Chapter II: The French (1)

PRELUDE.

After the discovery of America by Columbus, the French were among the first to turn their attention to this side of the Atlantic, not so much to make conquests in the spirit of universal dominion, as the Spaniards were doing, as to seek new outlets or new sources of supply for their commerce and fisheries.

Spain, as we have seen, forced other nations to follow her lead at a respectful distance. With one foot planted in Europe and the other in America, she bestrode the Atlantic as the colossus of the age.

But the newly awakened spirit of discovery would not down at the bidding of prince or pontiff, let him be never so great or so powerful. Once aroused it was sure to find ways by which some part of the benefits to accrue to mankind from this grand discovery should not be monopolized by a single nation. We might even say that all the nations of Europe instinctively felt this to be their opportunity,—the opportunity of the human race.

France had the ships, and France had the sailors. Sir Walter Raleigh tells us—and surely he is an unbiassed witness—that in Cæsar's time the French Bretons were the best sailors in the world. Were we disposed to call in question their right to this title at a later day,—the time of Columbus, Cabot, Cortereal, and Magellan,—what can be said of their boldly setting sail across an unknown ocean, like the Atlantic, in vessels not larger than a modern oyster-boat?

Yet the names they left behind them in their adventurous voyages make it certain that these Basque and Breton fishermen pushed their way into the Gulf of St. Lawrence soon after Cabot carried home to England the news that he had been in seas alive with codfish.

The knowledge thus gained pointed with unerring finger to the St. Lawrence as the open door through which French discoverers should pass into the spacious interior of our broad continent, though never, in their wildest flights of fancy, could they have conceived what lay beyond this door. So accident rather than choice led them on through the colder region of the north. And while the Spaniards had missed the Mississippi, a more fortunate chance led Frenchmen to find it by a very different, though no less certain, route. To them be the honor of the achievement!

Just as the march of Spanish civilization is traced in the names given by explorers of that nation, so, in like manner, those conferred by Frenchmen shall direct us in the lines by which they journeyed onward toward the setting sun.

Although Jacques Cartier[1] ascended the St. Lawrence so early as 1534-35, it was not till Champlain founded Quebec (1608), that the work of settling a French colony in Canada began in earnest. But even here, at Quebec, three hundred miles from the ocean, the great river poured its undiminished floods out of the wilderness beyond, and it bore its greatness on its face.

Astonished to find themselves only on the threshold, as it were, of the continent, the adventurous pioneers caught their first glimpses of its undoubted grandeur. That they were dazzled by it, is something we may easily conceive.

Whence came this silent river, this daily riddle for men to guess, and whither would it lead them? In what far country would its tiny tributary rills be found? Did they lie hid among the feet of far-off mountains, over-peering all the land like hoary giants, or gush forth from the bosom of some vast plain? Was it indeed the road to India?[2]

To such questions as these the future must make answer. All believed it would lead to India. But Champlain and those who, like him, looked at things broadly and deeply, were convinced that whoever should hold that river throughout its course would be masters of the continent it undoubtedly drained. And as Frenchmen ever loyal to their king and country, whose glory they would see increased, they purposed making here, in the wilderness, a NEW FRANCE which some day, perhaps, should rival, if not eclipse, the old.

To this work the French brought one qualification peculiarly their own. It was this. Of the three nations who have contended for control in our country, none have so readily adapted themselves to the original people as the French have. None have so thoroughly respected their feelings and prejudices. And none have so easily won their confidence, or so fully commanded their services.

Moreover, the French being rather traders than colonists in the true sense, because in Canada the fur trade[3] was chiefly looked to, and colonization was thought unfavorable to it, exploration became the profession, we might say, of many who trained themselves for it by living among the Indians, studying their language, their habits, learning how to use the paddle, making long canoe voyages, and so inuring their bodies to the toil and hardship of savage life. While the English remained in their villages, the French wandered everywhere.

If we add to this that the French are a nation of explorers, in whom discovery speedily develops into a passion, we shall get at the true animating spirit which carried them so far into the interior, whether as simple traders, soldiers, or missionaries.

The world could ill spare one of its pioneers. They are heralds of civilization following the guiding star of its destiny.

FOOTNOTES

[1] JACQUES CARTIER ascended the St. Lawrence as high as
Montreal (Royal Mount), which he named for the mountain back
of the city.

[2] THE ROAD TO INDIA was no less the goal of early French
explorers than with those of other nations.

