The Royal Charter - A Famous Shipwreck Forgotten Part 1

The South Australian Advertiser, 09JAN1860, pg3

I always find it incredibly interesting to see how tragedies were viewed during the time period in which they occurred.  This one is so gripping, I thought it appropriate to share during this blog series on the Royal Charter.  The article was taken from the Australian newspaper The South Australian Advertiser and published on January 9th, 1860.

Keep in mind that the Royal Charter was no ordinary ship.  It was its own modern-day miracle.  Cutting edge of the time.  It was a hybrid of sorts.  Instead of relying solely on sails which were at the mercy of the winds (or lack thereof), this ship could engage it's engine when winds were lacking.  It would have been highly desirable to travel on such a ship. 

Regardless of the ship traveled on, such a long journey was dangerous, but the sheer loss of life was, and is, incredible.  No woman or child survived this shipwreck.  I often wonder how my 3rd great grandmother got news of the wreck and how she was sure that her husband was one of the lost.  Did she write a letter?  Did she have a relative send one?  Did she assume when she heard nothing that he was dead?  To be widowed in 1859 with 2 young children and living in a coal patch town had to have been scary.  It had to have added to the misery.  Would she be turned out of the house that her husband built on company property?  How would she live and care for her children?  I do have some of these answers, but for now enjoy the gripping drama that unfolds (why doesn't Hollywood make this into a movie?):

"The Wreck of the Royal Charter.

[From the Home News.]

On the morning of the 27th October the Times published a brief telegram announcing the 'loss, on her way from Queenstown to Liverpool, of the Royal Charter, with over 400 passengers on board, of which number only about 20 were saved.'  It was not till about noon on the same day that this startling announcement was confirmed; and even then hopes were still cherished that it contained some element of exaggeration.  That so famous a ship, which had been telegraphed two days before as being off Queenstown after a most prosperous voyage from Melbourne, should have been utterly lost within two or three hours' sail from Liverpool, with an enormous freight of life and treasure, appeared a catastrophe so appalling in its magnitude and suddenness as to be all but incredible.  People ventured to hope that at least a large number of the passengers might have been safely landed at some point of the coast which did not possess the means of rapid communication; and that in a few hours more we should receive tidings of their rescue.  The hope was vain.  A mournful accumulation of authentic intelligence from the scene of the wreck proved ere long beyond the possibility of a doubt that the first announcement, instead of being an exaggeration, was actually an under statement of the disaster.  In another day, by putting together the various particulars supplied by the survivors, the newspapers were enabled to publish the following compendious narrative of one of the most astounding tragedies on record: -

