The Canadian Civil War: Volume 1 - Birth of a Nation

by William Wresch

Elise invited me to mass with her family again that Sunday, and asked if we could go to her family’s home for dinner after mass. I of course agreed. I had the usual nervousness around the family of a girl I was dating, but I wasn’t a teenager any more, and her folks were pretty good people. Besides, I loved being around her, and I loved that cathedral.

  I picked Elise up already wearing my riverboat gambler shirt and suit, which got me a smile and a kiss – always a good way to start the day. Elise was wearing a long gown with a high neckline and long sleeves. It was a church dress, but she still looked great in it. Late March can have all kinds of weather in Green Bay, mostly bad, but that Sunday there was a clear sky and even a bit of warmth. I think it was above fifty, something of a shock after months of biting winds. Women still wore their furs into the church, but many men left their overcoats in their cars, as did I. It was spring in Green Bay.

  We found the pew with Elise’s parents and sisters, the same one they had sat in last time, and I was more convinced each pew was assigned, either by pronouncement or by practice. The pew was in the central nave. If you haven’t been in a big cathedral, the main section is usually divided into three sections of pews. The main ceiling is so high, it is supported by two rows of interior columns. Between those two columns is the main nave, the central section with the clearest view of the altar and the clearest view of the ceiling and stained glass windows. This is where the DuPry family had their pew. To the left and right of the columns were more pews, but these had obstructed views of the altar, and lowered ceilings. I don’t like associating status with church, but I would guess status here went to pews in the central nave, while those in the left and right nave were somewhat diminished. However the system worked, I was pleased to be in the middle. The views were lovely. Just as the gothic tradition intended, my eyes constantly moved up above the altar, to the high stained glass windows, and to the sky.

  There really isn’t much to say about the service. It went as they always do. For me, the more intense part of the day started after the service when Elise decided her father should give me a tour of the church while the women went to look at one of the wedding chapels. This was the first time I was alone with her father. He is about my size, which is to say big for a Frenchman, and in his late fifties. He looks like a kindly old doctor, which of course is what he is. It turned out he was a good guide around the church since he had a passion for architecture.

  “Have you visited many large cathedrals?” He asked as we walked up the central aisle towards the altar. Many other people were still milling around the church. They obviously knew each other and were happy to spend time exchanging greetings before going home.

  “My family has worshipped in St. Patrick’s cathedral in New York many times, and then after college I spent a few weeks in Europe, so I visited the main cathedrals in Dublin and London, and then saw Notre Dame and of course St. Peter’s Basilica.”

  “Did you get to Prague?”

  “No.” In truth, with just five weeks to spend in Europe, it hadn’t occurred to me to visit Prague.

  “If you had, you would recognize this church. I am afraid we copied much of St. Vitus Cathedral. Here let me show you.” He stopped walking in about the middle of the church. “The standard floor plan for a large cathedral is to take the shape of the cross. This is not only religiously apt, but it helped with building. Since the great cathedrals of Europe took centuries to build, they were built in sections. The top of the cross came first. It was the smallest portion, and could be completed enough to allow at least some use during the centuries the rest of the church was being put up. Then the left and right arms of the cross went up. Finally the longer base of the cross was built. The altar is typically placed here, where the arms cross the main nave, and the church is effectively broken into four parts. The priests end up with the top chapel for their own services, the local royalty take the side chapels, and the base chapel is the one used by regular folk and visited by the tourists.”

  “St. Vitus is different. It was built over nearly a thousand years, but it was put up with a different plan. The two arms were shortened to fit within the Prague Castle, with the left arm used for the organ, and the right on used as a second set of doors.” He pointed left and right so I could see this was exactly the plan used in the National Cathedral. “More importantly, the central nave doesn’t stop in the middle, but runs the entire length of the church. That gives the church a more open feeling, and gives far more space for worshipers. That’s the concept we stole from Prague. And I think it works pretty well, don’t you?”

  “Yes, it is a beautiful church.

  “We are building a very similar cathedral in Biloxi. We think that will be the next major focus for Catholics in Louisiana. Maybe you saw it when you were down there?”

