Cross erected in. 1905 on Summit o] Massacre Island. No trace

01 it left now.



mi.shoV's NOUlif
�rolJk9ton. tllinnrsota

August 5, 1949

To the' Reader:

The title of this short monograph quite aptly describes an

historical episode of which we ought to be aware. It took place in the

Northwest Angle of Minnesota, the most northern part of this country, -

an area that is little known despite the fact that its shores are graced

b.1 one of the most beautiful lakes on the continent, Lake of the Woods.

In this pine-spired amphitheatre over two hundred years ago

was enacted a drama of a priest who was slain in line of duty. It J.s the

true saga of a martyred priest and his companions when Fort St. Charles

was the most northern and western outpost of civilization in mid-America.

Father S?ariahan, the present pastor of W�rroad, Minnesota,

in whose parish Father Aulneau labored and was buried, has captured the

spirit of this pioneer missionary. It is the story of a priest who came to

prsach God's Evangel in a wilderness and among a hostile people. When you

read it, your own soul will be strengthened by his courage. He braved

untold har?ship and death itself because he loved God more than his own life.

Such heroism of the Faith deserves to,be known and perpetuate�

in the minds of men. Father Aulneau sought to build for God. We of this

Northland propose to make real his un.fulfilled dream." We seek to build in

his memory a church which will enshrine the God for Whom he gave his life.

BUt ·Father Aulneau' s memory belongs not only to Warroad and

to the Diocese of Crookston. It belongs to Minnesota and' to the nation.

The parish at Warroad is small and limited in its resourc�s.

It deems it an honor to make sacrifices for the building of this memorial.

If you wish to share in this sacrifice, we shall be truly grateful.

�0i(,C,iS>
Bishop o�ér�



Discoverers of old fort and cross they erected there in 1908.

AUGUST L. ZELLEKENS,

Censor Librorum

NIHIL OBSTAT

IMPRIMATUR

t FRANCIS J. SCHENK

Bishop of Crookston

Crookston, August 5, 1949.



MINNESOTA'S FORGOTTEN MARTYR

Gulls veered high like white kites flashing in the sunlight
against May's soft blue sky over the quiet sun-flecked waters
of the harbor of La Rochelle in France. Now and then, singly
and in groups they would dip screaming to quarrel over and carry
away bits of refuse which had been tossed from the sleek and

tidy man-of-war anchored there bearing the name "Ruby." The

ship this twenty-ninth day of May, 1734, after many quiet weeks
in port, now hummed and clattered with the sounds of officers'
orders and sailors' shouted responses, of ropes passing through
protesting pulleys, and the dull clang of the ship's huge anchor
chain as it came up from the depths link after link. With a fair
wind filling her canvas she headed out to sea escorted by the
same gulls she had befriended these many weeks past. The

"Ruby" once again was bound out of La Rochelle for the port
of Quebec, New France.

On board were the fundamental elements of colonial expan­
sion which for a little over two hundred years had been trickling
in greater volume across the seas from mother countries to be
absorbed in the seemingly boundless expanse of the New World
whose treasures were beginning to excite the greed and arouse the
envy of two great nations, France and Britain. There were soldiers
on the "Ruby" to augment the existing garrisons and to establish
new forts and posts to protect the colonists from the attacks of

resentful, hostile Indians and to make more secure these lands
of New France in the face of the strong British lion to the South.
Colonists were aboard, too. One hundred and eighty of them with
their fears and homesickness and .hopes for the establishment of
farms they could truly call their own and hand down to their
children in this vast, free land. And in the darkest, foulest part
of the ship were fifty others with tattered clothes, unwashed and
sore-covered bodies who were constantly under an armed guard.
They were. smugglers who would be given their freedom to start
life anew only when they landed at Quebec. They also were
destined to be the unwitting reason why so many on board the
"Ruby" were never to see land again.

One other group making the journey remains to be mentioned.
It was a small group of eight men, most of them in their twenties
or early thirties. Four were Jesui ts and three were SuIpicians.
Another cleric whom they 'addressed with greater respect and
whom they engaged, whenever they could, in animated conversa­
tion filled with questions which he never grew'tired of answering,

5



was older than the rest and wore apparel signifying that he was
a Bishop. This :vas Bishop Dosquit, the fourth Bishop of Quebec,
returning to his Diocese well pleased with the results of his latest

trip to France. In the interests of his Diocese whose western and
northern boundaries were constantly expanding to embrace more
and more territory containing more and more tribes of Indians,
he, like a general of an army, had returned .to the country of his
birth to recruit more and more priests to man those far-flung
outposts in the wilderness and to teach the -Faith to .savages

.living in the primordial darkness of ignorance and superstition.
From bishop to bishop; from monastery to monastery up and
down the length and breadth of France he had gone begging
young priests to aid him, a successor of the Apostles, in carrying
out the ancient mandate given the first Bishops by their heavenly
King. He, while stressing the importance of the work to be done
and the lasting rewards that such work would gain, did not for
an instant minimize the hardships and the dangers which these
recruits would have to face. Better to tell them the bare truth

than to have them come to him later and say they had been led
there by false promises .. He knew from his own experience and
from firsthand reports what lay in store' for pioneer missionaries
who had already' been under fire in that wild vastness of forests
and swift rivers, and lakes and the ever present Indian. There

would be almost unbearable loneliness, he had told them; they
would suffer from the heat and the cold, from hunger, from

physical exhaustion, from bites of hordes of mosquitoes: and
he held out for some the prospects of horrible tortures and finally
death at the hands of those they had come to help to live as
children of God. Drear was the future in a material sense; bright
and glorious was the future in a spiritual sense. They were not
to go like colonists hoping for farms that would bring them
material comfort and wealth; they were not to go like these

smugglers on board with freedom from jail waiting for them;

they were to go solely to make Christ and His Church better
.

known and loved Inrhis new land that lay before them.

As helpers in this task only men, strong men of great
faith and gr.eat hearts were wanted. No other need apply.
Despite the picture he had painted, seven new recruits had volun­
teered to come back with him and his heart sang. Perhaps he
could have used seventy. But seven? Well, he was happy to have
seven. No wonder then on board the "Ruby" he was the center
of these seven, no wonder they plied him with questions while
their eyes grew bright in an tieipation of the, struggle ahead,

They were young and strong. In their hearts burned fiercely
bright the fires' of zeal and love of God.

6



The wind was fair and the sea was calm. Day after day the
"Ruby" serenely and proudly surged through the waters with a
slight hissing sound and filled with happiness her human cargo
which was convinced that the crossing would be a speedy one.
But these pleasant, distance-consuming days were very few. Soon
they were met with contrary winds that prevailed for week after
week, and each day's -progress was but a fraction of that covered
during the pleasant, happy days which everyone had now com­
pletely-forgotten. Nor was it enough that the winds were contrary,
but storms arose to buffet them so that they could not have a fire
in the galley. So tossed about were they that the priests could
not even celebrate Mass for days on end.

Now came the grim spectre of disease and death striding
through the ship from one end to the other in the form of little
grey body lice that came aboard on the soldiers

_

and most of all
on the sore-covered bodies of the half-naked smugglers. Armed
guards could keep the smugglers confined, but they were power­
less to stave off the march of the grey, pestilence-infested horde
that now took command of the ship which was now no longer
proud but a tossing, bedraggled pest-house filled with sickness and
running sores, maggots, fetid stench, and, now and then, death.

The priests in their zealous care for the sick became examples
to .all-and -among them was one, a strongly built young Jesuit,
who even excelled his companions in their works of mercy. He
was twenty-nine, this young ,Jesuit. As yet he was not an ordained
priest. Before that office would be conferred upon him another
year of theology was required. He would put in that remaining
year in the seminary in Quebec. He was Jean Pierre Aulneau
leaving behind a rather wealthy widowed mother, mistress of an
estate in Vendee, France, for the life of a Jesuit missionary in the
wilderness of New France.

