THE INHABITANTS OF THE GREAT VALLEY OF THE WEST,
WHOSE MAGNIFICENT REALMS
LA SALLE AND HIS COMPANIONS WERE THE FIRST TO EXPLORE,
THIS VOLUME
IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
PREFACE.
There is no one of the Pioneers of this continent whose achievements
equal those of the Chevalier Robert de la Salle. He passed over
thousands of miles of lakes and rivers in the birch canoe. He traversed
countless leagues of prairie and forest, on foot, guided by the
moccasined Indian, threading trails which the white man's foot had
never trod, and penetrating the villages and the wigwams of savages,
where the white man's face had never been seen.
Fear was an emotion La Salle never experienced. His adventures were
more wild and wondrous than almost any recorded in the tales of
chivalry. As time is rapidly obliterating from our land the footprints
of the savage, it is important that these records of his strange
existence should be perpetuated.
Fortunately we have full and accurate accounts of these explorations,
in the journals of Messrs. Marquette, Hennepin, and Joliet. We have
still more minute narratives, in _Etablissement de la Foix_, par le P.
Chretien Le Clercq, Paris 1691; _Dernieres Dècouvertes_, par le
Chevalier de Tonti, Paris 1697; _Journal Historique_, par M. Joutel,
Paris 1713.
For the incidents in the last fatal expedition, to establish a colony
at the mouth of the Mississippi, and the wonderful land tour of more
than two thousand miles from the sea-coast of Texas to Quebec, through
the territories of hundreds of tribes, we have the narratives of Father
Christian Le Clercq, the narrative of Father Anastasias Douay, and the
minute and admirably written almost daily journal of Monsieur Joutel,
in his _Dernier Voyage_. Both Douay and Joutel accompanied this
expedition from its commencement to its close.
In these adventures the reader will find a more vivid description of
the condition of this continent, and the character of its inhabitants
two hundred years ago, than can be found anywhere else. Sir Walter
Scott once remarked, that no one could take more pleasure in reading
his romances, than he had taken in writing them. In this volume we have
the romance of truth.
If the writer can judge of the pleasure of the reader, from the intense
interest he has experienced in following these adventurers through
their perilous achievements, this narrative will prove to be one of
extraordinary interest.
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
Fair Haven, Connecticut.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
_The Enterprise of James Marquette._
Page
The Discovery of America. Explorations of the French in Canada.
Ancestry of James Marquette. His noble Character. Mission to Canada.
Adventures with the Indians. Wild Character of the Region and the
Tribes. Voyage to Lake Superior with the Nez-Percés. Mission at
Green Bay. Search for the Mississippi. The Outfit. The Voyage
through Green Bay. Fox River and the Illinois. Enters the
Mississippi. Scenes Sublime and Beautiful. Adventures in an Indian
Village. 15
CHAPTER II.
_The First Exploration of the Mississippi River._
River Scenery. The Missouri. Its Distant Banks. The Mosquito Pest.
Meeting the Indians. Influence of the Calumet. The Arkansas River.
A Friendly Greeting. Scenes in the Village. Civilization of the
Southern Tribes. Domestic Habits. Fear of the Spaniards. The Return
Voyage. 41
CHAPTER III.
_Marquette's Last Voyage, and Death._
The Departure from Green Bay. Navigating the Lake in a Canoe. Storms
of rain and snow. Night Encampments. Ascending the Chicago River. A
Winter with the Savages. Journey to the Kankakee. The Great Council
on the Prairie. Interesting Incidents. The Escort of Savages. The
Death Scene. Sublime Funeral Solemnities. 61
CHAPTER IV.
_Life upon the St. Lawrence and the Lakes Two Hundred Years Ago._
Birth of La Salle. His Parentage and Education. Emigrates to America.
Enterprising Spirit. Grandeur of his Conceptions. Visits the Court
of France. Preparations for an Exploring Voyage. Adventures of the
River and Lake. Awful Scene of Indian Torture. Traffic with the
Indians. The Ship-yard at Lake Erie. 81
CHAPTER V.
_The Voyage Along the Lakes._
The Embarcation. Equipment of the Griffin. Voyage through the Lakes
and Straits. The Storm. Superstition of the Voyagers. Arrival at
Mackinac. Scenery there. Friendship of the Indians. Sail on Lakes
Huron and Michigan. Arrival at Green Bay. The well-freighted Griffin
sent back. 104
CHAPTER VI.
_The Expedition of Father Hennepin._
Seeking a Northwest Passage. The Voyage Commenced. The Alarm.
Delightful Scenery. The Indian Village. Entrance to the Mississippi.
Appearance of the Country. The Midnight Storm. Silence and Solitude.
A Fleet of Canoes. Captured by the Savages. Merciful Captivity.
Alarming Debate. Condition of the Captives. 128
CHAPTER VII.
_Life with the Savages._
Ascending the River with the Savages. Religious Worship. Abundance
of Game. Hardihood of the Savages. The War-Whoop. Savage Revelry.
The Falls of St. Anthony. Wild Country Beyond. Sufferings of the
Captives. Capricious Treatment. Triumphal Entrance. The Adoption.
Habits of the Savages. 145
CHAPTER VIII.
_Escape from the Savages._
Preaching to the Indians. Studying the Language. The Council. Speech
of Ou-si-cou-dè. The Baptism. The Night Encampment. Picturesque
Scene. Excursion on the St. Francis. Wonderful River Voyage.
Incidents by the Way. Characteristics of the Indians. Great Peril.
Strange Encounter with the Indian Chief. Hardships of the Voyage.
Vicissitudes of the Hunter's Life. Anecdote. The Return Voyage. 163
CHAPTER IX.
_The Abandonment of Fort Crèvecoeur._
Departure of La Salle. Fathers Membré and Gabriel. Their Missionary
Labors. Character of the Savages. The Iroquois on the War Path.
Peril of the Garrison. Heroism of Tonti and Membré. Infamous Conduct
of the Young Savages. Flight of the Illinois. Fort Abandoned. Death
of Father Gabriel. Sufferings of the Journey to Mackinac. 188
CHAPTER X.
_La Salle's Second Exploring Tour._
Disasters. Energy of La Salle. The Embarcation. Navigating the Lakes.
Sunshine and Storm, Beauty and Desolation. Ruins at Crèvecoeur. Steps
Retraced. Christian Character of La Salle. Arrival at Mackinac. The
Enterprise Renewed. Travelling on the Ice. Descent of the Illinois
River. Entering the Mississippi. Voyage of the Canoes. Adventures
with the Indians. 210
CHAPTER XI.
_The Great Enterprise Accomplished._
Scenes in the Arkansas Villages. Indian Hospitality. Barbarian
Splendor. Attractive Scenery. The Alarm. Its Joyful Issue. Genial
Character of La Salle. Erecting the Cross. Pleasant Visit to the
Koroas. The Two Channels. Perilous Attack. Humanity of La Salle. The
Sea Reached. Ceremonies of Annexation. 232
CHAPTER XII.
_The Return Voyage._
The Numerous Alligators. Destitution of Provisions. Encountering
Hostile Indians. A Naval Battle. Visit to the Village. Treachery of
the Savages. The Attack. Humane Conduct of La Salle. Visit to the
Friendly Taensas. Severe Sickness of La Salle. His Long Detention
at Prudhomme. The Sick Man's Camp. Lieutenant Tonti sent Forward.
Recovery of La Salle. His Arrival at Fort Miami. 249
CHAPTER XIII.
_Sea Voyage to the Gulf of Mexico._
La Salle returns to Quebec. Sails for France. Assailed by Calumny.
The Naval Expedition. Its Object. Its Equipment. Disagreement
between La Salle and Beaujeu. The Voyage to the West Indies.
Adventures in the Caribbean Sea. They Enter the Gulf. Storms and
Calms. The Voyagers Lost. 268
CHAPTER XIV.
