Chapter 12

From the moment the French landed on the shores of Canada, they seemed to enter into the spirit of forest life. Men of noble birth and courtly associations adapted themselves immediately to the customs of the Indians, and found that charm in the forest and river which seemed wanting in the tamer life of the towns and settlements. The English colonisers of New England were never able to win the affections of the Indian tribes, and adapt themselves so readily to the habits of forest life as the French Canadian adventurer.

A very remarkable instance of the infatuation which led away so many young men into the forest, is to be found in the life of Baron de Saint-Castin, a native of the romantic Bernese country, who came to Canada with the Carignan Regiment during 1665, and established himself for a time on the Richelieu. But he soon became tired of his inactive life, and leaving his Canadian home, settled on a peninsula of Penobscot Bay (then Pentagoët), which still bears his name. Here he fraternised with the Abenaquis, and led the life of a forest chief, whose name was long the terror of the New England settlers. He married the daughter of Madocawando, the implacable enemy of the English, and so influential did he become that, at his summons, all the tribes on {172} the frontier between Acadia and New England would proceed on the warpath. He amassed a fortune of three hundred thousand crowns in "good dry gold," but we are told he only used the greater part of it to buy presents for his Indian followers, who paid him back in beaver skins. His life at Pentagoët, for years, was very active and adventurous, as the annals of New England show. In 1781 he returned to France, where he had an estate, and thenceforth disappeared from history. His son, by his Abenaqui Baroness, then took command of his fort and savage retainers, and after assisting in the defence of Port Royal, and making more than one onslaught on the English settlers of Massachusetts, he returned to Europe on the death of his father. The poet Longfellow has made use of this romantic episode in the early life of the Acadian settlements:

"The warm winds blow on the hills of Spain, The birds are building and the leaves are green, The Baron Castine, of St. Castine, Hath come at last to his own again."

Year after year saw the settlements almost denuded of their young men, who had been lured away by the fascinations of the fur trade in the forest fastnesses of the west. The government found all their plans for increasing the population and colonising the country thwarted by the nomadic habits of a restless youth. The young man, whether son of the _gentilhomme_, or of the humble _habitant_, was carried away by his love for forest life, and no enactments, however severe--not even the penalty of {174} death--had the effect of restraining his restlessness. That the majority of the _coureurs de bois_ were a reckless, dare-devil set of fellows, it is needless to say. On their return from their forest haunts, after months of savage liberty, they too often threw off all restraint, and indulged in the most furious orgies. Montreal was their favourite place of resort, for here were held the great fairs for the sale of furs. The Ottawas, Hurons, and other tribes came from distant parts of the North and West, and camped on the shores in the immediate vicinity of the town. When the fair was in full operation, a scene was represented well worthy of the bold brush of a Doré. The royal mountain, then as now, formed a background of rare sylvan beauty. The old town was huddled together on the low lands near the river, and was for years a mere collection of low wooden houses and churches, all surrounded by palisades. On the fair ground were to be seen Indians tricked out in their savage finery; _coureurs de bois_ in equally gorgeous apparel; black-robed priests and busy merchants from all the towns, intent on wheedling the Indians and bush rangers out of their choicest furs.

The principal rendezvous in the west was Mackinac or Michillimackinac. Few places possessed a more interesting history than this old headquarters of the Indian tribes and French voyageurs. Mackinac may be considered, in some respects, the key of the upper lakes. Here the tribes from the north to the south could assemble at a very short notice and decide on questions of trade or war. It was long the metropolis of a large portion of the Huron {175} and Ottawa nations, and many a council, fraught with the peace of Canada, was held there in the olden times. It was on the north side of the straits that Father Marquette--whose name must ever live in the west--some time in 1671 founded the mission of St. Ignace, where gradually grew up the most important settlement which the French had to the northwest of Fort Frontenac or Cataraqui. The French built a chapel and fort, and the Hurons and Ottawas lived in palisaded villages in the neighbourhood. The _coureurs de bois_ were always to be seen at a point where they could be sure to find Indians in large numbers. Contemporary writers state that the presence of so many unruly elements at this distant outpost frequently threw the whole settlement into a sad state of confusion and excitement, which the priests were at times entirely unable to restrain. Indians, soldiers, and traders became at last so demoralised, that one of the priests wrote, in his despair, that there seemed no course open except "deserting the missions and giving them up to the brandy-sellers as a domain of drunkenness and debauchery."