During the height of the plague within the ship he was every­where and most of all where men were the sickest. He who had
been accustomed to cleanliness from his youngest days, who had
in the midst of his rich home developed a sense of delicacy, was
now throwing himself in the midst of filth and dirt, performingthe most menial tasks for the poor sick wretches in the hold,
adminis tering to their physical needs and all the while consolingthem in their misery, and preparing those souls which .were
about to leave their sore-ridden, feverish bodies. So conspicuous
was he in his care of the sick that one of the Jesuits felt con­
strained to write home, "God preserved his health for the
consolation of those on board."

At one time during the voyage two hundred were sick, and
before the "Ruby" finally put in at Quebec, still with many sick

7



on board, twenty of those who left La Rochelle that bright May
day had been consigned in death to a watery grave. At the be­

ginning of the journey there had been high hopes of setting a

speed record for the crossing. As a matter of fact a record was set.

No other ship up to that time had taken so many days to make
the crossing. Eighty long days and nights. They had left France
in the full tide of spring and now in Quebec the waning days
of August held in the air the faint, crisp hint of fall,

No sooner had the "Ruby" docked than her remaining sick
were transferred.to the hospital, and close on their heels was the

young Jesuit, Jean Aulneau, loathe to part with the objects of his
'solicitude and ministering hands. They had been so thankful for

all he had done for them on board ship that he wanted to be
with them still. His religious Superior had other ideas, however.
It was only by the grace of God that the young Jesuit had been

spared the disease himself and now, at the hospital, with many
others to care for them, it was foolishness to let this new arrival"

already worn thin and weak by the labors shouldered during the

voyage, continue to put' his health in danger. The Superior for­

bade young Aulneau to visit the hospital.
The Superior's order came too late because Aulneau already

had become infected with the virus of the dreaded sickness, and

very soon after his arrival at Quebec he lay at death's door, a
victim of the disease. His naturally strong and robust condition
saw him through not only the initial attacks, but through a

relapse he suffered when well on the road to recovery. Weeks later,
when he was sure that he was well again, he mentioned the sick­
ness to his mother in a letter written on October 10, 1734, saying,
"The relapse was more serious than the first attack. I am, at last,
thank God, once more enjoying good health."

Having recovered his health, much work remained for him

to do that winter of 1734-350 The final year of formal schooling
before his ordination remained and, in addition, ne was to learn

as much as he could from everyone the bits of practical knowl­

edge so necessary for survival in the wilderness he was about to

penetrate.
The first sight of the pagan Indians thoroughly disgusted him.

They seemed so stupid, so oblivious of anything but the present
moment. Their uncouthness and bodily filthiness contrasted so

strongly with all that he had known at home that he had to steel
himself lest he bolt from their presence to quiet his upset stomach.
Yet it was for these he had come. He was, in his own little

way, to carryon the task that had been begun in this new
land by others before him who had obeyed that old, old order,

"Going, therefore, teach ye all nations •••
"

8



Into Ouebec for the winter came various missionaries who had

spent m�nths and years among the different tribes of the interior,
some near at hand and others from places that had never seen a
white man before. They had tales to tell; tales of successes and
failures, of dangers run and evaded, of the whiteness of the fields
for the harvest and the need for more laborers in the vineyard.
These priests could tell, too, how their Indians lived and what
they believed concerning the Supernatural and a life hereafter,
if they believed anything a t all. .

At every opportunity Aulneau would spend his spare time
with them eagerly drinking in their every word, their every story.
At the risk of being considered a nuisance he would ask question
after question, and they would answer him even if the question
did seem foolish sometimes. They, too, could remember the first
days they spent in Quebec when they were fresh from France.

Site o/ old Fort Saint Charles (wood's in extreme right foreground).
Penasse at far le/t•.

As he studied these men, as he heard them talk, the disgust and
loathing he held in his heart for the Indians and even this new,
cruel land gave way to a burning desire to help them and to teach
them about Him who loved them with an infinite love. The tinder
of his own love for the Indians was ignited and now began to burn
with a steady flame that was never to be extinguished. This was

9



the greatest thing that happened to him that winter and he gives
credit for it to these missionaries returned from the front line

with whom he says, "I met nearly all this winter; and the strik­

ing example they have given me of zeal, recollectedness, self-denial
and interior union with God has, through our Lord's mercy,
awakened in my heart a true and sincere desire to make every
effort I can to imi tate them."

In April 1735, shortly after his ordination, his Superior called
him in and gave him his missionary assignment, an assignment
described in the words of a fellow Jesuit writing from Montreal
to Father Aulneau's mother, "I dare say it is the longest,
most painful and dangerous journey ever undertaken by a

missionary in Canada." Father Aulneau was to go ,to a tribe

whose members no white man had as yet seen. Knowledge of their

existence had been gathered by La Verendrye's men from wander­

ing Chippewas who had dropped in on the French at little Fort

Sain t Charles si tua ted on the western side of the Lake of the

Woods. They called these Indians "Quant Chipouanis"-"Those
who dwell in holes."

One of the greatest drawbacks in the work of converting
the Indians of the West was their habit of wandering. They
would never stay long enough in one place to have time to

listen to 'the instructions of 'the missionaries. They had no'

set dwellings. They were constantly on the move trapping and

hunting. Now information had come that there was at least one

tribe that had a fixed place of residence, holes in the ground.
Conditions for the acceptance of the Faith on the part of these

Indians were more favorable than among the wanderers. With

the Faith 'firmly entrenched in such settled communities it could

radiate out from them spreading its blessings even to those who

had no fixed dwellings. Father Aulneau was to be the first priest
to visit them. He was to learn their language, and instru_ct
them. He was to make this long and perilous 'journey alone.

No other priest would accompany him; no other priest would

be within a thousand miles of him.

Because neither Father Aulneau nor La Verendrye ever reached

these Indians "who lived in holes" it is not certain who they really
were, but it is _ generally thought that they were the Mandans
who did sometimes live in caves dug info river banks. So far away
from Quebec did they live that it would be impossible for Father
Aulneau to reach them within the year of his setting out. He was

to spend the winter at Fort Saint Charles and while there he

was to parcel his time among the Chippewas and the Assiniboins,

learning their languages and their cus toms in addition to in­

structing and baptizing them. Everything that he could learn

10



about them which might be of help to future missionaries was
to be written down. Especially desirable would be a dictionary
of their language.

Now that he knew where he was to be sent, he gathered all
the information he could from any source. He already had seen
fellow priests who came into Quebec from the north and the west.
Now he concentrated on those who knew at least a little about

the district he himself was to visit. He went.to the French soldiers

and officers who had been out that way and asked them question
after question. He went to the river, to outfitters, and to mer­
chants in search of voyageurs who had canoed and portaged to the
West from Lake Superior to the height of land and down the

string of lakes and rivers that fina1ly emptied into the Lake of
the Woods. Very few of them knew anything about the .land
that lay beyond it to the West. They had heard of the "Indians
who live in holes." They had never seen them; they did not even
know where they lived. Fort Saint Charles marked the boundary
between the known and the unknown.

Fort Saint Charles, despite its name which brought thoughts
'of cannon and bastions and great sturdiness, was after all a simple
enclosure sixty' fee't wide and a hundred feet long of a double row
of cedar posts extending about fifteen feet above the ground. On
its corners were places for sentries to keep a lasting lookout, and

provisions had been made in its construction for its defense
should the occasion arise .. It could not have been more elaborate

than that because it had to be built from materials at. hand.