_Lost in the Wilderness._
Treachery of Beaujeu. Accumulating Troubles. Anxieties of La Salle.
March on the Land. The Encampment. Wreck of the Aimable. Misadventure
with the Indians. Commencement of Hostilities. Desertion of Beaujeu
with the Joli. The Encampment. The Indians Solicit Friendship. The
Cruel Repulse. Sickness and Sorrow. Exploring Expeditions. The
Mississippi sought for in vain. 290
CHAPTER XV.
_A Trip toward Mexico._
Arrangements for the Journey. The Departure. Indians on Horseback.
Scenes of Enchantment. Attractive Character of La Salle. Visit to
the Kironas. The Bite of the Snake. Adventures Wild and Perilous.
Hardihood of the Indian Hunter. The Long Sickness. A Man Devoured by
a Crocodile. The Return. 311
CHAPTER XVI.
_The Last Days of La Salle._
Plan for the New Journey. Magnitude of the Enterprise. Affecting
Leave-taking. The Journey Commenced. Adventures by the Way. Friendly
Character of the Indians. Vast Realms of Fertility and Beauty. The
Joys and the Sorrows of such a Pilgrimage. The Assassination of La
Salle and of three of his Companions. 326
CHAPTER XVII.
_The Penalty of Crime._
Nature's Storms. The Gloom of the Soul. Approach to the Cenis Village.
Cordial Welcome. Barbaric Ceremonials. Social Habits of the Indians.
Meeting with the French Deserters. Traffic with the Indians. Quarrel
between Hiens and Duhaut. The Assassins Assassinated. Departure of
the War Party. Fiend-like Triumph. The March Resumed. 316
CHAPTER XVIII.
_The Close of the Drama._
Ludicrous Scene. Death of M. Marle. Sympathy of the Savages. Barbaric
Ceremonies. The Mississippi Reached. Joyful Interview. Ascending the
River. Incidents by the Way. The Beautiful Illinois. Weary Detention.
The Voyage to Mackinac. Thence to Quebec. Departure for France. Fate
of the Colony. 366
ADVENTURES OF LA SALLE AND HIS COMPANIONS.
CHAPTER I.
_The Enterprise of James Marquette._
The Discovery of America. Explorations of the French in Canada.
Ancestry of James Marquette. His noble character. Mission to Canada.
Adventures with the Indians. Wild Character of the Region and the
Tribes. Voyage to Lake Superior with the Nez-Percés. Mission at Green
Bay. Search for the Mississippi. The Outfit. The Voyage through Green
Bay. Fox River and the Illinois. Enters the Mississippi. Scenes Sublime
and Beautiful. Adventures in an Indian Village.
Nearly three hundred and forty years ago, in April 1541, De Soto, in
his adventurous march, discovered the majestic Mississippi, not far
from the border of the State of Tennessee. No white man's eye had ever
before beheld that flood whose banks are now inhabited by busy
millions. The Indians informed him that all the region below consisted
of dismal, endless, uninhabitable swamps. De Soto, world-weary and
woe-stricken, died upon the banks of the river. In its fathomless
depths his body found burial.
These cruel adventurers, insanely impelled in search of mines of gold,
founded no settlements, and left behind them no traces of their
passage, save that by their cruelties they had excited the implacable
ire of the Indian against the white man. A hundred years of earth's
many griefs lingered slowly away, while these vast solitudes were
peopled only by wandering savage tribes whose record must forever
remain unknown.
In the year 1641, some French envoys, from Canada, seeking to open
friendly trade with the Indians for the purchase of furs, penetrated
the northwest of our country as far as the Falls of St. Mary, near the
outlet of Lake Superior. The most friendly relations existed between
these Frenchmen and the Indians, wherever the tribes were encountered.
This visit led to no settlement. The adventurous traders purchased many
furs, with which they loaded their birch canoes: established friendly
relations with these distant Indians, and greatly extended the region
from which furs were brought to their trading posts in Canada.
Eighteen more years passed away, over the silent and gloomy wilderness,
when in 1659, a little band of these bold and hardy explorers, in their
frail canoes, with Indian guides, paddled along the lonely,
forest-fringed shores of Lake Ontario, ascended the Niagara River to
the Falls, carried their canoes on their shoulders around the rapids,
launched them again on Lake Erie, traversed that inland sea over two
hundred and fifty miles, entered the magnificent Strait, passed through
it to Lake St. Clair, crossed that lake, ascended the St. Clair River
to Lake Huron, and traversing its whole length, a distance of three
hundred miles, reached the Falls of St. Mary.
Here, at the distance of more than a thousand miles from the least
vestiges of civilization, and surrounded by numerous and powerful bands
of savages, these hardy men passed an inclement winter. Amidst rocks
and gloomy pines they reared their hut. Game was abundant, fuel was at
their door, the Indians were hospitable, and they wanted for nothing.
One event only darkened these wintry months. The leader of the band
became lost in the woods and perished.
In the spring the men returned rejoicingly to Canada, with their canoes
laden with the richest furs. They also brought such reports of the
docility and amiability of the Indians, as to inspire the Christians in
Canada with the intense desire to establish missionary stations among
them. Five years passed away, when Father Claude Allouez, with a small
band of Christian heroes, penetrated these wilds to proclaim the glad
tidings of the Gospel. Two years after, he was followed by Father James
Marquette, a noble man, whose name will never die.
As the explorations of Marquette opened the way for the still more
wonderful excursions of La Salle, I must here introduce a brief account
of his adventures. There is something in blood. The Marquette family
had been illustrious in France from time immemorial. Generation after
generation, many of its members had obtained renown, not only for
chivalric courage, but for every virtue which can adorn humanity. Their
ancestral home was a massive feudal castle on an eminence near the
stately city of Leon. The armorial bearing of the family commemorates
deeds of heroic enterprise five hundred years ago. They were generally
earnest Christians.
James Marquette was born at the ancient seat of the family in the year
1637. His mother was a woman of fervent piety and of unusual strength
and culture of mind. Her brother, John Baptiste de la Salle, was the
founder of a system of Christian schools for the gratuitous education
of the poor. Thousands were thus instructed long before the present
system of public schools was introduced. It was to the instructions of
his noble mother that James Marquette was indebted for his elevated
Christian character, and for his self-sacrificing devotion to the
interests of humanity, which have given his name celebrity through a
large portion of the Christian world.
At the age of seventeen this noble young man, resisting all the
brilliant allurements the world opened to one of his wealth and rank,
consecrated himself to the service of religion by entering the ministry
in the Catholic Church, in which he was born and educated, and by whose
influences he was exclusively surrounded.
Two years were devoted to intense study. Then, for twelve years, he was
employed in teaching and in many laborious and self-denying duties. As
was natural, with a young man of his ardent nature and glowing spirit
of enterprise, he was very desirous of conveying the glad tidings of
the Gospel to those distant nations who had never even heard of the
name of Jesus.
Canada and its savage tribes were then attracting much attention in
France. Wonderful stories were told of the St. Lawrence River, and of
the series of majestic lakes, spreading far away into the unknown
interior, and whose shores were crowded with Indian tribes of strange
aspect, language, and customs.
In the year 1666, Marquette set sail from France, On the 20th of
September, he landed, on the banks of the St. Lawrence, at a little
hamlet of French log-cabins and Indian wigwams, called Quebec. He was
then but twenty-nine years of age. There was, at that time, another
missionary, M. Allouez, on an exploring tour far away upon the majestic
lakes of the interior. With adventurous footsteps he was traversing
prairie solitudes and forest glooms, upon which no eye of civilized man
had ever yet looked. His birch canoe, paddled by Indian guides, glided
over solitary waters hundreds of leagues beyond the remotest frontier
stations.
