mental vigor outwardly, though at seventy incessant wear and tear had
begun to tell on a constitution and will of iron. His eye had not lost
its fire, nor his step its elasticity, but a deep crease between the
brows gave a look of care to his face, and bespoke the power and habit
of concentrated thought. His complexion was florid, his moustache,
imperial, and eyebrows, white as snow. Notwithstanding a certain cast of
sensuality there, the face, if not noble, had that decided distinction
about it which impressed the beholder with the idea that he was in the
presence of no ordinary man. Men called him the savior of Canada, for
he had been sent at a most critical moment to retrieve, if possible,
the blunders, the incapacity of his predecessor, Denonville. Crafty,
supple, acute, he was the very man to comprehend Indian diplomacy, to
penetrate or baffle Indian duplicity, or by a politic act to disarm
the hostility of these wily adversaries. At the same time, he not only
knew when and where to strike the most deadly blows, but how to draw
from success in war the most important, the most fruitful results. The
Iroquois, who waged incessant and destructive warfare against Canada,
called him the great Onontio. He had not disdained to join an Indian
war-dance, in which he was the first to strike the war-post with his
hatchet. He harangued his savage allies in their own sententious and
highly imaginative rhetoric, imitated their own methods of war, and even
their atrocities in roasting prisoners alive,—to the end, perhaps, that
the Indians might admire in him the qualities which they most valued in
themselves.
JOLIET AND MARQUETTE.
"_Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war._"
In Louis Joliet,[1] Talon, the intendant,[2] found the man he wanted.
Joliet promised to see the mouth of the Mississippi before he came back
to give an account of himself, and being already a veteran explorer, no
less was expected of him than that he would keep his word.
We remember that exploration and conversion were now always to go hand
in hand. One of the Jesuit missionaries at the Lakes was therefore
named by his superior to go along with Joliet. This was Father James
Marquette. Father Marquette was then in charge of the mission at
Michilimackinac, where Joliet found him impatiently expecting his
coming, for ever since Marquette had heard the Indians talk about the
great river, the wish to make a pilgrimage to it had lain next his
heart. He prayed the Virgin to obtain for him this boon, and his prayer
had been granted at last. Marquette had also heard of the Missouri, and
the natives who dwelt in prodigious numbers along its banks. All these
things he was anxious to see with his own eyes in order to know how far
the truth would agree with what had been told him. He was impatient to
carry the gospel among all these lost tribes, to whom he felt himself
called by special appointment of Heaven.
The explorers set out from Mackinac[3] in May, 1673, in two canoes.
They were seven men in all. Coasting Lake Michigan[4] till they came to
Green Bay, they entered Fox River, crossed Lake Winnebago, and on the
7th of June reached the Mascoutin Village, where to Marquette's great
joy a cross[5] was standing unharmed among the wigwams to signify that
Christians had already been there.
They had now reached the farthest limit of previous exploration. So far
as known no traveller had gone beyond this spot.
[Illustration: MARQUETTE'S MAP.]
At this place the explorers took Indian guides. Setting out again on the
10th, they forced the canoes slowly along through shallow waters, choked
with wild rice, which grew so tall about them as almost to meet above
their heads, till they could go no farther. Then lifting the canoes from
the water, the explorers bore them on their shoulders across the prairie
to the Wisconsin, upon which they again launched them.
"They glided calmly down the tranquil stream, by islands choked with
trees and matted with entangling grape-vines, by forests, groves and
prairies, the parks and pleasure-grounds of a prodigal Nature; by
thickets and marshes and broad bare sandbars; under the shadowing
trees, between whose tops looked down from afar the bold brow of some
woody bluff. At night the bivouac—the canoes inverted on the bank, the
flickering fire, the meal of bison flesh or venison, the evening pipes,
and slumber beneath the stars; and when in the morning they embarked
again, the mist hung on the river like a bridal veil, then melted before
the sun, till the glassy water and the languid woods basked breathless
in the sultry glare."
[Illustration: WILD RICE.]
On the 17th of June, Marquette and Joliet reached the site of Prairie
du Chien. Here the Wisconsin was swallowed up in the broad current
of a mightier stream whose dark waters swept by without pause, like
something conscious of its power. No sooner had they looked than the
eager explorers knew it for the object of their hopes and prayers. A few
vigorous strokes of the paddles, and they were floating on its majestic
tide lost in wonder and praise, for the half had not been told them.