After a splendid passage from Melbourne, accomplished in 58 days, and after having landed 13 passengers at Queenstown, and telegraphed her safe arrival to the owners, the Royal Charter made for Liverpool on the 25th of October.  She had sailed from Melbourne with 388 passengers on board, and a crew, including officers, of 112 persons.  After leaving Queenstown she took on board from a steam-tug 11 riggers who had been assisting in working a ship to Cardiff.  Thus she had now on board 498 persons.  Her cargo was small, consisting mainly of wool and skins.  A more important item of her freight was gold and specie, which at the lowest estimate is here put at L500,000.  On the evening of October 25, there was blowing from the E.N.E. a violent gale, which fell with full force on the ill-fated ship.  She arrived off Point Lynas at 6 o'clock that evening, and for several hours Captain Taylor continued throwing up signal rockets, in the hope of attracting the attention of a pilot.  None made his appearance.  The gale increased in violence; the ship was making leeway, and drifting gradually towards the beach.  It was pitch dark; no help was at hand.  The captain let go both anchors, but the gale had now increased to a hurricane, and had lashed the sea up to madness.  The chains parted, and not withstanding that the engines were worked at their full power, the Royal Charter continued to drift towards the shore.  At 3 a.m. she struck the rocks in four fathoms of water.  The passengers, a large portion of whom were women and children, had till  this moment no idea of the imminence of their peril.  The most perfect discipline and order prevailed.  The masts and riggings were cut adrift, but caused no relief, as the ship began to thump on the sharp-pointed rocks with fearful rapidity.  Shortly after she struck, the ship was thrown broadside on, perfectly upright upon the shelving stony beach, the head and stern lying due east and west, the former not being more than 20 yards from a projecting rock.  At this juncture one of the crew, a Maltese, named Joseph Rogers, nobly volunteered to struggle through the heavy surf and convey a rope on shore.  Though it was not believed by any one that danger was imminent, the captain gave the order, and Rogers ably fulfilled his duty.  A strong hawser was then passed and secured on shore, and to this was rigged a boatswain's chair.  While this was going on a fearful scene was being enacted in the saloon.  An attempt had been made by a Mr. Hodge, a clergyman, to perform a service; but the violent thumping of the vessel on the rocks, and the sea which poured into the cabin, rendered this impossible.  The passengers were collected here, and Captain Withers and Captain Taylor were endeavouring to allay their fears by the assurance that there was at any rate no immediate danger, when a succession of tremendous waves struck the vessel and absolutely broke her in half amidships.  Shortly afterwards the foremost portion was again torn in half, and the ship began to break up rapidly.  Several of the crew saved themselves by means of the hawser, while the remainder were hurled upon the rocks by the waves;  all the officers perished.  Captain Taylor was the last man seen alive on board.  He had lashed his body to a spar and was drowned.  The whole number saved out of the 498 persons on board was 39.

A number of stirring leading articles on the wreck of the Royal Charter soon appeared in all the journals.  Of these the most remarkable was one which appeared in the Daily News.  We extract it here in full, as it gives the most vivid picture we have yet seen of all the salient features of the terrible Catastrophe: - "

To be continued...

My Blogiversary - Remembering Why I Started

"The Royal Charter off Moelfre"
Image used with permission of E. D. Walker
http://www.edwalkermarine.com/

October 26th marks my 1 year Blogiversary.  It's hard to believe that it's been a whole year!  I'm very proud of my little blog and while I haven't come as far as I'd like to (certification is still a dream away), I have grown and hope that my journey continues in a positive path.

October 26th also marks another anniversary of sorts.  The anniversary of the shipwreck that took my 3rd great grandfather, Manus Maurice Boyle's life.  A shipwreck that was famous at the time, but one that we don't hear of much today (at least not in America).  Just like I commemorated the anniversary of the Great Peshtigo Fire with a week's worth of posts, I intend on doing the same for this.  The shipwreck of the Royal Charter.  Below is the first post I ever made on my blog.  It's where it all started and it's one of the reasons I began blogging.  I've merely updated it to reflect the current year.  Enjoy!

October 26, 2011 is the 152st anniversary of my great-great-great grandfather, Manus Maurice Boyle's, death in the shipwreck of the Royal Charter. He worked in the coal mines of northeastern Pennsylvania. He and his wife, Alice Monaghan, were both Irish immigrants and longed for a better life for their two daughters, Bridget Mary and Anna. He left Pennsylvania in September 1856 to go to Australia to mine for gold in hopes of a better future for his family. He was returning to his family from Australia in the autumn of 1859. The Royal Charter would have taken him back to Britain. No one knows what ship he was to board to return to America. No one knows what fortunes, if any, he was returning from Australia with. During the last leg of his journey to Liverpool a "hurricane" struck. There was no advanced warning. None existed prior to that date.

The winds that raged over 100 mph changed from East to North/Northeast and the bay (Moelfre Bay) which Captain Taylor had hoped would shelter them became the instrument of their demise. The anchors that had been weighed, snaped in the first hours of the morning of October 26th and the ship was repeatedly thrown against the rocks until it split and sank. Of more than 480 passengers and crew only 41 survived. No women or children were saved.

