_The Last Days of La Salle._
Plan for the New Journey. Magnitude of the Enterprise. Affecting
Leave-taking. The Journey Commenced. Adventures by the Way. Friendly
Character of the Indians. Vast Realms of Fertility and Beauty. The Joys
and the Sorrows of such a Pilgrimage. The Assassination of La Salle and
of three of his Companions.
La Salle was now fully convinced that he was west of the Mississippi
River. He resolved to set out on a journey across the country to
Canada, a distance of probably not less than two thousand miles. His
design was to send tidings to France of his disasters, and thus to
secure aid to be sent thence to his suffering and expiring colony.
By pursuing his route toward the northeast, he was sure of eventually
striking the Mississippi. He would then feel quite at home. Following
up that stream and the Illinois, he could easily pass over to the
lakes, and then reach Canada through regions with which he was quite
familiar. More than two months were spent in strengthening the defences
of the settlement, and in laying in stores of provisions for those who
were to be left behind.
At midnight of the 7th of January, 1687, the whole company met in the
little chapel for a solemn religious service, to implore God's blessing
upon the enterprise. The scene was very affecting. Nearly all were in
tears. There were but few chances that those then bidding each other
adieu would ever meet again. Those who left, and those who remained,
were alike exposed. La Salle selected twenty men to accompany him.
Among those, were his brother, his ever-faithful Indian attendant, M.
Douay, to whose pen we are indebted for the record of the last
expedition, and M. Joutel, who kept a daily journal of the events of
this journey. M. Douay wrote also quite a minute account of the
expedition. Both of their narratives now lie before me. We have no
reason to doubt the accuracy of either. There were but twenty French
left behind, including seven women and children. La Salle gave them a
parting address. Father Douay writes:
"He made an address full of eloquence, with that engaging way so
natural to him. The whole colony was present, and were all moved to
tears. They were alike persuaded of the necessity of his voyage and
the uprightness of his intentions."
The property left with the colonists consisted of seventy pigs, large
and small, twenty hens and chickens, a few barrels of corn, which was
carefully kept for the sick, a considerable quantity of powder and
lead, and eight cannons, but without balls.
The heroic and devout Father Membré remained as the spiritual guide. M.
Barbier was left with the secular command. La Salle drew up very minute
directions for the administration of affairs during his absence.
"We parted," writes M. Joutel, "in a manner so tender, so sorrowful,
that it would seem that we had a secret presentiment that we should
never again see each other. Father Membré was deeply affected. He said
to me that never before had he experienced a parting so painful."
It was the 12th of January, 1689, when this truly forlorn hope set out
upon its long journey. They took with them the five horses, bearing
some articles of food and such things as they would need for their
night's encampment. The second day of their journey they came to a
plain about six miles wide, which seemed to be covered with buffaloes,
deer, flocks of wild turkeys, and every variety of game. Beyond the
plain there was a splendid growth of trees. Upon entering the grove,
they found that it fringed a small river. Concealed by these trees,
they succeeded in shooting five buffaloes which had come to the river
to drink. They crossed the river on a raft, and camped a mile and a
half beyond, in a drenching rain. The skins and meat of these animals
were packed upon the horses. The skins, easily tanned, were of immense
value in their subsequent lodgings.
The next morning, the 14th, the sun rose in a cloudless sky. The
prairie seemed spread out for leagues before them, covered with herds
of buffaloes and deer, while immense flocks of turkeys and other birds
of the prairie rose before them. About noon they saw, in the distance,
an immense herd of buffaloes rushing over the plains as if mad. They
conjectured at once that some Indian hunters were pursuing them. Their
conjecture proved correct.
Soon they saw a savage, on the full run, and very flat-footed, pursuing
the herd. Hastily the load was thrown from one of the horses, a man was
mounted upon him, and galloping over the plain soon overtook the
Indian, and led him back to the company. When the poor man saw himself
surrounded by a group of white men, such as he had seen before, he was
greatly terrified. And he had cause to be frightened. La Salle's
associates infamously urged that he should be put to death, in revenge
for the murder of their companions by some unknown Indian band. The
humane, magnanimous leader found it necessary to present to his
reckless followers such motives as they could appreciate. He said to
them:
"We are but few in number. We have before us a journey of hundreds of
miles through a region crowded with Indian tribes. If we rouse the
vengeance of the savages, we shall all be cut off. Let us treat them
with kindness, and thus we shall secure for ourselves kind treatment in
return."
