THE MISSIONARY EXPLORERS
The establishment of royal government in 1663 gave new
life to the missions of Canada, and the missionaries
pressed forward with unflagging zeal. They penetrated to
the remotest known tribes and blazed fresh trails for
traders and settlers in the western and northern
wildernesses. We have not space here to tell the story
of these pathfinders, but a few examples may be given.
In 1665 Father Claude Allouez went to Lake Superior to
begin a sojourn of twenty-five years among the Indians
in the region which now forms part of the states of
Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. In 1666 Father Gabriel
Druillettes, 'the patriarch' of the Abnaki mission, who
had already borne the Cross to the Crees of the north,
began his labours among the Algonquins of Georgian Bay
and Lake Superior. In 1669 and 1670 the Sulpicians Dollier
de Casson and Rene de Galinee explored and charted Lake
Erie and the waters between it and Lake Huron. In 1670
Father Claude Dablon, superior of the western missions,
joined Father Allouez at the mission of St Francois-Xavier
on Green Bay; and, among the Winnebagoes of this region
and the Mascoutens and Miamis between the rivers Fox and
Wisconsin, he learned of 'the famous river called the
Mississippi.' In 1672 Father Charles Albanel toiled from
the Saguenay to Hudson Bay, partly as missionary, but
chiefly to lay claim to the country for New France, and
to watch the operations of the newly founded Hudson's
Bay Company.
It was the 25th of May 1670 when Galinee and Casson
arrived at Sault Ste Marie, after an arduous canoe journey
from their wintering camp on Lake Erie, near the site of
the present town of Port Dover. At the Sault they found
a thriving mission. It had a capacious chapel and a
comfortable dwelling-house; it was surrounded by a palisade
of cedars, and about it were cultivated bits of ground
planted with wheat, Indian corn, peas, and pumpkins. Near
by were clusters of bark wigwams, the homes of Ojibwas
and other Indians, who came here each year to catch the
whitefish that teemed in the waters of the rapids fronting
the settlement.
One of the priests in charge of this mission, when the
Sulpicians halted at it on their circuitous journey back
to Montreal, was the young Jesuit Jacques Marquette, a
man of delicate mould, indomitable will, keen intellect,
and ardent faith. He was not to remain long at Sault Ste
Marie; for he had heard 'the call of the west'; and in
the summer of this year he set out for the mission of St
Esprit, at La Pointe, on the south-west shore of Lake
Superior. Here there was a motley collection of Indians,
among them many Hurons and Petuns, who had fled to this
remote post to be out of reach of the Iroquois. These
exiles from Huronia still remembered the Jesuits and
retained 'a little Christianity.' St Esprit was not only
a mission; it was a centre of the fur trade, and to it
came Illinois Indians from the Mississippi and Sioux from
the western prairies. From these Marquette learned of
the great river, and from their description of it he was
convinced that it flowed into the Gulf of California. He
had a burning desire to visit the savage hordes that
dwelt along this river, and a longing to explore it to
its mouth. But while he meditated the journey war broke
out between the Sioux--the Iroquois of the west--and the
Hurons and Ottawas of St Esprit. The Sioux won, and the
vanquished Hurons and Ottawas took to flight, the Hurons
going to Michilimackinac and the Ottawas to Great Manitoulin
Island. Marquette followed the Hurons, and set up a
mission at Point St Ignace, on the north shore of the
strait of Michilimackinac.
Meanwhile 'the great intendant,' Talon, was pushing out
in all directions for new territory to add to the French
dominions in America. And just before the end of his
brilliant administration he commissioned the explorer
Louis Jolliet to find and explore the Mississippi, of
which so much had been heard from missionaries, traders,
and Indians. Like Marquette, Talon believed that this
river flowed into the Western Sea--the Pacific ocean--and
that it would open a route to China and the Indies; and
it was directed that Marquette should accompany Jolliet
on the journey.
Jolliet left Montreal in the autumn of 1672 and reached
Michilimackinac, where he was to spend the winter with
Marquette, just as the ice was forming on lake and river.
When he drew up his canoe in front of the palisaded
mission at Point St Ignace, Marquette felt that his
ambitions were about to be realized. He was disappointed
in his flock of Algonquins and the feeble remnant of
Hurons, and he hoped to gather about him on the Great
Plains--of whose vegetation and game he had heard
marvellous accounts--a multitude of Indians who would
welcome his Gospel message. Dablon and Allouez had already
touched the outskirts of this country, and their success
was an earnest of great things in store.
The winter passed slowly for Marquette; but at length,
on May 17, 1673, the explorer and the missionary with
five assistants--a feeble band to risk a plunge into the
unknown--launched their canoes and headed westward.
