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of himself and his needs, he mentioned Bishop Purcell. The Queen exclaimed, “Oh! that fine man! I remember him well.” She promised Machebeuf a contribution, the King would also contribute, and Princess Adelaide, King Louis Philippe’s sister, promised by letter to make a donation. Machebeuf had written to her, and also to the King’s son, the Due d’Aumale, “who is so rich,” and the Princess de Joinville, a royal daughter-in-law, an American. Hearing nothing, Machebeuf, dining with the pastor of St Roch, which was the regal parish, asked him to remind the royal personages of both requests and promises. Nothing came from the King and Queen, or the so rich royal duke, or the American princess; but Madame Adelaide sent—guess what? Two thousand francs? “Just cut off one zero,” remarked Machebeuf, noting bitterly that with all her riches two thousand would have been little enough. There was nothing to do but shrug and proceed with further begging, and, for his part, to use some of his father’s bequest to pay expenses of the voyage.

      But it was still almost unimaginable what had to be contrived to get the Ursulines away from Beaulieu. They had to leave in two groups—one the newly designated superior of the mission accompanied by a sister, the other the remaining six. At night, in the disguise of peasant countrywomen, carrying bundles containing their concealed habits, they stole away, trudged back roads, knew panic when tollgate keepers seemed suspicious, had monstrous difficulties finding lodgings, but at last some reached Paris, and the others were met by Machebeuf at Brive la Gaillarde and conducted to Paris to join their sisters. When their flight was discovered, there was anger at Beaulieu, but too late. All were safely in Paris in religious houses, except for the three from Boulogne who would join the company at Le Havre for the sailing, which was now firmly set for the Feast of St Monica, 4 May. At five in the morning, Machebeuf said Mass and gave communion to all. Father Pendeprat, a priest accepted for the Sandusky parish, said Mass in his turn, the nuns had breakfast, and at seven o’clock they all went to the pier, boarded the packet boat Zurich, and knelt on deck to receive the blessings of the two Mothers Superior of Beaulieu and Boulogne, who had come to send their charges off with all good feeling. As the Zurich made way down the narrow channel of Le Havre, the sisters on board watched as long as they could the carriage of their superiors “until it was lost in the crowd,” and France was absorbed by the “blue distance.”

      It was a fine day, with, “I understand,” said Machebeuf, “no danger of stormy weather.” He had collected sixteen people—eight nuns from Boulogne, four from Beaulieu (evidently one more than spoken for earlier), and four priests or seminarians, three of these having sailed earlier. For the remaining members and all their luggage, he struck a bargain with the ship’s captain for reduced rates. The total was 5750 francs. The ship was full, and the other passengers paid full fare. They included (among the few lay Catholics aboard) a merchant from Lyon on a business trip to New York, an American lady with her small daughter who had been sojourning in Paris, the mother of an Italian singer who was a member of a New York opera company, and a French modiste on her way to open a shop in New York. All went out of their way to show respect to the venturesome nuns, for whom the “ladies’ salon” was reserved exclusively. Their staterooms were small but comfortable. Machebeuf felt they were happy in their choice of their vessel—it was “one of the largest, most beautiful, and best sailors,” as Marius Machebeuf could attest (he had come to see them off), and her “rooms were of an extraordinary sumptuousness … all gilt and rosewood.” What was more, the food was as good as the ship’s fittings. Machebeuf conducted the usual daily services, and one unusual one: on the Feast of Corpus Christi, when custom ashore required a formal procession bearing the Host through the public streets and into the church, he led his little congregation in a solemn march in and out of their staterooms, and declared that it must surely have been the only Corpus Christi procession ever held “upon the immense ocean.”

