1687, 1688.
THE INNOCENT AND THE GUILTY.
TRIUMPH OF THE MURDERERS.--JOUTEL AMONG THE CENTS.--WHITE SAVAGES.
--INSOLENCE OF DUHAUT AND HIS ACCOMPLICES.--MURDER OF DUHAUT AND
LIOTOT.--HIENS, THE BUCCANEER.--JOUTEL AND HIS PARTY.--THEIR ESCAPE.
--THEY REACH THE ARKANSAS.--BRAVERY AND DEVOTION OF TONTY.--THE
FUGITIVES REACH THE ILLINOIS.--UNWORTHY CONDUCT OF CAVELIER.--HE
AND HIS COMPANIONS RETURN TO FRANCE.
Father Anastase Douay returned to the camp, and, aghast with grief and
terror, rushed into the hut of Cavelier. "My poor brother is dead!" cried
the priest, instantly divining the catastrophe from the horror-stricken
face of the messenger. Close behind came the murderers, Duhaut at their
head. Cavelier, his young nephew, and Douay himself, all fell on their
knees, expecting instant death. The priest begged piteously for half an
hour to prepare for his end; but terror and submission sufficed, and no
more blood was shed. The camp submitted without resistance; and Duhaut was
lord of all.
Joutel, at the moment, chanced to be absent; and l'Archevêque, who had a
kindness for him, went quietly to seek him. He found him 011 a hillock,
looking at the band of horses grazing on the meadow below. "I was
petrified," says Joutel, "at the news, and knew not whether to fly or
remain where I was; but at length, as I had neither powder, lead, nor any
weapon, and as l'Archevêque assured me that my life would be safe if I
kept quiet and said nothing, I abandoned myself to the care of Providence,
and went back in silence to the camp. Duhaut, puffed up with the new
authority which his crime had gained for him, no sooner saw me than he
cried out that each ought to command in turn; to which I made no reply. We
were all forced to smother our grief, and not permit it to be seen; for it
was a question of life and death; but it may be imagined with what
feelings the Abbé Cavelier and his nephew, Father Anastase, and I regarded
these murderers, of whom we expected to be the victims every moment."
[Footnote: _Journal Historique, 205._] They succeeded so well in their
dissembling, that Duhaut and his accomplices seemed to lose all distrust
of their intentions; and Joutel says that they might easily have avenged
the death of La Salle by that of his murderers, had not the elder
Cavelier, through scruple or cowardice, opposed the design.
Meanwhile, Duhaut and Liotot seized upon all the money and goods of La
Salle, even to his clothing, declaring that they had a right to them, in
compensation for the losses in which they had been involved by the failure
of his schemes. [Footnote: According to the _Relation de la Mart du Sr. de
la Salle,_ the amount of property remaining was still very considerable.
The same document states that Duhaut's interest in the expedition was half
the freight of one of the four vessels, which was, of course, a dead loss
to him.] They treated the elder Cavelier with great contempt, disregarding
his claims to the property, which, indeed, he dared not urge; and
compelling him to listen to the most violent invectives against his
brother. Hiens, the buccaneer, was greatly enraged at these proceedings of
his accomplices; and thus the seeds of a quarrel were already sown.
On the second morning after the murder, the party broke up their camp,
packed their horses, of which the number had been much increased by barter
with the Indians, and began their march for the Cenis villages, amid a
drenching rain. Thus they moved onward slowly till the twenty-eighth, when
they reached the main stream of the Trinity, and encamped on its borders.
Joutel, who, as well as his companions in misfortune, could not lie down
to sleep with an assurance of waking in the morning, was now directed by
his self-constituted chiefs to go in advance of the party to the great
Cenis village for a supply of food. Liotot himself, with Hiens and
Teissier, declared that they would go with him; and Duhaut graciously
supplied him with goods for barter. Joutel thus found himself in the
company of three murderers, who, as he strongly suspected, were contriving
an opportunity to kill him; but, having no choice, he dissembled his
doubts, and set out with his ill-omened companions. His suspicions seem,
to have been groundless; and, after a ride of ten leagues, the travellers
neared the Indian town, which, with its large thatched lodges, looked like
a cluster of huge haystacks. Their approach had been made known, and they
were received in solemn state. Twelve of the elders came to meet them in
their dress of ceremony, each with his face daubed red or black, and his
head adorned with painted plumes. From. their shoulders hung deer-skins
wrought and fringed with gay colors. Some carried war-clubs; some, bows
and arrows; some, the blades of Spanish rapiers, attached to wooden,
handles decorated with hawk's-bells and bunches of feathers. They stopped
before the honored guests, and, raising their hands aloft, uttered howls
so extraordinary, that Joutel had much ado to preserve the gravity which
the occasion demanded. Having next embraced the Frenchmen, the elders
conducted them into the village, attended by a crowd of warriors and young
men; ushered them into their town-hall, a large lodge devoted to councils,
feasts, dances, and other public assemblies; seated them on mats, and
squatted in a ring around them. Here they were regaled with sagamite, or
Indian porridge, corncake, beans, and bread made of the meal of parched
corn. Then the pipe was lighted, and all smoked together. The four
Frenchmen proposed to open a traffic for provisions, and their
entertainers grunted assent.