[3] THE FUR-TRADE of Canada, rather than agriculture
or fisheries, was considered its truest source of wealth
because it gave immediate returns, and was thought to be
inexhaustible. Hence it became the engrossing occupation of
the inhabitants. It was granted first to De Monts, then to
others who undertook to colonize Canada at their own cost.

WESTWARD BY THE GREAT INLAND WATERWAYS.

"I hear the tread of pioneers
Of nations yet to be."—Whittier.

From Quebec Champlain pushed on up the river to the island of Montreal, where he established a trading-post. Hither came the Hurons of the lake to barter their furs for French goods. They came by way of Lake Nipissing and the Ottawa. These Indians told the French all about their country, and the way to it. One of them showed Champlain an ingot of copper, and described the way his people refined it from the native ore. Interpreters began to study the Indian dialects, and eager traders to push out farther and farther into the wilderness for the sake of larger gains.

But the route to the west was not without perils which the French found it hard to overcome. Two great rival families of savages were divided from each other by the St. Lawrence and the Lakes. Those living north of the river may be included in the general name of Hurons;[1] those on the south were called Iroquois.[2] The two waged perpetual war with each other, drawing to them kindred or tributary tribes. In an evil hour Champlain had taken part with the Hurons, so identifying the French, in the minds of the Iroquois, with their worst enemies.

If to natural obstacles be added the enmity of a most valiant people, whose country stretched along the whole southern shore of Lake Ontario, who controlled the portage round the Falls of Niagara, and were undisputed masters of the lake itself, we shall go forward with some idea of the impediments to peaceful exploration and of the consummate folly which had put this stumbling-block in the way of it.

We know that before 1612 Champlain had informed himself quite thoroughly about Lake Ontario, because we find the lake outlined on his map of that year. For a like reason we judge him to have known of the Niagara River and Falls.[3] But that way the Iroquois lay.

This state of things forced exploration into a quite different channel. The French now had to take the roundabout and difficult way through the country of the friendly Hurons, their allies, or in other words to reach Lake Huron by making a canoe voyage up the Ottawa, across Lake Nipissing, and thence down French River to the lake, instead of going through the open waters of Lakes Ontario and Erie.

In 1615 Champlain brought some Franciscan missionaries to Quebec, one of whom made his way up the Ottawa to Lake Huron a little before him. In 1626 came the Jesuit Fathers,[4] who brought the zeal of their order to the cause of evangelizing the Indians. Then Richelieu,[5] who held the reins of the monarchy in his hands, founded his famous Company of New France, to whom the King not only granted full powers of government, but also a monopoly of the fur trade, so turning Canada over to private hands.

An unprosperous beginning, however, awaited the new order of things. Civil war had broken out in France. Richelieu was beleaguering the heretics of La Rochelle when England mingled in the fray. In 1629 the English took Quebec from the French, and did not restore[6] it again till 1632.

At this time the conquerors had carried Champlain to England, a prisoner of war. He returned to Quebec in 1633, again in chief command, though soon (1635) to die at his post, greatest among all the explorers of his time.

With Champlain's death,[7] a new force came into the cause of discovery and conversion, for since the coming of the Jesuits the two were henceforth to go hand in hand.

At the pleasure of the general of the order, its missionaries might be sent with scrip, staff, and wallet to the uttermost parts of the earth. Like John the Baptist in the wilderness, we find them living on such scant fare as nature supplied. Their beds were the bare ground. Under a canopy of green boughs they reared the altar of their humble missions for the worship of the ever-living God. Thus in exile and in want, they began their ministrations among the rude peoples of the wilderness because God and the Blessed Virgin had given them this pious work to do. Their food was often more nourishing to the imagination than the body, yet when compared with what they might expect at the hands of the Iroquois, hunger counted for little, since these barbarians of the New World burnt a missionary alive with the same zest that Christians of the Old did a heretic.

Men willing to undertake such duties, undergo such hardships, live such lives, are sure to leave their impress on any country. We shall find they did so on ours.

On their part the savages truly wished for knowledge of the white man's God, who they were told, and believed, was able to raise them up out of their lowly condition and make them rich and powerful like the whites. So much, at least, of the Jesuits' teachings they could comprehend.

No long time elapsed before these Jesuits made their way to the Hurons of the lake, and here (1634) they established their first missions.

Some say that in this same year a French trader, named Jean Nicolet,[8] made his way as far west as the Green Bay of Lake Michigan. There is hopeless confusion about the date, but none as to the fact of his being the first white man to set foot in what is now the State of Wisconsin.