The cordial smiles and friendly signs of this truly good man soon
dispelled apparently the great alarm of the stranger. A fire was built.
After abundantly feeding their hungry guest, and smoking with him the
friendly pipe, La Salle, assuring him of his desire to do harm to none,
but good to all, dismissed him with presents which to the savage must
have seemed almost like celestial gifts. Still the cautious Indian,
accustomed to treachery, was evidently uncertain as to the fate which
awaited him. As he withdrew, he cast anxious glances around, until he
had attained the distance of a few rods, when he took to flight, with
almost the rapidity of a deer.
The travellers continued their route, and after an hour or two,
overtook another Indian hunter. They caught him, and lavished upon him
the same acts of kindness. As evening was approaching, they saw a large
band of savages in the distance. Their attitude was somewhat menacing.
When they caught sight of the little cluster of strangers, they
separated into two parties, and advanced on the right and left, as if
to surround them. When the two bands had come within musket-shot, La
Salle ordered a halt. The savages halted also. For a few moments they
attentively regarded each other, no movement being made on either side.
Then La Salle, laying aside his arms, walked slowly forward toward the
party where the head chief seemed to be, making signs for the chief to
come and meet him. The chief was a tall man of powerful frame, and
richly decorated. He came cautiously forward, while the rest of his
party followed slowly at a little distance behind. As soon as it was
seen that the two chiefs met cordially, all came running together in
the interchange of caresses and every mark of friendly greeting.
Fires were built, food was cooked, pipes were smoked. There was
feasting and dancing and shouting. It was a marvellous spectacle which
was then and there presented of semi-civilized and full barbarian
jollification.
The savages were evidently delighted with their reception. They
examined their presents with astonishment. With unfeigned joy they
learned that La Salle intended to return and settle in their country;
and that he would bring an abundance of his treasures, which he would
exchange with them for such articles as they had to part with. It was
now the hour of evening twilight. The two parties separated, each going
its own way. About a mile and a half in advance, there was a beautiful
grove and a running stream. La Salle encamped there. With his customary
prudence he threw up intrenchments, and established sentinels as if he
were in the enemy's country.
They had but just established their camp, when they saw six savages
approaching, following each other in single file. They came forward
without any hesitation, as if visiting old friends. By signs they said
that they had heard of the kind treatment their fellow countrymen had
met with, and that they were brothers, not enemies. After a short and
pleasant visit they retired, and the camp was left to undisturbed
repose.
In the morning, at an early hour, the march was resumed. There was
before them a stream too deep to be forded. Not wishing to lose time in
constructing a raft, they followed up the west bank of the stream for
several miles. Their route led through an enchanting region of
lawn-like prairies and park-like groves. The river was fringed with
trees of every variety, without any underbrush. There were many pretty
little creeks to be crossed, which ran into the main stream. The water
was pure, sweet, and clear as crystal. Occasionally they came to a
cane-brake, through which they cut their way with axes. Their appetites
were fed with abundance of game.
The next day, the 19th, they made but a short journey, and experienced
great fatigue in fording streams and cutting their way through
cane-brakes. They came across a few deserted cabins of the Indians.
During the slow progress of the day, their skilful Indian hunter Nika
killed eight buffaloes. The most tender cuts were taken from them, and
they there crossed the river by a ford.
After traversing a few leagues, they came to another river, flowing
through a low plain, elevated but slightly above the stream. A dense
fog set in, accompanied by a deluging rain. Here they encamped in the
woods which bordered the river. They passed a comfortless night, and
the storm detained them all the next day.