There could be no mistake. The long-sought Mississippi had been found
again.
With cautious strokes and watchful eyes the canoes were steered
southward. Sometimes sailing in the dark shadows of overhanging forests
where danger might lurk unseen, again gliding on through sunny prairies,
unfolding vistas of quiet beauty to the view, the delighted explorers
kept on their venturous course. It was a voyage which threw around them
the charm of an exceeding loveliness.
Now and then the party would land to cook a hasty meal, but not knowing
what sort of people they might meet with, they dared not sleep on shore.
So at nightfall the canoes were anchored off in the stream. For a whole
week they floated on in a primeval solitude. No sign of the hand of
man was to be seen about them. No human voice was raised in welcome or
in warning. All was silent as at the creation. Herds of bison, grazing
along the banks, raised their shaggy heads to gaze in wonder at the
passing travellers, but in all this time nothing in human form appeared
to molest them.
One day the explorers saw footprints upon the shore. Consulting
together, they resolved to follow them. Leaving the canoes in charge of
their men, Joliet and Marquette set out. The path led to a village whose
inhabitants sallied forth at the strange white men's halloo, amazed to
see them there. The chief men offered the peace-pipe. Marquette asked
them what people they were.
"We are the Illinois," was the ready reply. Then the two Frenchmen knew
they were among friends[6] who would tell them what they wanted to know
about the river below—what people they were likely to fall in with,
and whether friendly or not. The Illinois feasted the strangers, and
spread buffalo-robes for them to sleep on, but urged them not to think
of descending the river farther on account of the demon which guarded
the passage.
Going back to their comrades, with the whole village for an escort,
the explorers pushed off again on their voyage. First they passed the
Illinois, with its remarkable rocks. Next the Missouri,[7] child of
the mountains, poured its turbid flood into the clear waters of the
Mississippi with such impetuous force as to cut its way through to the
opposite bank, so giving its own dull hue to the whole stream.
[Illustration: ILLINOIS.]
Getting clear of all dangers, the adventurous voyagers next passed
the mouth of the Ohio, or Beautiful River. Day after day they floated
on between forests of cypress, only once meeting with Indians by the
way, till they had descended as far as the mouth of the Arkansas, when
suddenly a fleet of war canoes was seen putting off from the shore
to cut them off. In vain Marquette waved the calumet,[8] which the
Illinois had given him to be his safeguard, and which among savages is
the symbol of peace. The young warriors fitted their arrows and bent
their bows. In another moment the explorers would have been riddled with
arrows, but for the timely arrival of the elders who called out to the
young men to stay their hands. With these the French now held a parley,
and having made known their pacific intentions, were suffered to land
and were kindly treated.
With the help of one among them who understood a little of the Illinois
tongue, Marquette was able to make his purpose to reach the sea
understood. He now learned that this was not the principal town of the
Arkansas nation. That was eight or ten leagues farther down the river.
So the next day the Frenchmen went on to the greater town,[9] where
they hoped to learn all they wished to know.
Strangely enough, the explorers had now reached the very point made
memorable by the coming of De Soto a century and a half earlier. And as
if his fate had cast a spell over the spot where they stood following
the course of the great river with their eyes till it was lost in the
distance, neither Joliet nor Marquette was destined to pass beyond it.
[Illustration: WAR CANOE, FROM LA HONTAN.]
Here the Indians gave the explorers a feast, while holding a council
upon the question whether they could or could not proceed with safety.
In return the whites distributed gifts among the Indians. These Indians
had little food except corn, of which they raised three crops each year.
In addition to this, they gave their visitors dog's flesh to eat, as a
mark of honorable treatment. Although they had knives and hatchets of
European make, and could mould rude earthenware pots and jars to cook
their food in, these people were of lower condition than those who lived
higher up the river, although from symmetry of form they were known as
the "handsome men." The men went entirely nude; the women wore skins
about their loins.
They told Marquette that the people lower down would never let him pass
through their country; that they were a people who had fire-arms and
knew how to use them. This made them so formidable to their neighbors,
that these Arkansas dared not hunt the buffalo in that country, though
the plains there were alive with them.
[Illustration: THE CALUMET.]