Nevertheless, i t served its purpose well. I t was never attacked.
-

Fort Saint Charles, had been founded in 1732 by La Verendrye,
the first soldier-explorer of cen traI North America, as a part of his

undertaking to discover for France what all the great powers of
Europe were looking for-a Northwest Passage by water from the
Atlantic through the continent into the Pacific Ocean. The North­
west Passage was the substance of the dreams of men driven by
the compelling urge to seek out and find new lands, strange
territory. La Verendrye was one of these. Three years before, in
1729, he was in command of a small trading post on the shores
of Lake Nipigon near what is now Fort William, Ontario.
From time to time Indians would drop in to tell, among other

things, strange tales of a great river flowing westwards and empty­
ing into the Western Sea. An Indian named "Auchagah" drew a
crude map showing this river flowing westwards out of the Lake
of the Woods. This was too much for La Verendrye. He states that
for three nights as he slept on the shores of Lake Nipigon he
dreamed that he, La Verendrye, had at last solved the mystery
of the Northwest Passage, had claimed for his beloved France all

11



that vast country and all its riches-precious metals and timber
and furs. He must go in search of it. Finally, after much trouble­
some negotiation, some uncompleted, with the French Gover or
in Quebec, with the Crown in France, and with merchants in

Montreal, he set out in 1731 with fifty-men and a Jesuit priest,
Father Charles Mesaiger, in canoes. The canoes were loaded with

supplies which included powder, balls, flints, and guns and
trinkets for trading with the Indians and gaining their good will.

They skirted the shore of Lake Superior and then began the
arduous struggle against the swift flowing Pigeon River. Here
at intervals they encountered rapids which meant that everything
had to be unloaded and then carried on their backs upstream
until navigable water was found again. Some of these portages
were only a few feet long, others were a mile or more. At last they
came to what later was called Grand Portage. It was the height of
land. West of that portage the water flowed westwards; up to the

grand portage the water had been flowing eastwards. This portage
is a distance of nine or ten miles and here they waited until
the spring of 1732, having first sent an advance party with six
canoes to visit the Indians in the immediate territory west of
Grand Portage.

.

And so in the summer of 1732, when George Washington was
but five months old, when the land, west of the Alleghenies had

yet to feel and hear the tramp of white feet in any number, there

stood La Verendrye with his sons, a Jesuit priest, and fifty French­
men in the heart of the Continent, poised on the threshold of the
Lake of the Woods about to continue the search for the North­

west Passage. They had received a grand welcome from the In­
dians and on this July day in 1732 fifty canoes of them acted
as an escort for La Verendrye as he firs t fel t the waters of the Lake
of the Woods slap the birch bark sides of his canoe.

Before them lay the sparkling wide waters of this most lovely
of all large lakes. Long, long ago the Indians had given it its
name from the thousands and thousands 'of .islands, large and

small, covered with pines, some of which grow all gnarled and

grotesquely shaped from crevices in the bare rocks. It 'was a gem
of beauty and a garden of plenty with the game on its shores­

moose, and deer and partridges. And in its sparkling depths were
fish in abundance. There was wild rice in its countless bays. There
were ducks on its surface. The innumerable streams flowing into
it were hosts to the beaver and mink and muskrat with their

warm, soft furs, All these the lovely lake had to give those who
would take them. And because these things were there in abun­
dance the Indians of the Lake and the forest would battle it out

from time immemorial with the foraging Indians from the prai-

12



ries for the privilege of using these primeval .and lush hunting and

fishing and trapping grounds. So popular as a north and south.

highway for war parties either in canoes or on foot on its banks
had been' a small river flowing into the Lake on its extreme
southwestern end that it had been called by the Indians "The
river of bloody ground." It was pointed out to La Verendrye as
his canoes skirted the southern shore of the Lake. The French

then called the river '''Chemin de la Guerre," the road of war,
and later on the English named it the Warroad River. At the
mouth of this river La Verendrye followed the shore west and
north until he came to another stream flowing into the Lake from
the northwest, now called Angle Inlet. A little ways up this river

they camped on an island (Magnusson island) and here he
decided to establish his headquarters. Axes flashed and rang as

they' bit into trees; mauls and spli.tting wedges caused pro­
testing logs to creak and crack, and very soon were raised the
walls of the fort he called Fort Saint Charles in honor of the

pat�on Saint of Marquis Charles de Beauharnois, governor'
of New France, and the Jesuit priest, Father Charles Mesaiger.
Father Mesaiger was there with him helping to build it, but in
two years he had to go back to Quebec with his health broken

and be shipped as an invalid back to France. Father Aulneau was

to replace him at Fort Saint Charles for one winter.

Such was the iriformation he had gathered from his ceaseless

questions, and what he now knew filled him with eager�ess to

begin the work for which he had been trained, to make as he
had written "every effort to imitate" those gallant and courageous
priests he had met during the winter. And because he was young,
dreams of great accomplishments-hundreds of converts and many
little rustic chapels-blossomed in his mind. In the midst of the

eagerness and glowing dreams there arose the chill and forboding

spectre of fear. Fear of the natural hardships that would bar his

way-excessive heat and cold; long, tiresome, exhaustive journeys;
sickness, hordes' of mosquitoes, raging waters, and the silent

attacks of hostile Indians. Fear of an unknown land and un­

known, secret, hidden dangers. He knew these dangers existed.

In France Bishop Dosquit had mentioned them all; in New

France others who had experienced them had pointed them out.

Then they seemed so far away, but now they were_ almost as near

as tomorrow.

There remained one hardship which he had not expected, a

hardship he had never experienced il). the slightest degree-the
hardship of being alone as a priest. When he would finally meet
the Indians "who Iive in holes" there would not be a fellow priest

13



Massacre Island from the air.

within the radius of fifteen hundred miles. No priest to whom

he could go for spiritual consolation. Not another man with

similar interests and similar problems to whom he could talk

and who would understand. The Indians, the soldiers, the voy­

ageurs, the officers had common companionship, but he would

be alone among men and constrained to keep so many things
.

to himself. They could go to confession; he had no one to whom

to confess. In danger of death there was a chance that they might
receive Extreme Unction and Viaticum; there was no such chance

for him. It was this dread of being the only priest .that was his
Gethsemane and, like his Model in the first Gethsemane, he

resigned himself to the will of God and accepted the assignment.
Concerning" this task he wrote in 1735 to Father" Bonin,

"Doubtless I shall have to undergo many hardships; they would

have been more than welcome had it been advisable to give me

another Jesuit as a companion; but I am to be sent alone among
these tribes whose languages as well as whose manner of living
is unknown. It was not without much pain that I brought myself
to obey. May God accept the sacrifice I make of my life and of

all human consolations as expiation for my sins. I shall be

separated by several hundred leagues from any other priest,
and in that lies the greatest hardship of all my mission. (A league

14



was about' five miles.) But God seems to require of me the
sacrifice of even this consolation. I can refuse Him nothing; may
His Name be blessed forever."

The shadow of violent death at the hands of the savages was­

so common as to be expected. Several fellow Jesuits had been
tortured and killed within the memory of many in Quebec
and it had happened not so far away. Now and then quietly
into Quebec came news of this one and that one far in the in­

terior who had made the supreme sacrifice. He had to die 'some

day; there was no more glorious way to gain heaven than by
dying for the divine King whom he served. He writes in the
same letter, "In this country we should set little value on our

own lives which are so often in danger. I should deem myself
happy if I should be judged .worthy of laying my life down for
the One from whom I received it." Death and loneliness. It

was the loneliness he feared.

