whatever may have been their errors, we must at least accord them the
virtues of _sincerity_, _courage_, _and self-denial_. But let us look a
little more closely at the means by which they accomplished undertakings
which, to any other race of men, would have been not only impracticable,
but utterly desperate. Take again, as the representative of his class,
the case of Father Marquette, than whom, obscure as his name is in the
wastes of history, no man ever lived a more instructive and exemplary
life.
From the year 1668 to 1671,[60] Marquette had been preaching at the
Sault de Sainte Marie, a little below the foot of Lake Superior. He was
associated with others in that mission; but the largest type, though it
thrust itself no higher than the smallest, will make the broadest
impress on the page of history; and even in the meager record of that
time, we may trace the influence of his gentle but firm spirit--those by
whom he was accompanied evidently took their tone from him. But he was
one of the Church's pioneers; that class whose eager, single-hearted
zeal is always pushing forward to new conquests of the faith; and when
he had put aside the weapons that opposed their way, to let his
followers in, his thoughts at once went on to more remote and suffering
regions. During his residence at the Sault, rumors and legends were
continually floating in of the unknown country lying to the west--"the
Land of the Great River," the Indians called it--until the mind of the
good father became fully possessed with the idea of going to convert the
nations who dwelt upon its shores. In the year 1671, he took the first
step in that direction, moving on to Point St. Ignatius, on the main
land, north of the island of Mackinac. Here, surrounded by his little
flock of wondering listeners, he preached until the spring of 1673; but
all the time his wish to carry the gospel where its sound had never been
heard was growing stronger. He felt in his heart the impulse of his
calling, to lead the way and open a path for the advance of light. At
the period mentioned, he received an order from the wise intendant in
New France, M. Talon, to explore the pathless wilderness to the
westward.
Then was seen the true spirit of the man, and of his order. He gathered
together no armament; asked the protection of no soldiers; no part of
the cargo of his little boat consisted of gunpowder, or of swords or
guns; his only arms were the spirit of love and peace; his trust was in
God for protection. Five boatmen, and one companion, the Sieur Joliet,
composed his party. Two light bark canoes were his only means of
travelling; and in these he carried a small quantity of Indian corn and
some jerked meat, his only means of subsistence.
Thus equipped, he set out through Green Bay and up Fox river, in search
of a country never yet visited by any European. The Indians endeavored
to dissuade him, wondering at his hardihood, and still more at the
motives which could induce him thus to brave so many dangers. They told
him of the savage Indians, to whom it would be only pastime to torture
and murder him; of the terrible monsters which would swallow him and his
companions, "canoes and all;" of the great bird called the _Piasau_,[61]
which devoured men, after carrying them in its horrible talons to
inaccessible cliffs and mountains; and of the scorching heat, which
would wither him like a dry leaf. "I thanked them kindly," says the
resolute but gentle father, "for their good counsel; but I told them
that I could not profit by it, since the salvation of souls was at
stake, for which object I would be overjoyed to give my life." Shaking
them by the hand, one by one, as they approached to bid him farewell, as
they thought, for the last time, he turned his back upon safety and
peace, and departed upon his self-denying pilgrimage.
Let him who sits at ease in his cushioned pew at home--let him who
lounges on his velvet-covered sofa in the pulpit, while his well-taught
choir are singing; who rises as the strains are dying, and kneels upon a
cushioned stool to pray; who treads upon soft carpets while he preaches,
in a white cravat, to congregations clad in broadcloth, silk, and
satin--let him pause and ponder on the difference between his works, his
trials, his zeal--ay, and his glory, both of earth and heaven!--and
those of Father James Marquette!
The little party went upon their way; the persuasions of their
simple-hearted friends could not prevail, for the path of duty was
before them, and the eye of God above. Having passed through Green Bay,
and painfully dragged their canoes over the rapids of Fox river, they
reached a considerable village, inhabited by the united tribes of
Kickapoos, Miamis, and Mascoutimes. Here they halted for a time, as the
mariner, about to prove the dangers of a long voyage, lingers for a day
in the last port he is likely to enter for many months. Beyond this
point no white man had ever gone; and here, if anywhere, the impulses of
a natural fear should have made themselves felt. But we hear of no
hesitation, no shrinking from the perilous task; and we know from the
unpretending "Journal" of the good father, that a retreat, nay, even a
halt--longer than was necessary to recruit exhausted strength, and renew
the memory of former lessons among the natives--was never thought of.