The valiant efforts of one of the crew, Joe Rogers, and the inhabitants of the Moelfre coast were what enabled even those 41 to be saved. The storm had caused damage to one of the Moelfre homes and as residents were repairing the roof in the early hours of the morning they saw the ship in peril. They woke the town and 28 local men made a human chain in the violent waters of the bay to attempt to rescue those aboard. Joe Rogers took a line from the ship and swam to shore, being turned back in the violent waves of the storm at least 3 times before reaching the men on shore. The rope was used in an attempt to bring those from the vessel ashore.

Sadly, many of the passengers on the ship jumped or were thrown overboard. The bulkiness of the clothes of the time coupled with the fact that many had money belts and pockets filled with gold inhibited their efforts to the deadliest of degrees. Had they abandoned their garments and treasure many more may have survived.

There was over 322,000 pounds (British monetary unit) of gold aboard the ship. This was the amount insured back in 1859 and does not include the gold the passengers kept on their persons. I do not know the equivalent in today's currency the gold would be valued at, but it would obviously be substantially higher. The large amount of money combined with the rumors of "good fortune" that surrounded the town after the wreck led to the shipwreck being called the Golden Wreck.

The village church of Saint Gallgo became the collection point for the bodies. The Reverends Stephen Roose Hughes and his brother Reverend Hugh Robert Hughes paid the local inhabitants to bring the bodies to the church, a difficult trek up the rocky shores to the church made monetary remuneration the only way to persuade the locals to take on the grim task. They saw to the burial of those killed and personally answered over 1000 letters they received begging a response regarding loved ones. The stress from this caused the Reverend Stephen Hughes' life to be cut short. He died a few years later.

The church at Saint Gallgo still exists today and each year remembers those lost in this tragedy. Monuments stand to remember those lost. A distant cousin of mine Debbie Fay Buch and her husband, Josh Buch, placed a memorial stone at Saint Gallgo Church in August 2004. It reads:

Manus Maurice Boyle
1833-1859
Never Recovered from the Royal Charter
Placed by the Fay Family
Hazleton, PA USA 2004

I don't sit around depressed over the fact that this is the anniversary of my ancestor's death. What would have happened had he come home with gold from Australia? My 2nd great grandmother, Anna Boyle, may never have met her husband, Martin Blanchfield, and I would never have been born. Sometimes good can come from tragedy. People's fortunes can improve or worsen causing them to make decisions that determine the outcome of their history and sometimes other people's histories. It does sadden me to know that Manus was never to hold his youngest daughter, Anna. She was born 2 months after he left for Australia. It saddens me to know that his last thoughts were most likely of a family that he would not see again in this world. Or perhaps his last thoughts were of a determination to survive and get back to them. A determination that was matched by the ferocity of the circumstances in which he found himself. It saddens me knowing that he did not die the "peaceful" death of drowning for the majority of those lost were broken on the rocks of the bay. The passengers and crew of the Royal Charter died so close to shore that even today the wreck can be seen below the surface of the waters from the bay's shoreline. Still there, resting peacefully below the water.

It is not everyone that can say their ancestor's demise was written about in books. I have read two that write of the Royal Charter. One by Alexander McKee, "The Golden Wreck: The Tragedy of the Royal Charter" is out of print, but it tells of the voyage from Australia to it's wreck, the recovery of the remains of the victims and the trial of the crew that survived. I have read the account of the shipwreck written by the great Charles Dickens (yes, I said Charles Dickens wrote about this tragedy!) in his book "The Uncommercial Traveller" (only about the first 20 or so pages of the book are dedicated to this wreck. It's a series of 34 books and this is in volume 24. The entire series tells of Dickens' travels as he IS the Uncommercial Traveller).

I take this time today to remember a man I never knew, but love nevertheless. As a genealogist it can be hard to convey to those that do not research their ancestry that while we may never have met these names that appear in our family trees, we feel a closeness that defies explanation.