Joutel found a Frenchman in the village. He was a young man from Provence,
who had deserted from La Salle on his last journey, and was now, to all
appearance, a savage like his adopted countrymen, being naked like them,
and affecting to have forgotten his native language. He was very friendly,
however, and invited the visitors to a neighboring village, where he
lived, and where, as he told them, they would find a better supply of
corn. They accordingly set out with him, escorted by a crowd of Indians.
They saw lodges and clusters of lodges scattered along their path at
intervals, each with its field of corn, beans, and pumpkins, rudely
cultivated with a wooden hoe. Reaching their destination, which was not
far off, they were greeted with the same honors as at the first village;
and, the ceremonial of welcome over, were lodged in the abode of the
savage Frenchman. It is not to be supposed, however, that he and his
squaws, of whom he had a considerable number, dwelt here alone; for these
lodges of the Cenis often contained fifteen families or more. They were
made by firmly planting in a circle tall straight young trees, such as
grew in the swamps. The tops were then bent inward and lashed together;
great numbers of cross-pieces were bound on, and the frame thus
constructed was thickly covered with thatch, a hole being left at the top
for the escape of the smoke. The inmates were ranged around the
circumference of the structure, each family in a kind of stall, open in
front, but separated from those adjoining it by partitions of mats. Here
they placed their beds of cane, their painted robes of buffalo and deer
skin, their cooking utensils of pottery, and other household goods; and
here, too, the head of the family hung his bow, quiver, lance, and shield.
There was nothing in common but the fire, which burned in the middle of
the lodge, and was never suffered to go out. These dwellings were of great
size, and Joutel declares that he has seen one sixty feet in diameter.
[Footnote: The lodges of the Florida Indians were somewhat similar. The
winter lodges of the now nearly extinct Mandans, though not so high in
proportion to their width, and built of more solid materials, as the rigor
of a northern climate requires, bear a general resemblance to those of the
Cenis.
The Cenis tattooed their faces and some parts of their bodies by pricking
powdered charcoal into the skin. The women tattooed the breasts; and this
practice was general among them, notwithstanding the pain of the
operation, as it was thought very ornamental. Their dress consisted of a
sort of frock, or wrapper of skin, from the waist to the knees. The men,
in summer, wore nothing but the waist-cloth.]
It was in one of the largest that the four travellers were now lodged. A
place was assigned to them where to bestow their baggage; and they took
possession of their quarters amid the silent stares of the whole
community. They asked their renegade countryman, the Provencal, if they
were safe. He replied that they were; but this did not wholly reassure
them, and they spent a somewhat wakeful night. In the morning, they opened
their budgets, and began a brisk trade in knives, awls, beads, and other
trinkets, which they exchanged for corn and beans. Before evening, they
had acquired a considerable stock; and Joutel's three companions declared
their intention of returning with it to the camp, leaving him to continue
the trade. They went, accordingly, in the morning; and Joutel was left
alone. On the one hand, he was glad to be rid of them; on the other, he
found his position among the Cenis very irksome, and, as he thought,
insecure. Besides the Provencal, who had gone with Liotot and his
companions, there were two, other French deserters among this tribe, and
Joutel was very desirous to see them, hoping that they could tell him the
way to the Mississippi; for he was resolved to escape, at the first
opportunity, from the company of Duhaut and his accomplices. He therefore
made the present of a knife to a young Indian, whom he sent to find the
two Frenchmen, and invite them, to come to the village. Meanwhile, he
continued his barter, but under many difficulties; for he could only
explain himself by signs, and his customers, though friendly by day,
pilfered his goods by night. This, joined to the fears and troubles which
burdened his mind, almost deprived him of sleep, and, as he confesses,
greatly depressed his spirits. Indeed, he had little cause for
cheerfulness, in the past, present, or future. An old Indian, one of the
patriarchs of the tribe, observing his dejection, and anxious to relieve
it, one evening brought him a young wife, saying that he made him a
present of her. She seated herself at his side; "but," says Joutel, "as my
head was full of other cares and anxieties, I said nothing to the poor
girl. She waited for a little time; and then, finding that I did not speak
a word, she went away."