The explorers first shaped their course along the northern
shore of Lake Michigan, then steered south-west until
they reached the mouth of the Menominee river, flowing
into Green Bay. Here they rested for a brief period among
friendly Menominees, who tried to persuade them to give
up their venture. According to the Menominees, the banks
of the Mississippi were infested by savage tribes who
tortured and slew all intruders into their domains. As
this did not seem sufficient to discourage Jolliet and
Marquette, they added that demons haunted the land
bordering the river and monsters the river itself, and
that, even if they escaped savages, demons, and monsters,
they would perish from the excessive heat of the country
Both Jolliet and Marquette had heard such stories from
Indians before. Pressing on to the south end of Green
Bay, they entered the Fox river and ascended it until
they reached Lake Winnebago. After crossing this lake
they continued westward up the extension of the Fox. They
were now in the land of the Mascoutens and Miamis. The
country teemed with life; birds filled the air with whirr
of wing and with song; as the voyagers paddled ever
westward deer and elk came from their forest lairs to
gaze with wondering eyes at these unfamiliar intruders
on their haunts. The Mascoutens were friendly, and supplied
the travellers with bison flesh and venison, and with
guides to direct them over the watershed to the Wisconsin.
They carried the canoes over a forest trail, and launched
them on this river; and then with exulting hearts swept
forward on the last stage of their journey to the
Mississippi. At length, on the 17th of June, they reached
the great river and landed at the place where now stands
Prairie du Chien. They had the feeling of conquerors,
but of conquerors whose greatest battle has yet to be
fought. Out of the far north came this mysterious river;
but whither did it go? Did these waters sweep onward till
they lost themselves in the Pacific, or did they pour
into some southern bay of the Atlantic? Such were the
questions that agitated the minds of these first of
Frenchmen to gaze on the 'Father of Waters,' [Footnote:
It is thought possible that in 1658-59 Pierre Esprit
Radisson and Medard Chouart des Groseilliers crossed the
Mississippi while hunting furs in the country west of
Lake Superior; but there is an element of doubt as to
this. Save for the Spaniards, Jolliet and Marquette were
the first white men on the Mississippi, so far as known.]
questions that were not to be laid at rest until La Salle,
nine years later, toiled down the river and from its
mouth viewed the wide expanse of the Gulf of Mexico.
After a brief rest the party launched their canoes and
for over a week drifted downward with the current,
anchoring their canoes in mid-stream at night for fear
of an attack by hostile Indians. But during this time
they saw no human beings; the only living things that
caught their eyes as they sped past forest and plain were
the deer browsing along the banks, the birds circling
overhead, and immense herds of buffalo moving like huge
armies over the grassy slopes. At length they reached a
village of friendly Illinois, and here they were feasted
on fish, dog, and buffalo meat, and spent the balmy
midsummer night in the open, sleeping on buffalo robes.
While at this village, Marquette, who had a rare gift of
tongues, addressed the Illinois in Algonquin, and thus
preached the Gospel for the first time to the Indians of
the Mississippi. Here their hosts warned them of the
dangers they were going to--death from savages or demons
awaited them in the south--and presented them with a
calumet as a passport to protect them against the tribes
below.
After leaving this village the explorers came upon a
'hideous monster,' a huge fish, the appearance of which
almost made them credit the stories of the Indians.
According to Marquette: 'His head was like that of a
tiger, his nose was sharp, and somewhat resembled a
wildcat; his beard was long, his ears stood upright, the
colour of his head was grey, and his neck black.' Onward
swept the explorers past the mouth of the Illinois. A
few miles above the present city of Alton they paused to
gaze on some high rocks on which fabulous creatures were
pictured. 'They are,' wrote Marquette in his narrative,
'as large as a calf, with head and horns like a goat;
their eyes red; beard like a tiger's, and a face like a
man's. Their tails are so long that they pass over their
heads and between their forelegs, under the belly, and
ending like a fish's tail. They are painted red, green,
and black.' The Indians of the Mississippi were certainly
not without imagination and possessed some artistic skill.
No doubt it was these pictured rocks that had originated
among the Menominees and Illinois the stories of the
demons with which they had regaled Marquette and Jolliet.
While the voyagers were still discussing the pictured
rocks, their canoes began to toss and heave on rushing
waters, and they found themselves in the midst of plunging
logs and tumbling trees. They were at the mouth of the
Missouri. As they threaded their way past this dangerous
point, Marquette resolved that he would one day ascend
this river that he might 'preach the Gospel to all the
peoples of this New World who have so long grovelled in
the darkness of infidelity.'
Onward still into the unknown! At the mouth of the
Ohio--then called by the Indians the Ouabouskigon [Footnote:
This word, as well as the word Ohio, or O-he-ho, means
'The Beautiful.']--they drew up their canoes to rest
and then advanced a little farther south to an Illinois
village. The inhabitants of this village wore European
clothing and had beads, knives, and hatchets, obtained
no doubt from the Spaniards. The Indians told the explorers
that the mouth of the river was distant only a ten-days'
journey, whereas it was in reality a thousand miles away.