But it would be a mistake to judge all the _coureurs de bois_ by the behaviour of a majority, who were made up necessarily from the ruder elements of the Canadian population. Even the most reckless of their class had their work to do in the opening up of this continent. Despising danger in every form, they wandered over rivers and lakes and through virgin forests, and "blazed" a track, as it were, for the future pioneer. They were the first to lift the {176} veil of mystery that hung, until they came, on many a solitary river and forest. The posts they raised by the side of the western lakes and rivers, were so many videttes of that army of colonisers who have built up great commonwealths in that vast country, where the bushranger was the only European two centuries ago. The most famous amongst their leaders was the quick-witted Nicholas Perrot--the explorer of the interior of the continent. Another was Daniel Greysolon Duluth, who became a Canadian Robin Hood, and had his band of bushrangers like any forest chieftain. For years he wandered through the forests of the West, and founded various posts at important points, where the fur trade could be prosecuted to advantage. Posterity has been more generous to him than it has been to others equally famous as pioneers, for it has given his name to a city at the head of Lake Superior. Like many a forest which they first saw in its primeval vastness, these pioneers have disappeared into the shadowy domain of an almost forgotten past, and their memory is only recalled as we pass by some storm-beat cape, or land-locked bay, or silent river, to which may still cling the names they gave as they swept along in the days of the old régime.

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XIII.

THE PERIOD OF EXPLORATION AND DISCOVERY: FRANCE IN THE VALLEY OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

(1672-1687.)

Sault St. Marie was the scene of a memorable episode in the history of New France during the summer of 1671. Simon François Daumont, Sieur St. Lusson, received a commission from the government of Quebec to proceed to Lake Superior to search for copper mines, and also to take formal possession of the basin of the lakes and its tributary rivers. With him were two men, who became more famous than himself--Nicholas Perrot and Louis Jolliet, the noted explorers and rangers of the West. On an elevation overlooking the rapids, around which modern enterprise has built two ship-canals, St. Lusson erected a cross and post of cedar, with the arms of France, in the presence of priests in their black robes, Indians bedecked with tawdry finery, and bushrangers in motley dress. In the name of the "most high, mighty, and redoubted monarch, Louis XIV. of that name, most Christian King of France and of {178} Navarre," he declared France the owner of Sault Ste. Marie, Lakes Huron and Superior, and Isle of Mackinac, and "all of adjacent countries, rivers, and lakes, and contiguous streams." As far as boastful words and, priestly blessings could go, France was mistress of an empire in the great West.

Three names stand out in bold letters on the records of western discovery: Jolliet, the enterprising trader, Marquette, the faithful missionary, and La Salle, the bold explorer. The story of their adventures takes up many pages in the histories of this fascinating epoch. Talon may be fairly considered to have laid the foundations of western exploration, and it was left for Louis de Baude, Comte de Frontenac, who succeeded Courcelles as governor in 1672, to carry out the plans of the able intendant when he left the St. Lawrence.