There was quite an important trading-post at the mouth of Saguenay
River. This was a remarkable stream, which entered the St. Lawrence
about one hundred and twenty miles below Quebec. It came rushing down,
from unknown regions of the north, with very rapid flood, entering the
St. Lawrence at a point where that majestic river was eleven miles in
width.
Here the French government had established one of the most important
commercial and religious stations of that day. At certain seasons of
the year it presented an extraordinary wild and picturesque aspect of
busy life. There were countless Indian tribes, clustered in villages
along the banks of the St. Lawrence, the Saguenay, and their tributary
streams. In the early summer, the Indians came by hundreds, in fleets
of canoes--men, women and children--to this great mart of traffic. They
came in their gayest attire, reared their wigwams on the plain, kindled
their fires, and engaged in all the barbaric sports of Indian gala
days. The scene presented was so full of life and beauty, that the most
skilful artist might despair of his ability to transfer it to the
canvas.
Father Marquette took his station at this point. Here for twelve years
he patiently labored, trying to teach the Indians the way of salvation
through faith in Jesus Christ. Full of enthusiasm, and naturally
endowed with a very enterprising spirit, his heart glowed with zeal as
he listened to the narrative of Father Allouez, of populous tribes, far
away on the majestic shores of Huron, Michigan, Superior. These tribes
had never heard of the mission of the Son of God, to save a lost world.
They had but very faint conceptions of the Heavenly Father. Marquette
could not resist the impulse to carry the Gospel to these realms of
darkness.
It is difficult for us now to form any adequate conception of the
little hamlet, at the mouth of the Saguenay, where Marquette commenced
his missionary labors. The log-cabins of the French, their store-house,
and, most prominent of all, the cross-surmounted log chapel, were
clustered together. At a little distance, on the plain, were hundreds
of Indian wigwams. Bark canoes, light as bubbles, were seen gliding
over the still waters, which were there expanded into a beautiful bay.
The glooms of the gigantic forest, spreading back to unexplored and
unimagined depth, added to the sublimity of the scene.
There seemed to be no apprehension of hostility on either side. The
intercourse between the two parties of civilized and uncivilized men
was truly fraternal. The French conformed, as far as possible, to the
modes of life of the Indians. They shared in their games, married the
daughters of their chiefs, and in all points endeavored to identify the
interests of the natives with their own.
M. Marquette had a remarkable facility in the acquisition of languages.
There was a general resemblance in the language of all the tribes on
the St. Lawrence. He could very soon speak fluently with all. Taking
Indian guides with him, he commenced tours in various directions,
paddled by Indians in the birch bark canoe. He visited tribe after
tribe, met the chiefs at their council fires, slept in the wigwams,
administered medicines to the sick, and, with zeal which no
discouragement could chill, endeavored to point the living and the
dying to that Saviour who taketh away the sins of the world.
After spending two years in these labors, he obtained an appointment to
connect himself with a mission established nearly a thousand miles
west, far away upon the shores of Lake Superior. On the 21st of April,
1668, he left Quebec for Montreal. The distance was one hundred and
eighty miles up the river. The voyage was made in a birch canoe, with
three boatmen to aid him in paddling it against the stream. They could
proceed about thirty miles a day. The voyage occupied about a week.
There were Indian villages on the banks where they occasionally slept.
At other times they encamped in the forest, the night wind lulling them
to sleep, as it sighed through the leafless branches, which the
returning sun of spring had scarcely yet caused to bud.
At Montreal there was a little cluster of cabins and wigwams,
presenting a very different aspect from the stately city which now
adorns that site. After a short tarry there, waiting for a suitable
guide, to traverse more than a thousand miles of almost pathless
wilderness, a party of Nez-Percé Indians, from Lake Superior, came down
the river in their canoes. With them Marquette embarked. It was a
wonderful voyage which this gentleman, from the refinement and culture
of France, made alone with these savages.
They paddled up the Ottawa River a distance of nearly four hundred
miles. Thence through a series of narrow streams and minor lakes, they
entered Lake Nipissing. Descending the rapid flood of French River,
through cheerless solitudes eighty miles in extent, they entered
Georgian Bay. Crossing this vast sheet of water over an expanse of
fifty miles, they saw the apparently boundless waves of Lake Huron
opening before them. The northern shores of this inland sea they
skirted, until they reached the river St. Mary, which connects Lake
Superior with Lake Huron. Here two missionary stations were
established.
One was near the entrance of the river into Lake Huron, about forty
miles below the celebrated Falls of St. Mary. The other was at Green
Bay, an immense lake in itself, jutting out from the northwestern
extremity of Lake Michigan. Father Marquette reared his log-cabin in
the vicinity of a small Indian village, on the main land, just south of
the island of Mackinaw. He named the station St. Ignatius. In this vast
solitude this heroic man commenced his labors of love. There were about
two thousand souls in the tribes immediately around him. With great
docility they listened to his teachings, and were eager to be baptized
as Christians. But the judicious father was in no haste thus to secure
merely their nominal conversion. The dying, upon professions of
penitence, he was ever ready to baptize, and to administer to them the
sacrament of the Lord's Supper. With the rest he labored to root out
all the remnants of their degrading superstitions, and to give them
correct ideas of salvation through repentance, amendment, and trust in
an atoning Saviour.
Gradually Marquette gathered around him a little band of loving
disciples. For three years he labored with them cheerfully, joyously.
His gentle and devoted spirit won, not merely the friendship of the
Indians, but their ardent affections. He was just as safe among them as
the most beloved father surrounded by his children. Three years this
good man remained in these lonely wilds, peacefully and successfully
teaching these benighted children of the forest. During all this time
his mind had been much exercised with the thought of exploring the
limitless and unknown regions south and west.
He had heard rumors of the Mississippi, the Father of Waters; and his
devout mind peopled the vast realms through which it flowed with the
lost children of God, whom he perhaps might reclaim, through the Gospel
of Jesus, who had come from heaven for their redemption. The Governor
of Canada was desirous, for more worldly reasons, of exploring these
regions, where future empires might be reared.
Even the Indians knew but little respecting this great and distant
river. There was much uncertainty whether it ran south, into the Gulf
of Mexico, or west, emptying into the Gulf of California, which Spanish
explorers had called the Red Sea, in consequence of its resemblance to
that Asiatic sheet of water, or whether it turned easterly, entering
the Atlantic Ocean somewhere near the Virginia coast.
In the spring of the year 1673, Governor Frontenac sent a French
gentleman, M. Joliet, from Quebec, with five boatmen, to Point St.
Ignatius, to take Father Marquette on board and set out to find and
explore the downward course of this much talked of river. M. Joliet was
admirably qualified for this responsible enterprise. He was a man of
deep religious convictions, had spent several years among the Indians,
was a very courteous man in all his intercourse with them, was
thoroughly acquainted with their customs, and spoke several of their
languages. As to courage, it was said that he absolutely feared
nothing. The good father writes, in reference to his own appointment to
this expedition:
"I was the more enraptured at this good news, as I saw my designs
on the point of being accomplished, and myself in the happy
necessity of exposing my life for the salvation of all these
nations. Our joy at being chosen for this enterprise, sweetened the
labor of paddling from morning till night. As we were going to seek
unknown countries, we took all possible precautions, that if our
enterprise were hazardous, it should not be foolhardy. For this
reason we gathered all possible information from the Indians, who
had frequented those parts. We even traced a map of all the new
country, marking down the rivers on which we were to sail, the
names of the nations through which we were to pass, and the course
of the great river."
