an admirably‐executed engraving from a recent

photograph, is a welcome addition to the volume.

THE COMPLETE OFFICE OF HOLY WEEK, according to the Roman Missal

and Breviary, in Latin and English. New and revised edition. New

York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1875.

This little book will be found very useful to those of the laity who have

an opportunity of attending the Holy Week services, and it will also be

interesting to those who may wish to know what those services are which so

occupy the church during the “Great Week,” as the work contains all the

devotions of Holy Week, with the day and night office. There is an

abundance of spiritual reading in the Scripture lessons and prophecies, so

that those whose duties prevent them from attending the services may reap

much profit by a perusal of the offices at home. Each day is preceded by

an Introduction, explaining the meaning of the principal ceremonies. There

is also added the ritual for the blessing of the holy oils, which is

performed by the bishop on Holy Thursday.

PEACE THROUGH THE TRUTH. SECOND SERIES. PART I. By Rev. J. Harper,

S.J. London: Burns, Oates & Co. 1875. (New York: Sold by The

Catholic Publication Society.)

This ponderous volume is employed with the topic of the Levitical

impediments to matrimony, and its weight of learning and argument is in

proportion to its size.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF SPIRITUALISM, AND THE PATHOLOGY AND TREATMENT OF

MEDIOMANIA. Two Lectures. By Frederic R. Marvin, M.D., Professor

of Psychological Medicine and Medical Jurisprudence in the New

York Free Medical College for Women. Read before the New York

Liberal Club, March 20 and 27, 1874. New York: Asa K. Butts & Co.,

Publishers, No. 36 Dey St. 1874.

Asa K. Butts & Co. have published this small book with a long title in a

very cheap and economical manner, very well suited to its scientific and

literary value. It is decidedly the production of a medio‐monomaniac.

ON THE WING: A SOUTHERN FLIGHT. By the Hon. Mrs. Alfred

Montgomery, author of _The Bucklyn Shaig_, _Mine Own Familiar

Friend_, _The Wrong Man_, etc. London: Hurst & Blackett. 1875.

Those of our readers who enjoyed this “flight” during the summer and

autumn in the pages of THE CATHOLIC WORLD will need no assurance from us

regarding the pleasure of the trip. To others we will simply say that the

volume contains some admirably‐told travelling experiences, graphic

descriptions of Italian life and scenery, together with romantic episodes

in which sundry characters, real or imaginary, pass through a variety of

piquant incidents.

ANNOUNCEMENT.—In addition to the new serial already commenced in THE

CATHOLIC WORLD, we shall begin in the April number the publication of

another story by the author of “Laughing Dick Cranstone,” “How George

Howard was Cured,” etc.

[Transcriber’s Note: Obvious printer’s errors have been corrected.]