"My companion," said Marquette, referring to Joliet, "is an envoy from
the king of France, and I am an humble minister of God. I have no fear,
_because I shall consider it the highest happiness to die in the service
of my master!_" There was no bravado in this, for, unlike many from
whom you may, any day, hear the same declaration, he set forth
immediately to encounter the perils of his embassy.
The Indians, unable to prevail with him to abandon the enterprise, made
all their simple provision for his comfort; and, furnishing him with
guides and carriers across the portage to the Wisconsin river, parted
with him as one bound for eternity. Having brought them safely to the
river, the guides left them "alone in that unknown country, in the hand
of God;" and, trusting to the protection of that hand, they set out upon
their journey down the stream.[62] Seven days after, "with inexpressible
joy," they emerged upon the bosom of the great river. During all this
time they had seen no human being, though, probably, many a wandering
savage had watched them from the covert of the bank, as they floated
silently between the forests. It was an unbroken solitude, where the
ripple of their paddles sounded loudly on the ear, and their voices,
subdued by the stillness, were sent back in lonely echoes from the
shore.
They were the first white men who ever floated on the bosom of that
mighty river[63]--"the envoy from the king of France, and the
embassador of the King of kings." What were their thoughts we know not,
but from Marquette's simple "Journal;" for, in returning to Quebec,
Joliet's boat was wrecked in sight of the city, and all his papers
lost.[64] Of the Sieur himself, we know nothing, save as the companion
of Marquette on this voyage; but from this alone his fame is
imperishable.
They sailed slowly down the river, keeping a constant outlook upon the
banks for signs of those for whose spiritual welfare the good father had
undertaken his perilous journey. But for more than sixty leagues not a
human form or habitation could be seen. They had leisure, more than they
desired, to admire the grand and beautiful scenery of that picturesque
region. In some places the cliffs rose perpendicularly for hundreds of
feet from the water's edge; and nodding over their brows, and towering
against the sky, were stately pines and cedars of the growth of
centuries. Here, there lay between the river and the cliffs, a level
prairie, waving in all the luxuriance of "the leafy month of June;"
while beyond, the bluffs, enclosing the natural garden, softened by the
distance, and clothed in evergreen, seemed but an extension of the
primitive savanna. Here, a dense, primeval forest grew quite down to the
margin of the water; and, hanging from the topmost branches of the giant
oaks, festoons of gray and graceful moss lay floating on the rippled
surface, or dipped within the tide. Here, the large, smooth roots of
trees half undermined, presented seats and footholds, where the pleasant
shade invited them to rest, and shelter from the sultry summer sun.
Anon, an open prairie, with no cliff or bluff beyond, extended
undulating from the river, until the eye, in straining to measure its
extent, was wearied by the effort, and the plain became a waving sea of
rainbow colors; of green and yellow, gold and purple. Again, they passed
a gravelly beach, on which the yellow sand was studded with a thousand
sets of brilliant shells, and little rivulets flowed in from level
prairies, or stealthily crept out from under roots of trees or tangled
vines, and hastened to be hidden in the bosom of the great father of
waters.