Late one night, he lay, between sleeping and waking, on the buffalo-robe
that covered his bed of canes. All around the great lodge, its inmates
were buried in sleep; and the fire that still burned in the midst cast
ghostly gleams on the trophies of savage chivalry, the treasured scalp-
locks, the spear and war-club, and shield of whitened bull-hide, that hung
by each warrior's resting-place. Such was the weird scene that lingered on
the dreamy eyes of Joutel, as he closed them at last in a troubled sleep.
The sound of a footstep soon wakened him; and, turning, he saw at his
side, the figure of a naked savage, armed with a bow and arrows. Joutel
spoke, but received no answer. Not knowing what to think, he reached out
his hand for his pistols; on which the intruder withdrew, and seated
himself by the fire. Thither Joutel followed; and, as the light fell on
his features, he looked at him closely. His face was tattooed, after the
Cenis fashion, in lines drawn from the top of the forehead and converging
to the chin; and his body was decorated with similar embellishments.
Suddenly, this supposed Indian rose, and threw his arms around Joutel's
neck, making himself known, at the same time, as one of the Frenchmen who
had deserted from La Salle, and taken refuge among the Cenis. He was a
Breton sailor named Ruter. His companion, named Grollet, also a sailor,
had been afraid to come to the village, lest he should meet La Salle.
Ruter expressed surprise and regret when he heard of the death of his late
commander. He had deserted him but a few months before. That brief
interval had sufficed to transform him into a savage; and both he and his
companion found their present reckless and ungoverned way of life greatly
to their liking. He could tell nothing of the Mississippi; and on the next
day he went home, carrying with him a present of beads for his wives, of
which last he had made a large collection.
In a few days he reappeared, bringing Grollet with him. Each wore a bunch
of turkey-feathers dangling from his head, and each had wrapped his naked
body in a blanket. Three men soon after arrived from Duhaut's camp,
commissioned to receive the corn which Joutel had purchased. They told him
that Duhaut and Liotot, the tyrants of the party, had resolved to return
to Fort St. Louis, and build a vessel to escape to the West Indies; "a
visionary scheme," writes Joutel, "for our carpenters were all dead; and,
even if they had been alive, they were so ignorant, that they would not
have known how to go about the work; besides, we had no tools for it.
Nevertheless, I was obliged to obey, and set out for the camp with the
provisions."
On arriving, he found a wretched state of affairs. Douay and the two
Caveliers, who had been treated by Duhaut with great harshness and
contempt, had made their mess apart; and Joutel now joined them. This
separation restored them their freedom of speech, of which they had
hitherto been deprived; but it subjected them to incessant hunger, as they
were allowed only food enough to keep them from famishing. Douay says that
quarrels were rife among the assassins themselves, the malcontents being
headed by Hiens, who was enraged that Duhaut and Liotot should have
engrossed all the plunder. Joutel was helpless, for he had none to back
him but two priests and a boy.
He and his companions talked of nothing around their solitary camp-fire
but the means of escaping from the villanous company into which they were
thrown. They saw no resource but to find the Mississippi, and thus make
their way to Canada, a prodigious undertaking in their forlorn condition;
nor was there any probability that the assassins would permit them to go.
These, on their part, were beset with difficulties. They could not return
to civilization without manifest peril of a halter; and their only safety
was to turn buccaneers or savages. Duhaut, however, still held to his plan
of going back to Fort St. Louis; and Joutel and his companions, who, with
good reason, stood in daily fear of him, devised among themselves a simple
artifice to escape from his company. The elder Cavelier was to tell him
that they were too fatigued for the journey, and wished to stay among the
Cenis; and to beg him to allow them a portion of the goods, for which
Cavelier was to give his note of hand. The old priest, whom a sacrifice of
truth, even on less important occasions, cost no great effort, accordingly
opened the negotiation; and to his own astonishment, and that of his
companions, gained the assent of Duhaut. Their joy, however, was short;
for Ruter, the French savage, to whom Joutel had betrayed his intention,
when inquiring the way to the Mississippi, told it to Duhaut, who, on
this, changed front, and made the ominous declaration that he and his men
would also go to Canada. Joutel and his companions were now filled with
alarm; for there was no likelihood that the assassins would permit them,
the witnesses of their crime, to reach the settlements alive. In the midst
of their trouble, the sky was cleared as by the crash of a thunderbolt.
