Michilimackinac: the island in the strait, Point St. Ignace on the shore
to the north, and the extremity of the peninsula at the south. The
Jesuit Relations as printed at the time, and those which remained in
manuscript till they were printed in our time, Marquette’s journal and
letter, do not speak in such positive terms that we can decide whether
it was on the island or the northern shore. Arguments have been deduced
from them on either side of the question. On the map annexed to the
Relations of 1671 the words Mission de St. Ignace are on the mainland
above, not on the island, and there is no cross or mark at the island to
make the name refer to it. On Marquette’s own map the “St. Ignace”
appears to refer to the northern shore, so that their testimony is in
favor of that position.
The next work that treats of Michilimackinac is the Recollect Father
Hennepin’s first volume, _Description de la Louisiane_, published in
1688. In this (p. 59) he distinctly says: “Missilimackinac is a point of
land at the entrance and north of the strait by which Lake Dauphin
[Michigan] empties into that of Orleans” (Huron). He mentions the Huron
village with its palisade on a great point of land opposite
Michilimackinac island, the Ottawas, and a chapel where he said Mass
August 26, 1678. The map in Le Clercq’s _Gaspesie_, dated 1691, shows
the Jesuit mission on the point north of the strait, and Father Membré,
in Le Clercq’s _Etablissement_, mentions it as in that position. In
Hennepin’s later work, the _Nouvel Découverte_, Utrecht, 1697, he says
(p. 134): “There are Indian villages in these two places. Those who are
established at the point of land of Missilimackinac are Hurons, and the
others, who are at five or six arpens beyond, are named the Outtaouatz.”
He then, as before, mentions saying Mass in the chapel at the Ottawas.
The Jesuit Relation of 1673–9 (pp. 58, 59) mentions the “house where we
make our abode ordinarily, and where is the church of St. Ignatius,
which serves for the Hurons,” and mentions a small bark chapel
three-quarters of a league distant and near the Ottawas. This latter
chapel was evidently the one where Father Hennepin officiated in 1678
or, as he says elsewhere, 1679.
The relative positions of the Indian villages and the church thus
indicated in Hennepin’s account are fortunately laid down still more
clearly on a small map of Michilimackinac found in the _Nouveaux
Voyages_ de M. le Baron de La Hontan, published at the Hague in 1703.
Many of the statements in this work are preposterously false, and his
map of his pretended Long River a pure invention, exciting caution as to
any of his unsupported statements. But the map of the country around
Michilimackinac agrees with the Jesuit Relation and with Father
Hennepin’s account, and has all the appearance of having been copied
from the work of some professed hydrographer, either one of the Jesuit
Fathers like Raffeix, whose maps are known, or Jolliet, who was royal
hydrographer of the colony. The whole map has a look of accuracy, the
various soundings from the point to the island being carefully given. On
this the French village, the house of the Jesuits, the Huron village,
that of the Ottawas, and the cultivated fields of the Indians are all
laid down on the northern shore. In the text, dated in 1688, he says:
“The Hurons and the Ottawas have each a village, separated from one
another by a simple palisade.... The Jesuits have a small house, besides
a kind of church, in an enclosure of palisades which separates them from
the Huron village.”
The publication a quarter of a century ago of the contemporaneous
account of the death and burial of Father Marquette, the humble
discoverer of a world, excited new interest as to his final
resting-place. The West owed him a monument, and, though America gave
his name to a city, and the Pope ennobled it by making it a bishop’s
see, this was not enough to satisfy the yearnings of pious hearts, who
grieved that his remains should lie forgotten and unknown. To some the
lack of maps laying down the famous spots in the early Catholic missions
has seemed strange: but the difficulty was very great. Every place
required special study, and the random guesses of some writers have only
created confusion, where truth is to be attained by close study of every
ancient record and personal exploration of the ground. Michilimackinac
is not the only one that has led to long discussion and
investigation.[62]
Where was the chapel on the point? A structure of wood consumed by fire
a hundred and seventy years ago could scarcely be traced or identified.
