This trip of Father De Smet to Europe has a peculiar interest in that it was the means of bringing into the West, besides numbers of pioneer Sisters, and clergy, a man so beloved, so revered that his name—Father Ravalli—is known by Catholic and Protestant, Indian and White alike, through the whole of the Rocky Mountain region. Those who knew the gentle old man loved him not only for his spirituality, but for his human sweetness. He possessed that breadth of sympathy which sheds mercy on good and bad equally, commiserating the fallen, pitying the weak. He was a native of Ferrara, Italy, and at a very early age decided to become a missionary priest. That he might be most useful materially as well as religiously, he fitted himself for his work. He graduated in belles lettres, philosophy, the natural sciences, and became a teacher in these branches of learning, in several cities of Italy. Under a skilled physician of Rome he studied medicine; in a mechanic's shop he learned the use of tools; finally, in a studio, he practiced the rudiments of art which he always loved. So he came to the Indians bringing with him great human kindliness, and the knowledge of crafts and homely pursuits that made their lives more easy and independent. It was he who devised the first crude mill, the means of giving the people flour and bread, he who by a hundred ingenious devices lightened the burden of their toil. But most of all was his practice of medicine a mercy. To stricken infancy or old age he was alike attentive; to dying Christians he bent with ready ear and alleviating touch, or as compassionately eased the last throes of highwaymen, heretic or murderer. Over the bleak, snowy passes of the mountains, heedless of hardship or danger, he hurried in answer to the appeal of the sick, no matter who they were or where they dwelt. And though often those who went before or came after him were robbed, he was never molested. The most desperate of the "road agents" respected him and suffered him to pass in peace on his way. Gently brave, like the good bishop in Les Miserables, his very trustfulness was his safeguard. Perhaps as striking an example of his forethought as we can find is the fact that he trained a squaw to give intelligent care to women in the throes of childbirth. There is no record of the mothers and babes spared thus, but there were many, and even the letter of the monkish law never stayed his helping hand or curbed his humane devotion. The more ascetic brethren who lived in colder spiritual altitudes, looked doubtfully upon Father Ravalli's impartial ministry; the more astute financiers who held the keys to the Church's coffers, frowned upon his unrewarded toil, and there comes a whisper through the years that there were times when he was an object of charity because he never asked reward for the surcease of suffering his patient vigils brought.
He travelled from one to another of the Northwestern missions and even to Santa Clara, California, but he is known best and loved most as the Apostle of the Selish at St. Mary's. Indeed, looking back through the perspective of time at the plain, little Mission crowned as with an aureole, one figure stands out clearly among the pious priests, who, in turn, presided at its altar, and this figure is Father Ravalli.
His grave, marked by a shaft of stone, is within the shadow of the church in the valley of the Bitter Root, and it was fitting he should lie down to rest where he had laboured so long and lovingly. A generation hence, when the hallowed places of the West become shrines about which pilgrims shall gather reverently, this mountain-tomb of the gentle old priest will be visited and written of. Meantime, he sleeps as sweetly for the solitude, and those whose lives he made more beautiful by his presence think of him at peace as they turn their eyes heavenward to the infinite rosary of the stars.
In spite of the progress of the beneficent work and the fresh blood that had infused new strength into the cause, dark days were to cast their shadow upon the little Mission of St. Mary's. No power could restrain the Selish from the chase, and during their absence twice a year, the colony left behind, consisting only of the priest and those too aged or sick to follow the tribe, were menaced by the Blackfeet and Bannock Indians. The old feud was fanned red hot by the Selish killing two Blackfeet warriors who invaded the very boundaries of the Mission with hostile intent. The threats from the Blackfeet became more terrible. They lurked in the thick timber and brush around the stockade which enclosed the Mission, and, finally, while the tribe was absent on a buffalo hunt, a rumour reached the anxious watchers that the hostiles would descend in a great war party upon the defenseless community. And indeed, they were roused by war whoop and savage yell to see swarming around their weak barricade, the dreaded enemy. Father Ravalli was in charge of the Mission at that time and he and his companions prepared themselves for the death which seemed inevitable. But the Blackfeet, probably seeing that only a man stricken with years, two young boys and a few aged women and little children were all of their hated foe who remained at St. Mary's, retreated to the brush. One of the two boys ventured to the gate to make sure the Blackfeet were gone and was shot dead. This tragical incident and the more awful menace it carried with it to those who were left at the mercy of the invading tribes, and another reason we shall now consider, led to the temporary abandonment of St. Mary's.