On the 13th of May, 1673, this little band, consisting of M. Joliet,
Father Marquette, and five boatmen, in two birch canoes, commenced
their adventurous voyage. They took with them some Indian corn and
jerked meat; but they were to live mainly upon such food as they could
obtain by the way. The immense sheet of water, at the northwestern
extremity of Lake Michigan, called Green Bay, is one hundred miles long
by twenty or thirty broad. The boatmen paddled their frail canoes along
the western border of this lake until they reached its southern
extremity, where they found a shallow river, flowing into it from the
south, which they called Fox River. They could propel their canoes
about thirty miles a day. Each night they selected some propitious spot
for their encampment. Upon some dry and grassy mound they could
speedily, with their axes, construct a hut which would protect them
from the weather. Carefully smoothing down the floor, they spread over
it their ample couch of furs. Fish could be taken in abundance. The
forest was filled with game. An immense fire, blazing before the open
side of the hut, gave warmth, and illumined the sublime scene with
almost the brilliance of noon-day. There they joyously cooked their
suppers, with appetites which rendered the feast more luxurious to them
probably than any gourmand at Delmonico's ever enjoyed.
Each night Father Marquette held a religious service, which all
reverently attended. Prayers were offered, and their hymns of Christian
devotion floated sweetly through those sublime solitudes. The boatmen
were men of a gentle race, who had been taught from infancy to revere
the exercises of the church.
They came upon several Indian villages. But the natives were as
friendly as brothers. Many of them had visited the station at St.
Ignatius, and all of them had heard of Father Marquette and his labors
of love. These children of the forest begged their revered friend to
desist from his enterprise.
"There are," they said, "on the _great river_, bad Indians who will cut
off your heads without any cause. There are fierce warriors who will
try to seize you and make you slaves. There are enormous birds there,
whose wings darken the air, and who can swallow you all, with your
canoes, at a mouthful. And worst of all, there is a malignant demon
there who, if you escape all other dangers, will cause the waters to
boil and whirl around you and devour you."
To all this, the good Marquette replied, "I thank you, dear friends,
for your kind advice, but I cannot follow it. There are souls there, to
save whom, the Son of God came to earth and died. Their salvation is at
stake. I would joyfully lay down my life if I could guide them to the
Saviour."
They found the navigation of Fox River impeded with many rapids. To
surmount these it was necessary often to alight from their canoes, and,
wading over the rough and sharp stones, to drag them up against the
swift current. They were within the limits of the present State of
Wisconsin, and found themselves in a region of lakes, sluggish streams,
and marshes. But there were Indian trails, which had been trodden for
uncounted generations, leading west. These they followed, often
painfully carrying their canoes and their burdens on their shoulders,
for many miles, from water to water, over what the Indians called the
_Carrying Places_.
At length they entered a region of remarkable luxuriance, fertility,
and beauty. There were crystal streams and charming lakes. Magnificent
forests were interspersed with broad and green prairies. God seemed to
have formed, in these remote realms, an Eden of surpassing loveliness
for the abode of his children. Three tribes, in perfect harmony,
occupied the region--the Miamis, Mascoutins, and Kickapoos. There was a
large village with abundant corn-fields around. River and lake, forest
and prairie were alike alive with game.
To their surprise they found that the French missionary, Father
Allouez, had reached this distant spot, preaching the Gospel, eight
years before. The Indians had received him with fraternal kindness. He
had left in the centre of the village a cross, the emblem of the
crucified Son of God.
"I found," Marquette writes, "that these good people had hung skins and
belts and bows and arrows on the cross, an offering to the Great
Spirit, to thank him because he had taken pity on them during the
winter and had given them an abundant chase."
No white man had ever penetrated beyond this region. These simple,
inoffensive people seemed greatly surprised that seven unarmed men
should venture to press on to meet the unknown dangers of the
wilderness beyond--wilds which their imaginations had peopled with all
conceivable terrors.
On the 10th of June these heroic men resumed their journey. The kind
Indians furnished them with two guides to lead them through the
intricacies of the forest to a river, about ten miles distant, which
they called Wisconsin, and which they said flowed westward into the
Father of Waters. They soon reached this stream. The Indians helped
them to carry their canoes and effects across the portage. "We were
then left," writes Marquette, "alone in that unknown country, in the
hand of God."
Our voyagers found the stream hard to navigate. It was full of
sand-bars and shallows. There were many islands covered with the
richest verdure. At times they came upon landscapes of enchanting
beauty, with lawns and parks and lakes, as if arranged by the most
careful hands of art.
After descending this stream about one hundred and twenty miles, they
reached the mouth of the Wisconsin River, and saw the flood of the
Mississippi rolling majestically before them. It was the 17th of June
1673, Father Marquette writes that, upon beholding the river, he
experienced a joy which he could not express.
Easily they could be swept down by the rapid current into the sublime
unexplored solitudes below. But to paddle back against the
swift-rolling tide would try the muscles of the hardiest men. Still the
voyagers pressed on. It was indeed a fairy scene which now opened
before them. Here bold bluffs hundreds of feet high, jutted into the
river. Here were crags of stupendous size and of every variety of form,
often reminding one of Europe's most picturesque stream, where
"The castled crags of Drachenfels,
Frown o'er the wide and winding Rhine."
Again the prairie would spread out its ocean-like expanse, embellished
with groves, garlanded with flowers of gorgeous colors waving in the
summer breeze, checkered with sunshine and the shade of passing clouds,
with roving herds of the stately buffalo and the graceful antelope. And
again the gloomy forest would appear, extending over countless leagues,
where bears, wolves, and panthers found a congenial home.
Having descended the river nearly two hundred miles they came to an
Indian trail, leading back into the country. It was so well trodden as
to give evidence that a powerful tribe was near. It speaks well for the
Indians--for the reputation which they then enjoyed--that Marquette,
with his French companion, M. Joliet, far away in the wilderness, seven
hundred miles from any spot which a white man's foot had ever before
trod, should not have hesitated alone to enter this trail in search of
the habitations of this unknown tribe. They left all their companions,
with the canoes, on the bank of the river.
"We cautioned them," writes Father Marquette, "strictly to beware of a
surprise. Then M. Joliet and I undertook this rather hazardous
discovery, for two single men, who thus put themselves at the
discretion of an unknown and barbarous people."
These two bold adventurers followed the trail in silence for about six
miles. They then saw, not far from them, upon a meadow on the banks of
a small stream, a very picturesque group of wigwams, with all the
accompaniments of loafing warriors, busy women, sporting children, and
wolfish dogs, usually to be found in an Indian village. At the distance
of about a mile and a half, upon a gentle eminence, there was another
village of about equal size.
As the Indians had not yet caught sight of them, they fell upon their
knees, and Father Marquette, in fervent prayer, commended themselves to
God. They then gave a loud shout, to attract the attention of the
Indians, and stepped out into open view. The whole community was
instantly thrown into commotion, rushing from the wigwams, and
gathering in apparently an anxious group.
After a brief conference they seemed to come to the conclusion that two
unarmed men could not thus approach them, announcing their coming, with
any hostile intent. Four of their aged men were deputed to go forward
and greet the strangers. They advanced with much dignity, not uttering
a word, but waving, in their hands, the pipes of peace. As it
afterwards appeared, they had often heard of the arrival of the French
in Canada, of the wonderful articles which they brought for traffic,
and of the missionaries, with their long black gowns. The name of
Blackgowns was the one with which, in all the tribes, they designated
these preachers of the Gospel. When they had come within a few paces of
the strangers, they regarded them attentively and waited to be
addressed. Both M. Joliet and Father Marquette understood that these
ceremonies indicated friendship. Father Marquette broke the silence by
inquiring
"To what nation do you belong?"
"We are Illinois," one of them replied, "and in token of peace we have
brought you our pipes to smoke. We invite you to our village, where all
are awaiting you with impatience."
The Frenchman and the four Indians walked together to the village. At
the door of one of the largest wigwams, one of the ancients stood to
receive them. According to their custom, on such occasions, he was
entirely unclothed. This probably was the savage mode of indicating
that there were no concealed weapons about the person. This man, with
his hands raised toward the sun, which was shining brightly, said:
"How beautiful is the sun, O Frenchmen! when you come to visit us. All
our people welcome you, and you shall enter all our cabins in peace."