A forest had grown up around the spots which in Marquette’s time were
cleared and busy with human life. Twenty years ago this forest was in
part cleared away, but nothing appeared to justify any hope of
discovering the burial-place of him who bore the standard of Mary
conceived without sin down the Mississippi valley. One pioneer kept up
his hope, renewed his prayers, and pushed his inquiries. The Rev. Edward
Jacker, continuing in the nineteenth century the labors of
Marquette—missionary to the Catholic Indians and the pagan, a loving
gatherer of all that related to the early heralds of the faith, tracing
their footsteps, explaining much that was obscure, leading us to the
very spot where Ménard labored and died—was to be rewarded at last.
A local tradition pointed to one spot as the site of an old church and
the grave of a great priest, but nothing in the appearance of the ground
seemed to justify it. Yet, hidden in a growth of low trees and bushes
were preserved proofs that Indian tradition coincided with La Hontan’s
map and the Jesuit records.
On the 5th day of May, 1877, the clearing of a piece of rising ground at
a short distance from the beach, at the head of the little bay on the
farm of Mr. David Murray, near the main road running through the town,
laid bare the foundations of a church, in size about thirty-two by forty
feet, and of two adjacent buildings. The Rev. Mr. Jacker was summoned to
the spot. The limestone foundation walls of the building were evidently
those of a church, there being no chimney, and it had been destroyed by
fire, evidences of which existed on every side. The missionary’s heart
bounded with pious joy. Here was the spot where Father Marquette had so
often offered the Holy Sacrifice; here he offered to Mary Immaculate his
voyage to explore the river he named in her honor; here his remains were
received and, after a solemn requiem, interred.
But Father Jacker was a cautious antiquarian as well as a devoted
priest. He compared the site with La Hontan’s map. If these buildings
were the Jesuit church and house, the French village was at the right;
and there, in fact, could be traced the old cellars and small log-house
foundations. On the other side was the Huron village; the palisades can
even now be traced. Farther back the map shows Indian fields. Strike
into the fields and small timber, and you can even now see signs of rude
Indian cultivation years ago, and many a relic tells of their occupancy.
The report of the discovery spread and was noticed in the papers. Many
went to visit the spot, and ideas of great treasures began to prevail.
The owner positively refused to allow any excavation to be made; so
there for a time the matter rested. All this gave time for study, and
the conviction of scholars became positive that the old chapel site was
actually found.
The next step towards the discovery of the remains of the venerable
Father Marquette cannot be better told than by the Rev. Mr. Jacker
himself:
“Mr. David Murray, the owner of the ground in question, had for some
time relented so far as to declare that if the chief pastor of the
diocese, upon his arrival here, should wish to have a search made, he
would object no longer. Last Monday, then (September 3, 1877), Bishop
Mrak, upon our request, dug out the first spadeful of ground. On account
of some apparent depression near the centre of the ancient building, and
mindful of Father Dablon’s words, ‘_Il fut mis dans un petit caveau au
milieu de l’église_,’ we there began our search; but being soon
convinced that no digging had ever been done there before, we advanced
towards the nearest corner of the large, cellar-like hollow to the left,
throwing out, all along, two to three feet of ground. On that whole line
no trace of any former excavation could be discovered, the alternate
layers of sand and gravel which generally underlie the soil in this
neighborhood appearing undisturbed. Close to the ancient cellar-like
excavation a decayed piece of a post, planted deeply in the ground, came
to light. The bottom of that hollow itself furnished just the things
that you would expect to meet with in the cellar of a building destroyed
by fire, such as powdered charcoal mixed with the subsoil,[63] spikes,
nails, an iron hinge (perhaps of a trap-door), pieces of
timber—apparently of hewed planks and joists—partly burned and very much
decayed. Nothing, however, was found that would indicate the former
existence of a tomb, vaulted or otherwise. Our hopes began to sink (the
good bishop had already stolen away), when, at the foot of the western
slope of the ancient excavation fragments of mortar bearing the impress
of wood and partly blackened, and a small piece of birch-bark, came to
light. This was followed by numerous other, similar or larger, fragments
of the latter substance, most of them more or less scorched or crisped
by the heat, not by the immediate action of the fire; a few only were
just blackened, and on one side superficially burned. A case or box of
birch-bark (_une quaisse d’escorce de bouleau_), according to the
Relation, once enclosed the remains of the great missionary. No wonder
our hopes revived at the sight of that material. Next appeared a small
leaf of white paper, which, being quite moist, almost dissolved in my
hands. We continued the search, more with our hands than with the spade.