Such ill reports touching the obstacles in the way of further progress
decided the explorers to turn back, although the Indians said the sea
was only ten journeys distant. They were too few to fight. Their capture
would most surely frustrate the whole purpose of the expedition. All
felt that this chance should not be risked. They had at least gone far
enough to settle the vexed question about the outlet to the sea. All
indications pointed to the Gulf of Mexico.
It is evident that the explorers took counsel of their own wishes,
perhaps of their own fears, in making their decision to go back. Be that
as it may, Joliet had not kept his promise to Talon.
On the 17th of July the explorers began their long journey homeward.
They were weeks making their way back to the Illinois, into which they
turned their canoes, knowing it would shorten the journey. Ascending
this river to the Indian town of Kaskaskia, the party procured guides
who conducted them to Lake Michigan.
FOOTNOTES
[1] LOUIS JOLIET had studied for the priesthood, which he
renounced to become a trader. Talon sent him to Lake Superior
to search for the copper-mines of which the French heard so
much. Though unsuccessful in this, Joliet collected much
information which subsequently proved of service to his
employers. He made a map showing his discoveries at the time
of his trip with Marquette, who also made the one inserted
in the text, on which the Mississippi is called River of the
Conception, though Joliet, on his map, calls it Colbert River,
after the celebrated minister of Louis XIV.
[2] TALON, the intendant, was one of the most sagacious
advocates of the French movement into the Far West. He wished
to establish a French port at the mouth of the Mississippi,
to check the Spaniards.
[3] MACKINAC is the shortening of the original lengthy word
which is pronounced as if spelled Mackinaw.
[4] LAKE MICHIGAN was first called Lake of the Illinois. This
name often appears on maps of the last century, though the
present one superseded it in time. It is not needful to give
all the different titles given by different explorers. Their
name is legion.
[5] A CROSS. Doubtless one erected by Fathers Dablon and
Allouez; see preceding chapter.
[6] AMONG FRIENDS, because they had articles of French make,
showing them to have intercourse with French traders. The
village referred to is supposed to have been at the mouth of
the Des Moines.
[7] THE MISSOURI is first identified by Marquette, who
calls it Pekitanoüi on his map. The Indians told him that by
following it he might go to the sea, referring probably to
the Platte and Colorado route to the Gulf of California.
[8] THE CALUMET, or peace-pipe. "Men do not pay to the crowns
and sceptres of kings the honor Indians pay to the calumet;
it seems to be the god of peace and war, the arbiter of life
and death. Carry it about you and show it, and you can march
fearlessly. There is a calumet for peace and one for war,
distinguished only by the color of the feathers with which
they are adorned, red being the sign of war. They use them
also for settling disputes, strengthening alliances, and
speaking to strangers."—_Marquette._
[9] THE GREATER TOWN, according to Marquette's map, was then
on the east bank.
THE MAN LA SALLE.
"_Eagles fly above, but sheep flock together._"—_Spanish._
The Mississippi had now been struck at two points. Its course had been
explored for six hundred miles, glimpses of its greatness had been
caught, its mysteries partly solved. A man of greater mark now put his
hand to the completion of what Marquette and Joliet had left unfinished.
Robert Cavelier de la Salle[1] was no simple explorer, having some
little education, like Joliet, or pious missionary, whose sole object
was to make proselytes, like Marquette.
La Salle was a man of far different mould. In him the man of brains,
of ideas, of resources, of unbending will, were all joined in one. He
was a serious man,—a man of heroic patience, whose highest qualities
shone forth brightest in moments of supreme trial. Disaster, calumny,
treachery, disease, assailed by turns, but could never crush his
indomitable spirit. Whether he stood alone amid the wreck of his
projects, or was confronted by unforeseen perils, his fortitude never
forsook him. Although rather stern than indulgent toward his men, there
was that in him which commanded respect and obedience; more, La Salle
did not desire. He was the master-spirit of his own enterprises—the
originator and executor of them—not the simple agent of other men's
schemes. From a study of the man, in the light of what he aimed to do
and what he actually achieved, we should say that, "Where there's a will
there's a way," was the inspiration of La Salle's efforts, and unique
maxim of his career.
[Illustration: CAVELIER DE LA SALLE.]