He then led them into the wigwam. A large concourse remained outside in
respectful silence. Only the principal men entered the wigwam. Mats
were provided, for the guests, in the centre. The rest took seats
around. The calumet of peace was passed. All in turn partook of the
smoke of the weed which both the civilized and uncivilized man have
prized so highly.
While thus employed, a messenger came in from the head chief, who
resided in the village on the eminence to which we have alluded. He
brought a message from the chief, inviting the strangers to his
residence.
"We went with a good will," writes M. Marquette. "The people, who had
never before seen a white man, could never tire looking at us. They
threw themselves upon the grass, by the way-side, to watch as we
passed. They ran ahead, and then turned and walked slowly back to
examine us. All this was done without noise and in the most respectful
manner."
The chief was standing, with two venerable men, at the door of his
residence. The three were entirely destitute of clothing. Each one held
the calumet of peace in his hand. The guests were received with smiles
and a few cordial words of welcome. Together they all entered the
spacious wigwam. It was very comfortable and even cheerful in its
aspect, being carpeted, and its sides were lined with mats ingeniously
woven from rushes. The Frenchmen, as before, were placed upon central
mats, while all the dignitaries of the village silently entered and
took their seats around.
The chief rose, and in a few very appropriate words bade the strangers
welcome to his country. Again the pipe of peace was presented to them
and passed the rounds. M. Marquette, who, as we have said, was quite at
home in all matters of Indian etiquette, then arose, and addressing the
chief, said:
"We have come as friends to visit the nations on this side of the great
river." In token of the truth of these words, he made the chief a
handsome present. He then added, "God, the Father of us all, has had
pity on you, though you have long been ignorant of Him. He wishes to
become known to all nations, and has sent me to communicate His will to
you, and wishes you to acknowledge and obey Him." Another present was
handed the chief. He then continued, "My king, the great chief of the
French, wishes that peace should reign everywhere; that there should be
no more wars. The Iroquois, who have been the enemies of the Illinois,
he has subdued." Another present was given, in confirmation of the
truth of these words. In conclusion of this brief yet comprehensive
speech, he remarked, "And now I have only to say that we entreat you to
give us all the information, in your power, of the sea into which the
great river runs, and of the nations through whom we must pass on our
way to reach it."
The chief rose, and addressing Father Marquette, said, "I thank thee,
Blackgown, and thee also," bowing to M. Joliet, "for taking so much
pains to come and visit us. Never has the earth been so beautiful to
us, and never has the sun shone so brightly upon us as to-day. Never
has our river been so calm or so free from rocks. Your canoes have
swept them away. Never has our tobacco had so fine a flavor, or our
corn been so luxuriant as we behold it to-day, now that you are with
us."
Then, turning to a little Indian captive boy, at his side, whom they
had taken from some hostile tribe, and had adopted into the family of
the chief, he added:
"Here is my son. I give him to you that you may know my heart. I
implore you to take pity upon me, and upon all my nation. Thou knowest
the Great Spirit who has made us all. Thou speakest to Him and hearest
His word. Ask Him to give me life and health, and to come and dwell
with us, that we may know Him."
He then led the little captive to the side of M. Marquette. This was in
return for the first present. Holding in his hand a calumet very highly
carved and ornamented with feathers, he presented it to the father,
saying:
"This is the sacred calumet. It signifies that, wherever you bear it,
you are the messengers of peace. All our tribes will respect it, and
will protect you from every harm."
The bowl of the pipe was of some highly polished red stone. The stem,
elaborately decorated, was of a reed about two feet long. "By this
present," said he, "we wish to show our esteem for your chief, whom we
must all revere after the account you have given us of him." The third
and fourth presents consisted, so far as we can judge from the rather
obscure narrative, of two thick mats, one for each of the guests, to
serve them for beds on their voyage. At the same time the chief said:
"I beg of you, in behalf of the whole nation, not to go any farther
down the river. Your lives will be in the greatest peril.
"I replied," Father Marquette writes, "that I did not fear death, and
that I esteemed no happiness greater than that of losing my life for
the glory of God, who made us all. But this, these poor people could
not understand."
The council now broke up, and a great feast was given. It consisted of
four courses. The first much resembled what is called in New England
hasty pudding. It consisted of Indian meal, and corn pounded fine, and
boiled in an earthen pot, and was eaten with melted fat. The master of
ceremonies took some on a wooden plate, and with a horn spoon, quite
neatly made, fed the two Frenchmen as a mother feeds a child.
The second course consisted of three boiled fishes. Carefully the bones
were removed, and the Indian who served them placed the food in the
mouths of their guests as before. He blew upon it, to be sure that it
was sufficiently cool. For the third course there was brought forward a
large baked dog. This was considered a great delicacy, and was deemed
the highest compliment which could be shown to a guest. But the
prejudices of the Frenchmen were such that they could not eat dog, and
this dish was removed. The fourth course consisted of fat and tender
cuts of buffalo meat. This also was placed in their mouths as parents
feed a child.
There were three hundred wigwams in the village. After the feast the
guests were led into each one of them, and introduced to the inmates.
As they walked through the streets a large crowd accompanied them. Some
men, officiating as a kind of police, were continually haranguing the
throng, urging the people not to press too close, and not to be
troublesome. Many presents were made them of belts and scarfs woven
from hair and fur, and other small articles of Indian manufacture,
brilliantly colored and richly embroidered with shells. They had also
knee-bands and wrist-bands which were quite ornamental.
That night the guests slept in the wigwam of the chief. The next
morning they took leave of their generous entertainers. The chief
himself accompanied them to their canoes, followed by a retinue of
nearly six hundred persons.
We cannot record this friendly reception without emotion. How beautiful
is peace! How different would the history of this world have been but
for man's inhumanity to man!
CHAPTER II.
_The First Exploration of the Mississippi River._
River Scenery. The Missouri. Its Distant Banks. The Mosquito Pest.
Meeting the Indians. Influence of the Calumet. The Arkansas River. A
Friendly Greeting. Scenes in the Village. Civilization of the Southern
Tribes. Domestic Habits. Fear of the Spaniards. The Return Voyage.
Father Marquette and M. Joliet had astronomical instruments with which
they ascertained, with much accuracy, the latitude of all their
important stopping places. As they state that the two villages, which
they visited, were on the western side of the Mississippi, at the
latitude of forty degrees north, and upon the banks of a stream flowing
into the Great River, it is supposed that these villages were upon the
stream now called Des Moines, which forms a part of the boundary
between Iowa and Missouri. The Indians called the villages Pe-ou-a-sea
and Moing-wena. They were probably situated about six miles above the
present city of Keokuk.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon, of a day near the end of sunny,
blooming June, when our voyagers resumed their adventurous tour. Nearly
the whole tribe they had visited stood upon the bank to bid them adieu.
They floated along through a very dreary country of precipitous rocks
and jagged cliffs, which quite shut out from their view the magnificent
prairie region which was spread out beyond this barrier.
Upon the smooth surface of one of these rocks, apparently inaccessible,
they saw, with surprise, two figures painted in very brilliant colors
and with truly artistic outline. They thought that the painting would
have done honor to any European artist. The figures were of two rather
frightful looking monsters, about the size of a calf, in red, green,
and black. Stoddard, in his history of Louisiana, says that these
painted monsters, between the Missouri and the Illinois Rivers, still
remain in a good degree of preservation.
"As we were discoursing of them," writes Father Marquette, "sailing
gently down a beautiful, still, clear water, we heard the noise of a
rapid, into which we were about to fall. I have seen nothing more
frightful. A mass of large trees, entire, with branches, real floating
islands, came rushing from the mouth of the river Pekitunoüì, so
impetuously that we could not, without great danger, expose ourselves
to pass across. The agitation was so great that the water was all
muddy, and could not get clear."