About a year had passed since he had seen the gulls dip and
wheel over the sun-flecked waters of the harbor of .La Rochelle

and since he had put his foot on the strong deck of. the sturdy
man-of-war. Now once more he stood on the shore abo-ut to

travel westward again. This time the waters were those of -the
broad St. Laurence. Gulls were there, too, and so was the sun­

shine, but instead of the "Ruby" was a nameless loaded birch­
bark canoe quivering by the dock waiting for him to fill the
small space reserved among so many bundles of supplies.

The time had come for the last, quick farewells and the
canoes noiselessly and very quickly drew away from the shore.
As long as they could be seen by the watchers on the bank the
flashes' of their paddles came with grea t rapidity because these

young men, these voyageurs, were showing off. It was part of
their nature to leave with a show of dash and bravado, and
this was their way of doing it. As soon as a bend of the river
took them out of sight of the city, the beat of the paddles was
slackened and settled down to the steady distance-consuming

pace of men who knew the limits of their endurance and
how

to get the best out of \ it.

June saw them in Montreal where they were delayed longer
than they expected. Beyond Montreal to the west was the wilder­
ness proper which they would penetrate as quickly as possible
in order to reach the tiny outpost of Fort Saint Charles before
the coming of winter. The prolonged stay in Montreal gave
Father Aulneau a welcome and' unlooked for opportunity to
write letters once again before arriving at Fort Saint Charles.
En route there

\

was no time to write. And so at Montreal he

15



wrote letters to those who were nearest his heart-his mother, his

sister, and Fathers Faye and Bonin.

To his mother he mentions the work that lies before him, the

wandering life he will lead for the next three years, and he
assures her that he will write when there is -an opportunity to
do so and then asks for her prayers, "Pray God, my dear Mother,
that I may acquit myself in a manner worthy of Him. I trust
that, separated for His sake from all that might afford human

consolation, He will not forsake me; and that if in the midst

of the forests, whither I go to pass the rest of my life, and in

the midst of wild beasts I find nothing to flatter my self-love,
I may find an opportunity to destroy and annihilate it by my
sufferings. Ask Our Lord to send me many sufferings and to

give-me patience to bear them with resignation to His holy and
divine will. Nearly every day I pray for you at the Holy Sacri­
fice of the Mass, and shall continue until death to offer it for you.
There is nothing else that I am able to do to express the gratitude
lowe you."

�

To his si;ter Theresa, a nun in a French convent, he again
outlines his task and mentions the difficulties he will encounter.

He recalls the earlier French priests who "watered' the wilderness
with their sweat and blood,'·' compares himself, with them and

is appalled by his lack of virtue, and therefore writes, "Pray more
and more for me, and beseech the ladies of your community to

.

do the same." Then, as an afterthought, he asks her to 'send
him, if she can, some altar linen and decorations because, "In

this respect I am in a pitiable condition of penury." He ends
the letter, "Goodbye, my dear sister, and let your love for me in
Our Lord Jesus Christ be as deep as mine is for you." He was
never to write to his mother or his sister again.

He speaks of his health to Father Faye. '''With every increase
of active work my health has become more robust, and the closer

insight I have of the worry and sufferings of the life I am to
lead, the more thankful I am that God has deigned to call me
to the missions of this forlorn �ountry..... My work foreshadows

many hardships, the least of which will pe that I shall have to
wander about in the woods four or five years with no fixed hab­

itation. In this, though very different as to merit and virtue, I
shall resemble the missionaries of this poor country who watered

it with their sweat and blood."
.

They left Montreal on June 12, 1735. He remained a few days
at Iroquois Mission at Sault St. Louis and was again on pis way
on July 21. Some weeks later Father Aulneau was visiting Father
de Saint Pe at Michillimakinac Island (now Mackinac Island)

- 16



in Lake Michigan. Father Saint Pe proved to be the last priest
Father Aulneau was ever to see. -

Skirting the shores of Lake Superior to the mouth of the Pigeon
River they continued their ever westardly way. Now they left
Lake Superior and began the hard, difficult ascent up the fast­
flowing Pigeon. Digging"with all their might against the current,
unloading the canoes, and digging again with their paddles,
they spent the months of August and September and the first
half of October.

Somewhere along their route a band of Indians on 'a hunting
expedition had set fire to the forests. The fire had burst the
bounds they had set for it and the en-tire region was on fire.
In addition to the stifling heat and the constant hordes of ·

stinging insects the Frenchmen had to fight their way through
thick smoke. Writing seven months later about this part of
the journey Father Aulneau says, "We journeyed nearly all

- the way from Lake Superior to Fort Saint Charles through
fire and a thick, stifling smoke which prevented us from even
once catching a glimpse of the sun." In the evenings as they
prepared their blankets the sky glowed red from the flames.

By the end of September they .had reached the height of land,
,

had made the grand portage, and had reached that labrynth of
little lakes and streams whose waters swiftly and sluggishly by
turns flowed west to Rainy Lake and out of Rainy Lake in the
Rainy River to lose themselves in the Lake of the Woods. Now in
the mornings when they arose from the night's sleep the air was'
crisply cold and a thin layer of frost covered the gunwales and

paddles of the canoes. Waterfowl were gathering for their south­
ward journey and no longer were there birds to sweeten the grow­
ing silence with their songs. The songsters had departed weeks
ago. When they paddled near rice beds in the shallows the
air became filled with the whirr of the wings of thousands of feed­

ing ducks which sounded like a strong wind in the tops of the
mighty pines. October was on the border of chill and harsh old

�ge when Father Aulneau saw the Rainy River's banks withdraw
from one another like curtains to reveal a large bay beyond which
he beheld what La Verendrye had seen four years before-the
wide expanse of the waters of the Lake of the Woods. He

would never leave that Lake alive. Over a century and a half

would pass before his bones would leave it, Fort Saint Charles

lay on the western side of the Lake. The end of the summer's

journey was only days away.
It was the twenty-third of October when they came around the

point of an island and saw the pale, blue smoke rising from the

17



chimneys of the huts within the palisades of Fort Saint Charles.
These palisades, trimmed of their bark, loomed pale before the
dark curtain of the live spruce in the forest behind it.

Father Aulneau had reached the end 'of his journey. He had
traveled- three thousand miles since setting out in early May.
Fort Saint Charles was the last dot on his map; beyond it lay
uncharted lands, unknown people whom he had come to visit
and to meet. This, however, was not be to done until spring
should. come again. He was to winter at Fort Saint Charles and
he had reached it just in time.

There was a deathly grimness about the preparations for the
coming winter at the Fort. Men worked hard and silently with

·

their minds full of anxious thoughts as to how they would pass
the lean months that lay ahead. 'That summer, two canoes
heavily laden with supplies for the winter, had been lost in the
rapids on the Pigeon River because of the carelessness of a
guide. In addition to this tragedy the wild rice crop that fall
had been very light because the level of the Lake had been ab­
normally high during the summer. Now they had to range far
and wide seeking the few places where the rice could be har­
vested, and when the harvesting canoes returned to the Fort

they contained only a small amount of the precious grain. As

,

the weather grew ,colder much of the preparations took the form
of fishing for white fish which spawned in the fall. These were

caught in large numbers and cached away in an ice house dug
back of the Fort. 'Some of the fish would spoil before the con­
tinuous freezing temperature of winter would set in. That made
no difference; they had to take the chance.