But with increased hope the Frenchmen once more launched
their canoes and went on until they came to the mouth of
the Arkansas. Here they met with the first hostile
demonstration. Indians, with bows bent and war-clubs
raised, threatened destruction to these unknown whites;
but Marquette, calm, courageous, and confident, stood up
in the bow of his canoe and held aloft the calumet the
Illinois had given him. The passport was respected and
the elders of the village, which was close at hand,
invited the voyagers ashore and feasted them with sagamite
and fish. Leaving this village, they pressed southward
twenty odd miles to another Arkansas village. The attitude
of the Indians here alarmed them, and this, with the
apprehension that the mouth of the Mississippi was much
farther away than they had been led to believe, decided
them to return.
Jolliet and Marquette were now satisfied with what they
had achieved. The southward trend of the river proved
conclusively that it could not fall into the Gulf of
California, and, as they were in latitude 33 degrees 41
minutes, the river could not empty into the Atlantic in
Virginia. It must therefore join the sea either on the
coast of Florida or in the Gulf of Mexico. Moreover, to
proceed farther would but add weary miles to the difficult
return journey. But the chief reason for turning back is
best given in Marquette's own words:
We considered that the advantage of our travels would
be altogether lost to our nation if we fell into the
hands of the Spaniards, from whom we could expect no
other treatment but death or slavery; besides, we saw
that we were not prepared to resist the Indians, the
allies of the Europeans, who continually infested the
lower part of the river.
On the 17th of July, just one month after they first
sighted the waters of the Mississippi, the explorers
turned their canoes northward. A little south of the
Illinois river some friendly Indians told them of a
shorter way to Lake Michigan than by the Wisconsin and
Fox river route. These Indians were anxious to have
Marquette remain with them and establish a mission. He
was unable to comply with their request, for in the
miasmal region of the lower Mississippi he had contracted
a severe malarial fever; but he promised to return to
them as soon as his health permitted. The explorers were
now joined by a chief and a band of Indians as guides to
Lake Michigan, and with these they ascended the Illinois
and then the river Des Plaines. From the river Des Plaines
they portaged their canoes to the Chicago river and
descended it to Lake Michigan. They arrived at Green Bay
at the end of September, having travelled in all, since
leaving this spot, over twenty-five hundred miles.
Marquette was too ill to go farther; and he remained at
Green Bay to recruit his strength, while Jolliet hastened
to Quebec to report to Frontenac the results of his
expedition. Unfortunately, the canoe in which Jolliet
travelled was upset in the Lachine rapids and the papers
containing his charts and the account of his journey were
lost; however, he was able to piece out from memory the
story of his Ulysses-like wanderings.
By the autumn of 1674 Marquette thought that he had
completely recovered his health, and, having received
permission from his superior, he set out for the Illinois
country on the 25th of October to establish the mission
of the Immaculate Conception. He was accompanied on this
journey by two assistants--two true heroes--known to
history only as Pierre and Jacques, and a band of
Potawatomis and Illinois. In ten canoes the party paddled
southward from Green Bay, for nearly a month buffeting
the tempestuous autumn seas of Lake Michigan. They ascended
the Chicago river for six miles and encamped. Marquette
could go no farther; he was once more prostrated with
illness, and a severe hemorrhage threatened to carry him
off. But his valiant spirit conquered, and during the
winter he was able to minister to some Illinois, who were
encamped a short distance away and who paid him occasional
visits. By the spring he had so far recovered that he
decided to undertake the journey to the Mississippi, his
heart set on founding a mission among the tribes there.
On the 13th of March he and his two helpers broke camp
and portaged their canoe to the Des Plaines. Near the
junction of this river with the Illinois was the Indian
town of Old Kaskaskia. The Indians of this town gave him
a welcome worthy of a conqueror, such as indeed he really
was. He went among them teaching and preaching; but brain
and body were burning with fever; he felt that he had
not long to live, and if he would die among his own people
he must hasten home. He summoned the Indians to a grand
council. And, in one of God's first temples--a meadow
decked with spring flowers and roofed by the blue vault
of heaven--he preached to a congregation of over three
thousand--chiefs, warriors, women, and children. His
sermon finished, he blessed his hearers, and, leaving
his words to sink into their hearts, bade them farewell.
Pierre and Jacques now made ready the canoe, and the
journey to Michilimackinac began. When they reached Lake
Michigan Marquette was only half conscious. While he lay
on the robes piled in the bottom of the canoe, his faithful
henchmen paddled furiously to reach their destination.
But their efforts were in vain; Marquette saw that his
end was approaching and bade them turn the canoe to land.
And on May 19, 1675, on the bleak shore of Lake Michigan,
this hero of the Cross, the greatest of the missionary
explorers, entered into his rest. He was only thirty-eight;
he had not finished his work; he had not realized his
ambitions; but his memory lives, a force for good, as
that of one who dared and endured and passionately followed
the path of the setting sun.