This was the rush and the roar of the incoming billows of the terrible
Missouri, the most tremendous river upon this globe. It enters the
Mississippi through a channel half a mile in breadth, rushing down with
a sort of maniacal fury, from its sources among the Rocky Mountains at
the distance of three thousand and ninety-six miles. Its whole course,
from its rise to its entrance into the Gulf of Mexico, is four thousand
three hundred and forty-nine miles. More than two hundred and fifty
years after this, Mr. George Catlin ascended this river in the first
steamer which ever ventured to breast its torrent.
It took the steamer three months to ascend to the mouth of the
Yellowstone, two thousand miles from the city of St. Louis. At this
point the American Fur Company had erected a very substantial fort,
three hundred feet square, for the protection of their property against
the savages. The banks of the stream were lined with the villages of
the Indians. Their wigwams were of a great variety of structure. The
scenes presented were astonishing in their wild and picturesque aspect.
Crowds of weird-like savages would often be collected on the bluffs,
watching the appalling phenomenon of the passing steamer.
The Missouri is different, perhaps, from any other river in the world.
Its boiling, turbid waters rush impetuously on, in an unceasing
current, for hundreds of leagues, with scarcely a cove, an eddy, or any
resting place where a canoe can be tranquilly moored. The Indian name
of the river signifies Muddy Water. It is so opaque, like a cup of
chocolate, that a newly coined shilling, placed in a tumbler, cannot be
seen through the eighth part of an inch of the water.
For nearly a thousand miles the whole bed of the stream was impeded
with gigantic trees, torn from the rich alluvial banks, forming snags
and sawyers and rafts, through which, often with difficulty, the
steamer cut her way. Every island and sandbar was covered with dreary
looking masses of driftwood of every conceivable variety.
This desolate and savage aspect of the rushing flood is much relieved
by the aspect of marvellous beauty often presented on the banks. It was
almost a fairy scene. Hills and vales, bluffs and ravines, were
continually presented in successions of sublimity and beauty which
charmed the eye. Prairies were often spread out before them of
boundless expanse, upon which vast herds, often numbering thousands, of
buffaloes, elks, and antelopes, were seen grazing. In the gloomy
forests, wolves were roaming. Mountain goats bounded over the cliffs.
And at times, the air seemed darkened with the myriad birds which rose
from the tall grass.
There was one twelve-pound, and three or four eight-pound cannon on
board the steamer. At every village which was passed, the banks would
be crowded with the astounded natives. Mischievously, the captain would
order all the cannon to be simultaneously discharged. The effect upon
the terrified savages was ludicrous in the extreme. They were all
thrown into utter consternation. The more devout threw themselves upon
the ground, and, hiding their faces, cried to the Great Spirit for
protection. The cowards, with the women and the children, ran screaming
back into the prairie, or behind the hills. Occasionally, a little band
of veteran warriors, the bravest of the brave, would stand their
ground, ready to meet the terrors of even a supernatural foe.
"Sometimes," writes Catlin, "they were thrown neck and heels over each
other's heads and shoulders--men, women, children and dogs; sage,
sachem, old and young, all in a mass--at the frightful discharge of the
steam from the escape-pipe, which the captain of the boat let loose
among them, for his own fun and amusement."
As our voyagers, in their birch bark canoes, passed the mouth of this
wonderful stream, they had no conception of the scenes which were
transpiring in thousands of Indian villages on its far-distant waters.
They began now to think, from the course of the Mississippi, that it
must flow into the Gulf of Mexico. They had however learned, from the
Indians, that if they were to ascend the Missouri, or, as they called
it, Pekitanoüì, five or six days' sail, they would come to a very
beautiful prairie, ninety-five miles long. This splendid country, which
was represented as an Eden of loveliness, the Indians said could be
easily crossed, carrying their canoes. They could then take another
river which ran southwest into a small lake. This was the source of
another large and deep river, which emptied into the western sea.
In subsequent years, this description of the Indians was found to be
unexpectedly correct. By ascending the Missouri to the Platte River,
and following that stream to its source among the Rocky Mountains, the
traveller is brought within a few leagues of the Colorado, which flows
into the Gulf of California. Having passed the dangerous rush of the
Missouri, as it entered into the Mississippi, and floating upon the
surface of their combined waters, they came, after the sail, as they
judged, of about sixty miles, to the mouth of another large river, of
gentle current, and whose waters were of crystal purity, flowing in
from the east. The Indians very appropriately called it Wabash, which
signified Beautiful River. The French subsequently called it La Belle
Rivière. We have given it the name of Ohio, appropriating the name
Wabash to one of its most important tributaries.
The voyagers learned that this stream was fringed with a succession of
Indian villages. The various tribes were peaceful, averse to war. In
one district there was a cluster of twenty-three villages; in another,
of eighteen. But alas for man! It would seem that the fallen children
of Adam were determined that there should be no happiness in this
world. The ferocious Iroquois would send their war parties, hundreds of
miles through the wilderness, to make unprovoked attacks upon these
unwarlike people. They would rob them of their harvests, wantonly burn
their wigwams, kill and scalp men, women, and children, and carry off
captives to torture and burn at the stake, in barbarian festivities.
Near the mouth of this river they found deposits of unctuous earth,
having quite brilliantly the colors of red, purple, and violet. Father
Hennepin rubbed some of the red upon his paddle. The constant use of
that paddle in the water, for fifteen days, did not efface the color.
This was a favorite resort of the Indians to obtain materials for
painting their persons.
They now entered the region of that terrible pest, the mosquito.
Elephants, lions, tigers, can be exterminated. The mosquito bids
defiance to all mortal powers. The Indians would build a scaffolding of
poles, a mere grate-work, which would give free passage to smoke. A few
pieces of bark, overhead, sheltered them from the rain, and the
excessive heat of the sun. Upon these poles they slept, kindling
smouldering fires beneath. They could better endure the suffocating
fumes which thus enveloped them and drove away their despicable
tormenters, than bear the poison of their stings. The voyagers were
greatly annoyed by these insects.
As they were thus swept down the infinite windings of the stream, day
after day, mostly at the will of the current, they perceived one
morning, much to their surprise, a small band of Indians on the shore,
armed with guns. The savages seemed very much at their ease, and waited
the approach of the canoes. Father Hennepin stood up and waved toward
them his peace calumet, with its imposing decoration of feathers. His
companions held their muskets in readiness to repel any assault.
Drawing near the shore, the father addressed them in the Huron
language. They did not understand him, but made friendly signs for the
party to land. The Indians led the Frenchmen into their wigwams and
feasted them upon buffalo steaks, with bear's fat, and some very
delicious wild plums.
It appeared that these Indians were a band of warriors, probably from
the Tuscarora nation. They had seen the Spaniards, on the Florida
coast, and had purchased of them guns, axes, and knives. They kept
their powder in strong glass bottles. From them they learned that a ten
days' voyage down the rapid current of the Mississippi would bring them
to the ocean. The indefatigable missionary endeavored to give them some
idea of God, and of salvation through Jesus Christ, who came to seek
and save the lost.
And now, with renewed courage, our adventurers entered their canoes and
resumed their paddles. The prairies, which had so long delighted their
eyes, gradually disappeared, and the dense forest lined both sides of
the stream. It was very evident, however, that upon the other side of
the forest-crowned eminences, the prairies continued to extend in all
their sublimity and beauty; for they often heard the bellowing, as the
roar of distant thunders, from thousands of wild cattle roving the
plains.
They had now descended to nearly the thirty-third degree of north
latitude, when they came to a large Indian village, situated upon a
plain raised but a few feet above the level of the water. These Indians
had undoubtedly received some great outrage from the Spaniards; for no
sooner did they catch a sight of the Europeans than they were thrown
into great commotion, and all their warriors rallied for battle. They
were evidently aware that a few men, armed with the dreadful musket,
might overpower a large number who wielded only the Indian weapons of
warfare.