Early in November the freeze-up came. At first open water
could be seen in the middle of the channel and far out on the

huge open part of the Lake; in a few days there was no open
water anywhere. The Lake was transformed into a wide blanket
of dazzling whiteness with the snow which fell in white, howling
storms. Winds whipped it into drifts in the open spaces; it
was always deep and soft in the woods. The startling silence of
winter settled everywhere. In the night it would be broken rarely
by the hooting of the great white owL When the temperature
.was thirty below or more, trees would crack like pistol shots
'and the ice would split shaking the earth and a rumbling would
start which died in the distance like far away rolling thunder.
On clear winter nights Father Aulneau would love to stand out­
side awhile to gaze at the dancing display of the Northern Lights.
Sometimes they would swoop down to the treetops; at other
times he could hear. them crackling in the sky. Their beauty,

18

l
l

I
,



l

their liveliness so impressed' him that months later he mentioned
them in a letter to Father Bonin.

I

During the winter most of the activity at the Fort centered
about the business of keeping warm and having enough to eat.
Had it not been for occasional bands of wandering Indians

dropping in to trade quarters of moose and caribou for powder,
balls, and trinkets, the entire garrison would have died of starva­
tion. In memory of the extremely hard winter and the French­
men's hunger the Indians called- the island which lies a little
north and east of the Fort "Buckete Island"-"I am hungry
Island't=a name it bears to this' day.

Father Aulneau immediately undertook the task of learning
the language of the Indians and the preparation of a dictionary
and a grammar. He encountered difficulties because the Indians,

acting upon the instructions of"their medicine men, refused to
answer questions he would ask concerning their language. Occa­

sionally an Indian who was more friendly would help him out
and a start was made on the book which was the first attempt
of its kind.

Father Aulneau was thwarted at every turn. Consolations from
his work were very few. The Indians were polytheistic. There
were good gods and bad gods. No attention should be paid the

good gods; they were always good. Adoration should be shown
the evil gods in order tha t they would be good. They were the
ones that should be placated by prayers and offerings of meat
and tobacco.

When Father Aulneau would finally arouse in the minds of
visiting Indians an interest in the Faith, and it would seem that
they were becoming serious in their desire to learn more about
it, they would suddenly decide to go on a hunt, pack .hp their
belongings, join the main band and fall back into the old pagan­
ism. After months of such experiences he writes almost despair­
ingly, "As for the Indians who dwell here, I do not believe, un­
less it be by a miracle, that they can ever be persuaded to embrace
the faith; for even not taking into account the fact that they
have no fixed abode, and that they wander about the forests in
isolated bands, they are superstitious and morally degraded to
a degree beyond conception. In addition both the English and
the French, by their accursed avarice, have given them a taste
for brandy and this traffic in liquor with the Indians has brought
about the destruction of several flourishing missions, and has in­
duced many an Indian to cast away every semblance of religion.
This practice constitutes one of the greatest crosses the mission­
aries have to endure here among the Indians." He gives his
companions at Fort Saint Charles a clean bill of health concern-

19



ing their .dcalings with the Indians .. "I must say in justice to
the French with whom I have journeyed, that they' have not
mixed in this infamous traffic, and that in spite of all the re­

peated demands of the Indians, they have refused to trade liquor
for the goods the Indians have to trade." )

If there were more missionaries in the field, he is of the opinion

.,that the conversion of the tribes could be effected. These mission-aries, he writes, "cO'uld be stationed at different points, and could I
head off, as it were, the roving savage who, if he escaped from one,
would fall into the hands of another." But only one missionary
in this vast country? "But what can one poor mortal do in such an
extent of country, the very limits of which are as yet unknown?"

Such were the thoughts he put on paper during the long winter

nights of cold and hunger and disappointments. As winter entered
its dying days, their hunger increased. Now they were compelled
to eat the whitefish which had spoiled and had great black
blotches on it. The store of wild rice was gone. It was eat de­

caying fish or die. They chose to live.

The days had been getting longer with the sun mounting higher I
and higher in the sky and soon came the morning with that first
soft, warm breeze from the south which has always caused men
in the North to smile a little and to whisper to themselves, "It's
spring again." Almost all at once it seemed that the Lake and
the forest became alive again. The naked and stark birch and
poplar put on the first thin garments of delicate green. On the
floor of the forest scampered all the wild small things that had

slept the winter through, while out on the Lake the returning
waterfowl set up a loud cacaphony of boisterous and raucous
sound. At night men were awakened by the high pitched and

hysterical laughter of the loon. Fresh fish was now obtained in
abundance; wild fowl again revolved on spits over ,the hot coals.

Eating now was not only the necessity it had been, but also
a pleasure.

Under the bewitching spell of spring's new life, the men of the
Fort forgot the winter with its cold and hunger and crackling
northern lights and began to plan and prepare for summer.
Father Aulneau was not immune to the spell. He was still young,
and it was spring. As he stood on the sandy shore of the little bay
in front of the Fort, as he heard the friendly, soft lapping of the
waves on the rocks and pebbles, as he felt the pure and sweet
touch of the light wind on his face and his hair, he, too, dreamed
dreams and planned plans for the summer ahead. He wrote of
the plans to his Superior in Quebec with high hope and, then,
as an afterthought like a small dark cloud far off in a bright sky,

20



he feels the cold presentiment of an early death and writes, "After
all, what the issue of all these projects will be is known to God

.
alone, and, who can tell, perhaps instead of receiving the an­
nouncement of the realization of these plans, you may hear the

.

Decayed remnants 01 cedar

palisades.

news of my death .... I place all in God's hands. I am disposed
to offer Him with a light heart the sacrifice of my life." _

And that little dark cloud in the distance began to creep closer
without Father Aulneau's knowing of its approach. Discouraging
news came concerning the long planned expedition to the south­
west, to the Mandans on the Missouri. It was necessary to post­

pone the long journey until the following year, 1737, because
of a lack of supplies. La Verendrye the elder decided to send
three canoes with a party of men to Mackinac Island for provi­
sions and merchandise, and above all, for gunpowder which they
needed so badly. They were to travel at top speed, to return as
soon as possible in order that something could be accomplished
before the season had become too far advanced. Father Aulneau

asked to be permitted to accompany the group in order that he

21·



might consult with the priests at Mackinac concerning problems
pertaining to his mission and that he might also go to confession.
At the same time Father Aulneau asked that lean-Baptiste La

Verendrye, the eldest son of the Commandant, be put in charge
of the little flotilla. Since Jean-Baptiste was second in command,

'

he argued, his presence and authority would enforce better dis­

cipline and result in a more rapid accomplishment of their task.
After some hesitation La Verendrye agreed to put his son in

, command.
.

.

In the afternoon of June 5, 1736, nineteenpicked men in addi­
tion to La Verendrye's son and Father Aulneau in three haIf­
loaded canoes glided out of the little bay for Mackinac Island
fifteen hundred miles away. Again the quick pull of the paddles,
again the showing off, but it was over more quickly than when

they had left Quebec, because they were soon cut off from the

sight of the Fort by a point of land now called Penasse, the north­
ernmost piece of land in the United States. This was the first time
in his life that Father Aulneau was traveling east.

And now the presentiment of death which he had faintly felt
in Quebec, which pushed itself into his mind at Montreal, which
must have preyed upon him constantly because he wrote of it
so often, was no longer .like a little dark cloud in the distanèe.
The cloud had now settled upon the water and had become a war

party of about 130 prairie Sioux.
This war party had come down the traditional route of war­

ring bands, the Warroad River, into the Lake of the Woods and
was now skirting the" shores in the vicinity of Fort Saint Charles
in search of small bands. of Crees and Chippewas they might
attack and scalp. Whether they saw the three canoes in the dis­
tance and followed them from afar, or whether they saw the lights
of the 'fires when the evening meal was prepared, is not known.
The Frenchmen had stopped for the night on the shores of one
of the larger (and the highest) islands which jut out into the

open part of the Lake of the Woods called the Big Traverse.
The island is between eighteen and twenty miles from Fort Saint

Charles. Exactly what' transpired there the night of June fifth

or the morning of Jut:J.e sixth will never be known because no

white man lived to tell the tale. What is known has been handed

down from Indian to Indian and then to the French who wrote

the various versions of what they heard.
.