Hiens and several others had gone, some time before, to the Cenis villages
to purchase horses; and here they had been retained by the charms of the
Indian women. During their stay, Hiens heard of Duhaut's new plan of going
to Canada by the Mississippi; and he declared to those with him that he
would not consent. On a morning early in May, he appeared at Duhaut's
camp, with Ruter and Grollet, the French savages, and about twenty
Indians. Duhaut and Liotot, it is said, were passing the time by
practising with bows and arrows in front of their hut. One of them called
to Hiens, "Good-morning;" but the buccaneer returned a sullen answer. He
then accosted Duhaut, telling him that he had no mind to go up the
Mississippi with him, and demanding a share of the goods. Duhaut replied
that the goods were his own, since La Salle had owed him money. "So you
will not give them to me?" returned Hiens. "No," was the answer. "You are
a wretch!" exclaimed Hiens. "You killed my master;" [Footnote: "Tu es un
misérable. Tu as tué mon maistre."--Tonty, _Mémoire,_ MS. Tonty derived
his information from some of those present. Douay and Joutel have each
left an account of this murder. They agree in essential points, though
Douay says that, when it took place, Duhaut had moved his camp beyond the
Cenis villages, which is contrary to Joutel's statement.] and, drawing a
pistol from his belt, he fired at Duhaut, who staggered three or four
paces, and fell dead. Almost at the same instant, Ruter fired his gun at
Liotot, shot three balls into his body, and stretched him on the ground
mortally wounded.
Douay and the two Caveliers stood in extreme terror, thinking that their
turn was to come next. Joutel, no less alarmed, snatched his gun to defend
himself; but Hiens called to him to fear nothing, declaring that what he
had done was only to avenge the death of La Salle, to which, nevertheless,
he had been privy, though not an active sharer in the crime. Liotot lived
long enough to make his confession, after which Ruter killed him by
exploding a pistol loaded with a blank charge of powder against his head.
Duhaut's myrmidon, l'Archevêque, was absent, hunting, and Hiens was for
killing him on his return; but the two priests and Joutel succeeded in
dissuading him.
The Indian spectators beheld these murders with undisguised amazement, and
almost with horror. What manner of men were these who had pierced the
secret places of the wilderness to riot in mutual slaughter? Their
fiercest warriors might learn a lesson in ferocity from these heralds of
civilization. Joutel and his companions, who could not dispense with the
aid of the Cenis, were obliged to explain away, as they best might, the
atrocity of what they had witnessed. [Footnote: Joutel, 248.]
Hiens, and others of the French, had before promised to join the Cenis on
an expedition against a neighboring tribe with whom they were at war; and
the whole party, having removed to the Indian village, the warriors and
their allies prepared to depart. Six Frenchmen went with Hiens; and the
rest, including Joutel, Douay, and the Caveliers, remained behind, in the
same lodge in which Joutel had been domesticated, and where none were now
left but women, children, and old men. Here they remained a week or more,
watched closely by the Cenis, who would not let them leave the village;
when news at length arrived of a great victory, and the warriors soon
after returned with forty-eight scalps. It was the French guns that won
the battle, but not the less did they glory in their prowess; and several
days were spent in ceremonies and feasts of triumph. [Footnote: These are
described by Joutel. Like nearly all the early observers of Indian
manners, he speaks of the practice of cannibalism.]
When, all this hubbub of rejoicing had subsided, Joutel and his companions
broke to Hiens their plan of attempting to reach home by way of the
Mississippi. As they had expected, he opposed it vehemently, declaring
that, for his own part, he would not run such a risk of losing his head;
but at length he consented to their departure, on condition that the elder
Cavelier should give him a certificate of his entire innocence of the
murder of La Salle, which the priest did not hesitate to do. For the rest,
Hiens treated his departing fellow-travellers with the generosity of a
successful freebooter; for he gave them a good share of the plunder which
he had won by his late crime, supplying them with hatchets, knives, heads,
and other articles of trade, besides several horses. Meanwhile, adds
Joutel, "we had the mortification and chagrin of seeing this scoundrel
walking about the camp in a scarlet coat laced with gold which had
belonged to the late Monsieur de la Salle, and which lie had seized upon,
as also upon all the rest of his property." A well-aimed shot would have
avenged the wrong, but Joutel was clearly a mild and moderate person; and
the elder Cavelier had constantly opposed all plans of violence. Therefore
they stifled their emotions, and armed themselves with patience.