On the 19th the rain ceased, but the fog continued. Their path led
through marshy ground thoroughly soaked with rain, so that they often
sank to their knees in the mire. Their feet were shod with moccasins
made of the hide of buffaloes. These being alternately wet and dried,
became stiff, and blistered their feet cruelly. Fortunately, they
struck upon one of the "streets" made by the buffaloes, as in thousands
they followed one after the other, crushing their way through the
cane-brakes. These animals were, by instinct, good engineers, and
invariably selected the most favorable routes. Still the voyagers were
often compelled to wade through deep mire, and their sufferings were at
times severe.
On the night of the 19th, they fortunately came upon a ridge, where
they could enjoy a dry encampment. They built a roaring fire, cooked a
savory supper, nursed their blistered feet, and during a few hours of
refreshing sleep forgot their toils. As they awoke the next morning the
river was again falling. Still they pressed on, entering upon another
vast prairie covered with herds of buffaloes. At night they encamped
upon the banks of a river too deep to be forded. On the 21st they
ascended the banks of the stream, hoping to find a shallow spot where
they could cross. Instead of this, they came to a place where the river
flowed through a narrow and deep channel, with large trees on each
side. They cut down two of these trees, so that their branches met in
the middle, crossed on this bridge, and swam their horses over.
On the other side, a beautiful country, of elevated, undulating
prairie, opened before them. As they were preparing to encamp in the
shelter of a grove, they heard voices, and soon beheld fifteen Indians
approaching. The savages manifested no alarm, but in token of peace
laid aside their bows and arrows, and came into the camp. They ate,
smoked, exchanged presents, and went on their way rejoicing, promising
to visit the camp again.
The horses, as well as the men, were quite exhausted. They therefore
remained, for a day of rest, on their very pleasant camping ground.
During the day a band of twenty-two Indians came to them. They had
shields impervious to arrows, made of the hide of buffaloes. They were
at war with another tribe. They said that there were other white men,
at the distance of ten days' journey on the west, doubtless referring
to the Spaniards. The interview was mutually pleasant, and La Salle
obtained some important information in reference to the continuance of
his route.
Onward they pressed, day after day, with alternate sunshine and storm,
through marsh and forest, over prairies and across rivers, without
encountering any adventure of much importance until the 1st of
February. That day they discovered, at a distance, an Indian village.
La Salle, leaving M. Joutel in charge of the camp, took his brother and
seven men, and set out to reconnoitre. They came to a village of
twenty-five wigwams, very pleasantly situated. Each wigwam contained
four or five men, besides quite a number of women and children. The
Indians received their guests very hospitably, conducted them to the
dwelling of their chief, and seated them upon mats of buffalo skins. A
great crowd gathered within and around the cabin. The chief, after
feeding them abundantly upon buffalo steaks, informed them that he had
been expecting their arrival. Other Indians had told him that they were
in the country, and that they were on a route which would lead them
near his village.
Perfect harmony prevailed. Presents were exchanged. The Indians were
eager to give a nicely tanned buffalo robe for a knife or almost any
trinket in the hands of the white men. But La Salle had no means of
transporting the robes, which would prove so valuable in European
markets. They continued their journey, often meeting with Indians, who
were always friendly. At times a brotherly band would accompany them
during the march of a whole day. By the aid of the Indians, the very
light frame of a canoe was constructed, which was easily packed and
carried. By stretching over it the skin of a buffalo, from which the
hair had been removed, they were furnished with a very buoyant boat,
with which to cross the rivers. The horses could easily swim the
streams.
On the 10th of February, they saw before them a vast plain which had
been swept by the flames. Thinking that they might not find game there,
they made a halt of two days, to lay in a store of jerked meat.
Resuming their journey, they soon passed the scathed region and entered
again upon a country of bloom and verdure. On the evening of the 15th,
they camped on the borders of a stream, where they saw evidences that a
band of savages had recently passed that way.
The next morning La Salle took his brother and seven men, and followed
a well-trodden Indian trail in search of a village. After a short walk,
they came upon a cluster of fifty or sixty cabins. His reception was,
as usual, cordial in the extreme. The leading men of the village were
courteous in their bearing and intelligent in reference to matters
relating to their own country. They gave the names of twenty tribes or
nations, through whose territories La Salle had already passed from his
settlement, which he called St. Louis. On the 17th, one of the horses
fell, and sprained his shoulder, so that he had to be left behind.