Rest in Peace, Grandpa. You will be remembered by your many descendants.

Aaah How I've Missed You!

My posts have been scarce this past week.  In fact I think this has been the longest I've gone without posting, but this past week and weekend have been truly hectic!  I'm the PTA President and we had our Fall Carnival on Friday.  The chairperson and committee put on a spectacular event, but we were all more than a little tired by that evening!  The very next day it was time for Cub Scout camping with a haunted hayride thrown in.  I didn't camp, but I did go out for the day and then came home so my beagle could go outside!  Monday evening was the Pack awards ceremony and I'm the Awards Chair, so more work!

With all that finished I can get back to what I love.  And just in time since my blogiversary will be on Wednesday!  Until that post (and I can catch up on the 1000+ items in my Google Reader)...

Follow Friday - The News Edition (More or Less)

CNN posted about a trend that people will most likely see when researching their trees in the future in an article titled, "More Latinos Identify as Native American, Census Shows."  An interesting article, but I didn't consider it unexpected.  I was actually surprised it wasn't happening much sooner.

Genealogists/Family Historians tend to travel...a lot.  What apps do you use when you travel to make your trip run smoothly?  Brett Snyder has a blog "The Cranky Flier" which may interest many, but he also writes for CNN occasionally and his post on their news site, "Travel Apps That Really Help" was very good.

Jenn Woods at "Climbing My Family Tree One Branch at a Time" always has such great posts.  She recently posted about a murder that her ancestor gave testimony about.  Always interesting to read and very exciting!

Researching German ancestors?  Then you'll eventually need to dealing with German script and handwriting.  Nancy over at "My Ancestors and Me, and other relatives, too..." has a post for you!  A German genealogical must!

And wrapping it up are two videos.  The first a friend shared with me.  It was posted on Yahoo! News (it was from KCCI News in Iowa) and it was about a couple that were married for 72 years and they died holding hands.  Not to be morbid or anything...I just found it sweet.

The second just happened to start playing immediately after the previous story and was also from KCCI.  It was a story about Oak Grove Cemetery and the damage time has caused by eroding away a hillside and the graves ending up in a ravine.  Tim Schultz (an area landscaper) is looking to help rectify that situation by building a retaining wall, but the red tape is hard to get through.

Wedding Wednesday - Martin Blanchfield and Anna Boyle

As I wondered what I was going to post on this evening, I received an email from a cousin (thanks for the post idea, Rebecca!) with a great article published in the New York Times, published on February 26, 1875.  Why was this significant?  It was a story on a horrible collapse that occurred at St. Andrew's Church in New York City.  The same church that our ancestors, Martin Blanchfield and Anna Boyle, were married in less than a year later.

So I figured I'd post the marriage certificate that was sent to me a few years back from Saint Andrew's.  It's a transcription as you can see from the "19" being crossed out in the year and "18" being written.  I may transcribe the article at some point as well, but not today.  It is a tale of panic, and not something for a wedding!

Sacrament of Matrimony (transcribed from church records)

Martin and Anna Blanchfield nee Boyle were my 2nd great grandparents.  Martin was born in Ireland.  Anna in Pennsylvania.  Married in New York City at Saint Andrew's Church on January 9, 1976.  They would have twelve(-ish) children:

Mary, Alice (my great grandmother), Annie, William, Josephine, Lillian, Catherine, Joseph, and 4 children of unknown name/gender that are remembered as numbers in censuses.  We don't know if they were stillborn or died young, but they didn't live long enough to have their names recorded in a census.

Anna has always been dear to my heart, but what ancestor isn't?  You love them all, right?  As I approach my first blogiversary, I have been preparing a series of posts on what started my world of blogging and it happens to be an incident that took her father's life.  Anna is dear to me because she was born after her father left America to mine for gold in Australia, and he died on his way back.  A great sacrifice made by a man that wanted to bring a better life to his family.  Years away from his family in a great effort to try to escape the coal mines of Northeastern Pennsylvania.  That sacrifice was not to benefit them, however, and his youngest daughter would never know the arms of her father.