Joutel's party consisted, besides himself, of the Caveliers, uncle and
nephew, Anastase Douay, De Marie, Teissier, and a young Parisian named
Barthelemy. Teissier, an accomplice in the murders of Moranget and La
Salle, had obtained a pardon, in form, from the elder Cavelier. They had
six horses and three Cenis guides. Hiens embraced them at parting, as did
the ruffians who remained with him. Their course was north-east, towards
the mouth of the Arkansas, a distant goal, the way to which was beset with
so many dangers that their chance of reaching it seemed small. It was
early in June, and the forests and prairies were green with the verdure of
opening summer. They soon reached the Assonis, a tribe near the Sabine,
who received them well, and gave them guides to the nations dwelling
towards Red River. On the twenty-third, they approached a village, the
inhabitants of which, regarding them as curiosities of the first order
came out in a body to see them; and, eager to do them honor, required them
to mount on their backs, and thus make their entrance in procession.
Joutel, being large and heavy, weighed down his bearer, insomuch that two
of his countrymen were forced to sustain him, one on each side. On
arriving, an old chief washed their faces with warm water from an earthen
pan, and then invited them to mount on a scaffold of canes, where they sat
in the hot sun listening to four successive speeches of welcome, of which
they understood not a word. [Footnote: These Indians were a portion of the
Cadodaquis, or Caddoes, then living on Red River. The travellers
afterwards visited other villages of the same people. Tonty was here two
years afterwards, and mentions the curious custom of washing the faces of
guests.] At the village of another tribe, farther on their way, they met
with a welcome still more oppressive. Cavelier, the unworthy successor of
his brother, being represented as the chief of the party, became the
principal victim of their attentions. They danced the calumet before him;
while an Indian, taking him, with an air of great respect, by the
shoulders, as he sat, shook him in cadence with the thumping of the drum.
They then placed two girls close beside him, as his wives; while, at the
same time, an old chief tied a painted feather in his hair. These
proceedings so scandalized him, that, pretending to be ill, he broke off
the ceremony; but they continued to sing all night with so much zeal, that
several of them were reduced to a state of complete exhaustion.
At length, after a journey of about two months, during which they lost one
of their number, De Marle, accidentally drowned while bathing, the
travellers approached the River Arkansas, at a point not far above its
junction with the Mississippi. Led by their Indian guides, they traversed
a rich district of plains and woods, and stood at length on the borders of
the stream. Nestled beneath the forests of the farther shore, they saw the
lodges of a large Indian town; and here, as they gazed across the broad
current, they presently descried an object which nerved their spent limbs,
and thrilled their homesick hearts with joy. It was a tall wooden cross;
and near it was a small house, built evidently by Christian hands. With
one accord, they fell on their knees, and raised their hands to Heaven in
thanksgiving. Two men, in European dress, issued from the door of the
house, and fired their guns to salute the excited travellers, who, on
their part, replied with a volley. Canoes put out from the farther shore,
and ferried them to the town, where they were welcomed by Couture and De
Launay, two of Tonty's followers.
That brave, loyal, and generous man, always vigilant and always active,
beloved and feared alike by white men and by red, [Footnote: _Journal de
St. Cosme_, 1699, MS. This journal has been printed by Mr. Shea, from the
copy in my possession. St. Cosme, who knew Tonty well, speaks of him in
the warmest terms of praise.] had been ejected, as we have seen, by the
agent of the Governor, La Barre, from the command of Fort St. Louis of the
Illinois. An order from the king had reinstated him; and he no sooner
heard the news of La Salle's landing on the shores of the Gulf, and of the
disastrous beginnings of his colony, [Footnote: In the autumn of 1685,
Tonty made a journey from the Illinois to Michillimackinac, to seek news
of La Salle. He there learned, by a letter of the new Governor,
Denonville, just arrived from France, of the landing of La Salle, and the
loss of the "Aimable," as recounted by Beaujeu on his return. He
immediately went back on foot to Fort St. Louis of the Illinois, and
prepared to descend the Mississippi; "dans l'espérance de lui donner
secours."--_Lettre de Tonty au Ministre, 24 Aoust, 1686, and Mémoire de
Tonty, MS._] than he prepared, on his own responsibility, and at his own
cost, to go to his assistance. He collected twenty-five Frenchmen, and
five Indians, and set out from his fortified rock on the thirteenth of
February, 1686; [Footnote: The date is from the letter cited above. In the
Mémoire, hastily written, long after, he falls into errors of date.]