The sand in which those objects were embedded was considerably
blackened—more so, in fact, than what should be expected, unless some
digging was done here _after the fire_, and the hollow thus produced
filled up with the blackened ground from above. Here and there we found
small particles, generally globular, of a moist, friable substance,
resembling pure lime or plaster-of-paris. None of the details of our
search being unimportant, I should remark that the first pieces of
birch-bark were met with at a depth of about three and a half feet from
the present surface, and nearly on a level, I should judge, with the
floor of the ancient excavation. For about a foot deeper down more of it
was found, the pieces being scattered at different heights over an area
of about two feet square or more. Finally a larger and well-preserved
piece appeared, which once evidently formed part of the bottom of an
Indian ‘mawkawk’ (_wigwass-makak_—birch-bark box), and rested on clean
white gravel and sand. Some of our people, who are experts in this
matter, declared that the bark was of unusual thickness, and that the
box, or at least parts of it, had been double, such as the Indians
sometimes, for the sake of greater durability, use for interments. A
further examination disclosed the fact that it had been placed on three
or four wooden sills, decayed parts of which were extracted. All around
the space once occupied by the box the ground seemed to be little
disturbed, and the bottom piece lay considerably deeper than the other
objects (nails, fragments of timber, a piece of a glass jar or large
bottle, a chisel, screws, etc.) discovered on what I conceived to have
been the ancient bottom of the cellar. From these two circumstances it
seemed evident that the birch-bark box had not (as would have been the
case with an ordinary vessel containing corn, sugar, or the like) been
placed on the floor, but sunk into the ground, and perhaps covered with
a layer of mortar, many blackened fragments of which were turned out all
around the space once occupied by it. But it was equally evident that
this humble tomb—for such we took it to have been—had been disturbed,
and the box broken into and parts of it torn out, after the material had
been made brittle by the action of the fire. This would explain the
absence of its former contents, which—what else could we think?—were
nothing less than Father Marquette’s bones. We, indeed, found between
the pieces of bark two small fragments, one black and hard, the other
white and brittle, but of such a form that none of us could determine
whether they were of the human frame.[64]
“The evening being far advanced, we concluded that day’s search,
pondering over what may have become of the precious remains which, we
fondly believe, were once deposited in that modest tomb just in front of
what, according to custom, should have been the Blessed Virgin’s altar.
Had I been in Father Nouvel’s place, it is there I would have buried the
devout champion of Mary Immaculate. It is the same part of the church we
chose nine years ago for Bishop Baraga’s interment in the cathedral of
Marquette. The suggestion of one of our half-breeds that it would be a
matter of wonder if some pagan Indian had not, after the departure of
the missionaries, opened the grave and carried off the remains _pour en
faire de la medicine_—that is, to use the great black-gown’s bones for
superstitious purposes[65]—this suggestion appeared to me very probable.
Hence, giving up the hope of finding anything more valuable, and
awaiting the examination by an expert of the two doubtful fragments of
bone, I carried them home (together with numerous fragments of the bark
box) with a mixed feeling of joy and sadness. Shall this, then, be all
that is left us of the saintly missionary’s mortal part?
“I must not forget to mention a touching little incident. It so happened
that while we people of St. Ignace were at work, and just before the
first piece of bark was brought to light, two young American
travellers—apparently Protestants, and pilgrims, like hundreds of others
all through the summer, to this memorable spot—came on shore, and,
having learned the object of the gathering with joyful surprise,
congratulated themselves on having arrived at such a propitious moment.
They took the liveliest interest in the progress of the search, lending
their help, and being, in fact, to outward appearances, the most
reverential of all present. ‘Do you realize,’ would one address the
other with an air of religious awe, ‘where we are standing? This is
hallowed ground!’ Their bearing struck us all and greatly edified our
simple people. They begged for, and joyfully carried off, some little
memorials. Isn’t it a natural thing, that veneration of _relics_ we used
to be so much blamed for?
