told them where there was a portage to the head-waters of the Kankakee
River. So, desirous of moving onward, they followed him down stream
and paddled for a hundred miles on the muddy waters, which wound
through marshes and a dense growth of tall rushes and alder bushes. The
adventurers became much in need of provisions, for at this season the
buffalo had traveled south; yet, they succeeded in killing two deer,
several wild turkeys, and a few swans. Providence also came to their
relief, for a stray buffalo was found sticking fast in a marsh, and it
was therefore captured with ease.
At length the canoes floated upon the waters of the Illinois River,
and, as they paddled onward, the voyagers came upon an Indian village
where were great quantities of corn. The inhabitants had departed upon
a hunt, so the ravenous Frenchmen appropriated a large store of grain
for their own use. They kept on their way, reached a great lake, called
Lake Peoria, and found a second Indian village upon the bank, the
inhabitants of which met them with great friendliness and good will.
Here La Salle decided to build a fort. It was named Fort Crèvecœur,
or the Broken Heart, so called because of the sadness which he had
experienced at the loss of the good ship _Griffin_. The men also
constructed a brigantine, forty-two feet long and twelve feet broad, in
which it was hoped to make further discoveries in the Mississippi. When
it had been completed, a priest, called Father Hennepin, was sent down
the Illinois River to make further explorations, not in this boat, but
in a canoe, accompanied by two Frenchmen and an Indian; while La Salle,
himself, determined to begin an overland journey to Fort Frontenac,
assisted by three Frenchmen and an Indian hunter. The Chevalier de
Tonty was left in command of the fort, with sixteen men and two
missionaries.
La Salle had quite an undertaking before him, but he did not quail. He
was to travel over land, and on foot, through vast forests and through
bogs and morasses, to Fort Frontenac, a distance of twelve hundred
miles. He had to journey along the southern shores of Lake Erie and
Lake Ontario, ford numerous rivers and cross others on rafts, all of
this in a season when snow hid the ground and floating ice rendered
traveling most fatiguing. Nothing seemed impossible to his strong heart
and unbending resolution. Shouldering his knapsack and musket, he bade
adieu to his companions of the wilderness, and set his face towards far
distant Canada.
No record has been preserved of the incidents of his long and perilous
journey from the slow-moving Illinois to the blue and sparkling St.
Lawrence. At any rate, he arrived without mishap at Fort Frontenac,
where he was chagrined and mortified to find his affairs in a condition
of confusion that was deplorable. His heaviest loss, of course, was
that of the _Griffin_, with her cargo valued at twelve thousand
dollars; but, besides this mishap, he found that his agents had
despoiled him of all the profits of his trade. Some of his employees,
in fact, had stolen his goods and had run away with them to the Dutch
of New York. A rumor had been circulated to the effect that he and
his whole party had been drowned on their voyage up the lakes, so his
creditors had seized upon his effects, and had wasted them by forced
sales. All Canada seemed to have conspired against him. Many a less
resolute heart than his own would have failed, but despair was never
known to settle upon the mind of the Chevalier La Salle. He was the
first Theodore Roosevelt of the United States.
The adventurer had still one friend left,—Count Frontenac, whose
influence and authority was now exerted in his favor. They discussed
together the Mississippi problem and determined to give up the plan
of navigating this mighty water-course in a ship. Instead, La Salle
decided to prosecute his explorations with canoes.
He engaged more men, left Fort Frontenac on the 23d. day of July, 1680,
and, although detained by head winds on Lake Ontario, reached Mackinac
during the month of September. By offering brandy in exchange for
Indian corn, he soon had enough to satisfy his needs, and, embarking on
the rough waters of Lake Michigan, at length arrived at the mouth of
the river Miami. The fort which he had left there had been plundered
and dismantled!
Journeying south, La Salle reached the villages of the Illinois,
which he found had been sacked and burned by the Iroquois during his
absence. He saw nothing of Tonty and those Frenchmen whom he had left
behind him, a proof that they had either been killed or dispersed. So
he returned to the Miami River and here spent the winter, visiting the
Indian tribes near Lake Michigan. Here he learned that the Iroquois
had attacked the settlements of the Illinois with vindictive ferocity,
during his absence, driving the red men far westward across the
Mississippi. As for the Frenchmen, whom he had left behind him, no one
seemed to know what had become of them.