Amanuensis Monday - The Long Lost Dennis Dugan

I've blogged before about Dennis Dugan and his first wife, Bessie Dugan nee Quirk.  Bessie was my great-great aunt and she died shortly after giving birth to a daughter.  I've often wondered what happened to that daughter, but so far (despite previous moments of inspiration on the subject) I have been unable to figure out if she died young, moved away to live with other family, or if she grew up and simply got married and led a normal life.

In an attempt to try to find out what happened to her I finally tracked down some obituaries for her father, Dennis, and his 2nd wife.  Sadly, there was no mention of her in the obituaries, so back to square one.  Her not being mentioned does lead me to believe that her life was most likely cut short.  Perhaps she even died prior to her father remarrying.  Who knows.  I'd like to avoid Pennsylvania doing a broad search for her death record, but it may come to that if I keep banging my head against this brick wall.

Dennis' daughter, Betty/Elizabeth (named after her mother), did have some half-siblings though.  I do often wonder if they ever knew her.  Was her name even mentioned after she passed?  Ah well.  On to her father's obituary:

The Globe Times - 17MAY1954, pg8

"Dennis J. Dugan

Dennis J. Dugan, 711 Pawnee St., a former employee [sic] of Bethlehem Steel, died unexpectedly at 8:30 a.m. today in his home.

A resident of Bethlehem for 45 years he was born in Audenried [sic], Pa.  He was a member of St. Ursula's Church in Fountain Hill, of the Protection Hose Co. and of the South Side Fireman's Relief Assn.

His survivors include his wife, Rose (King) Dugan; two sons, James of Bethlehem and Francis, at home; two daughters, Sister Rose Dennis Dugan, SSJ, Church of the Ascension in Philadelphia, and Mary wife of James Phillips at home; and two sisters, Mrs. William O'Donnell and Margaret Dugan of Washington, D. C. Three grandchildren also survive."

The Peshtigo Fire - A Miracle From the Ashes

The statue of Mary inside the Shrine of Our Lady of Good Help

As promised I'm ending my posts on this historic tragedy on a miraculous note.  I'm not speaking figuratively.  I'm not saying "It's a miracle my husband's ancestors survived".  I'm grateful that they survived, and it could be viewed as miraculous, but I'm talking church acknowledged miracle! This miracle didn't happen in the town of Peshtigo.  It was across the bay in a town called Robinsonville that was also under attack by the series of fires collectively known as the "Great Peshtigo Fire"....and it's the sort of story that makes you believe in miracles if you didn't already.  A little history...

Adele Brise (also spelled Brice) was a young Belgian immigrant who came to America with her family and settled in Wisconsin.  She had originally wanted to stay behind in her native Belgium and join a convent with some other girls, but after talking with her priest, he advised her to do what any good priest would...to follow her parents wishes and go to America with them.  He told her that if she was meant for a religious order that she would no doubt find one in the United States.  So instead of a convent Adele found herself in a heavily wooded area of Wisconsin.

Mary as Adele described

Adele was very religious.  She would walk to church every week...ELEVEN MILES to church every week!  In October of 1859 Adele experienced not one, but 3 Marian Apparitions.  The first was as Adele was walking to a grist mill 4 miles from Robinsonville with a sack of wheat on her head.  She saw a lady in white standing in her path on the trail she was walking.  She stopped, frightened and remained still until the lady disappeared before her eyes a few minutes later.

The second time was that Sunday as she walked to church.  Her sister walked with her and in the exact same place, Adele saw the lady before her in the distance.  She stopped, again afraid.  Her sister could not see the woman.  Eventually she disappeared and they continued to church.  After Mass Adele spoke with her priest about what she saw.  The priest told her that the spirit would not hurt her, but to ask in God's name what she wanted.