They floated on, through the dewy morning hours, when the leaves were
shining in the sunlight, and the birds were singing joyously; before the
summer heat had dried the moisture, or had forced the feathered
songsters to the shade. At noon, when the silence made the solitude
oppressive; when the leaves hung wilting down, nor fluttered in the
fainting wind: when the prairies were no longer waving like the sea, but
trembling like the atmosphere around a heated furnace: when the _mirage_
hung upon the plain: tall trees were seen growing in the air, and among
them stalked the deer, and elk, and buffalo: while between them and the
ground, the brazen sky was glowing with the sun of June: when nothing
living could be seen, save when the _voyageur's_ approach would startle
some wild beast slaking his thirst in the cool river, or a flock of
waterfowl were driven from their covert, where the willow branches,
drooping, dipped their leaves of silvery gray within the water. They
floated on till evening, when the sun approached the prairie, and his
broad, round disc, now shorn of its dazzling beams, defined itself
against the sky and grew florid in the gathering haze: when the birds
began to reappear, and flitted noiselessly among the trees, in busy
preparation for the night: when beasts of prey crept out from
lurking-places, where they had dozed and panted through the hours of
noon: when the wilderness grew vocal with the mingled sounds of lowing
buffalo, and screaming panther, and howling wolf; until the shadows rose
from earth, and travelled from the east; until the dew began to fall,
the stars came out, and night brought rest and dreams of home!
Thus they floated on, "from morn till dewy eve," and still no sign of
human life, neither habitation nor footprint, until one day--it was the
twenty-fifth of June, more than two weeks since they had entered the
wilderness--in gliding past a sandy beach, they recognised the impress
of a naked foot! Following it for some distance, it grew into a trail,
and then a path, once more a place where human beings habitually walked.
Whose feet had trodden down the grass, what strange people lived on the
prairies, they knew not, what dangers might await them, they cared not.
These were the people whom the good father had come so far to convert
and save! And now, again, one might expect some natural hesitation; some
doubt in venturing among those who were certainly barbarians, and who
might, for aught they knew, be brutal cannibals. We could forgive a
little wavering, indeed, especially when we think of the frightful
stories told them by the Northern Indians of this very people. But fear
was not a part of these men's nature; or if it existed, it lay so deep,
buried beneath religious zeal and pious trust, that its voice never
reached the upper air. Leaving the boatmen with the canoes, near the
mouth of the river now called Des Moines, Marquette and Joliet set out
alone, to follow up the trail, and seek the people who had made it. It
led them to an open prairie, one of the most beautiful in the present
state of Iowa, and crossing this, a distance of six miles, they at last
found themselves in the vicinity of three Indian villages. The very
spot[65] where the chief of these stood might now be easily found, so
clear, though brief, is the description of the simple priest. It stood
at the foot of a long slope, on the bank of the river Moingona (or Des
Moines), about six miles due west of the Mississippi; and at the top of
the rise, at the distance of half a league, were built the two others.
"We commended ourselves unto God," writes the gentle father; for they
knew not at what moment they might need his intervention; and crying out
with a loud voice, to announce their approach, they calmly advanced
toward the group of lodges. At a short distance from the entrance to the
village, they were met by a deputation of four old men, who, to their
great joy, they perceived bore a richly-ornamented pipe of peace, the
emblem of friendship and hospitality. Tendering the mysterious calumet,
they informed the Frenchmen that they belonged to one of the tribes
called "Illinois" (or "Men"), and invited them to enter their lodges in
peace: an invitation which the weary _voyageurs_ were but too glad to
accept.
A great council was held, with all the rude but imposing ceremonies of
the grave and dignified Indian; and before the assembled chiefs and
braves, Marquette published his mission from his heavenly Master.
Passing, then, from spiritual to temporal things--for we do not hear of
any address from Joliet, who probably was no orator--he spoke of his
earthly king, and of his viceroy in New France; of his victories over
the Iroquois, the dreaded enemies of the peaceful Western tribes; and
then made many inquiries about the Mississippi, its tributaries, and
the nations who dwelt upon their banks. His advances were kindly
received, his questions frankly answered, and the council broke up with
mutual assurances of good-will. Then ensued the customary festival.
Hominy, fish, buffalo, and _dog-meat_, were successively served up, like
the courses of a more modern table; but of _the last_ "we declined to
partake," writes the good father, no doubt much to the astonishment and
somewhat to the chagrin of their hospitable friends; for even yet, among
the western Indians, dog-meat is a dish of honor.
