LACOMBE, ALBERT (3) (140 ENGLISH -- 139 franc)

LACOMBE, Albert (3) (140 ENGLISH)

 Towards the beginning of March 1857, a few cases of scarlet fever were found and this soon developed into a violent epidemic: terror reigned in the Black Foot Camp, as well as in the Bloods, the Piegans and the Sarcis. This illness was barely known in this area; it had been experienced only a few times, but never with the violence and speed of propagation as it was now.  In their distress, the natives had recourse to the “Black Robe”.

Never yet had the missionaries been to their homes; they’d meet them often in the Hudson Bay Store and on their trips across the prairies.

Father Lacombe, barely over his fatigues from the last voyage was getting ready to leave for Lac du Boeuf, 100 miles (60 km) away. It was there that the Black Foot and their allies were camped.  The cold was intense and the snow abundant. He looked in vain for a guide; everyone was afraid of the scarlet fever contagion.  Luckily the faithful Alexis was there always ready to follow Father Lacombe and to face all dangers.

They went as far as Edmonton and slept there overnight. Early the next morning they put on their snowshoes and headed toward what is today the commercial centre of Strathcona.  But their trip was interrupted by a dismal and mournful discovery: three mutilated cadavers were lying in the snow; not only their hair, but also their hands and feet had been cut off and hung up in the branches of a tree nearby. The remains had to be collected; therefore Father Lacombe had to go back to Edmonton in order to give the bodies a decent burial.

Once this duty was done, they continued their trip and arrived at Beaver Mountainers, and perhaps the luckiest, had found rest in death.

In his arms, the body of his dead daughter who had died two days previous.  The The priest was horrified, but he regained his self control and pulled himself together and continued his visit.  He went into a neighboring tent and found the same situation of horror and desolation.  He found a father in a towering paroxysm of despair holding in poor manwhere they met a Cree encampment. Here there were many catechumens who had taken courses given by the missionaries.  When these catechumens heard about the reason for the expedition, they tried by all means possible to make Father Lacombe cancel his trip; but he only shook his head and replied calmly:

“All what you tell me is fine, but remember that I am the father of all these Indigenous people, and  supposing that they  mistreated me  after having called me ‘Father’, I’d still have to go.  Don’t you see how they are in sorrow and in destitution. You, wouldn’t you be pleased if I took care of you when you became ill? Well, the Black Foot people are ill; we must relieve them and help even our enemies.”

After two days, regardless of a terrible snowstorm which caused them to lose their way, the two travelers noticed a Black Foot encampment so Father Lacombe unfolded and spread out his red cross flag. Almost instantly, he was surrounded by a large group of Indians gesticulating and crying and lamenting asking him to follow them; each wanted to be first in Father Lacombe’s care.  Some held his hands; others held the folds of his cassock; still others hooked onto his belt. In their eagerness, someone even picked him up in his arms while the others cried to the Great Spirit: “Great Master of Life, take pity on us because of this man whom you love!  And you, Man of Prayer, come save our children for they are dying.”

Father Lacombe managed to get through the crowd and thus to begin his visit to the sick and dying.  There were 60 huts in the camp and the scene before his eyes was indescribable.  There were half-naked women and children, their bodies covered in feverish rashes and pustules, and themselves burning with fever.  Some were  twisting in pain in horrible convulsions; others their faces all swollen up, their tongue hanging out as though senseless; finally other was speaking to her; opening her eyelids and her mouth as though hoping to find some sign of life.  It was with great difficulty that the others were able to pull the dead body away in order to bury her with the dead.

Everywhere the missionary stepped, he found only wailing and groaning and sobbing.  Pills and remedies were absolutely needed and he had none; his heart was breaking in powerless and helpless compassion.  “What on earth can I do, O my Lord?” he cried out, but compassion  ingeniously  finds a way to use unexpected and unforeseen remedies. Suddenly he felt inspired.  He decided to bless some water and wet each sick person. He asked that all vessels and recipients possible be filled with water and blest and given to each family.  Then he taught these ill and dying  people how to make the sign of the cross before drinking.  He asked each mother to get each child, even the youngest babies to drink, even those who weren’t ill. 

Later he was heard saying that he attributed the cessation of the plague to the water that had been blest.

There were ten encampments a few miles distance from each other; every camp was affected in the same way.  He visited each one.  Helped by his companion he baptized the children and the dying; to the others he gave them words of encouragement and to those who could still hear he gave them the assurance of a future happiness.

Ref.    Le Père Lacombe, p.100-103

 Scarlet Fever Epidemic