“Some hundred and fifty or two hundred of our people witnessed the
search, surrounding us in picturesque groups—many of them, though nearly
white, being lineal descendants of the very Ottawas among whom Father
Marquette labored in La Pointe du St. Esprit, and who witnessed his
interment in this place two hundred years ago. The pure Indian element
was represented only by one individual of the Ojibwa tribe.
“On Tuesday our children were confirmed, and in the afternoon I had to
escort the bishop over to Mackinac Island. Upon my return, yesterday
evening, a young man of this place entered my room, with some black dust
and other matters tied up in a handkerchief. He had taken the liberty to
search our excavation for some little keepsake, taking out a few
handfuls of ground at a little distance from where the box had lain, in
the direction of what I presume to have been the Blessed Virgin’s altar,
and at about the height of the ancient cellar-floor. The result of his
search was of such a character that he considered himself obliged to put
me in possession of it. What was my astonishment when he displayed on my
table a number of small fragments of bones, in size from an inch in
length down to a mere scale, being in all thirty-six, and, to all
appearances, human. Being alone, after nightfall, I washed the bones.
The scene of two hundred years ago, when the Kiskakons, at the mouth of
that distant river, were employed in the same work, rose up before my
imagination; and though the mists of doubt were not entirely dispelled,
I felt very much humbled that no more worthy hands should have to
perform this office. So long had I wished—and, I candidly confess it,
even prayed—for the discovery of Father Marquette’s grave; and now that
so many evidences concurred to establish the fact of its having been on
the spot where we hoped to find it, I felt reluctant to believe it. The
longer, however, I pondered over every circumstance connected with our
search, the more I became convinced that we have found what we, and so
many with us, were desirous to discover. Let me briefly resume the train
of evidence.
“The local tradition as to the site of the grave, near the head of our
little bay; the size and relative position of the ancient buildings,
both in the ‘French Village’ and the Jesuits’ establishment, plainly
traceable by little elevated ridges, stone foundations, cellars,
chimneys, and the traces of a stockade; all this exactly tallying with
La Hontan’s plan and description of 1688—so many concurring
circumstances could hardly leave any doubt as to the site of the chapel
in which Marquette’s remains were deposited.
“The unwillingness of the proprietor to have the grave of a saintly
priest disturbed proved very opportune, not to say providential. Within
the three or four months that elapsed since the first discovery many
hundreds of persons from all parts of the country had the opportunity to
examine the grounds, as yet untouched by the spade. We had time to weigh
every argument _pro_ and _con_. Among those visitors there were men of
intelligence and historical learning. I will only mention Judge Walker,
of Detroit, who has made the early history of our Northwest the subject
of his particular study, and who went over the grounds with the English
edition of La Hontan in his hand. He, as well as every one else whose
judgment was worth anything, pronounced in favor of our opinion. The
balance stood so that the smallest additional weight of evidence would
make it incline on the side of certainty as absolute as can be expected
in a case like this.
“The text of the _Relation_, it is true, would make us look for a vault,
or small cellar (_un petit caveau_), in the middle (_au milieu_) of the
church. But if anything indicating the existence of a tomb in the hollow
towards the left side and the rear part of the chapel were discovered,
could we not construe those words as meaning ‘_within_ the church’?
Besides, it must be remembered that Father Dablon, who left us the
account, was not an eye-witness at the interment; nor did he visit the
mission after that event, at least up to the time of his writing.
“We know, then, that Marquette’s remains were brought to this place in a
birch-bark box; and there is nothing to indicate that, previously to
being interred, they were transferred into any other kind of receptacle.
In that box they remained under the _catafalco_ (_sous sa
representation_) from Monday, June 8, to Tuesday, 9 (1677), and in it,
undoubtedly, they were deposited in a vault, or little cellar, which may
have previously been dug out for other purposes. The box was sunk into
the ground on that side of the excavation which was nearest to the
altar, or, at least, the statue of the Blessed Virgin, the most
appropriate spot for the interment of the champion of Mary Immaculate.