Towards the end of May, 1681, the vigorous explorer left the Miami
River, and, after a prosperous voyage, once more entered the harbor of
Mackinac. What was his joy to here find the Chevalier Tonty and those
Frenchmen, whom he had last seen in the wilderness. They had passed
through great dangers, but had at length escaped from the bloodthirsty
Iroquois and had reached the French fortress, lean, haggard, but
praising God that they had escaped with their lives. La Salle embraced
them all, gave them presents of firearms and blankets, and begged them
to accompany him again into the wilderness.
The Chevalier was now determined to journey down the entire length of
the Mississippi, and, with this end in view, took into his service
a company of Frenchmen, together with a number of eastern Indians,
Abenakis, and Loups, or Mahingans, as they were called by the French
writers. Putting Fort Frontenac in command of the Sieur de La Forest,
he journeyed by canoe to Niagara, where a stockade had recently been
built, called Fort de Tonty, and thence embarked with his entire
company in canoes for the Miami River, which he reached in safety. Six
weeks were now spent in making arrangements for the great trip down the
river.
There were twenty-three Frenchmen in the party, eighteen savages, ten
Indian women, and three children. The redskins insisted on taking these
women with them to prepare their food, according to their custom, while
they were fishing and hunting. When all was ready the adventurers
started for the mouth of the Chicago River, which was found to be
frozen.
Undaunted, the explorers passed down the water-course on sleds, down
the Illinois to Lake Peoria, and thence to the muddy waters of the
Mississippi. They had a peaceful passage southward, hunting much and
fishing in the stream, and eventually arrived at the Chickasaw Bluffs.
Here redskins were met with, who gave them kind treatment, and, pushing
on, the little party soon arrived at a mighty village of the Arkansas
Indians.
[Illustration: _Copyright, 1903, by The Singer Manufacturing Company,
and used through the courtesy of the copyright owners._
LA SALLE AT THE MOUTH OF THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER]
These redskins were a frank and open-hearted people of gentle manners,
and very hospitable. The Sieur de La Salle was treated with marked
deference and respect. He took possession of the country in the name
of the King of France, erected a cross, and adorned it with the arms
of his native country. This was done with great pomp and ceremony, the
savages believing that it was a ritual for their amusement. Two weeks
were pleasantly spent among the red men and then the voyagers kept on
their way.
The journey to the mouth of the mighty water-course was easy and
pleasant. Many Indian tribes were met with, but no battles occurred.
Finally, on the 6th. day of April, the river was observed to divide
itself into three channels, so the Sieur de La Salle separated his
company into three divisions and, putting himself at the head of one of
them, he took the western channel, the Chevalier de Tonty the middle,
and the Sieur Dautray the eastern. The water soon became brackish,
then salt, until, at last, the broad ocean opened up before them. La
Salle encamped for the night about twelve miles above the mouth of
the western branch, and the next day he and Tonty examined the shores
bordering on the sea in order to ascertain the depth of the waters in
the two principal channels. The day following was employed in searching
for a dry place, removed from the tide and the inundation of the
rivers, on which to erect a column and a cross. Next day this ceremony
was performed.
All the Frenchmen were drawn up under arms, while a column was erected
with this inscription:
“_Louis the Great, King of France and Navarre, reigns; the 9th. of
April, 1682._”
The _Te Deum_ was now chanted and the soldiers discharged their muskets
with shouts of _Long Live the King!_ La Salle then made a formal
speech, taking possession of the whole country of Louisiana for the
French King, the nations and people contained therein, the seas and
harbors adjacent, and all the streams flowing into the Mississippi,
which he called the great river St. Louis. A leaden plate was then
buried at the foot of a tree, with a Latin inscription, containing the
arms of France and the date, and stating that La Salle, Tonty, Lenobe,
and twenty Frenchmen were the first to navigate the river from the
Illinois to its mouth. The cross was then erected with appropriate
ceremonies. At the same time an account of these proceedings was drawn
up, in the form of a Proces Verbal, certified by a Notary and signed by
thirteen of the principal persons of the expedition.
La Salle felt happy, for he had seen, he had come, he had conquered!