Jolliet, a Canadian by birth, was wisely chosen by Talon--and Frontenac approved of the choice--to explore the West and find the "great water," of which vague stories were constantly brought back by traders and bushrangers. Jolliet was one of the best specimens of a trader and pioneer that Canadian history gives us. His roving inclinations were qualified by a cool, collected brain, which carried him safely through many a perilous adventure. He had for his companion Father Marquette, who was then stationed at the mission of St. Ignace, and had gathered from the Indians at his western missions--especially at La Pointe on Lake Superior--valuable information respecting the "great water" then {179} called the "Missipi." Both had many sympathies in common. Jolliet had been educated by the Jesuits in Canada, but unlike La Salle, he was in full accord with their objects. Marquette possessed those qualities of self-sacrifice and religious devotion which entitle him to rank with Lalemant, Jogues, and Brebeuf. While Jolliet was inspired by purely ambitious and trading instincts, the missionary had no other hope or desire than to bring a great region and its savage communities under the benign influence of the divine being whose heavenly face seemed ever present, encouraging him to fresh efforts in her service. It was in the spring of 1673 that these two men started with five companions in two canoes on their journey through that wilderness, which stretched beyond Green Bay--an English corruption of Grande Baie. Like Nicolet, they ascended the Fox River to the country of the Mascoutins, Foxes, and Kickapoos, where they obtained guides to lead them across the portage to the Wisconsin. The adventurers had now reached the low "divide" between the valleys of the Lakes and the Mississippi. The Fox River and its affluents flowed tranquilly to the great reservoirs of the St. Lawrence, while the Wisconsin, on which they now launched their canoes, carried them to a mighty river, which ended they knew not where. A month after leaving St. Ignace they found themselves "with a great and inexpressible joy"--to quote Marquette's words--on the rapid current of a river which they recognised as the Missipi. As they proceeded they saw the low-lying natural meadows and prairies where herds {180} of buffalo were grazing, marshes with a luxuriant growth of wild rice, the ruined castles which nature had in the course of many centuries formed out of the rocks of the western shores, and the hideous manitous which Indian ingenuity had pictured on the time-worn cliffs. They had pleasant interviews with the Indians that were hunting the roebuck and buffalo in this land of rich grasses. Their canoes struggled through the muddy current, which the Missouri gave as its tribute to the Missipi, passed the low marshy shores of the Ohio, and at last came near the mouth of the Arkansas, where they landed at an Indian village which the natives called Akamsea. Here they gathered sufficient information to enable them to form the conclusion that the great river before their eyes found its way, not to the Atlantic or Pacific oceans, but to the Gulf of Mexico. Then they decided not to pursue their expeditions further at that time, but to return home and relate the story of their discovery. When they came to the mouth of the Illinois River, they took that route in preference to the one by which they had come, followed the Des Plaines River,--where a hill still bears Jolliet's name--crossed the Chicago portage, and at last found themselves at the southern extremity of Lake Michigan. It was then the end of September, and Jolliet did not reach Canada until the following summer. When nearly at his journey's end, Fate dealt him a cruel blow, his canoe was capsized after running the Lachine Rapids just above Montreal, and he lost all the original notes of his journey. Frontenac, however, received from {181} him a full account of his explorations, and sent it to France.

Two centuries later than this memorable voyage of Jolliet, a French Canadian poet-laureate described it in verse fully worthy of the subject, as the following passage and equally spirited translation[1] go to show:

LA DÉCOUVERTE DU THE DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. MISSISSIPPI.

Jolliet . . . Jolliet . . . O, Jolliet, what splendid faery quel spectacle féérique dream Dut frapper ton regard, quand Met thy regard, when on that ta nef historique mighty stream, Bondit sur les flots d'or du Bursting upon its lonely grand fleuve inconnu unknown flow, Quel éclair triomphant, à cet Thy keel historic cleft its instant de fièvre, golden tide:-- Dut resplendir sur ton front Blossomed thy lip with what nu? . . . stern smile of pride? What conquering light shone on thy lofty brow?

Le voyez-vous là-bas, debout Behold him there, a prophet, comme un prophète, lifted high, L'oeil tout illuminé d'audace Heart-satisfied, with bold, satisfaite, illumined eye, La main tendue au loin vers His hand outstretched toward l'Occident bronzé. the sunset furled, Prendre possession de ce Taking possession of this domain domaine immense, immense, Au nom du Dieu vivant, au nom In the name of the living God, roi de France. in the name of the King Et du monde civilisé? . . . of France, And the mighty modern world.

Puis, bercé par la houle, et Rocked by the tides, wrapt in bercé par ses rêves, his glorious moods, L'oreille ouverte aux bruits Breathing perfumes of lofty harmonieux des grèves, odorous woods,

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Humant l'acre parfum des Ears opened to the shores' grands bois odorants, harmonious tunes, Rasant les îlots verts et les Following in their dreams and dunes d'opale, voices mellow, De méandre en méandre, au fil To wander and wander in the l'onde pâle, thread of the pale billow, Suivre le cours des flots Past islands hushed and errants. . . . opalescent dunes.

A son aspect, du sein des Lo, as he comes, from out the flottantes ramures, waving boughs, Montait comme un concert de A rising concert of murmurous chants et de murmures; song upflows, Des vols d'oiseaux marins Of winging sea-fowl lifting s'élevaient des roseaux, from the reeds; Et, pour montrer la route à la Pointing the route to his swift pirogue frèle. dripping blade, S'enfuyaient en avant, traînant Then skimming before, tracing leur ombre grèle their slender shade Dans le pli lumineux des eaux. In luminous foldings of the watery meads.

Et, pendant qu'il allait voguant And as he journeys, drifting à la dérive, with its flow, On aurait dit qu'au loin, les The forests lifting their glad arbres de la rive, roofs aglow, En arceaux parfumés penchés sur In perfumed arches o'er his son chemin, keel's swift swell, Saluaient le héros dont Salute the hero, whose undaunted l'énergique audace soul Venait d'inscrire encor le nom Had graved anew "LA FRANCE" de notre race on that proud scroll Aux fastes de l'esprit humain. Of human genius, bright, imperishable.