      Despite his confidence on sailing, there was heavy weather ahead. The Zurich encountered two furious storms in her crossing of twenty-nine days, and both times had to heave to and ride out the weather, while all prayed, and Mother Julia—her seasickness lasted for the entire voyage—felt worse than ever. She recovered immediately when on 2 June the captain said they would soon sight land, and an hour later the cry of “Land ho!” sang out from the lookout on the forward mast. As the vessel came up the Narrows, a steam lighter came to take the Machebeuf party off as soon as their customs and quarantine examinations were complete. At the South street docks there were carriages waiting, and all were promptly lodged in the boarding house of Madame Pilet, a Frenchwoman, whose accommodations had been recommended by a fellow passenger. A week later they were on their way by stage, canal, small inland steamer, until they reached the Ohio and boarded one of her great stern-wheelers, the Independence. The weather was stifling in the June days. Everyone slept on deck for three nights, until finally on the nineteenth, they docked at Cincinnati to be received by Bishop Purcell at his house, who led them to the new classical revival cathedral of St Peter’s and preached over them a brief homily of welcome and exhortation to their new duties. Their journey had been a lucky one, for if Machebeuf’s first arrangements had been carried out, they would have sailed not on the Zurich but on the packet Emerald, which departed from Le Havre eight hours earlier, and reached New York five days after the Zurich with her masts shattered, and all her sails torn by storm. Machebeuf wrote Sister Philomène that her prayers must have saved him and his party.

      If there was any disappointment connected with the whole venture, it was that Father Pendeprat, who had been expressly brought along to assist Machebeuf at the Sandusky missions where many parishioners were French, was soon dispatched to Toledo to assist Father Rappe. For the rest, the journey was a model for many later ones to be undertaken by Lamy and Machebeuf, and for the same purpose—to find adventurous and dedicated leaders who would meet the needs of an ever-growing society in whatever quarter of the land.

      ix.

       The War

      INTENSELY AS THEY WERE OCCUPIED with their local responsibilities, the missionaries, along with their parishioners, were increasingly concerned with a grave and complicated matter which grew upon the whole nation throughout 1845 and which, in 1846, came to a state of crisis.

      Ex-President Andrew Jackson stated the issue when he said, “You might as well, it appears to me, attempt to turn the current of the Mississippi, as to turn the democracy from the annexation of Texas.” For Texas had applied several times for statehood under the American republic, had been refused, had declared herself an independent republic by an act of secession from Mexico; and now, in 1846, Texas was willing to give up her own sovereignty if allowed to become a state of the United States. The Democratic candidate for president in 1846 was James K. Polk, who ran principally on the plank of admitting Texas to the Union. When he won the election, the admission of Texas was a certainty; and just as certain was a declaration of war against the United States by Mexico, which had never conceded that the vast Texan lands were independent, and now considered them wrongfully acquired by the North Americans. Polk ordered troops south to the Rio Grande border of Texas-Mexico, and Mexico City in turn ordered forces north to the opposite side of the river. Inevitably they clashed, and a war fever swept the States. Congress authorized the raising of a volunteer force of fifty thousand men, and President Polk declared, “A portion of this force was assigned to each State and Territory in the Union so as to make each feel an interest in the war.” For the hundreds asked for from each state, ten times in the thousands flocked to volunteer.

      Ohio and all of Purcell’s diocese felt the call. Troops moved down the Ohio River and others boarded river steamers at Cincinnati for the voyage to New Orleans, the Gulf, and the coast of Texas. Barges of coal needed by the armies so far from home also took the route of the rivers, and all who remained at home felt the national quickening and saw the troop movements and the great flow of supply, and had a new place name by which to reckon the loneliness of separation, worries, news of victories, and messages of death—the Rio Grande. Just where was it? Evidently it divided Texas from Mexico, and ran down from the high Rockies all the length of New Mexico, as the northernmost inland state of the Mexican nation was called. So far away—nobody knew what the land out there was like except the traders who since 1824 had been voyaging across the prairies to Santa Fe, and down to Chihuahua. It all seemed to move closer when news came that on 18 August 1846 the American

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