These warriors were armed with bows and arrows, javelins, and war
clubs. They seemed to know that the invisible bullet could strike with
death far beyond the reach of any of their missiles. They moved
therefore with great caution. In those southern latitudes the birch
tree, from whose bark the canoes of the northern Indians were made, did
not thrive. Their boats were made of large logs, hollowed out and
neatly shaped. They were often ornamented with infinite labor. Some of
the warriors prepared to overwhelm the strangers with a shower of
arrows from the land. Others embarked in their larger boats to ascend
the river, and others to descend, so as to cut off all possibility of
retreat.
As the voyagers drew near the shore, Father Marquette stood up in his
canoe, though exposed to imminent danger of being pierced by their
arrows, and earnestly waved the calumet of peace, at the same time, as
he writes, imploring the aid of "our patroness and guide, the Blessed
Virgin Immaculate. And indeed," he continues, "we needed her aid, for
we heard, from afar, the Indians exciting one another to the combat by
continual yells."
In the terror and tumult of the moment the calumet had not been seen.
But as soon as some of the chiefs caught sight of it, they rushed into
the water, threw their bows and arrows into the canoes, which they
seized and brought to the shore. Father Marquette and M. Joliet were so
familiar with the customs of the Indians that they understood this to
be a friendly movement, and they no longer felt any great anxiety;
though they were aware that, through some sudden outbreak of the savage
sense of revenge, they might lose their lives. The good father
addressed them in six Indian languages, none of which they understood.
At last an old man came forward, who spoke a little Illinois.
Very friendly relations were soon established. They made the Indians
several valuable presents, and informed them of their desire to find
the way to the ocean. "They perfectly understood our meaning," writes
Father Marquette, "but I know not whether they understood what I told
them of God, and the things which concerned their salvation. It is a
seed cast in the earth, which will bear its fruit in season."
The Indians, in return, presented them with corn pounded into meal, and
some fishes. They said that, at some distance farther down the river,
there was a large village called Akamsea; that there they could learn
all they wished to know respecting the course and the out-flow of the
Father of Waters. The voyagers slept in the wigwams of the Indians
during the night, though the father confesses that it was not without
some uneasiness. The Akamsea, to which the Indians referred, was what
we now call Arkansas.
It is supposed that this village was near the Indian village of
Guachoya, where the unhappy De Soto, whose romantic history we have
given in a previous volume of this series, breathed his last, one
hundred and fifty years before. In the narrative which has descended to
us of that ill-fated and cruel expedition the historian writes:
"The same day, July 2, 1543, that we left Aminoya, we passed by
Guachoya, where the Indians tarried for us in their canoes."
It was at Aminoya that De Moscoso, who succeeded De Soto, built his
little fleet of seven strong barges, with which the Spaniards
descended, in a voyage of sixteen days, to the mouth of the river. The
Spaniards were as ignorant of the sources of the mighty river upon
which they were sailing, as were the French of the termination of the
majestic flood, which they had discovered nearly two thousand miles,
far away amidst the lakes and prairies of the north.
The next morning, at an early hour, the Frenchmen resumed their voyage.
A party of ten Indians accompanied them, leading the way in one of
their large boats. The old man, who understood a little of the Illinois
language, also went with them as an interpreter. When they had
descended the river nearly thirty miles, and were within about a mile
and a half of the Arkansas village, they saw two boats, crowded with
warriors, push out from the shore, and advancing to meet them. The keen
eyes of the savages had probably discerned the Indian boat which led
the frail canoes of the Frenchmen. They knew that persons thus
approaching could come with no hostile attempt.
The chief of this party, distinguished by his gorgeous dress, stood up
in his boat, and, waving the plumed calumet, sung, in a very plaintive
but agreeable tone, some Indian ode of welcome. He came with smiles and
friendly signs alongside of the two birch canoes which kept close
together. First, having taken a few whiffs from the pipe, he presented
it to them to smoke. Then, having given them some bread, made of Indian
meal, he made signs for them to follow him to the shore.
The chief had a large scaffolding, such as we have before described, as
a protection from the mosquitoes. It also afforded a cool shelter from
the rays of an almost tropical sun. The ground floor was carpeted with
very fine rush mats. In the centre of this spacious awning, the
Frenchmen were seated, as in the post of honor. The head chief, with
his subordinates, surrounded them. Then the encircling warriors,
several hundred in number, took their seats. A motley but perfectly
orderly crowd of men, women, and children gathered around as witnesses
of the scene.
Fortunately there was a young warrior there who had travelled, and who
was much more familiar with the Illinois language than the old man who
had accompanied the voyagers as interpreter.
"Through him," says the faithful missionary, "I first spoke to the
assembly by the ordinary presents. They admired what I told them of
God, and the mysteries of our holy faith, and showed a great desire to
keep me with them to instruct them."
In answer to inquiries in reference to the sea, they said that it could
be easily reached, in their canoes, in ten days. They, however, stated
that they knew but little about the nations who inhabited the lower
part of the river, because they were their enemies. These Indians had
hatchets, knives, and beads. This proved that, in some way, they had
held intercourse with Europeans. Upon being consulted on this question,
it appeared that they had obtained them through the Spaniards in
Florida and Mexico. They warned the voyagers not to go any farther down
the river, as they would certainly be attacked and destroyed by the war
parties of these hostile bands.
While this conference was going on, which continued for several hours,
the Indians were continually presenting their guests with plates of
food, which consisted principally of meal-pudding, roast corn, and
dogs' flesh. The Indians were very courteous. But it was not a powerful
or war-like tribe. They often had but a meagre supply of food, as the
ferocity of their surrounding enemies prevented them from wandering far
in pursuit of game.
Their main reliance was upon corn. They sowed it at all seasons,
raising three crops a year. While some fields were just sprouting,
others were in the soft and milky state suitable for roasting, and
other fields were waving with the ripe and golden harvest. These
southern tribes were generally much more advanced in the arts than
those farther north. They manufactured many quite admirable articles of
pottery for household use. It is said that some of them were hardly
inferior in form and finish to the exquisite vases found in Herculaneum
and Pompeii.
Still they were in many respects degraded savages, of loathsome habits,
but little elevated above the brutes. Many of the men wandered about
without any clothing. The women were not regarded with any honor. They
were beasts of burden, dressed in wretched skins, without any
ornaments. Their wigwams were long and wide, made of bark, with a
single central entrance. Almost like the cattle, they slept together at
the two extremities, upon mat-covered elevations, raised about two feet
from the ground. From the description of Father Marquette, we should
infer that, in this melancholy village, the chiefs alone enjoyed the
luxury of sleeping upon poles enveloped with suffocating smoke to drive
away the mosquitoes.
"We ate no fruit there," writes Marquette, "but watermelons. If they
knew how to cultivate their grounds they might have plenty of all
kinds."
In the evening M. Joliet and Father Marquette held a conference in
reference to their future course. They had ascertained that they were
at 33° 40' north latitude. The basin of the Gulf of Mexico was at 31°
40'. Though the Indians had said that they could reach the sea in ten
days, it was manifest that they could easily accomplish the distance in
four or five. The question was consequently settled that the
Mississippi ran into the Gulf of Mexico. To decide this point was the
great object of their voyage. Spanish outrages had exasperated all the
Indians along the southern coast. The voyagers could not prosecute
their enterprise any farther, but at the imminent peril of their lives.
Should they thus perish, the result of their discoveries would, for a
long time, be lost to the world.