But La Salle had his drawbacks also. Naturally thoughtful and reserved
he lived too much apart, in himself, to be a good companion in the
wandering republic of which he was the head, though his followers
learned to look up to him if they could not love him. He could not
unbosom himself to his inferiors, nor could they understand that mixture
of pride and reserve which wrapped him about like a garment. What they
took for austerity of manner was the absorption of the man in himself.
Those who knew him best would have followed him to the end of the world,
but La Salle was so constituted that few could know him. Of all this La
Salle, himself, was unconscious. His responsibilities were too great,
his cares too many, for indulgence in trivial things. With minds like
Louis XIV., Colbert or Frontenac, the case was different. La Salle
impressed them as no ordinary man could. So when the possibility of
getting control of our continent by stretching a chain of French posts
from Quebec to the St. Lawrence unfolded itself to his mind, in its
grandeur, the King at once saw in La Salle the fittest man for the work.
And La Salle knew no such word as fail.
[Illustration: MAP SHOWING LA SALLE'S EXPLORATIONS]
La Salle was one of those who in the beginning believed the Mississippi
flowed into the Vermilion Sea. If we may put faith in appearances, his
original idea was not so much to descend the great river to its mouth,
as to make his way across the continent to the great South Sea, and so
to reach China and Japan. And the name of La Chine,[2] which La Salle
gave his own residence, at Montreal, really seems an indication of what
was then uppermost in his mind.
This is instructive as showing how slowly geographical knowledge of the
westward half of the continent unfolded itself.
As we have said, Cavelier de la Salle was a man of one idea, practical
in some things, visionary in others, but in pursuit of a purpose as
steadfast as fate.
In 1666, at twenty-three, he found himself in Canada. He took up his
residence at the upper end of the island of Montreal, where the St.
Lawrence is broken up into rapids which to this day bear the name of La
Salle's residence, La Chine.
Here La Salle quietly spent three years, hearing the while from the
Indians who came to La Chine, all sorts of strange stories about the
vast region toward the setting sun, and the people who lived in it.
We have seen the missions already firmly established on the Great
Lakes. Joliet and Marquette had reached the Mississippi by one route
and returned by another and different one, leading them through the
heart of the great Illinois nation, to whom Marquette believed himself
specially called. His labors among this people had left an impression
highly favorable to those who might come after him.
It was from the Iroquois, who came to visit him at La Chine, that La
Salle first heard of the Ohio. The passion for discovery seems to have
found swift and intense development in him. He was young, ambitious and
eager for adventure. La Salle was only twenty-six when he resolved to
go in search of the Ohio.
Immediately he sold La Chine to procure an outfit. In the summer of
1669 he set out for the Iroquois country where we lose sight of him
altogether. Yet, while no itinerary of his journey remains extant, his
claim to have discovered the Ohio is conceded by his rival, Joliet.
Meanwhile, Frontenac, that man of action, was not idle. He was bent on
opening the direct road to the western lakes, peaceably if he could,
forcibly if he must, but at any rate to open it. To this end he now
showed the Iroquois that he was not afraid of them by building a fort
at Kingston,[3] which was called, in his honor, Fort Frontenac. This
post gave the command of Lake Ontario to the French. It was at once a
check and a menace to the Iroquois, who saw the mastery of the lakes
slipping away from them but could not prevent it. Through his favor with
Frontenac, La Salle secured from the king a grant of Fort Frontenac,
which, in his hands, became not only an important trading-post, but the
base of future contemplated discoveries. Here La Salle brooded over the
projects which were to make him famous not for a day, but for all time.
For ten years more La Salle is found repairing his fortunes, maturing
his plans, acquiring information, or studying Indian dialects. The Gulf
of Mexico was to be reached, and a French port and colony established
there into which all the trade of the river should flow. Thus the
Mississippi, in French hands, was to be a wedge dividing the Spaniards
in Florida from the Spaniards in New Mexico. Possessed of the two great
waterways of the continent—the St. Lawrence and Mississippi—France was
to take the first place in America. When all was ready La Salle laid
his plans before the King.
In his memorial La Salle forcibly contrasts the barren soil, dense
forests and harsh climate of Canada, with the fertile soil, sunny
prairies and genial climate of the West. He describes it as being a
country possessed of every thing requisite for planting flourishing
colonies; and as one thoroughly familiar with it. Its native products,
its abundance of fish and game, its pleasant streams, are all dwelt
upon without the exaggeration with which explorers usually embellish
their reports. In La Salle's view the facts were all-sufficient for his
purpose.