descended the Mississippi, and reached its mouth in Holy Week. All was
solitude, a voiceless desolation of river, marsh, and sea. He despatched
canoes to the east and to the west; searching the coast for some thirty
leagues on either side. Finding no trace of his friend, who at that moment
was ranging the prairies of Texas in no less fruitless search of his
"fatal river," Tonty wrote for him a letter, which he left in the charge
of an Indian chief, who preserved it with reverential care, and gave it,
fourteen years after, to Iberville, the founder of Louisiana. [Footnote:
Iberville sent it to France, and Charlevoix gives a portion of it.--
_Histoire de la Nouvelle France,_ ii. 259. Singularly enough, the date, as
printed by him, is erroneous, being 20 April, 1685, instead of 1686. There
is no doubt, whatever, from its relations with concurrent events, that
this journey was in the latter year.] Deeply disappointed at his failure,
Tonty retraced his course, and ascended the Mississippi to the villages of
the Arkansas, where some of his men volunteered to remain. He left six of
them; and of this number were Couture and De Launay. [Footnote: Tonty,
_Mémoire,_ MS.; _Ibid., Lettre à Monseigneur de Ponchartraint,_ 1690, MS.;
Joutel, 301.]
Cavelier and his companions, followed by a crowd of Indians, some carrying
their baggage, some struggling for a view of the white strangers, entered
the log cabin of their two hosts. Rude as it was, they found in it an
earnest of peace and safety, and a foretaste of home. Couture and De
Launay were moved even to tears by the story of their disasters, and of
the catastrophe that crowned them. La Salle's death was carefully
concealed from the Indians, many of whom had seen him on his descent of
the Mississippi, and who regarded him with a prodigious respect. They
lavished all their hospitality on his followers; feasted them on corn-
bread, dried buffalo-meat, and watermelons, and danced the calumet before
them, the most august of all their ceremonies. On this occasion,
Cavelier's patience failed him again; and pretending, as before, to be
ill, he called on his nephew to take his place. There were solemn dances,
too, in which the warriors--some bedaubed with white clay, some with red,
and some with both; some wearing feathers, and some the horns of buffalo;
some naked, and some in painted shirts of deer-skin fringed with scalp-
locks, insomuch, says Joutel, that they looked like a troop of devils--
leaped, stamped, and howled from sunset till dawn. All this was partly to
do the travellers honor, and partly to extort presents. They made
objections, however, when asked to furnish guides; and it was only by dint
of great offers, that four were at length procured. With these, the
travellers resumed their journey in a wooden canoe, about the first of
August, [Footnote: Joutel says that the Parisian boy Barthelemy was left
behind. It was this youth who afterwards uttered the ridiculous defamation
of La Salle mentioned in a preceding note (see _ante_, p. 367). The
account of the death of La Salle, taken from the lips of Couture
(_ibid_.), was received by him from Cavelier and his companions during
their stay at the Arkansas. Couture was by trade a carpenter, and was a
native of Rouen.] descended the Arkansas, and soon reached the dark and
inexorable river, so long the object of their search, rolling like a
destiny through its realms of solitude and shade. They launched forth on
its turbid bosom, plied their oars against the current, and slowly won
their way upward, following the writhings of this watery monster through
cane-brake, swamp, and fen. It was a hard and toilsome journey under the
sweltering sun of August. now on the water, now knee-deep in mud, dragging
their canoe through the unwholesome jungle. On the nineteenth, they passed
the mouth of the Ohio; and their Indian guides made it an offering of
buffalo-meat. On the first of September, they passed the Missouri, and
soon after saw Marquette's pictured rock, and the line of craggy heights
on the east shore, marked on old French maps as "the Ruined Castles."
Then, with a sense of relief, they turned from the great river into the
peaceful current of the Illinois. They were eleven days in ascending it,
in their large and heavy wooden canoe, when, at length, on the afternoon
of the fourteenth of September, they saw, towering above the forest and
the river, the cliff crowned with the palisades of Fort St. Louis of the
Illinois. As they drew near, a troop of Indians, headed by a Frenchman,
descended from the rock, and fired their guns to salute them. They landed,
and followed the forest path that led towards the fort, when they were met
by Boisrondet, Tonty's comrade in the Iroquois war, and two other
Frenchmen, who no sooner saw them than they called out, demanding where
was La Salle. Cavelier, fearing lest he and his party would lose the
advantages which they might derive from his character of representative of
his brother, was determined to conceal his death; and Joutel, as he
himself confesses, took part in the deceit. Substituting equivocation for
falsehood, they replied that he had been with them nearly as far as the
Cenis villages, and that, when they parted, he was in good health. This,
so far as they were concerned, was, literally speaking, true; but Douay
and Teissier, the one a witness and the other a sharer in his death, could
not have said so much, without a square falsehood, and therefore evaded
the inquiry.
Threading the forest path, and circling to the rear of the rock, they
climbed the rugged height and reached the top. Here they saw an area,
encircled by the palisades that fenced the brink of the cliff, and by
several dwellings, a storehouse, and a chapel. There were Indian lodges,
too; for some of the red allies of the French made their abode with, them.