When Nicolet got back to Quebec, he told the missionaries there that he had been on a river which would have taken him to the sea, had he kept on as he was going but three days longer. Hearing this story, the fathers believed themselves on the eve of no less a discovery than the long-sought outlet to India.

Although the Spaniards said little about the discoveries they were making on that side, they could not prevent some knowledge of what they were doing in New Mexico and on the Pacific from leaking out through the Jesuits who were themselves concerned in all these discoveries, and so were better informed than others in regard to their progress.

But from the year 1640, when the missionaries so certainly thought the key to the South Sea was in their hands, on to 1650, or one whole decade, the Iroquois gave the French and their allies other work to do at home. Hardly could the French consider themselves safe in their fort at Montreal, much less venture abroad upon new schemes of discovery. In vain the missionaries cried out upon the Iroquois as the great scourge of Christianity. In vain the elements were invoked to destroy them. The heathen were at the doors of their monasteries, the Dutch[9] were behind the Iroquois, urging them on, and the future of New France looked gloomy indeed.

Finally (1650) the Iroquois carried the war into the heart of the Huron country itself. The Hurons fought well, but were soon overpowered and driven from their villages into perpetual exile. Some fled to the east, some to the west, thereby becoming so thoroughly dispersed as never more to be a united nation.

With brief periods of cessation from active warfare, which were rather truces than peace, war raged until 1661, and as the Iroquois now commanded all the routes to the west, the French were effectually shut out from the Great Lakes for the time being.

A brighter day dawned at last. In 1660 some Lake Superior Indians arrived at Quebec in their canoes. When they were ready to go back, they offered to take a missionary home to live with them. It was a terrible journey, but the offer could not be neglected. Accordingly one was sent back in their company, but died in no long time after reaching their country, of misery and want. The Indians then asked for another missionary. The next to go was Father Allouez,[10] who set out in the summer of 1665 in company with some returning savages. Nothing was heard of him for nearly two years. He had about been given up for lost when he appeared at Quebec bringing strange tidings indeed. On the southern shore of Lake Superior, in the forest, among savage hordes, he had set up a mission. He had been much among the neighbor tribes, and had seen and talked with the dreaded Sioux, who proudly told him their country reached to the end of the world. They also told him of a great river, which he supposed must "fall into the sea by Virginia." The father wrote down the name as the Sioux pronounced it,—Messipi.[11]

Following in the footsteps of Allouez (1668), Fathers Dablon[12] and Marquette[13] were sent to the mission at the foot of Lake Superior. Afterward Dablon founded that at Sault St. Marie. With Dablon, Allouez (1670) made a journey from Green Bay up Fox River to Winnebago Lake, which they crossed. Going still farther on, they reached the head waters of the Wisconsin, which was then found to be a tributary of the Mississippi.

Thus, in the course of a few years, the Jesuits had planted missions at La Pointe, on Lake Superior, at Sault St. Marie, its outlet, at the Straits of Michilimackinac, and Green Bay. All were first fishing-places, next missions, and then outposts of civilization in the western world.

In the spring of 1671, with much ceremony, the French took formal possession of Sault St. Marie, the lakes Huron and Superior, and all the country as far as the western sea. In token of sovereignty a cross of wood was reared with the arms of France fixed upon it. Amid volleys of musketry, and shouts of "God save the king!" France thus proclaimed herself mistress of the Great West.

FOOTNOTES

[1] HURONS, or Wyandots, occupied the east shore of Lake
Huron and contiguous country between this and Lake Simcoe.
"Their women were their mules."—_Champlain._ The Wyandots now
live in Kansas, and are civilized.

[2] IROQUOIS, called so by the French; by the English,
Five Nations, and subsequently Six Nations. The confederated
Mohawks, Oneidas, Cayugas, Onondagas, Senecas, to whom the
Tuscaroras of North Carolina being joined, made the sixth.
They attributed their origin to five different handfuls of
seed, sowed by the Creator.

[3] NIAGARA RIVER is properly laid down. That Champlain
knew of the FALLS, is evident from the words "_Saut d'eau_,"
meaning waterfall, which he has put down not quite where they
belong, but not far out of the way.

[4] THE JESUITS, or Society of Jesus, founded by Ignatius
Loyola, 1534. The brothers were vowed to chastity, poverty
and obedience. See Encyclopædia; also article Jesuit's Bark,
or Cinchona.