Although the journey up the Mississippi was without danger, La Salle,
when he reached the upper courses, was seized with a dangerous illness
which made it impossible for him to go forward for forty days. The
Chevalier de Tonty was dispatched to Mackinac in order to inform the
Count de Frontenac of the particulars of the voyage, and then, by slow
stages, La Salle reached the Miami River, where he arrived by the end
of September.
Tonty was faithful and accurate in executing his orders, so faithful
that, shortly afterwards, when La Salle was well enough to sail for
France, he left him in charge of all his interests during his absence.
The explorer met with a favorable reception in the old world, and it
was decided that an expedition should be fitted out, for which the
Government should provide vessels, troops, munitions, and such other
supplies as were wanted: the whole to be under his command. He was
authorized to establish colonies in Louisiana, and to take command of
the immense country and all of its inhabitants from Lake Michigan to
the borders of Mexico. He was given four vessels and was furnished with
two hundred and eighty men.
Certainly his own government thought well of him, even if other people
did not, so he and his men started for the Gulf of Mexico, determined
to there found a colony which would perpetuate the name of France for
all time in the Western Hemisphere.
The history of this expedition is an unfortunate one. In four vessels
the adventurers crossed the ocean, intending to land at the mouth of
the Mississippi. There were about two hundred and eighty persons in
all, including many missionaries and soldiers, the latter being an
assemblage of vagabonds and beggars from the streets, some of whom had
never handled a musket. The vessels touched at the island of Santo
Domingo, then crossed over into the Gulf of Mexico, heading, as all
thought, for the mouth of the Mississippi. But such was not the case,
and the explorers touched land near the borders of Mexico, at the
Magdalen River, where the soil was barren and sandy, and where there
was little game.
At different times, parties landed, hunted the wild buffalo, and
explored the flat and somewhat desolate country. They constructed a
fort with the timbers and planks of one of their ships, which floated
ashore after the vessel went to pieces, and also with drift wood from
the beach. After this was done, the Sieur de La Salle, taking fifty men
with him, set out on a tour of discovery, finding a flat game-filled
country and a noble river which he called the Vaches, because of the
great numbers of wild cows, or buffaloes, seen upon its banks. This
name it still retains.
After a journey of considerable length, the Chevalier returned, built
a new fort, and then set out upon another journey of discovery. Many
of his men died of exposure and rattlesnake bites, but this never
disturbed the even calm of his manner. He pressed on, found the great
Colorado River, and crossed it, penetrating into the wilderness for
many miles. After an absence of more than four months, La Salle was
again received with joy by the colonists at the fort. His men were
ragged in dress, some without hats, and all were haggard and worn by
exposure.
The Indians had always shown themselves to be hostile and had murdered
several of the French explorers when they had strayed away from their
companies. Of the four vessels which had brought over the expedition,
three had returned, and the last, the _la Belle_, had been destroyed
by a storm. The Sieur de La Salle was thus cut off from all supplies
in a new country, two thousand miles from any civilized settlement to
which he could look for succor, and surrounded on every side by hostile
savages. It is no wonder that many of his followers were dissatisfied
and miserably unhappy, some even plotted to kill their great and
gallant leader.
Of the many expeditions which I have taken into the wilderness, with
parties of men, none has ever been tranquil throughout. There is
always some evil dispositioned fellow along, who raises a disturbance,
makes others unhappy, and, by his surly manner, creates uneasiness and
distrust, so that all are happy when the settlements have been reached
and the malcontents have been allowed to go their ways in peace.
So it was here. There were several Frenchmen of a jealous and mean
disposition, who, feeling ill-humored because of their hardships in the
wilderness, felt it their duty to murder the only true man among them
all: the valiant leader. It was easy to succeed in their evil design.
Somewhere on the Mississippi River was the Chevalier Tonty, the
staunch friend and companion of La Salle, and a man who was as brave
and as valiant as this courageous Frenchman. Why not go in search
of him? The proposition was a good one, and La Salle determined to
take only the bravest and the strongest; to travel eastward; to reach
the Mississippi, and to there find, if possible, his brave and noble
companion-in-arms.
This was a wonderful trip. The valiant Frenchman and his companions
crossed unknown rivers, broad prairies, and flat plateaus. A crocodile
seized one of the soldiers by the leg and dragged him to destruction,
in one instance; in another, several of the French adventurers were
badly gored by buffalo.