In those early days, the missions being the only habitations within many hundreds of miles, became the refuge and abiding place during bitter weather, of French-Canadian and mixed breed trappers, who in milder seasons ranged over the mountains and plains in pursuit of furs. These half-savage men were undoubtedly a picturesque part of the old, woodland life and their uncouth figures lent animation and colour to the quiet monotone of the religious communities. In the first quarter of the last century we find mention of French-Canadians employed by the Missouri Fur Company, appearing on New Year's Eve, clad in bison robes, painted like Indians, dancing La Gignolee to the music of tinkling bells fastened to their dress, for gifts of meat and drink. These trappers were, in the day of St. Mary's Mission, a licentious, roistering band with easy morals, consciences long since gone to sleep, who did not hesitate to debauch the Indians, and who feared neither man nor devil. They went to St. Mary's as to other shrines, and under the pretext of practicing their religion, lived on the missionaries' scanty stores and filled the idle hours with illicit pastimes. It is said that they became revengeful because of the coolness of their reception by the priests, and maliciously set about to poison the Selish against the beloved robes noires. However this may be, whether the wayward, capricious children strayed or not, it is certain that they would not sacrifice the buffalo hunt for priest nor promise of salvation, so the Mission was dismantled and leased; its poor effects packed and the Apostles of the Faith started out again to seek refuge in new fields. At Hell's Gate, the inferno of the Blackfeet, they parted; Father Ravalli to wend his way to the Mission of the Sacred Heart among the Cœur d'Alenes; the rest, under the escort and protection of Victor, the Lodge Pole, Great Chief of the Selish and father of Charlot, followed the Coriacan defile to the Jocko River and finally arrived at St. Ignatius, the Mission of the Kalispehlms.
For a time we leave St. Mary's in the sad oblivion of desertion, while those who had tended its altar, poor pilgrims, toiled over diverse trails toward different destinations.
It is not necessary to follow the varying fortunes of the few, small missions in the Northwestern wilderness, included then within the vast territory called Oregon. Each has its pathetic story of privation and danger, which may be found complete and detailed in ecclesiastical histories written by priests of the order.
We shall pass on to the Mission of St. Ignatius, whither the party from St. Mary's sought refuge, which, in the course of time absorbed some of the lesser institutions and became, as we shall see, the religious center of several tribes. The Mission of St. Ignatius was the same founded by Father Point on the banks of the Pend d'Oreille River among the Kalispehlms in the year 1844. The original location proved undesirable, so ten years later the Mission was moved to a site chosen by the advice of Alexander, Chief of the tribe. A wonderful revelation it must have been when the Indian guide, leading the priests through a pass in the mountains, the secret of his people, showed them the vast sea of flowing green—the valley of Sin-yal-min—barred to the East by the range of the same name. There ever-changing shades of violet and lights of gold altered the mien of these mountains whose jagged peaks showed white with snow, from whose deep bosoms burst a water-fall plunging from mighty altitudes into the emerald bowl of the valley. This was veritably a kingdom in itself, and no white man had trodden the thick embroidery of wild flowers and grass. It had been a gathering place for many tribes. Within its luxuriantly fruitful limits, berries and roots grew in plenty and game abounded in the neighbouring hills.
In the very palm of Sin-yal-min the new Mission of St. Ignatius was builded. There could scarcely have been a more ideal spot for church and school, forming the nucleus of an agricultural community. There gathered parties of the upper and lower Kalisphelms, upper Kootenais, Flat Bowes, Pend d'Oreilles and Selish, to pitch their tipis in the shadow of the Mission Cross. Many of these Indians made for themselves little farms where they laboured and lived. Entire families of Selish moved from the Bitter Root valley to be near the robes noires they loved. St. Ignatius possessed an advantage that bound the Indians to it by permanent ties and that was its schools. Four pioneer Sisters travelling into the Rocky Mountain region under the guidance of two priests and two laymen, from their home mission in Montreal, founded at St. Ignatius the first girls' school among the Indians of the territory. Not long thereafter the priests established a similar school for boys, where they taught not only the French and English languages and the rudiments of a simple education, but also such handicrafts as seemed most necessary to the development of industry. In saddle-making particularly, the boys excelled, and wonderful specimens of leather work have gone forth from the Mission shops. Thus, largely through its practical industry St. Ignatius grew into a powerful institution. Building after building was added to the group until a beautiful village sprang up, half hidden among clumps of trees and generous vines. On the outskirts of this community rows of tiny, low, thatch-roofed log cabins were built by the Indians to shelter them when they assembled to celebrate such feasts as Christmas, Good Friday and that of St. Ignatius, their patron Saint.
The fates favoured St. Ignatius. In the year of its removal the Hell's Gate treaty was signed wherein the bounds of the reservation were re-adjusted, making the new mission the center of that rich dominion. The treaty of the Hell Gate, participated in by the Selish, the Pend d'Oreilles and some of the Kootenais, was the same, it may be remembered, wherein Victor, the father of Charlot, insisted upon retaining possession of the Bitter Root Valley "above the LoLo Fork" for himself and his people, unless after a fair survey by the United States, the President should deem it best to move the tribe to the Jocko. This agreement was entered into in 1855. Seventeen years went by. The Indians declare that no survey was ever made during that time nor were they furnished with school teachers, skilled artisans and agriculturalists to instruct them, as had been promised on the part of the government. Summarily the Selish were called upon to sign a second agreement, the Garfield treaty, which deprived them of their ancestral home and drove them forth to share the Jocko Reservation in common with the allied tribes. This was at once an impetus to the fortunes of St. Ignatius and a mortal blow to St. Mary's.