For several days the journey was somewhat monotonous. They made about
twenty or twenty-five miles a day. Indian hunters were continually met
with, and Indian villages entered with essentially the same rites of
friendship and hospitality. From some of these Indians they heard
tidings of those Frenchmen who had deserted. They were living in a very
friendly manner among the Indians. On the 1st of March they came to an
immense marsh, partially submerged in water. The intricate passage
across it was very difficult to find, and required the services of a
guide. Several of the Indians volunteered, and with great tenderness
led them safely across.
Passing the morass caused a delay of four or five days, as it could not
be undertaken in a drenching rain which chanced then to be falling. On
the 15th they emerged from this gloomy region and entered a country
which, from the contrast, appeared to them remarkably beautiful. Here
they encamped for a brief rest. Nika brought in word that he had killed
two buffaloes, and wished to have a couple of horses sent to bring in
the meat. A party of five was sent out, led by M. Moranget, who was a
rash and irritable man. There were three men who had accompanied the
hunter, and who were cutting up and drying the meat, in preparation for
transporting it to the camp. At the same time they were cooking for
themselves some of the choicest pieces.
When Moranget reached the place and found the men feasting, as he
thought, rather than jerking the meat, he reprimanded them, in his
accustomed tones of severity. The men chanced to be the very worst and
most desperate in the camp. Moranget accompanied his denunciations with
still more irritating actions. He took from them the delicious morsels
which they cooked. Four men, for another had joined them, greatly
enraged, sullenly abandoned their work, and retiring a short distance
agreed to avenge themselves by killing Moranget, and also by killing
Nika and another man who was the valet of La Salle. Both of these men
were friends and supporters of Moranget.
They waited till night. All took their supper together. It was the
night of the 17th of March. Though in that genial climate the weather
was serene and mild, a rousing fire was found very grateful in
protecting them from the chill of the night air. With the fading
twilight the stars shone down brightly upon them, and, surrounded by
the silence and solemnity of the prairie and the forest, they were soon
apparently all asleep.
One of the murderers, Liotot, cautiously arose as by agreement, and
with a hatchet in his hand, creeping toward Moranget, with one
desperate blow split open his skull from crown to chin. The deed was
effectually done. And yet with sinewy arm blow followed blow, till the
head was one mass of clotted gore. The other two were despatched in the
same way. The three remaining conspirators stood, with their guns
cocked and primed, to shoot down either of the victims who might
succeed in making any resistance. There is some slight discrepancy in
the detail of these murders. It is said that Moranget, upon receiving
the first blow, made a convulsive movement, as if to rise; but that the
valet and the Indian did not stir.
One crime always leads to another. The conspirators, having perpetrated
these murders, now consulted together as to what was next to be done.
Moranget was the nephew of La Salle. The valet and the Indian were his
devoted friends. Their death could not be concealed. It was certain
that La Salle would not allow it to go unavenged. Though punishment
might be postponed until they should emerge from their long and
perilous journey through the wilderness, there could be no doubt that
as soon as they should reach a French military post they would all die
upon the scaffold.
They decided to return to the camp, enlist a few others on their side,
kill La Salle, and others of his prominent friends, when unsuspicious
of danger; and thus involving all the rest in their own criminality,
effectually prevent any witnesses from rising against them. Probably in
some degree tortured by remorse, and trembling in view of the task
which they had undertaken, they remained for two days, the 18th and
19th, where they were, ostensibly employed in jerking the meat.
La Salle, not knowing how to account for this long absence, became
uneasy. He decided to go himself, taking a few others with him, to
ascertain the cause. To his friends he expressed serious apprehensions
that some great calamity had happened. M. Joutel was left in charge of
the camp, and La Salle, with Father Douay and another companion, set
out in search of the lost ones.