[Footnote: The condition of Fort St. Louis at this time may be gathered
from several passages of Joutel. The houses, he says, were built at the
brink of the cliff, forming, with the palisades, the circle of defence.
The Indians lived in the area.] Tonty was absent, fighting the Iroquois;
but his lieutenant, Bellefontaine, received the travellers, and his little
garrison of bush-rangers greeted them with a salute of musketry, mingled
with the whooping of the Indians. A _Te Deum_ followed at the chapel;
"and, with all our hearts," says Joutel, "we gave thanks to God who had
preserved and guided us." At length, the tired travellers were among
countrymen and friends. Bellefontaine found a room for the two priests;
while Joutel, Teissier, and young Cavelier were lodged in the storehouse.
The Jesuit Allouez was lying ill at the fort; and Joutel, Cavelier, and
Douay went to visit him. He showed great anxiety when told that La Salle
was alive, and on his way to the Illinois; asked many questions, and could
not hide his agitation. When, some time after, he had partially recovered,
he left St. Louis, as if to shun a meeting with the object of his alarm.
[Footnote: Joutel adds that this was occasioned by "une espèce de
conspiration qu'on a voulu faire contre les interests de Monsieur de la
Salle."
La Salle always saw the influence of the Jesuits in the disasters that
befell him. His repeated assertion, that they wished to establish
themselves in the Valley of the Mississippi, receives confirmation from, a
document entitled, _Mémoire sur la proposition à faire parles R. Pères
Jésuites pour la découverte des environs de la rivière du Mississipi et
pour voir si elle est navigable jusqu'à la mer_. It is a memorandum of
propositions to be made to the minister Seignelay, and was apparently put
forward as a feeler, before making the propositions in form. It was
written after the return of Beaujeu to France, and before La Salle's death
became known. It intimates that the Jesuits were entitled to precedence in
the Valley of the Mississippi, as having first explored it. It affirms
that _La Salle had made a blunder and landed his colony, not at the mouth
of the river, but at another place,_ and it asks permission to continue
the work in which he has failed. To this end it petitions for means to
build a vessel at St. Louis of the Illinois, together with canoes, arms,
tents, tools, provisions, and merchandise for the Indians; and it also
asks for La Salle's maps and papers, and for those of Beaujeu. On their
part, it pursues, the Jesuits will engage to make a complete survey of the
river, and return an exact account of its inhabitants, its plants, and its
other productions.
How did the Jesuits learn that La Salle had missed the mouths of the
Mississippi? He himself did not know it when Beaujeu left him; for he
dated his last letter to the minister from the "Western Mouth of the
Mississippi." I have given the proof that Beaujeu, after leaving him,
found the true mouth of the river, and made a map of it (_ante,_ p. 380,
_note_). Now Beaujeu was in close relations with the Jesuits, for he
mentions in one of his letters that his wife was devotedly attached to
them. These circumstances, taken together, may justify the suspicion that
Jesuit influence had some connection with Beaujeu's treacherous desertion
of La Salle; and that this complicity had some connection with the
uneasiness of Allouez when told that La Salle was on his way to the
Illinois.] Once before, in 1679, Allouez had fled from the Illinois on
hearing of the approach of La Salle.
The season was late, and they were eager to hasten forward that they might
reach Quebec in time to return, to France in the autumn ships. There was
not a day to lose. They bade farewell to Bellefontaine, from whom, as from
all others, they had concealed the death of La Salle, and made their way
across the country to Chicago. Here they were detained a week by a storm;
and when at length they embarked in a canoe furnished by Bellefontaine,
the tempest soon forced them to put back. On this, they abandoned their
design, and returned to Fort St. Louis, to the astonishment of its
inmates.
It was October when they arrived; and, meanwhile, Tonty had returned from
the Iroquois war, where he had borne a conspicuous part in the famous
attack on the Senecas, by the Marquis de Denonville. [Footnote: Tonty, Du
Laut, and Durantaye came to the aid of Denonville with hundred and seventy
Frenchmen, chiefly coureurs de bois, and three hundred Indians from the
upper country. Their services were highly appreciated, and Tonty
especially is mentioned in the despatches of Denonville with great
praise.] He listened with deep interest to the mournful story of his
guests. Cavelier knew him well. He knew, so far as he was capable of
knowing, his generous and disinterested character, his long and faithful
attachment to La Salle, and the invaluable services he had rendered him.
