The Death of Marquette

FATHER JAMES MARQUETTE, having promised the Illinois, called Kaskaskia, to return among them to teach them our mysteries, had great difficulty in keeping his word. The great hardships of his first voyage had brought on a dysentery, and had so enfeebled him that he lost all hope of undertaking a second voyage. Yet, his malady having given way and almost ceased toward the close of summer in the following year, he obtained permission of his superiors to return to the Illinois to found that noble mission.

He set out for this purpose in the month of November, 1674, from the Bay of the Fetid, with two men, one of whom had already made that voyage with him. During a month’s navigation on the Illinois Lake he was pretty well; but, as soon as the snow began to fall, he was again seized with the dysentery, which forced him to stop in the river which leads to the Illinois. There they raised a cabin, and spent the winter in such want of every comfort that his illness constantly increased. He felt that God had granted him the grace he had so often asked, and he even plainly told his companions so, assuring them that he would die of that illness and on that voyage. To prepare his soul for its departure, he began that rude wintering by the exercises of Saint Ignatius, which, in spite of his great bodily weakness, he performed with deep sentiments of devotion and great heavenly consolation; and then spent the rest of his time in colloquies with all heaven, having no more intercourse with earth amid these deserts, except with his two companions, whom he confessed and communicated twice a week, and exhorted as much as his strength allowed.

Some time after Christmas, in order to obtain the grace not to die without having taken possession of his beloved mission, he invited his companions to make a novena in honor of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin. Contrary to all human expectation, he was heard, and, recovering, found himself able to proceed to the Illinois town as soon as navigation was free. This he accomplished in great joy, setting out on the 29th of March. He was eleven days on the way, where he had ample matter for suffering, both from his still sickly state and from the severity and inclemency of the weather.

Having at last reached the town on the 8th of April, he was received there as an angel from heaven; and after having several times assembled the chiefs of the nation with all the old men (anciens), to sow in their minds the first seed of the gospel, after carrying his instructions into the cabins, which were always filled with crowds of people, he resolved to speak to all publicly in general assembly, which he convoked in the open fields, the cabins being too small for the meeting. A beautiful prairie near the town was chosen for the great council. It was adorned in the fashion of the country, being spread with mats and bear-skins; and the father, having hung on cords some pieces of India taffety, attached to them four large pictures of the Blessed Virgin, which were thus visible on all sides. The auditory was composed of five hundred chiefs and old men, seated in a circle around the father, while the youth stood without to the number of fifteen hundred, not counting women and children who are very numerous, the town being composed of five or six hundred fires.

The father spoke to all this gathering, and addressed them ten words by ten presents which he made them; he explained to them the principal mysteries of our religion, and the end for which he had come to their country; and especially he preached to them Christ crucified, for it was the very eve of the great day on which he died on the cross for them, as well as for the rest of men. He then said mass.

Three days after, on Easter Sunday, things being arranged in the same manner as on Thursday, he celebrated the holy mysteries for the second time; and by these two sacrifices, the first ever offered there to God, he took possession of that land in the name of Jesus Christ, and gave this mission the name of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin.

He was listened to with universal joy and approbation by all this people, who earnestly besought him to return as soon as possible among them, since his malady obliged him to leave them. The father, on his part, showed them the affection he bore them, his satisfaction at their conduct, and gave his word that he or some other of our fathers would return to continue this mission so happily begun. This promise he repeated again and again, on parting with them to begin his journey. He set out amid such marks of friendship from these good people that they escorted him with pomp more than thirty leagues of the way, contending with one another for the honor of carrying his little baggage.

AFTER the Illinois had taken leave of the father, filled with a great idea of the gospel, he continued his voyage, and soon after reached the Illinois Lake, on which he had nearly a hundred leagues to make by an unknown route, because he was obliged to take the southern [eastern] side of the lake, having gone thither by the northern [western]. His strength, however, failed so much that his men despaired of being able to carry him alive to their journey’s end; for, in fact, he became so weak and exhausted that he could no longer help himself, nor even stir, and had to be handled and carried like a child.

He nevertheless maintained in this state an admirable equanimity, joy, and gentleness, consoling his beloved companions and encouraging them to suffer courageously all the hardships of the way, assuring them that our Lord would not forsake them when he was gone. During this navigation he began to prepare more particularly for death, passing his time in colloquies with our Lord, with His holy mother, with his angel-guardian, or with all heaven. He was often heard pronouncing these words: "I believe that my Redeemer liveth," or "Mary, mother of grace, mother of God, remember me. Besides a spiritual reading made for him every day, he toward the close asked them to read him his meditation on the preparation of death, which he carried about him. He recited his breviary every day; and, although he was so low that both sight and strength had greatly failed, he did not omit it till the last day of his life, when his companions induced him to cease, as it was shortening his days.

A week before his death he had the precaution to bless some holy water, to serve him during the rest of his illness, in his agony, and at his burial; and he instructed his companions how to use it.

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

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

They then carried him ashore, kindled a little fire, and raised for him a wretched bark cabin, where they laid him as little uncomfortably as they could; but they were so overcome by sadness that, as they afterward said, they did not know what they were doing.

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

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

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

On this he became silent, conversing inwardly with God; yet from time to time words escaped him: "Sustinuit anima mea in verba ejus," or "Mater Dei, memento mei," which were the last words he uttered before entering on his agony, which was very calm and gentle.

He had prayed his companions to remind him, when they saw him about to expire, to pronounce frequently the names of Jesus and Mary. When he could not do it himself, they did it for him; and, when they thought him about to pass, one cried aloud, "Jesus Maria," which he several times repeated distinctly, and then, as if at those sacred names something had appeared to him, he suddenly raised his eyes above his crucifix, fixing them apparently on some object which he seemed to regard with pleasure, and thus with a countenance all radiant with smiles he expired without a struggle, as gently as if he had sunk into a quiet sleep.

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