Very probably making overtures of peace the Sioux came upon
them, sat down with the "French to complain that the French
were trading guns and ammunition to their enemies, the Crees
and the Chippewas, and then at a prearranged signal fell upon
the French who fought back valiantly but futilely in the face of

22



superior numbers. One account, says that the Indians did not
mean to kill Father Aulneau whom they feared because he was
a "blackrobed medicine man.T'but that one young warrior, crazed

by the sight of so much blood. and anxious at the same time to

acquit himself as a great brave, fell upqn the priest killing him
with a tomahawk. When the last Frenchman was dead, there took

.

place on the wild shores of that island a,/blood orgy which saw the
Indians with drawn knives mutilating'[ the bodies 'of the dead.

Everything of value the Frenchman h.:;à.d on them or 'wit� them
was taken. Finally they severed the heads from the bodies and

placed them in an orderly row on beaver skins .. All except two.
The heads of La Verendrye's son and Father Aulneau they took
with them as trophies of the slaughter.

As they were completing this grisl;y,;w01*, they were frightened
by the dull rumble of thunder and tile" approach of -a black cloud

indicating wind and rain. Putting theirvown dead into their
canoes they frantìcally sought the shelter of islands whose close­
ness to one another would break the- ,force of the short storm.
As they huddled together in the storm and noted its fierceness,
.the thought came to them that this storm with the wind and the

lightning and ear-splitting thunder was obviously a sign of the
Manitou's displeasure because of the deed they had done.
With their dead they fled towards. -the .mouth of the Warroad
River down which they had so lately come with thoughts
of war and plunder. Two friendly Indians reported to La

Verendrye, perhaps weeks later, that they had seen on the eigh­
teenth of June in Muskeg Bay, near what is now Warroad, Min­
nesota, twenty Sioux canoes bearing blood stains and at the same

place limbs of dead Indians protruding from the sand where they
had been hastily buried.

.
Meanwhile, in the eery hush that precedes a storm, the bodies

of the dead Frenchmen lay more than deathly still as if they had
always been a part of the barren rocks and the creeping lichen.
Not a bird called; the waters of the Lake became calm and placid
as glass. La Verendrye's oldest son, his favorite and second in
command, lay headless and p�one with a sort of iron hoe im- \
bedded in his loins. Father Aulneau was on his knees, propped
up besides a heavy clump of bush where he had fallen and had
been left there after the Sioux had hacked his head from his

,

body. The mutilated bodies of the others lay where they had
fallen. Soon came the storm with 'its darkness. Livid flashes of

lightning played upon the still forms. The wind and the thunder
and the dashing waves played their requiem. And the rain fell,
washing from gaping wounds and severed heads the blood which
slowly began to trickle down the rocks and mingle in red threads

23



Skulls as found during _ excavation.

with the tossing water which ran to meet it. The storm soon

passed. The sun shone again. Birds called. And the water gaily

rippled and sparkled in the brightness. High overhead the gulls
flecked white against the blue, blue sky.

In the clump of brush with his knees on the bare rock Father

Aulncau met violent, horrible death far from his native France,

from his mother, from a fellow priest. What he had never ruled

out as impossible, what he had steeled himself to accept had

happened. "Doubtless. I shall have to undergo many hardships.
· · .' May God accept the sacrifice I make of my life ... I can

refuse Him nothing . . . I shall deem myself happy were I

deemed worthy of laying down my life for the One from whom

I received it ... You may hear the news of my death. I am dis­

posed to offer Him with a light heart the sacrifice of my life ...
"

No longer were these words which he had written mere rhetoric.

All of it had come to pass that day. Premonitions had given way
to actuality. Two years had passed since that day the "Ruby" left

La Rochelle and now he knelt dead on an island that has ever

since been known as Massacre Island, an island at which no pagan

Indian will as much as look and who, should he have to pass it,

will without .fail cast on the waters a handful of tobacco to

appease the anger of the Manitou.

24



Rumors began to drift to Fort Saint Charles that the Sioux
war party had been in the viçinity at the time of the departure
of the three canoes for Mackinac. The uneasiness that was

aroused by these rumors was heightened when a trader from
Montreal arriving at the Fort on June'seventeenth reported that
he had not met La Verendrye's canoes on the way. Two days later
La Verendrye sent his sergeant with seven men to follow the
same route that his son and Father Aulneau would have taken

and to investigate the islands on the way. Within a few days the

sergeant was back at the Fort with the sad and tragic news of
the massacre. As the news of the disaster spread among the Indians
who were friendly with the French, they descended upon Fort
Saint Charles in droves and begged La Verendrye to lead them
to do battle with and take revenge on the Sioux. La Verendrye
had to use all his powers of diplomacy and persuasion to dis­

courage them from a war which would accomplish no good
purpose.

In the meantime a party of friendly Indians had landed on the
island of the massacre and piled a huge tumulus of stones over
the bodies to protect them from the elements and birds and

animals. Digging a grave was out of the question because only
a few inches of soil covered the rock base of the island.

Before La Verendrye could send canoes for the bodies, it was

September. In his journal he wrote, "On September 17, I dis­

patched the Sergeant with six men to raise the bodies of Reverend
Father Aulneau and my son and on the eighteenth I had them
buried Ìn the chapel together with the heads of all the French­
men killed, which they also brought in accordance with my
orders."

.

One day in September of the same year, relates Le Garduer
de St. Pierre, commander of Fort Lepin, there came to him an
Indian chief wearing a silver object in his ear. St. Pierre asked
him where he had obtained the earring, for the Commandant
had recognized it as a seal belonging to Father Aulneau. The
Indian laugh.ed in answer, whereupo� the angry St. Pierre leaped
upon the chief, tore the seal from hIS ear, and sent him out of
the fort.

It is related, too, that Father Aulneau's chalice, taken by the
Sioux, came into the possession of a widowed squaw. She was the
mother of several stalwart braves who were thè pride of the tribe.
Soon after she received the chalice these sons, one by one, died

horribly in her sight. She, ascribing these deaths to the chalice,
in a frenzy of grief and anger seized the chalice, ran to the banks
of a river, and hurled the silver cup in a gleaming arc into the

25



stream's brown depths placidly flowing into the Lake of the
Woods.

La Verendrye left Fort Saint Charles the following year for
the West where he reached the Mandans in 1739. The year 1740

found him back at Montreal reporting to his creditors and being
discredited by jealous traders. He then resigned his commission
as Commandant of the Northwest. Upon his reinstatement he set
out upon another expedition to the Western Sea which death cut
short in 1749.

.

In the years that followed little Fort Saint Charles with its

quadrangle of double stakes enclosing the bark huts for the
commandant, the missionary, the soldiers, and the little chapel
was soon forgotten. It stood bravely for a while as a symbol of
the courageous men who built it and whose bones had found rest

within it. But the odds were against it. It was to be neglected
for almost two hundred years. Two cen tur ies of winter's snows

and summer's high winds and pounding rain were to beat upon it.

Wandering Indians, forest fires started by lightning or careless

trappers, the 'crashing of old dead trees, the coming of new ones,
the rubble of two hundred autumns' fallen leaves-all combined

to gradually and relentlessly erase the Fort from the face of the
earth and leave its location tangled in a maze of traditions handed
down from Indian to Indian of successive generations.