La Salle finally reached the land of the Cencis Indians, the future
home of many a Daniel Boone, a perfect paradise for the sportsman and
a land of noble rivers, beautiful valleys, and much wild game. He was
charmed with it, he reveled in its scenery, its beautiful valleys,
its wonderful water courses, yet, here it was that he was to meet his
end, an event as sad and tragic as any of the great events of American
history.
On the 15th. day of March, 1687, the adventurers came to a place where
the Sieur de La Salle had buried a quantity of Indian corn and beans on
his last journey, and he ordered his followers, Duhaut, Hiens, Liolot,
Larcheveque, Teissier, Nika, and his footman Saget, to go and bring it
away. They found the place, but the corn and the beans were spoiled.
Nika was fortunate in killing two buffalo, and the others dispatched
Saget to inform the commander of this fact, and requested him to send
horses for the meat. La Salle, consequently, directed Moraquet, De
Marie, and Saget to return with horses and to send back one of them
loaded with the flesh of the buffalo, for immediate use, and to wait
until the rest was dried.
Moraquet arrived, found that the meat had been smoked, though it was
not dry enough for this process, and Duhaut and the others had laid
aside certain parts to be roasted for themselves, which, it seems,
was the custom on similar occasions. Moraquet, in a passionate manner,
reprimanded them for what they had done, and took away, not only the
smoked meat, but the pieces which they had reserved, saying, in a
menacing tone:
“Comrades, I will do with it as I please!”
This irritated the rest. Duhaut had an old grudge against Moraquet,
and was quite ready to take revenge. He brought over Liolot and Hiens
to help him accomplish his purpose, and finally the others, and they
determined to murder Moraquet, Nika and Saget. In the night, when the
unsuspecting victims were asleep, they were butchered with an ax.
The bloody work had commenced, why not let it continue? The
conspirators laid a scheme, on the spot, to destroy the Sieur de La
Salle. They would shoot him.
Meantime, the courageous leader of the expedition expressed anxiety at
the long absence of Moraquet, and seemed to have forebodings of some
unhappy event. He feared, indeed, that the whole party might have been
cut off by the savages. He determined, finally, to go in search of
them, leaving the camp on the 19th. day of March, in charge of Jontel.
With Father Anastase, and two natives who had served him as guides, he
started out to look for his companions in arms.
The valiant French explorer traveled for about six miles, when he found
the bloody cravat of Saget, one of the murdered men, near the bank of a
river, and, at the same time, two eagles were seen hovering over their
heads, as if attracted by food somewhere on the ground.
La Salle thought that the party must be near, and fired his gun to draw
the attention of those whom he wished to find. Duhaut and Larcheveque
immediately came across the river and advanced to meet him. La Salle
approached, saying:
“Where is the good Moraquet? Has anything happened to him?”
“He is along the river,” answered Larcheveque.
At that moment, Duhaut, who was concealed in the high grass, discharged
his musket, and shot the unsuspecting Chevalier through the head. He
fell forward upon his face, and Father Anastase, who was standing at
his side, expected to share the same fate, until the conspirators told
him that they had no design upon his life.
La Salle lived for about an hour, unable to speak, but continually
pressed the hand of the good priest to signify that he understood
what was said to him. Finally he passed away, and was buried by the
kind father, who shed tears over the body of this brave and valiant
adventurer.
Thus perished the wise Chevalier: generous, engaging, adroit, skillful,
and capable of any accomplishment. He died in the full vigor of life,
in the midst of his career and his labors, without the consolation
of having seen the results of his great explorations. In some of the
higher attributes of character, such as personal courage and endurance,
undaunted resolution, patience under trials, and perseverance in
contending with obstacles and struggling through embarrassments that
might appall the stoutest heart, there is, I believe, no man who
surpassed this Sieur de La Salle. He was cool and intrepid at all
times, never yielding for a moment to despair, or even to despondency,
and he bore the heavy burden of his responsibilities manfully until
the end. To him and to good Father Marquette must be mainly ascribed
the discovery of the vast regions of the Mississippi Valley and its
subsequent occupation and settlement by the French. His name must
therefore always hold a high position among those adventurous souls who
struggled to conquer, to colonize, and to explore the vast American
Continent, when it was a wilderness inhabited by wild men and wild
beasts, and unknown to those of a white complexion.
A SONG OF THE MISSISSIPPI
Down where the muddied waters run and boil in a rushing flood,
On the banks of the stream, as if in a dream, a stalwart Frenchman
stood.