An inscription, on paper, indicating whose bones were contained in the
box, might have been placed within it; of this the piece of white paper
we found among the bark may be a fragment. The poor casket rested, after
the Indian fashion, on wooden supports. It may have been covered with
mortar or white lime, or else a little vault constructed of wood and
mortar may have been erected over it. When the building was fired,
twenty-nine years after the interment, the burning floor, together with
pieces of timber from above, fell on the tomb, broke the frail vault or
mortar cover of the box, burned its top, and crisped its sides. Some of
the pagan or apostate Indians remaining in that neighborhood after the
transmigration of the Hurons and Ottawas to Detroit, though filled with
veneration for the departed missionary (as their descendants remained
through four or five generations), or rather for the very reason of
their high regard for his priestly character and personal virtues, and
of his reputation as a _thaumaturgus_, coveted his bones as a powerful
‘medicine,’ and carried them off. In taking them out of the tomb they
tore the brittle bark and scattered its fragments. The bones being first
placed on the bottom of the cellar, behind the tomb, some small
fragments became mixed up with the sand, mortar, and lime, and were left
behind.
“Such seems to me the most natural explanation of the circumstances of
the discovery. Had the missionaries themselves, before setting fire to
the church, removed the remains of their saintly brother, they would
have been careful about the least fragment; none of them, at least,
would have been found scattered outside of the box. That robbing of the
grave by the Indians must have taken place within a few years after the
departure of the missionaries; for had those precious remains been there
when the mission was renewed (about 1708?), they would most certainly
have been transferred to the new church in ‘Old Mackinac’; and had this
been the case, Charlevoix, at his sojourn there in 1721, could hardly
have failed to be taken to see the tomb and to mention the fact of the
transfer in his journal or history.
“Our next object, if we were to be disappointed in finding the entire
remains of the great missionary traveller, was to ascertain the fact of
his having been interred on that particular spot; and in this, I think,
we have fully succeeded. Considering the high probability—_à priori_, so
to say—of the Indians’ taking possession of the bones, the finding of
those few fragments under the circumstances described seems to me, if
not as satisfactory to our wishes, at least as good evidence for the
fact in question as if we had found every bone that is in the human
body. Somebody—an adult person—was buried under the church; buried
before the building was destroyed by fire; and buried under exceptional
circumstances—the remains being placed in a birch-bark box of much
smaller size than an ordinary coffin—who else could it have been but the
one whose burial, with all its details of time, place, and manner, as
recorded in most trustworthy records, answers all the circumstances of
our discovery?
“_Sept. 7th._—Went again to the grave to-day, and, after searching a
little while near the spot where that young man had found the bones, I
was rewarded with another small fragment, apparently of the skull, like
two or three of those already found. Two Indian visitors who have called
in since declared others to be of the ribs, of the hand, and of the
thigh-bone. They also consider the robbing of the grave by their pagan
ancestors as extremely probable. To prevent profanation and the carrying
off of the loose ground in the empty grave, we covered the excavation
with a temporary floor, awaiting contributions from outside—we are too
poor ourselves—for the purpose of erecting some kind of a tomb or
mortuary chapel in which to preserve what remains of the perishable part
of the ‘Guardian-Angel of the Ottawa missions.’
“I shall not send you this letter before having shown some of the bones
to a physician, for which purpose I have to go outside.
“_Sheboygan, Mich., Sept. 11._—M. Pommier, a good French surgeon,
declared the fragments of bones to be undoubtedly human and bearing the
marks of fire.”
The result is consoling, though not unmixed with pain. It is sad to
think that the remains of so saintly a priest, so devoted a missionary,
so zealous an explorer should have been so heathenishly profaned by
Indian medicine-men; but the explanation has every appearance of
probability. Had the Jesuit missionaries removed the remains, they would
have taken up the birch box carefully, enclosing it, if necessary, in a
case of wood. They would never have torn the birch-bark box rudely open,
or taken the remains so carelessly as to leave fragments. All the
circumstances show the haste of profane robbery. The box was torn
asunder in haste, part of its contents secured, and the excavation
hastily filled up.