[5] RICHELIEU, at this time minister of Louis XIII.

[6] DID NOT RESTORE Quebec till the arrears of Queen
Henrietta's dowry (queen of Charles I.) had been paid in full.

"How strange are the freaks of destiny! Mary de Medicis, widow
of Henry IV., exiled and abandoned, had a daughter, Henrietta,
widow of Charles I., who died at Cologne, in the house where,
sixty-five years before, Rubens, her painter, was born."—_V.
Hugo._

[7] CHAMPLAIN, SAMUEL DE, the father of Canada, and first
among French explorers in the New World, ought to be held
in high esteem by Americans. The work he did was for all
time. A man of sterling qualities; of resources; of solid
judgment; never effervescent, sometimes headstrong, yet prompt
to act in emergencies. Though not noble, he had a chivalric
nature united with capacity for affairs. His _Voyages_ is a
storehouse of information concerning Canada and New England.

[8] JEAN NICOLET has become the subject of much
discussion. The evidence fixing his visit in 1634 is wholly
circumstantial, therefore unsatisfactory. But it is by no
means improbable. I was first inclined to doubt the whole
story as told by Father Vimont, thinking he might have been
imposed upon, but it bears the stamp of genuineness. The
Father wrote in 1640, hence Nicolet must have gone to Green
Bay earlier. No one disputes his claim to be the first white
who visited that region. See _Jesuit Relations_ of 1640.

[9] THE DUTCH then occupied New York, with a fort and trading
post at Albany. They were competitors of the French for the
fur trade, and therefore natural allies of the Iroquois, to
whom they sold guns to be used against the French. After New
York became an English Colony (1664) the English pursued the
same policy of confining the French to the north shore of Lake
Ontario.

[10] FATHER CLAUDE ALLOUEZ, in the _Jesuit Relations_.

[11] MESSIPI, first mentioned under its present name. Mostly
pronounced to-day as here spelled.

[12] FATHER CLAUDE DABLON arrived in Canada, 1655. In 1668
he went with Marquette to the Mission of St. Esprit on Lake
Superior. Afterward he founded that of S. St. Marie.—_Jesuit
Relations._

[13] FATHER JAMES MARQUETTE came to Canada 1666. His going
west was in the nature of a re-enforcement to those earlier
missionaries who had prepared the way. He died while returning
from a journey to the Illinois towns in 1675, or after that
made with Joliet the previous year. Marquette, Mich., is named
for him.

THE SITUATION IN A.D. 1672.

Since the day of Champlain's death New France had been wofully misgoverned. Men who, like him, would be willing to give their best efforts and best years to building up the colony, in singleness of purpose, were not forthcoming. Champlain left no successor. Speaking generally, the post of governor was calculated at what it would be worth to the holder. Sometimes it was sold outright, sometimes given in payment of services, or again to some needy favorite as a means to repair his ruined fortunes. Hence most governors looked upon Canada as a place to get rich in, just as the better sort of merchants looked to making fortunes, and then going home to France as quickly as possible to enjoy them. Where everybody thought about the country only as a place of temporary sojourn and nobody as a home, it is evident there could be no feeling of permanence.

Meanwhile, the short-sighted policy of continually drawing upon the natural resources of Canada, without making the loss good, may be compared with stripping mountains of their forests. Under this policy the colony was like a man who is slowly bleeding to death.

But it was now the age of Louis XIV., who, if sometimes a hard master, possessed the rare gift of bringing round him men of superior abilities.

Once more let us glance at the two leading monarchies of Europe, and see if their relative attitude, one to the other, has been in any wise altered since Pavia.

Under Charles V., Spain menaced Europe with universal dominion; under Philip II. and Philip III., she had lost the Low Countries; under Philip IV., Portugal; under Charles II., Burgundy and Flanders. History offers few examples of such rapid decline.

The characters of these sovereigns may be summed up as follows: Charles V. was a great general and great king. Philip II. was a king only. Philip III. and Philip IV. were not even kings. Charles II. could hardly be called a man. This dotard, at thirty-nine, passed his time in making and destroying his will. Choosing rather to ally his house with France than Germany, Charles made a French prince his heir. It was to this prince that Louis XIV., in embracing him, made use of the memorable words, "There are no longer any Pyrenees."

It was then, as we have said, the age of Louis XIV. and of French supremacy in continental affairs.