And the mocking bird from a blossoming spray sang a song which was
joyous and gay;
As the welcoming sun shone on cutlass and gun, these words he trilled
through the day:
“_La Salle! La Salle! O brave La Salle!_
_You’re a man of France, I know,_
_La Salle! La Salle! O good La Salle!_
_You can shoot with the gun and the bow._
_La Salle! La Salle! O true La Salle!_
_I salute your courage and love,_
_For the lilies of France, may they wave, may they dance, o’er this
watery waste from above._”
And the Frenchman raised his eyes on high and sighed as he gazed afar,
Where the buffalo grunted and roared on the plain, and the dun-colored
prong-horns are.
And he swore an oath, it was round and long, to protect this land for
France,
By hook and crook, by sword and book, by pike and silvery lance.
“_La Salle! La Salle! O brave La Salle!”_
_Sang the bird on the waving branch,_
_“La Salle! La Salle! O good La Salle!_
_You’re a soldier true and staunch._
_O take this land, with its silvery sand, for the King and Queen you
serve;_
_And bring us peace; make the redskins cease,_
_From warfare make them swerve._”
So the Frenchman stayed, and his men were afraid to leave the land
he’d found,
Yet they hated their leader bold and brave, and determined to have him
downed.
And they hatched a plot, the bloodthirsty lot, to shoot the bold and
good,
Alas! ’twas sad that men were so bad, for they killed him where he
stood.
And the Mississippi gurgled on; it romped, it waved, it ran,
It pushed by silvery beaches, and it curled by the homes of man,
While the mocker sat on the whispery branch, it sang and caroled away:
“_La Salle! La Salle! O brave La Salle!_
_Too bad! Too bad! Good day!_”
ROBERT EDWIN PEARY:
DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH POLE.
(1856-)
_Where the green bergs go careening past,_
_ And the white bears gambol and fight,_
_Where the little auks whimper and whisper a tale_
_Of the Ice King’s palace of white._
_Where the musk-oxen frisk and frolic,_
_Where the walrus fondles his mate,_
_’Tis there that a man, who was built on a plan_
_Of steel, went forth to his fate._
_O’er the glittering hills of the ice-pack,_
_O’er the floe and the treacherous lead,_
_The brown dogs hauled the loaded sledge_
_With courage and quickening speed._
_With Eskimos tried and trusted,_
_With a negro of steadfast soul,_
_He shook out the flag of the U. S. A._
_And placed it on top of the Pole._
ROBERT EDWIN PEARY:
DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH POLE.
(1856-)
IMAGINE the sensation which was caused when there suddenly appeared in
the newspapers the following telegram:
“April the 6th., 1909. Stars and Stripes nailed to the Pole.
PEARY.”
People were astonished and looked amazed. Could it be possible that
the North Pole had at last been discovered, after hundreds of years of
effort upon the part of numerous adventurers, many of whom had never
come back to tell the tale? Was it true that, after twenty-three years
of effort, Commander Peary had at last reached the most northern point
upon the earth’s surface? Yes, it seemed to be the fact. At last the
North Pole had been trod upon by the foot of a white man.
Instantly the news was scattered from St. John’s, New Brunswick, and
from New York, to the four corners of the globe, and a great shout of
enthusiastic congratulation went up from every place where civilized
men were gathered together, for all the world had been watching the
plucky commander of the United States Navy, who, for twenty-three
years, had been working upon the problem of how to reach the North
Pole. “Hurrah! Hurrah for Peary!” was heard on every side. “He has been
victorious where hundreds have failed. Again Hurrah!”
Those who disbelieved the first telegram were soon assured by others
that the Pole had really been reached, for Mr. Herbert L. Bridgman,
Secretary of the Peary Arctic Club, was telegraphed to as follows:
“Pole reached. _Roosevelt_ safe.
PEARY.”
And, still later, the Commander’s devoted wife at South Harpswell,
Maine, received the message:
“Have made good at last. I have the old Pole. Am well. Love. Will wire
again from Chateau.
BERT.”
Now there could be no doubt that the great feat had really been
accomplished and soon a wireless message from Indian Harbor, Labrador,
told that the good ship _Roosevelt_ was there with all safe on board,
and was steaming southward as fast as she was able.