Father Douay gives the following account of the tragic scene which
ensued:
"All the way La Salle conversed with me of matters of piety, grace,
and predestination. He expatiated upon all his obligations to God,
for having saved him from so many dangers during the last twenty
years that he had traversed America. He seemed to me to be
peculiarly penetrated with a grateful sense of God's kindness to
him. Suddenly I saw him plunged into a deep melancholy, for which
he himself could not account. He was so troubled that he no longer
seemed like himself. As this was an unusual state of mind with him,
I endeavored to rouse him from his lethargy.
"Two leagues after, we found the bloody cravat of his valet. He
perceived two eagles flying over his head. At the same time he
discerned some of his people on the edge of the river. He
approached them, asking what had become of his nephew. They
answered incoherently, pointing to a spot where they said we should
find him. We proceeded some steps along the bank, to the fatal spot
where two of his murderers were hidden in the grass, one on each
side, with guns cocked. One missed Monsieur de la Salle. The one
firing at the same time shot him in the head. He died an hour
after, on the 19th of March 1687.
"I expected the same fate. But this danger did not occupy my
thoughts, penetrated with grief at so cruel a spectacle. I saw him
fall, a step from me, his face all full of blood. He had confessed
and performed his devotions just before we started. During his last
moments he manifested the spirit of a good Christian, especially in
the act of pardoning his murderers.
"Thus died our wise commander, constant in adversity, intrepid,
generous, engaging, dexterous, skilful, capable of everything. He,
who for twenty years had softened the fierce temper of countless
savage tribes, was massacred by the hands of his own domestics,
whom he had loaded with caresses. He died in the prime of life, in
the midst of his enterprises, without having seen their success. I
could not leave the spot where he had expired, without having
buried him as well as I could. After which I raised a cross over
his grave."
In reference to the burial, Joutel gives a little different account. He
says: "The shot which killed La Salle was the signal for the
accomplices of the assassin to rush to the spot. With barbarous cruelty
they stripped him of his clothing, even to his shirt. The poor dead
body was treated with every indignity. The corpse was left, entirely
naked, to the voracity of wild beasts."
Both of these accounts may be essentially true. The barbarities
practised by the assassins may have preceded or followed the hasty
burial of Douay. Father Douay, in his account, continues:
"Occupied with these thoughts, which La Salle had a thousand times
suggested to us, while relating the events of the new discoveries,
I unceasingly adored the inscrutable designs of God in this conduct
of His Providence, uncertain still what fate He reserved for us, as
our desperadoes plotted nothing less than our destruction. We at
last entered the place where Monsieur Cavalier was. The assassins
entered the cabin unceremoniously, and seized all that was there. I
had arrived a moment before them. I had no need to speak; for as
soon as Cavalier beheld my countenance, all bathed in tears, he
exclaimed aloud:
"'Ah, my poor brother is dead.'
"This holy ecclesiastic, whose virtue has been so often tried in
the apostolic labors of Canada, fell at once on his knees. I
myself, and some others did the same, to prepare to die the same
death. But the murderers, touched by some sentiment of compassion
at the sight of the venerable old man, and besides half-penitent
for the murders they had committed, resolved to spare us, on
condition that we should never return to France. But as they were
still undecided, and many of them wished to go home to France, we
heard them often say to one another, that they must get rid of us;
that otherwise we should accuse them before the tribunals, if we
once had them in the kingdom.
"The leader of these desperadoes, a wretch by the name of Duhaut,
at once assumed the supreme command. The company now consisted of
but seventeen. The timid ones, trembling for their lives, feigned
entire devotion to the cause of the assassins. Duhaut ruled with
an iron hand. It was manifest that the least indication of an
insubordinate spirit would lead to instant death. Some of the best
men were for organizing a conspiracy to assassinate the assassins.
But the priest Cavalier continually said no, repeating the words,
'Vengeance is mine. I will repay, saith the Lord.'"
It is impossible to determine the precise spot where the murder of La
Salle and his companions took place. We know that it was several days'
journey west of the Cenis Indians, whose territory extended along the
banks of Trinity River, which empties into Galveston Bay. It is
therefore conjectured that it must have been near one of the streams
flowing into the Brazos, in the heart of Texas, probably not far from
where Washington now is.