They feared the Spaniards even more than they did the savages. The
Spaniards, jealous of the power of France, would certainly hold them as
prisoners, if they could take them, and would not improbably put them
to death to prevent the fact of their having descended the whole course
of the Mississippi from being known. They therefore wisely determined
to retrace their steps with all energy. On the 17th of July they left
the village of Akamsea, near the mouth of the Arkansas River, to stem
the strong current of the Mississippi on their return. At high-water
the vast flood, a mile in width, rushed along at the rate of five or
six miles an hour. They found it very difficult to force their way
against this current. We have no particular account of the incidents of
their long and laborious return voyage. When they had reached the
latitude of thirty-eighth degree north, they came to the mouth of the
Illinois River. The Indians informed them that this would be a shorter
route to Lake Michigan than to go up the Mississippi still farther to
the Wisconsin River. They therefore entered this stream, which takes
its rise within six miles of the lake. In the glowing account which
Father Marquette gives of this river, he writes:
"We had seen nothing like this river for the fertility of the land,
its prairies, woods, wild cattle, stags, deer, wild-cats, bustards,
swans, ducks, parrots, and even beavers. It has many little lakes
and tributary rivers. The stream on which we sailed is broad, deep,
and gentle, for sixty-five leagues. During the spring, and part of
the summer, when the rivers are full, the portage is only a mile
and a half in length."
They ascended the Illinois until, by a short portage, they could
transport their canoes across the prairie to the Chicago River.
Descending this stream to its mouth, where the thronged city of Chicago
now stands, but which was then only a dreary expanse of marshy prairie,
they paddled up the western coast of Lake Michigan until they reached
the mission at Green Bay, about the middle of September. About two
months were spent in the toilsome voyage from Arkansas.
General Wool, Inspector-General of the army of the United States, has
made, from a personal acquaintance with the route, the following
estimate of the distances of the several stages of this eventful
journey:
From Green Bay up Fox River to the portage 175 miles
From the portage down the Wisconsin to the Mississippi 175 "
From the mouth of the Wisconsin to the mouth of the
Arkansas 1087 "
From the Arkansas to the Illinois River 547 "
From the mouth of the Illinois to Chicago 305 "
From Chicago to Green Bay, by the lake shore 260 "
_____
Total 2,549
The accompanying fac-simile of a map attached to Marquette's Journal,
reduced from the original, and which we take from Mr. Sparks's brief
but admirable sketch of Marquette's Life, will give the reader a very
clear idea of the route he pursued. The dotted line from the
Mississippi to the Illinois, marked "Chemin du retour," is evidently a
mistake, added by some other hand. It is clear, from the narrative,
that the voyagers returned up the Illinois River.
Father Marquette, who was never known to utter a murmuring word, and
who was serene and cheerful amidst the sorest trials, was so utterly
exhausted by the toils of the expedition that he could proceed no
farther than Green Bay. Here M. Joliet separated from him and continued
his route, in a birch canoe, along the vast expanse of Huron, Erie, and
Ontario, and down the St. Lawrence to Montreal. In descending the
rapids of the river his canoe was over-set and all his papers lost, he
narrowly escaping with his life. He subsequently dictated, from memory,
a few pages of the incidents of the voyage; but the manuscript of
Father Marquette alone remained to tell the wondrous story. This was
sent to France, and there published.
Even Marquette had no conception of the true grandeur of that valley he
had entered, extending from the Alleghany ridges to the Rocky
Mountains. Still, when the tidings of his wonderful discoveries reached
Quebec, the exciting intelligence was received with the ringing of
bells, with salvos of artillery, and, most prominent and important of
all, by nearly the whole population, led by the clergy and other
dignitaries of the place, going in procession to the cathedral where
the Te Deum was sung in thanksgiving to God.
CHAPTER III.
_Marquette's Last Voyage, and Death._
The Departure from Green Bay. Navigating the Lake in a canoe. Storms of
rain and snow. Night Encampments. Ascending the Chicago River. A Winter
with the Savages. Journey to the Kankakee. The Great Council on the
Prairie. Interesting Incidents. The Escort of Savages. The Death Scene.
Sublime Funeral Solemnities.
Father Marquette spent the winter and the whole summer of 1674 at Green
Bay, actively engaged in the services of the mission, though in a very
feeble state of health. It is said that he was remarkably genial and
companionable, fond of pleasantry, ever greeting others with pleasant
words and benignant smiles. He had promised the Illinois Indians that
he would return to them, to teach them the religion of peace and
good-will brought to the world by the Son of God.
His health being somewhat recruited, he set out, by direction of his
superiors, with two boatmen, Pierre and Jacques, to establish a mission
among these Indians, who were anxiously awaiting his arrival. The
mission at Green Bay was at the southern extremity of that inland sea.
Taking their canoe and all their effects upon their shoulders, they
crossed the peninsula, which separated the bay from the lake, through
an Indian trail about thirty miles in length. They then launched their
canoe upon the broad surface of Lake Michigan. The cold gales of
November had now begun to plough the surface of this inland sea. Their
progress was very slow. Often the billows were such that the canoe
could not ride safely over them. Then they landed, and, in the chill
November breezes, trudged along the shore, bearing all their effects
upon their shoulders!
Ice formed upon the margin of the water, and several snow-storms
impeded their march, adding greatly to their discomfort. But not a
repining word escaped the lips of Father Marquette. It was but a dismal
shelter they could rear, for the night, on the bleak shore. Through
this exposure his health began rapidly to fail. It took them nearly
four weeks to reach the mouth of the Chicago River. They ascended the
river several leagues, until they came to a small cluster of Indian
wigwams. The savages were poor, but few in number, and their abodes
comfortless. But Père Marquette was so sick that they could go no
farther. These Indians were of the Miami tribe.
Here the voyagers built a small log-cabin, and, destitute of what many
would deem the absolute necessaries of life, passed the remaining weeks
of the dreary winter. One would suppose that the lone missionary must
at times have contrasted painfully his then situation, with the
luxuries he had enjoyed in the ancestral castle in which he was
cradled. A few wretched wigwams were scattered over the snow-whitened
plains, where poverty, destitution, and repulsive social habits
reigned, such as is perhaps never witnessed in civilized life.
His home was but a cabin of logs, with the interstices stuffed with
moss. The roof was covered with bark. The window was merely a hole cut
through the logs. In storms a piece of cloth hung over it, which
partially kept out wind and rain. The fireplace was one corner of the
room, with a hole in the roof through which the smoke ascended. Often
the state of the atmosphere was such that the cabin was filled with
smothering smoke. A few mats, woven coarsely from bulrushes, covered a
portion of the earth floor. A mat was his bed. A log, covered with a
mat, was his chair; his food was pounded corn, and fishes and flesh of
animals, broiled on the coals; his companions, savages. Such was the
home which this noble man had cheerfully accepted in exchange for the
baronial splendors of his ancestors. It was two hundred years ago.
Father Marquette has received his rewards. His earthly labors and
sacrifices were for but about twenty years. For two hundred years he
has occupied a mansion, which God reared for him in heaven. There he is
now, with his crown, his robe, and his harp, with angel companionship.
And there he is to dwell forever.
There is something exceedingly beautiful in the simplicity of the
Gospel of Christ. God, in the person of his Son, came to earth and
suffered and died to make atonement for human sin. All who will abandon
sin, and try to live doing nothing wrong, and endeavoring to do
everything that is right, He will forgive, and make forever happy in
heaven.
This is the Gospel; the Good News. God is no respecter of persons; but
in every nation, he that feareth him and worketh righteousness, is
accepted with him. The loitering Indians, ignorant, degraded, wicked,
gathered in constant groups around the fire, in the cabin of the sick
Christian teacher. And when he told them of that happy world where they
shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, and where God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes, the truth came home to their hearts,
and became its own witness.
And yet here, as elsewhere, the Gospel of Jesus found its bitter
antagonists. With the Indians, as in every city and town in
Christendom, there were those who did not wish to be holy. They hated a
Gospel which demanded the abandonment of sin. These men, with bloody
tomahawks and gory scalping knives, and who, from infancy, had been
practising the hideous war-whoop; who consider the glory of their
manhood to depend upon the number of enemies they had slain, and whose
greatest delight consisted in listening to the shrieks, and witnessing
the convulsions of their agonized victims at