Jolliet's companion, the Jesuit missionary, never realised his dream of many years of usefulness in new missions among the tribes of the immense region claimed by France. In the spring of 1675 he died by the side of a little stream which finds its outlet on the western shore of Lake Michigan, soon after his return from a painful journey he had taken, while in a feeble state of health, to the Indian communities of Kaskaskia between the Illinois and {183} Wabash rivers. A few months later his remains were removed by some Ottawas, who knew and loved him well, and carried to St. Ignace, where they were buried beneath the little mission chapel. His memory has been perpetuated in the nomenclature of the western region, and his statue stands in the rotunda of that marble capitol which represents, not the power and greatness of that France which he loved only less than his Church, but the national development of those English colonies which, in his time, were only a narrow fringe on the Atlantic coast, separated from the great West by mountain ranges which none of the most venturesome of their people had yet dared to cross.

The work that was commenced by Jolliet and Marquette, of solving the mystery that had so long surrounded the Mississippi, was completed by Réné Robert Cavalier, Sieur de la Salle, a native of Rouen, who came to Canada when quite a young man, and obtained a grant of land from the Sulpician proprietors of Montreal at the head of the rapids, then known as St. Louis. Like so many Canadians of those days he was soon carried away by a spirit of adventure. He had heard of the "great water" in the west, which he believed, in common with others, might lead to the Gulf of California. In the summer of 1669 he accompanied two Sulpician priests, of Montreal, Dollier de Casson and Gallinée, on an expedition they made, under the authority of Governor Courcelles, to the extreme western end of Ontario, where he met Jolliet, apparently for the first time, and probably had many conversations {184} with him respecting the west and south, and their unknown rivers. He decided to leave the party and attempt an exploration by a southerly route, while the priests went on to the upper lakes as far as the Sault. Of La Salle's movements for the next two years we are largely in the dark--in some respects entirely so. It has been claimed by some that he first discovered the Ohio, and even reached the Mississippi, but so careful an historian as Justin Winsor agrees with Shea's conclusion that La Salle "reached the Illinois or some other affluent of the Mississippi, but made no report and made no claim, having failed to reach the great river." It was on his return from these mysterious wanderings, that his seigniory is said to have received the name of La Chine as a derisive comment on his failure to find a road to China. In the course of years the name was very commonly given, not only to the lake but to the rapids of St. Louis.

We now come to sure ground when we follow La Salle's later explorations, on which his fame entirely rests. Frontenac entered heartily into his plans of following the Mississippi to its mouth, and setting at rest the doubts that existed as to its course. He received from the King a grant of Fort Frontenac and its surrounding lands as a seigniory. This fort had been built by the governor in 1673 at Cataraqui, now Kingston, as an advanced trading and defensive post on Lake Ontario. La Salle considered it a most advantageous position for carrying on his ambitious projects of exploration. He visited France in 1677 and received from the King letters-patent {186} authorising him to build forts south and west in that region "through which it would seem a passage to Mexico can be discovered." On his return to Canada he was accompanied by a Recollet friar, Father Louis Hennepin, and by Henry de Tonty, the son of an Italian resident of Paris, both of whom have associated their names with western exploration. Of all his friends and followers, Tonty, who had a copper hand in the place of the one blown off in an Italian war, was the most faithful and honest, through the varying fortunes of the explorer's career from this time forward. To Father Hennepin I refer in another place.

Both Hennepin and Tonty accompanied La Salle on his expedition of 1678 to the Niagara district, where, above the great falls, near the mouth of Cayuga Creek, he built the first vessel that ever ventured on the lakes, and which he named the "Griffin" in honour of Frontenac, whose coat-of-arms bore such a heraldic device. The loss of this vessel, while returning with a cargo of furs from Green Bay to Niagara, was a great blow to La Salle, who, from this time until his death, suffered many misfortunes which might well have discouraged one of less indomitable will and fixity of purpose. On the banks of the Illinois River, a little below the present city of Peoria, he built Fort Crèvecoeur, probably as a memorial of a famous fort in the Netherlands, not long before captured by the French. While on a visit to Canada, this post was destroyed by some of his own men in the absence of Tonty, who had been left in charge. These men were subsequently captured not far from Cataraqui, and severely punished.

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