On the way home from mass that day, Sunday, October 9th, 1859, Adele again saw the apparition before her.  The people with her stopped as she knelt and asked the apparition , "In God's name, who are you, and what do you want of me?"  The response that Adele got was that the apparition was the "Queen of Heaven" and she commanded that Adele teach the children their catechism, how to make the sign of the Cross, and how to receive the Sacraments.

On that spot Adele's father (Lambert Brice) built a ten by twelve foot structure to mark the spot of the visions.  Not everyone believed in what Adele saw, but that did not deter her.  Over the years, as people began to make pilgrimages to the spot and as Adele began to fulfill the promise she made to teach the children, the structure grew and the land that held the school and chapel was consecrated.  The Chapel became known as "Our Lady of Good Help."

Twelve years later, almost to the day Adele spoke to the apparition of Mary, the fires erupted.  This is the account of what happened that night as printed in the book "The Chapel:  Our Lady of Good Help" (Sister M. Dominica, O.S.F, 1955):

Stained glass windows in the Shrine

"We do not propose to pass judgment on the reasons for this catastrophe, but we know that twelve years later almost to the day, October 8, 1871, the great calamity fell.  The Belgian colony which embraced a large part of the peninsula,  was visited by the same whirlwind of fire and wind that overwhelmed Peshtigo.  Here, as across the Bay, the forest fires had crept on for weeks and months, and on the same Sunday night came whirling over the Lake and Bay counties.  The Wisconsin peninsula, too, was the scene of an awesome drama.  A terrible, ten-fold wind sprang up from the southeast and fanned the smoldering fires into a mighty wave, submerging the whole peninsula into a raging sea of fire and smoke.

After weeks of fear and suspense, the hour struck and the great forest rocked and tossed simultaneously.  In one awful instant, before expectation could give way to horror, the black-curtained sky burst forth into great clouds of fire.  The day had been prophetically [sic] still; smoke and gases filled the air.  An ominous dread gripped the minds and hearts of every living creature, even the wild beasts of the forests mingled with men as both fled in terror before a great consuming roaring fire circling all within its fiery grasp.  At first the roaring blaze thundered like great cataracts among the tree-tops, but as it gained momentum, it sounded like the distant roar of the sea giving place to thunderous fury mingled with a tornado of fire.

A survivor wrote that if one could imagine the worst snow storm he ever witnessed, and each flake a coal or spark of fire driven before a terrifying wind, he would have an idea of the atmosphere at the time the fire struck.  Hundreds of families were driven from their homes, many being overtaken by the rain of fire.

Adele Brise's photo at the Shrine

'This is judgment; this is the end of the world,' was uttered by a frenzied mob dashing wildly for means of escape made impassable by fallen timber and burning bridges.  Land and sky in flames, wild confusion of the elements, while men looking on, stupefied [sic] with horror, were withering with fear.  It was indeed a terrifying spectacle.

The wide spreading track of ruin covered the greater part of the peninsula from Green Bay to Lake Michigan, and from the neighborhood of Green Bay on the south to 'Death's Door' on the north.  In the town of Green Bay, the fire entered at the southeast corner and swept on the wings of the wind to the north east.  It extended into parts of Outagamie, Kewaunee, Door, and Brown counties.  The towns of Humboldt, Green Bay, New Franken, Casco, Brussels, Rosiere, Lincoln, Robinsonville and many others were scathed with a whirlwind of flame which devoured the woods, leaped across clearings, and lopped everything inflammable in its path.  The area burned was not less than fifty miles in length and twenty average miles wide.  The burning belt widened as it advance.  Nothing could be done to stop its forward march, and the Chapel of Our Lady of Good Help lay in its path.