Tonty had every claim on his confidence and affection. Yet he did not
hesitate to practise on him the same deceit which he had practised on
Bellefontaine. He told him that he had left his brother in good health on
the Gulf of Mexico; and, adding fraud to meanness, drew upon him in La
Salle's name for an amount stated by Joutel at about four thousand livres,
in furs, besides a canoe and a quantity of other goods, all of which were
delivered to him by the unsuspecting victim. [Footnote: "Monsieur Tonty,
croyant M. de la Salle vivant, ne fit pas de diffiulté de Luy donner pour
environ quatre mille liv. de pelleterie, de castors, loutres, un canot, et
autres effets."--Joutel, 349.
Tonty himself does not make the amount so great: "Sur ce qu'ils
m'assuroient qu'il étoit resté au golfe de Mexique en bonne santé, je les
recus comme si ç'avoit esté lui mesmo et luy prestay (_à Cavelier_) plus
de 700 francs."--Tonty, _Mémoire._
Cavelier must have known that La Salle was insolvent. Tonty had long
served without pay. Douay says that he made the stay of the party at the
fort very agreeable, and speaks of him, with some apparent compunction, as
"ce brave Gentilhomme, toujours inséparablement attaché aux intérêts du
sieur de la Salle, doet nous luy avons caché la déplorable destinée."
Couture, from the Arkansas, brought word to Tonty, several months after,
of La Salle's death, adding that Cavelier had concealed it, with no other
purpose than that of gaining money or supplies from him (Tonty), in his
brother's name.]
This was at the end of the winter, when the old priest and his companions
had been living for months on Tonty's hospitality. They set out for Canada
on the twenty-first of March, reached Chicago on the twenty-ninth, and
thence proceeded to Michillimackinac. Here Cavelier sold some of Tonty's
furs to a merchant, who gave him in payment a draft on Montreal, thus
putting him in funds for his voyage home. The party continued their
journey in canoes by way of French River and the Ottawa, and safely
reached Montreal on the seventeenth of July. Here they procured the
clothing of which they were wofully in need, and then descended the river
to Quebec, where they took lodging, some with the Récollet friars, and
some with the priests of the Seminary, in order to escape the questions of
the curious. At the end of August, they embarked for France, and early in
October arrived safely at Rochelle. None of the party were men of especial
energy or force of character; and yet, under the spur of a dire necessity,
they had achieved one of the most adventurous journeys on record.
Now, at length, they disburdened themselves of their gloomy secret; but
the sole result seems to have been an order from the king for the arrest
of the murderers, should they appear in Canada. [Footnote: _Lettre du Roy
à Dénonville_, 1 _Mai_, 1689, MS. Joutel must have been a young man at the
time of the Mississippi expedition, for Charlevoix saw him at Rouen,
thirty-five years after. He speaks of him with emphatic praise, but it
must be admitted that his connivance in the deception practised by
Cavelier on Tonty leaves a shade on his character as well as on that of
Douay. In other respects, every thing that appears concerning him is
highly favorable, which is not the case with Douay, who, on one or two
occasions, makes wilful misstatements.
Douay says that the elder Cavelier made a report of the expedition to the
minister Seignelay. This report remained unknown in an English collection
of autographs and old manuscripts, whence I obtained it by purchase, in
1854, both the buyer and seller being at the time ignorant of its exact
character. It proved, on examination, to be a portion of the first draft
of Cavelier's report to Seignelay. It consists of twenty-six small folio
pages, closely written in a clear hand, though in a few places obscured by
the fading of the ink, as well as by occasional erasures and
interlineations of the writer. It is, as already stated, confused and
unsatisfactory in its statements; and all the latter part has been lost.
Soon after reaching France, Cavelier addressed to the king a memorial on
the importance of keeping possession of the Illinois. It closes with an
earnest petition for money, in compensation for his losses, as, according
to his own statement, he was completely _épuisé._ It is affirmed in a
memorial of the heirs of his cousin, Francois Plet, that he concealed the
death of La Salle some time after his return to France, in order to get
possession of property which would otherwise have been seized by the
creditors of the deceased. The prudent Abbé died rich and very old, at the
house of a relative, having inherited a large estate after his return from
America. Apparently, this did not satisfy him; for there is before me the
copy of a petition, written about 1717, in which he asks, jointly with one
of his nephews, to be given possession of the seignorial property held by
La Salle in America. The petition was refused.
Young Cavelier, La Salle's nephew, died some years after, an officer in a
regiment. He has been erroneously supposed to be the same with one De la
Salle, whose name is appended to a letter giving an account of Louisiana,
and dated at Toulon, 3 Sept. 1698. This person was the son of a naval
official at Toulon, and was not related to the Caveliers.] The wretched
exiles of Texas were thought, it may be, already beyond the reach of
succor.