In our continent Spain was already playing a secondary part. A more vigorous hand had seized the standard of discovery, and was now bearing it onward to victory.

It had gone all the way from the humble Jesuit mission at the foot of Lake Superior to France, that the greatest river of America was as good as found,—the greatest, because all admitted that only its head streams could have been touched, while it was seen that its course must of necessity lie on one or the other side of the mountains of New Mexico,—toward the Gulf of Mexico or the Vermilion Sea. But on which side they could not tell.

Of course there were two opinions. Some favored one, some the other, but either belief announced the river of the continent. Whoever should first plant themselves at its mouth, would inevitably control its whole course. And so the idea took root in the minds of the statesmen and geographers of the time, who set about trying to map out the destiny of the future empire.

The shrewdest among the French explorers did not believe that the Mississippi and Colorado could be the same, or that the great river flowed into the South Sea. Father Allouez, as we have seen, thought otherwise. In any case an incentive had been found for more earnest effort, with more definite aims. There began to be, in America, a really national question.

So it was that step by step that great mysterious river which had so long flowed through men's brains, grew at last into definiteness, though still waiting for the veil of centuries to be lifted.

So far America had been the orange to be squeezed by whoever should possess it. Louis, like the rest, no doubt looked more to the revenue he hoped to get from New France, than to the mere glory of extending his dominions in that quarter, though he was also ambitious of doing this. Yet for either purpose he must have suitable agents, while his political aims in Europe would be furthered by crippling the English and Spanish colonies in America. The English were to be hemmed in on the seaboard, while the Spaniards would find themselves checked from advancing beyond the limits they already occupied.

When the royal arms of France were raised at Sault St. Marie, New England was pushing out toward the east, not the west. No English could be found west of the Hudson. No word of English had been heard beyond Lake Ontario. There was not yet a Pennsylvania. Virginia lay east of the Blue Ridge; the Carolinas were but recently settled; Florida was hardly more than a Spanish military post.

In all times large views demand large men for their execution. In looking about him for a governor who ought to be more of a soldier than politician, less a courtier than a man of action, though something of both, the king's eye fell upon Count Frontenac, whose rule somewhat resembled that of his august master, in the attempted concentration of all power in himself.

In 1672 Colbert, the prime minister, wrote to the intendant of Canada that his majesty wished him to give his attention to the discovery of the South Sea. The wish being the same as a command, the intendant sought for a fitting agent to carry it into effect.

COUNT FRONTENAC.

Louis de Buade, Compte de Frontenac, showed little loss of physical or 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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Although La Salle treated these silly tales with the contempt they deserved, they took effect upon his men, six of whom deserted on the spot. The explorers wintered among these Illinois in a fort which La Salle significantly named Crèvecœur.[4]

The name tells its own story. On the lakes they had been nearly drowned. On the march they had often gone hungry, La Salle with the rest. Treason was with him in his own camp, danger in that of the Illinois. His own men had tried to poison him. And now, to cap the climax of misfortune, no word had come of the Griffin[5]—the Griffin on which hung all hope of successfully continuing their search.

But nothing could shake the resolve of La Salle. Sending Father Hennepin to explore the lower course of the Illinois, the chief left Tonty in charge of Fort Crèvecœur, while he himself set out for Frontenac in order to learn what had become of the Griffin, and bring back the things he must have before it would be possible to stir from Fort Crèvecœur again.

We need not follow him on this remarkable journey, itself no mean exploit.

La Salle had not yet reached the Mississippi. In August, 1680, he again left Montreal with this object. Again he made his way to the Illinois village. This time heaps of charred and blackened rubbish, strewed with mangled bodies, met his eyes. During his absence the Iroquois had wreaked their vengeance upon the Illinois, as already they had done upon the Hurons.

Where was the faithful Tonty? What had become of him? After La Salle's departure, his men rose against Tonty, plundered the fort of what was worth taking, demolished it, and went off in a body, leaving Tonty to shift for himself.

But where was he? La Salle found Crèvecœur in ruins, and the place a solitude.

In despair La Salle searched the river to its mouth, so reaching the Mississippi at last, but without finding the least trace of his lieutenant. On every side fate seemed conspiring for his defeat.

Still undaunted, for the third time La Salle set out in the autumn of 1681. In a wonderful manner Tonty had made his escape from the Iroquois, and rejoined his chief on the lakes. This time the expedition passed through the Chicago River to the Illinois, and thence down to the Mississippi, which was reached on the 6th of February.