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Updated: May 15, 2025
The Abbé Cavelier even collected furs in his brother's name, and went on to France, carrying his secret with him. La Salle had been assassinated on the Trinity River, soon after setting out on his last determined search for the Mississippi. The eighteenth day of March, 1687, some of his brutal voyageurs hid themselves in bushes and shot him.
He lay delirious in a wretched garret in the town, attended by his brother, and one or two others who stood faithful to him. A goldsmith of the neighborhood, moved at his deplorable condition, offered the use of his house; and the Abbe Cavelier had him removed thither. But there was a tavern hard by, and the patient was tormented with daily and nightly riot.
Couture, on the authority of Cavelier himself, also says that neither he nor Douay were permitted to take any step for burying the body. Tonty says that Cavelier begged leave to do so, but was refused.
Singularly enough, the date, as printed by him, is erroneous, being 20 April, 1685, instead of 1686. Cavelier and his companions, followed by a crowd of Indians, some carrying their baggage, some struggling for a view of the white strangers, entered the log cabin of their two hosts. Rude as it was, they found in it an earnest of peace and safety, and a foretaste of home.
As they had expected, he opposed it vehemently, declaring that, for his own part, he would not run such a risk of losing his head; but at length he consented to their departure, on condition that the elder Cavelier should give him a certificate of his entire innocence of the murder of La Salle, which the priest did not hesitate to do.
We turn from the humble Marquette, thanking God with his last breath that he died for his Order and his faith; and by our side stands the masculine form of Cavelier de la Salle.
"This pleasant land," writes Cavelier, "seemed to us an abode of weariness and a perpetual prison." Flattering themselves with the delusion, common to exiles of every kind, that they were objects of solicitude at home, they watched daily, with straining eyes, for an approaching sail. Ships, indeed, had ranged the coast to seek them, but with no friendly intent.
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