  “No, I spent all my time in New Orleans.”

  “Try to see it next time you are down there. It is in a beautiful setting overlooking the gulf. Now I guess we should try to catch up with the women.” He led the way around the altar where I could see four chapels that extended in a kind of fan. We joined the women who were in one of them. Estelle, the college-aged sister was describing a wedding she had attended in the chapel the day before. I could see that the chapel would work fine for most weddings. The room would easily hold one hundred people, and while the ceiling only rose up about thirty feet, the room was still filled with light and felt spacious. I eased over beside Elise, who took my hand while we stood listening to Estelle describe the wedding in great detail.

  At some point, standing there holding Elise’s hand in a wedding chapel, even my slow brain began to think the obvious. Me, Elise, marriage? Would Elise marry an American? I glanced in her direction and she must have sensed my motion, because she turned toward me just then and gave me a beautiful smile. What was she thinking? Suddenly I noticed that Marie, the younger sister was looking at the two of us, and then Estelle was staring at us as she talked, and I knew that nobody was thinking about yesterday’s wedding any more. It was a very intense moment. Elise’s mother saved us by interrupting Estelle’s monologue.

  “Maybe we should go home now and get some lunch. I am sure everyone is hungry.” Everyone quickly agreed and we left the chapel like it was on fire.

  Elise was her usual self as we drove to her home. She sat turned toward me and talked about the service and the church and endless items that were interesting simply because she was the one talking about them. Finding the family home was easy enough. It was on the fashionable east side of course, but I was pleased to see that it was not a fake Loire Valley chateau put on five acres. Hers was a solid two story house in a neighborhood of two story houses. Each house looked like it had four bedrooms upstairs, a formal dining room, maybe a sun room out back, and a garage slightly behind the house in the form of a carriage house. I guessed the age of the houses as twenty to fifty years, and the whole neighborhood was blessed with towering oaks and maples. It looked like a great place to raise kids.

  I was right about the formal dining room, at least as far as the DuPry home was concerned. We were quickly gathered there as Mrs. DuPry – Evette – brought out a series of dishes that had apparently been prepared before church. There was lots of food. Conversation started awkwardly as Dr. DuPry – Jean – tried to get the girls talking about school topics, but they were having none of it. They wanted to talk horses, and that is what we conversed about for an hour or more over lunch. It turned out Evette was the real horse master in the house. The girls were quick to tell me that she had won many awards for dressage when she was younger. If nothing else, it meant they could follow their passion for horses without fear of too many complaints from mom.

  After lunch Elise took me for a walk through the neighborhood explaining where her friends lived, which trees she had climbed, which was the best street for soccer, where her grammar school was. She showed me her childhood. I listened, held her hand, and enjoyed t
he afternoon. We left some time later. I drove Elise back to her apartment and left her there – she had papers to grade and a lesson to plan, and I went back to my apartment. It was warm enough that I poured myself a glass of wine, opened the door onto the balcony for the first time in six months, and stood looking over the Fox River. What was on my mind? You could guess that easily enough. Would Elise marry an American? I sipped my wine, thought about her smile in the chapel, and wondered.

  I was still wondering the next day when Picard called. Thank God for Picard. He gave me an appointment for Wednesday, which gave me time to hit the library and read up on the Illinois before the next interview, but it also kept me busy enough so that I had something to think about besides Elise. How could I ever solve the mystery of Elise?

  On Wednesday I drove down to Jolliet’s chateau with a greater understanding of the Illinois. Much was available about the tribe – their location, their size, their massacre by the Iroquois. Theirs was not a happy story.

  Security at President Jolliet’s residence was just as tight as it had been on my last visit, but the home seemed emptier. Maybe people were afraid to visit now. I hoped this meant I could get a longer interview. I needed to wrap up 1673. The voyage down the Mississippi was a good story, but it was a story that was well-known. I had unearthed little that was new during my library research, and while the interviews with the President added some personal details, I had found no major discoveries. I had come to Green Bay looking for a smoking gun. So far I didn’t even have a focus that could help me organize a book. I needed to get past 1673 and on to whatever disasters had occurred in 1674. President Jolliet seemed to feel the same need to move along, for he launched into a discussion of the Illinois the minute we were seated in the sun room.