The crucial hour had come, the hurricane of fire broke in all its fury.  Adele and her companions were faced with a momentous decision.  They were determined not to abandon Mary's shrine, and their faith in Mary's protection never faltered.  The children, the Sisters, and the farmers with their families, drove their livestock before them and raced in the direction of Mary's sanctuary.  They were now encircled by a raging inferno with no means of escape.  Looking back, they saw their buildings literally swallowed by the fiery monster.  By this time the surrounding territory was one vast sea of fire.  Awe-stricken, they thronged the Chapel grounds.  Already the Chapel was filled with terror-stricken people beseeching the Mother of God to spare them, many wailing aloud in their fright.  Filled with confidence, they entered the Chapel, reverently raised the statue of Mary, and kneeling bore it in procession around their beloved sanctuary.  When wind and fire exposed them to suffocation, they turned in another direction, and continued to hope and pray, saying the rosary.

Statues of children kneeling on the grounds of the Shrine

'Thus passed for them the long hours of that terrible night.  I know not if, supported only by nature, they would have been able to live through that awful ordeal, ' so wrote Father Pernin, hero of the 'Peshtigo Fire.'

After hours of horror and suspense, the heavens sent relief in the form of a downpour.  The fervent prayers to the Mother of God were heard.  The fire was extinguished, but dawn revealed the ravages wrought by the conflagration.  Everything about them was destroyed;  miles of desolation everywhere.  But the Convent, school, Chapel, and the five acres of land consecrated to the Virgin Mary shone like an emerald isle in a sea of ashes.  The raging fire licked the outside palings and left charred scars as mementos.  Tongues of fire had reached the Chapel fence, and threatened destruction to all within its confines - the fire had not entered the Chapel grounds."

A fire so fierce that it destroyed most everything in its path did not destroy Our Lady of Good Help.  It was 151 years after the apparition of Mary to Adele, 139 years after the miracle at Our Lady of Good Help occurred that the Roman Catholic Church finally acknowledged the visions of Adele Brise.  On December 8th, 2010 Bishop David Ricken of the Diocese of Green Bay announced, "I declare with moral certainty and in accord with the norms of the Church that the events, apparitions and locutions given to Adele Brise in October 1859 do exhibit the substance of supernatural character, and I do hereby approve these apparitions as worthy of belief (although not obligatory) by the Christian faithful."

Candles lit by visitors inside the Shrine

That declaration made Our Lady of Good Help the first and only approved Marian apparition/shrine in the United States.  You can read more about the Churches declaration and the Shrine, by going to the Diocese's website here.

Within 2 weeks of the announcement my family and I were back in Green Bay visiting for the Holidays.  It is hard to convey the feeling of knowing that this happened so close to where my in-laws were.  The first Marian Shrine in our backyard.  I took my boys and my mother-in-law and we visited the Shrine of Our Lady of Good Help.  I didn't know what to expect.  The grounds were pretty, but looked like any other church.  The crypt where the statue of Mary is located, and the site of the original vision, is in the basement.  The Church built on top of it.  It is small, but I thought it beautiful.  I lit a candle to my father-in-law who had passed away earlier in the year, and to my cousin who was killed by her husband earlier in the year.  I finally lit a candle in honor of all my family's ancestors and prayed for awhile.

Crutches left behind

When I was done, and without disturbing the few others that were in the Shrine, I took out my camera and took some flashless photography to remember this place.  I took pictures of the crutches that people left behind.  Those that since 1859 came to the Shrine using crutches and left them behind as they walked away.

Our Lady of Good Help was being visited by newspapermen from the New York Times the day that we visited.  They asked my mother-in-law if she believed.  Without hesitating, she replied that she did.  A bit ridiculous if you thought about it.  Why would you visit if you didn't?  We weren't offended though.  We were glad that it was being reported on.  Glad to see that after so many years and so many people thinking Adele Brise was lying or demented that the Church acknowledged what she always knew to be true.

With everything that happened during the Great Peshtigo Fire, how could I or anyone not view what happened on that spot as anything other than miraculous!

The cemetery at the Shrine