In thus seeking the enlargement of French empire at the expense of
Spain, La Salle had found a congenial field for his talents—a purpose
which lifts him above the rank of a mere explorer or trader. It is true
he expected to find riches and honor for himself, yet these were things
which, of necessity, hinged upon the success of the scheme as a whole,
not of a part.
Impressed by La Salle's representations, Louis granted him a patent for
those regions he proposed to discover, with power to build forts and
govern therein for the term of five years. La Salle was to do all this
at his own cost, looking to his monopoly of trade to reimburse himself.
So he set about borrowing money right and left. Never generous, the King
limited himself to giving La Salle the opportunity he asked for.
While in Paris, on the business of the patent, La Salle became
acquainted with an Italian officer, named Tonty, who afterward served
him with rare fidelity in his various expeditions. Upon La Salle's
return to Quebec, Father Louis Hennepin, a Franciscan friar, sought and
obtained leave to join him. And thus matters stood in September, 1678.
FOOTNOTES
[1] DE LA SALLE: literally "Of the Hall." Born at Rouen,
France, 1643: Cavelier is the family name.
[2] LA CHINE (China). Name of village and rapids at the head
of the island of Montreal.
[3] KINGSTON, on the north shore of Lake Ontario, near its
outlet.
LA SALLE, PRINCE OF EXPLORERS.
La Salle's plans included the following details. A vessel had been built
at Frontenac for the navigation of Lake Ontario, so doing away with the
tedious canoe voyages of the past. This brought the western missions
one step nearer Montreal. Next, the Niagara River was to be seized upon
and held, as Frontenac had been, by building a fort at its mouth. The
next step would be the construction of a vessel, above the falls, to
navigate the western lakes. With this done the real point of departure
for the Mississippi would be removed to Lake Michigan, and the delay and
fatigue of previous expeditions saved to the present one. Such were the
essential features of La Salle's plan.
Accordingly La Salle set about building the fort at Niagara[1] and the
vessel above the falls, during the winter of 1679. In a word, he was
perfecting his communications as he went along.
In August La Salle embarked on board his new vessel and hoisted sail. It
was the first which had ever ploughed the waters of Lake Erie. In due
season he reached Michilimackinac, whence, after some stay, he again
sailed for Green Bay. Here La Salle landed his people and goods. The
Griffin was sent back to Niagara, for the supplies La Salle wanted, with
order to return without delay to the rendezvous. With fourteen men La
Salle then started in canoes on his journey to the Mississippi.
Various adventures signalled the progress of the explorers along the
shores of Lake Michigan, as far as the mouth of the St. Joseph, which
had been chosen for the final point of departure. The autumn season was
well advanced. Already the north wind blew keen and cold across the
lake. The canoes were tossed about on a stormy sea, which broke with
violence against the inhospitable coast, threatening shipwreck if they
approached it. Often the canoes would be swamped in the surf when the
rising sea made it dangerous to keep the lake. Often the explorers threw
themselves on the frozen ground at night, wet to the skin and famishing
with hunger.
Reaching the St. Joseph, La Salle set his men to work building a fort,
while he anxiously waited the coming of Tonty, who had been ordered to
join him at this place. At last Tonty came. Winter had now set in. In
the first days of December the united party paddled up the St. Joseph,
crossed over the portage to the Kankakee, descended it to the Illinois,
reaching at length the great Illinois town,[2] numbering, by actual
count, four hundred and sixty lodges.
To their great disappointment the town was deserted, all the Illinois
having gone to hunt the buffalo, as their custom was at this season
of the year. It was a heavy blow to La Salle, who had expected to get
guides and a supply of food here, as well as to recruit his men. The
explorers however obtained a supply by opening the _caches_[3] in which
the Illinois kept their winter store.
Somewhere below Peoria Lake, La Salle fell in with the Illinois, who
told him all the fables they could invent in order to prevent his going
on, for it seems they had some inkling his doing so would be prejudicial
to them in the future.
The Mississippi, they said, was beset by men of fierce aspect who would
kill them all, its waters infested with serpents, alligators and like
monsters lying in wait to devour them, while the river itself finally
plunged into a raging whirlpool in which they and their canoes would be
swallowed up.