  “You recall the importance of the Illinois. To the east are the Iroquois. They have accepted peace for the moment, but nobody trusted them. Too many French had died. Everyone assumed there would be another war with them, maybe several more. To the west were the Sioux, and while there had not been a war with them yet, every trader came back from that region with the same warning – these people were tough and would never yield on any matter. Conflict with them was inevitable. What we needed were allies against one or the other. The Hurons were pathetic, and most other tribes were too small to matter. A dream tribe would be located where the Illinois were, and would be as large as the Illinois were. Now, would they make good allies?”

  “The early signs were good. Louis was impressed with the size of the main village and with the apparent organization of the tribe. Leaders seemed to lead, decisions approved by the elders were actually followed by members of the tribe. What they said one day, they still followed the next. In short, they were a perfect ally. It is really too bad that bastard LaSalle got them all killed. But now I am like Elise and getting ahead of the story.”

  “Marquette loved the tribe from the moment they pulled their canoes ashore. His initial conversations convinced him that the tribe had a genuine interest in learning about Christ. He talked to one and all, translated for Louis, and prepared to tell the story of Christ in the same way he had told it to the Mascoutins.”

  “They stayed five days. As you can imagine, the men were all thinking increasingly of home and they still had a very long way to go. But they understood how important this tribe was, so they waited patiently, doing some trading and giving the canoes a thorough refitting while Louis and Marquette held endless meetings with elders and explored the village.”

  “Marquette was a hit around the evening campfire. Just as with the Mascoutins, he used a cloth backdrop to add drama to his little play, and just as with the Mascoutins, his crowd grew each night. It looked like he could tell Christ’s story every night for a month and have a crowd gathered around to hear him. He was so popular, in fact, that it caused real problems when the voyaguers left after five days. The Illinois wanted Marquette to stay, and I suspect Marquette wanted to stay too, but he also had reporting responsibilities. He needed to return to the mission at Green Bay to describe his voyage to his superiors. The best he could do at the moment was to promise that he would return the next summer to continue their instruction. As it turned out, that promise cost him his life, but I suspect he would have made the promise even had he known what the consequences would be.”

  “The crowning event of their visit came as they were getting into their canoes to leave. A woman brought a new born baby for Marquette to baptize. Here he was, already standing in the river, ready to get into his canoe, when the woman rushes forward with the baby. He of course stops to baptize the baby, and later tells his superiors about the baby. As far as he is concerned, he knows he has saved one soul. That makes the entire trip worthwhile by his measure. The fact that they have not only found the Mississippi, but have determined two routes to it, one by the Fox and one by the Illinois, is all well and good, but what really matters is that he has saved a soul. Can you imagine him as a parish priest? I bet kids would show up for CCD classes.”

  “Anyway, the Indians explain again that the river goes all the way to Lake Michigan (which they call Lake of the Illinois), and the chief himself leads the voyageurs all the way up its length. This now gives the explorers a second route to the Mississippi that they can report. As it turns out, both routes are remarkably easy. The Illinois doesn’t actually go all the way to the lake, but the portage is really no longer than the portage between the Fox and the Wisconsin Rivers. There is nothing to stop commerce up and down the Mississippi now. You reach the northern sections via the Fox, and the middle sections via the Illinois. Both rivers are home to Indians who want to learn the ways of Christ and want to trade with the French. This trip just keeps getting better for the voyageurs.”

  “They part from the chief and other Indians at the present location of Chicago and begin paddling up the western shore of Lake Michigan. This is totally new territory to the French, so Louis has the men stop repeatedly while he maps the entrances of various rivers and tries to measure the size of the lake. All this takes time and the men are getting tired, so this is not a section of the trip where they make great time. They had started north on July 17th. It is now late August and they have been paddling against the current for most of that time. There is no current on the lake, but there are high waves and occasional storms that force them to stay ashore for portions of several days. Picture a group of men who are excited by what they have accomplished, but very, very tired. On a good day they cover twenty miles, and there are lots of miles from the bottom of that lake north.”