Once more' for almost two centuries Angle Inlet, and the
islands and the lovely Lake became as they had been before that

day in July 1732 when axes first rang clearing the site for the Fort.
Father Aulneau was forgotten also, forgotten with the site of

the Fort which sheltered during those two hundred years his,
mortal remains. And he would have remained forgotten even

among his fellow Jesuits had it not been for a strange coinci­
dence which took place in the town of his birth, Vendee, France,
in Advent of the year 1889.

At that time three Jesuit Fathers were giving a mission in
Vendee. Among the six hundred men, who received Holy Com­
munion at the close of the mission was an aged and venerable
descendant of the old Aulneau family. This old man had never
seen a Jesuit Father before, but he told them that he had in his
possession an old heirloom that had been handed down from
father to son for generations. The heirloom was a packet of letters
more than a hundred and fifty years old. From them it appeared
that some members of the Aulneau family in years past had been

Jesuits and that one of them had met his death at the hands of
Indians on a lake in the wilds of North America.

Among this group of letters were letters written by Father
.Aulneau to his mother, to his sister, and to fellow Jesuits. In-

26



eluded in the packet also were letters of contemporary Jesuits to

Father Aulneau's mother telling her of the death of her son, of

his piety, and of his zeal.

These letters were copied, translated into English and made

their first appearance in the magazine, "The Canadian Mes­

senger." In 1896 the Jesuit Fathers of-Montreal published them'

in book, form.

Skulls after cleansing.

No sooner were these letters translated and published in the

missionary magazine than interest in the forgotten JesuiLwas"
revived. Especially keen was this interest among the Jesuit Fathers

who had shortly before, in'1885, taken possession of Saint Boni­

face College in Saint Boniface, Manitoba. Where had the, Fort

been? Where had the massacre taken place? Was there any chance

of solving these questions? The Lake was so large, streams by
the hundreds flow into' it, the islands 'can be counted by the

thousands. There were no reliable maps marking either the
island or the fort. Perhaps the Indians had same traditions con­

cerning the locations. Could these traditions be trusted? The

Jesuits at 'the College agreed that an attempt should be made to
discover these historical si t6S.

In the summer of 1890 two Jesuits, Fathers Kavanagh and

BIaÌn, got in touch with a Captain Laverdiere who had traveled
the Lake of the Woods for years, had an intimate knowledge
of the various islands, and, what is more, had remembered all

the old Indian traditions which he had heard from time to time.

Yes, there was a tale about an island on which "a man of prayer"
had been murdered long ago. As a matter of fact the navigators
on the Lake of the Woods called the island "Massacre Island."

The Indians who inhabited that part of the Lake called. it

"Manitou Island," thought it, haunted, and would never dare
to land ,upon its shores. The little expedition of Jesuit Fathers

27



and Captain Laverdiere went to this island which is about a mile

long and half a mile wide and is part of the fringe of islands
which front upon the large openpart of the Lake of the Woods.
Before leaving the island they erected on the lofty rocky summit,
of the east end a cross in a pile of stones.

After the passage of twelve more years' Archbishop Langevin
of Saint Boniface, who took an intense interest in the early history
of the Lake of the Woods, headed

\

a gathering of priests and

Iaymen which visited Massacre Island. The Archbishop had
various excavations made on the island in a futile attempt to

find some relics of the slaughtered Frenchmen. He also had a
small memorial chapel erected on a high bluff and dedicated the

chapel to Our Lady of Martyrs.
In 1902 Archbishop Langevin also organized an expedition for

the purpose of finding, if possible, the site of Old Fort Saint
Charles. This group left Kenora, Ontario, on September second
in the steamer "Catherina S." At Flag Island on the Minnesota
side of the Lake they picked up two old and respected Indian
chiefs, Powassin and Andagamigowinini by name, who kindly
gave all the information they had concerning the site of the Old,

. Fort. These chiefs said that there were some mounds on both

sides of Northwest Angle Bay with square stones showing on the
surface and that these mounds, according to their traditions,
were the ruins of fireplaces built long ago by the French. Chief
Powassin guided the Archbishop to such a mound on the north,
or the Canadian side of the bay. Here excavations were made and
the remains of an old fireplace were found with its three stone
sides containing within them ashes eight inches deep covered with
alluvial soil. Although the site of the fireplace was not a fitting

,place for a fort, the explorers were overcome with enthusiasm
and proclaimed that they had at last found the site of the old fort.

They immediately erected on the spot a cross bearing the very
premature inscription, "Fort Saint Charles, built in 1732; dis­
covered in 1902." The Archbishop and his companions left Angle
Inlet for Kenora and home rejoicing over the comparatively easy
accomplishment of a task they had considered well nigh hopeless.

But the enthusiasm did not prevail for very long. Serious think­
ing about the authenticity of the find was productive of grave
doubts. It was really not a place for a fort. More likely it had been
a sort of cabin used by a trapper or a trader long ago. With the
doubts growing stronger the indefatigable Archbishop Langevin
again returned to the spot and directed a more thorough search
and more excavations in the neighborhood of the fireplace they
had uncovered five years before. This

-

search brought to light
such objects as a steel file, some nails" and the blade of a knife.

28



However, they found nothing that could lead them with any
positive proof to believe that it was the Fort described by Father
Aulneau and La Verendrye. There were no human bones, no

skeletons which La Verendrye had stated he buried in the chapel
of the Fort. And so it was that Father Paquin, .one of the Jesuits
from Saint Boniface, suggested that the Archbishop organize a

party of explorers including some of the professors of Saint Boni­
face College whose task it would be during the summer vacation
of 1908 to resume the search for the old Fort and the relics of

Father Aulneau.

Although the Archbishop was in Rome in 1908, this expedi­
tion headed by Father Paquin set out from Kenora on the tenth
of July in a launch bearing the significant name "La Verendrye"
for American Point or Penasse some forty miles away. Three

Jesuit priests, four Jesuit scholastics, and two Jesuit lay brothers
made up the group. They pitched camp at American Point and

operated from there. While making camp Father Paquin pain-
I fully injured his foot with an axe and was forced to remain
in camp while the others set out on the business at hand,

Once more they took tools to the Canadian side of Angle Inlet

Bay and once more they painstakingly examined the surrounding
territory and once more, too, they agreed that they would have to
look elsewhere for the site of the Fort. Meanwhile Father Paquin
lay in his tent nursing his injured foot and at the same time
reviewed the literature containing what old chief Powassin, who
had died during the interim, had said about this old Fort. There
was one sentence that attracted Father Paquin's attention. The
more he read it the more Father Paquin became convinced that
old Chief Powassin was describing' a spot on the south shore of
the Bay where he in his youth had seen remains of old chimneys ..
Powassin had said, "They lay close to the shore in a small cove,
amid a bush of poplars, a little to the. west of the site on the
north shore." No wonder they couldn't find it. They had been

working on the wrong side of the Bay!
When the party came back for dinner somewhat discouraged

over the results of their fruitless efforts, Father Paquin had little
trouble inducing them to tryon the American side at a point
a little more than a mile from their camp.

When the group arrived at the little bay or cove spoken, of

by Powassin and pointed out by Father Paquin, the men .arranged
themselves in a line where each man would be responsible for
five feet of ground on each side of him and then proceeded to
walk in a wes-terly direction paralleling the shore line. This was
hard work. In addition to cutting their way through piles of
brushwood and clambering over fallen trees and huge rocks,

29



Objects found a foot or less beneath surface of soil within site 01
old fort: 1. carpenter's chisel ; 2. scissors; 3. door latch; 4. pieces
of stone pipes; 5· arrow heads; 6. iron handles; 7. tinder box; 8.

pieces 'of {:!lass; 9. iron ring; 10. pieces 01 iron; 12. knife blades;
22. nails; -33. whet-stone; 44� lead bullet; 55. pierced bead.

they had to contend with hordes of mosquitoes which settled upon
them in the hot, stuffy woods. Their progress was painfully slow.