Six days of friendly intercourse passed pleasantly away, diversified by
many efforts on the part of Marquette to instruct and convert the docile
savages. Nor were these entirely without result; they excited, at least,
the wish to hear more; and on his departure they crowded round him, and
urgently requested him to come again among them. He promised to do so, a
pledge which he afterward redeemed. But now he could not tarry; he was
bent upon his hazardous voyage down the Great River, and he knew that he
was only on the threshold of his grand discoveries. Six hundred
warriors, commanded by their most distinguished chief, accompanied him
back to his boats; and, after hanging around his neck the great calumet,
to protect him among the hostile nations of the south, they parted with
him, praying that the Great Spirit, of whom he had told them, might give
him a prosperous voyage, and a speedy and safe return.
These were the first of the nations of the Mississippi Valley visited by
the French, and it is from them that the state of Illinois takes its
name. They were a singularly gentle people; and a nature originally
peaceful had been rendered almost timid by the cruel inroads of the
murderous Iroquois.[66] These, by their traffic with the Dutch and
English of New-York, and by their long warfare with the French of
Canada, had acquired the use of fire-arms, and, of course, possessed an
immense advantage over those who were armed only with the primitive bow
and arrow. The restless and ambitious spirit of the singular
confederacy, usually called the Five Nations, and known among their
neighbors by the collective name of Iroquois, had carried their
incursions even as far as the hunting-grounds of the Shawanese, about
the mouth of the Ohio; and their successes had made them a terror to all
the western tribes. The Illinois, therefore, knowing the French to be at
war with these formidable enemies, were the more anxious to form an
alliance with them; and the native gentleness of their manners was,
perhaps, increased by the hope of assistance and protection. But,
whatever motives may have influenced them, besides their natural
character, their forethought was of vital service to the wanderers in
the countries of the south, whither they proceeded.
The little party of seven resumed their voyage on the last day of June,
and floating with the rapid current, a few days afterward passed the
rocks, above the site of Alton, where was painted the image of the
ravenous _Piasau_, of which they had been told by the Northern Indians,
and on the same day reached the mouth of the Pekitanoni, the Indian name
for the rapid and turbulent Missouri. Inwardly resolving, at some future
time, to ascend its muddy current, to cross the ridge beyond, and,
descending some river which falls into the Great South sea (as the
Pacific was then called), to publish the gospel to all the people of the
continent, the zealous father passed onward toward the south. Coasting
slowly along the wasting shore, lingering in the mouths of rivers, or
exploring dense forests in the hope of meeting the natives, they
continued on their course until they reached the mouth of a river which
they called the _Ouabache_, or Wabash, none other than the beautiful
Ohio.[67] Here they found the advanced settlement of Shawanese, who had
been pushed toward the southwest by the incessant attacks of the
Iroquois. But by this time, fired with the hope of ascertaining the
outlet of the Mississippi, they postponed their visit to these people
until their return, and floated on.
It is amusing, as well as instructive, to observe how little importance
the travellers gave to the river Ohio, in their geographical
assumptions. In the map published by Marquette with his "Journal," the
"_Ouabisquigou_" as he denominates it, in euphonious French-Indian,
compared to the Illinois or even to the Wisconsin, is but an
inconsiderable rivulet! The lonely wanderers were much farther from the
English settlements than they supposed; a mistake into which they must
have been led, by hearing of the incursions of the Iroquois; for even at
that early day they could not but know that the head-waters of the Ohio
were not distant from the hunting-grounds of that warlike confederacy.
Even this explanation, however, scarcely lessens our wonder that they
should have known so little of courses and distances; for had this river
been as short as it is here delineated, they would have been within four
hundred miles of Montreal.
After leaving the Ohio, they suffered much from the climate and its
incidents; for they were now approaching, in the middle of July, a
region of perpetual summer. Mosquitoes and other venomous insects (in
that region we might even call them _ravenous_ insects) became
intolerably annoying; and the _voyageurs_ began to think they had
reached the country of the terrible heats, which, as they had been
warned in the north, "would wither them up like a dry leaf." But the
prospect of death by torture and savage cruelty had not daunted them,
and they were not now disposed to be turned back by any excess of
climate. Arranging their sails in the form of awnings to protect them
from the sun by day and the dews by night, they resolutely pursued
their way.