  “By mid-September they are back at Door County. They recognize Sturgeon Bay, portage to the other side of the peninsula, and then paddle down the bay and back to Green Bay. They have completed a circuit of more than two thousand miles, found the most important river on the continent, discovered strange new animals, met several Indian tribes, determined two routes to the Mississippi and added tens of thousands of square miles to the kingdom of France. What did they get when they landed in Green Bay? Nothing. The mission was empty. The Indians were all off hunting, Father Allouez was down river at the Mascoutin mission, and the second priest, Father Andre, was up with the Menominee. The poor cabins of the mission were open to them, and the voyageurs laid their exhausted bodies down in the poor huts and slept. That was their homecoming.”

  “Why go back to Green Bay at all?” I asked. “It would seem to be out of their way. The main trading and ecclesiastical station in the west was at the Sault.”

  “You are right. Green Bay was a minor mission in those days, so minor that it could even be left abandoned. But Marquette had been ordered to return to Green Bay as his next assignment, so that is where they went. They all stayed there several days, probably hoping that one of the other priests might return while they were there, but neither did. Finally they unloaded all of Marquette’s belongings, gave him what food they could, and then left.”

  “
So Marquette is left alone in Green Bay?” I asked.

  “Remember that he had been living alone with Indians for years. While there were no Indians or Frenchmen around at the moment, they expected that as winter came on various Indians would wander into camp. I know it seems very odd to us, but that is how people like Marquette lived in those years. I suspect he was relieved to be out of his canoe, having lived on his knees for more than four months. And remember that he was never alone – he lived with God.”

  “And Louis?”

  “Louis and the others had to get up to the Sault. That is where they had their trading business. Louis’ brother Zacharie had been left in charge and now it was time to see how trading had gone. For his part, Louis had little to show for his voyage. Trading profits were supposed to cover exploration costs, and they hadn’t. There had been lots of gifts given and received, but very little trading on this voyage. His creditors were not going to be happy. It was now mid October and Louis and his men still had at least two more weeks of paddling to do to get back up to the Sault. They could expect storms and high waves and nights of freezing cold. They needed to leave now while they still could.”

  “In their last days together Louis and Marquette shared their journals and maps to make sure neither had missed anything, and then when the time came, Louis and his men left. Marquette stood on the shore and waved to them, in perfectly good cheer as they paddled off into the choppy waters of the Bay. Jacques Largillier was the only man of that group who would ever see Marquette again, and he, unfortunately, would have to bury him.”

  “Louis and his men had a very tough three week voyage north, fighting wind and waves and cold all the way, but they got to Sault St. Marie in early November. There was frost on their canoes each morning for that last week, and they were very pleased to be back in a place filled with Frenchmen, French wine, and the good cheer of family and friends. And, they finally had an audience for the stories they had been waiting to tell for months. There was going to be lots to talk about during the long winter nights this year.”

  “Thus ends 1673,” I said. “A good year, to be followed, I think you said, by a bad year.”

  “No, 1673 was a magnificent year, followed by a year of endless disasters. I should have Picard schedule your visit for a very rainy day when I tell you about that year. You already know Marquette gets deathly ill that year, beginning his slow death, and that in itself is a tragedy, but so much more went wrong. There was such foolishness, so many trivial agendas which nearly destroyed so much potential. One of the major discoveries of the century was made in 1673, and essentially lost just the next year. Our next discussion will not be pleasant.”

  “In the meantime,” I replied. “Let me thank you for 1673. You helped me understand the year much better.

  “You are certainly welcome.” Our interview ended at that point and I returned to my car. On the drive back to Green Bay I thought about Marquette sitting there alone in the fall of 1673. Green Bay, Wisconsin – population one. He had spent six months visiting lands unknown to Europeans and he had no one to tell about it. Instead, he sat in his bark covered hut and wrote page after page of description. I guess he was telling his story to pieces of paper. When would he have the pleasure of human companionship? Not until spring, when Andre and Allouez would return to Green Bay. He had his manuscript, and he had his God, but surely it must have been a trial to endure a Green Bay winter under such circumstances.

  Chapter 15

  1674