Within a very short time these discomforts were forgotten. They
·were electrified by a sharp, exci ted cry from one of the men.

Rushing over to him the others beheld the cause of the sudden
shout. There at their feet was a number of flat stones carefully
laid upon each other. Another fireplace! A: big one this timel

Fatigue and pestering mosquitoes were forgotten. and frantically
the shovels and spades and axes were put to work. In a very little
time the outlines of a huge fireplace were laid bare. They had

truly found something of historical worth but, as darkness was
now settling down, they went back to camp with high hopes in
their hearts to :report to Father Paquin and to wait for another

day to dig again. There was not much sleep for them that night.
Next morning digging was resume� in a methodical way.

30



Poplar trees measuring from eight to twelve inches in diam­

eter had to be felled; the soil was a maze of roots, but within

five days two other small fireplaces were discovered and
in the

vicinity of the large chimney were found a pair of scissors, knife

blades, a lead bullet, and brass handles of a cooking vessel.
Unearthed in l another spot was a pile of human bones. These

bones, after a subsequent expert examination by physicians,.

represented parts of twelve different skeletons which, apparently,
had been gathered somewhere and brought to the Fort for burial.

Farther off from the large fireplace were uncovered 'half-rotted

stumps of posts standing upright in the clay close to
one another.

In a straight line with these to the south and then at right angles.
to the east and then north again were other half-rotted stumps,
and the reddish dust of others which had entirely decayed. There

was no trace of' the palisades making up the north wall of the

fort because the level of the Lake had risen during the years
to engulf and wash away that part of it. The searching party
was now confidenti t had discovered the si te of. old Fort Saint

,Charles and the bones of parts of the badly .dccomposcd bodies.

La Verendrye had ordered brought back to the Fort for
burial

in September 1736. Further exploratory operations had to be

discontinued for the time being because the Jesuits had to return

to Saint Boniface for their annual eight day retreat.

At the end of the retreat the .Jesuits again set out for Fort Saint

Charles. This time they took with them Father Beliveau, Chan­

cellor of the Diocese of Saint Boniface, and also Judge L. A.

Os Suerunt of YDung
La V'erendrye showing sear of

hoe wound.

31



Prud'homme, a historian long interested in the problem the

Jesuits 'were trying to solve. The Chancellor and the Judge were
to be the official wi tnesses, ecclesias tical and civiI, of what they
expected to find.

La Verendrye in his journal had stated that he had had nine­
teen skulls and the bodies of his son and Father Aulneau buried

within the chapel of the Fort. Only when these relics would be

found, could they be absolutely sure they had actually discovered
the old Fort. Consequently these relics were the primary object
of the second part of the 1908 expedition. Within five days this
task was completed. First the skulls were found. Nineteen of them

arranged in two double rows were lying in the clay under about
two feet of earth. They were in a good state of preservation.
Rootlets had grown through the cavities of the eyes, ears, and
nose. In the jawbone of one skull was firmly imbedded an arrow
head. Certain that they were now within the limits of the chapel
and would at any time come upon the skeletons of young La

Verendrye and Father Aulneau a tense expectancy came upon all
of them. The Jesuits proceeded cautiously. They photographed
everything. They took notes and measurements in order to re­
construct on paper the ground plan of the Fort. Now a spade
unearthed a piece of rotten wood. The search was about to end.

The rotten wood proved to be a part of a box and within what

Objects [ourul in coffin containing skeletons of Father
Aulneau and yDung La Veretulrye t 1. and 2. keys and master

key; 3. piece Dj gilded glass; 4. shoe buckle; 5. rosary beads;
. 6. haole (prDbably. hoole of Father Aulneau'e cassock ; '1.

pieces of. arrowheads; 8. blade' 01 hunting knife; 9. aw!1
and nails.

32



was left of the box were the remains of two headless skeletons.

They had been put into a box two feet wide and four feet long.
Some of the bones were found disarranged. This in addition to

the small size of the box indiéated the bodies must have been

badly decomposed when they were buried. The last bone of -the

spine (os sacrum) of one of the skeletons was broken slantingly,

NQ. 4-Jean Là Verendrye's Skeleton

No.5-Skeleton of Father Aulneau

precisely as the wound of young La Verendrye had been described

a hundred and sixty-two years before: "He was found with
a

sort of iron hoe imbedded in his loins." Among the bones of

the other skeleton were found beads of a rosary, a bunch of keys
and a small metal clasp such as Jesuits use to fasten the collar of

'

their cassocks. Later examinations by physicians identified the

bones as belonging to men the age of La Verendrye and Father

Aulneau.
.

The remains of the forgotten Jesuit of ì 736 had been dis­
covered by his Jesuit confreres of 1908. Reverently the bones were

gathered together-all of the bones-and brought to the College
of Saint Boniface. Father Aulneau had now returned to his own.

In the museum of the College were kept the relics of the courage­
ous priest whom many would call a saint. There they were visited

and héld in deep respect and reverence. But even with the Jesuits
his bones were not secure. On a cold November night in 1921

the College burned to the ground. Lost in its ashes were the re-

mains ofthe heroic and zealous priest.
'

The forty years that have passed since the discovery of the Old

Fort have obliterated it from the earth almost as finally as did

33



the hot ashes in 1921 remove from men's eyes the bones of the

lonely and saintly Father Aulneau.
This little booklet has been written as a tribute to the courage

and the selflessness of Father Aulneau and as an expression of

gratitude. In his humility Father Aulneau would have classified
himself as an insignificant failure in his work, in his death,
and even, in his burial. His name and his remains were for-·

gotten for a hundred and seventy-two years. Then those

very remains were destroyed and' even now he is known to only
a very few. If the response to Bishop .Schenk's appeal for help
to construct in Warroad a church in memory of Father Aulneau

has the desired effect, then Father Aulneau will never bel forgotten
again and his memory for all time will serve as a salutary in­

spiration to men beset by the cares and worries of an age which
seems at times to have forgotten the King whom FatherAulncau
served so valian tly.

The writer wishes to thank in particular his Bishop, the Most
Reverend Francis J. Schenk, for his encouragement and helpful
criticism; the Jesuit Fathers of Saint Boniface College in Saint
Boniface, Manitoba, for the loan of the cuts of pictures taken

during the discovery of old Fort Saint Charles; and Sisters Rita
Marie and Laura Jean of Saint Joseph's Academy in Crookston,
Minnesota, for their drawings of the cover, the map,' and the

plan for Fort Saint Charles. '
'

The sources used in the preparation of this pamphlet were:

"The Aulneau Collection" edited by the Reverend Arthur

Jones, S.J.-Montreal-l893.

"Discovery of the Lake of the Woods" by the Reverend
Father d'Eschambault-1937.

"Discovery' of the Relics of the Reverend Jean Pierre Aul­
neàu, S.J." by the Reverend J. Paquin, S.].-1911.

"Bulletin of the H'istor'ical Society of Saint Boniface"-Vol. v,
part 2-by Judge L. A. Prudhornme-c l Tl G.

"Out of the Grave" by the Reverend T. J. Campbell, SJ.,
published by the Saint Boniface Historical Society in 1915.

EMMETT A. SHANAHAN

Saint Mary's Church

Warroad, Minnesota

6



Plan of Fort St. Charles

River

Dg
11,;l�
l!!J.

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10

1, 2-ln same coffin (1) J. B. LaVerendrye (2)
Rev. Father Aulneau

3-The nineteen skulls

4-Bones to which skulls probably belonged
5-A fireplace-6, 7, 8 chimneys
9-£tones-Foundation of outside wall of chapel

lO-Remains of stakes found around the loft



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