Following the course of the river, they soon entered the region of
cane-brakes, so thick that no animal larger than a cat could penetrate
them; and of cotton-wood forests of immense size and of unparalleled
density. They were far beyond the limits of every Indian dialect with
which they had become acquainted--were, in fact, approaching the region
visited by De Soto, on his famous expedition in search of Juan Ponce de
Leon's fountain of youth.[68] The country was possessed by the Sioux and
Chickasaws, to whom the _voyageurs_ were total strangers; but they went
on without fear. In the neighborhood of the southern boundary of the
present state of Arkansas, they were met in hostile array by great
numbers of the natives, who approached them in large canoes made from
the trunks of hollow trees. But Marquette held aloft the symbol of
peace, the ornamented calumet, and the hearts of the savages were
melted, as the pious father believed, by the touch of God. They threw
aside their weapons, and received the strangers with rude but hearty
hospitality. They escorted them, with many demonstrations of welcome, to
the village of Michigamia; and, on the following day, having feasted
their strange guests plentifully, though not with the unsavory meats of
the Illinois, they marched in triumphal procession to the metropolis of
Akansea, about ten leagues distant, down the river.
This was the limit of their voyage. Here they ascertained, beyond a
doubt, that the Mississippi flowed into the gulf of Mexico, and not, as
had been conjectured, into the great South sea. Here they found the
natives armed with axes of steel, a proof of their traffic with the
Spaniards; and thus was the circle of discovery complete, connecting the
explorations of the French with those of the Spanish, and entirely
enclosing the possessions of the English. No voyage so important has
since been undertaken--no results so great have ever been produced by so
feeble an expedition. The discoveries of Marquette, followed by the
enterprises of La Salle and his successors, have influenced the
destinies of nations; and passing over all political speculations, this
exploration first threw open a valley of greater extent, fertility, and
commercial advantages, than any other in the world. Had either the
French or the Spanish possessed the stubborn qualities which _hold_, as
they had the useful which _discover_, the aspect of this continent
would, at this day, have been far different.
On the seventeenth of July, having preached to the Indians the glory of
God and the Catholic faith, and proclaimed the power of the _Grand
Monarque_--for still we hear nothing of speech-making or delivering
credentials on the part of Joliet--he set out on his return. After
severe and wasting toil for many days, they reached a point, as
Marquette supposed, some leagues below the mouth of the Moingona, or Des
Moines. Here they left the Mississippi, and crossed the country between
that river and the Illinois, probably passing through the very country
which now bears the good father's name, entering the latter stream at a
point not far from the present town of Peoria. Proceeding slowly up that
calm river, preaching to the tribes along its banks, and partaking of
their hospitality, he was at last conducted to Lake Michigan, at
Chicago, and by the end of September was safe again in Green Bay, having
travelled, since the tenth of June, more than three thousand miles.
It might have been expected that one who had made so magnificent a
discovery--who had braved so much and endured so much--would wish to
announce in person, to the authorities in Canada, or in France, the
results of his expedition. Nay, it would not have been unpardonable had
he desired to enjoy, after his labors, something of the consideration to
which their success entitled him. And, certainly, no man could ever have
approached his rulers with a better claim upon their notice than could
the unpretending _voyageur_. But vainglory was no more a part of his
nature, than was fear. The unaspiring priest remained at Green Bay, to
continue, or rather to resume, as a task laid aside only for a time, his
ministrations to the savages. Joliet hastened on to Quebec to report the
expedition, and Marquette returned to Chicago, for the purpose of
preaching the gospel to the Miami confederacy; several allied tribes who
occupied the country between Lake Michigan and the Des Moines river.
Here again he visited the Illinois, speaking to them of God, and of the
religion of Jesus; thus redeeming a promise which he had made them, when
on his expedition to the South.
But his useful, unambitious life was drawing to a close. Let us
describe its last scene in the words of our accomplished historian:--