M. de Courcelles was succeeded by the able and chivalrous Louis de Buade, comte de Frontenac. The new governor was a soldier of high rank, and a trusty follower of the great Henry of Navarre; his many high qualities were, however, obscured by a capricious and despotic temper. His plans for the advancement of the colony were bold and judicious, his representations to the government of France fearless and effectual, his personal conduct and piety unimpeachable, but he exhibited a bitterness and asperity to those who did not enter into his views little suited to the better points of his character, and it is said that ambition and the love of authority at times overcame his zeal for the public good.[388]
M. Talon, the intendant, was at this time recalled by his own wish, but before he departed from the scenes of his useful labors he planned a scheme of exploration more extensive than any that had yet been accomplished in New France. From the rumors and traditions among the savages of the far West, with which the meeting at St. Mary's had made the French acquainted, it was believed that to the southwest of New France there flowed a vast river, called by the natives Mechasèpè, whose course was neither toward the great lakes to the north, nor the Atlantic to the east. It was therefore surmised that this unknown flood must pour its waters either into the Gulf of Mexico or the Pacific Ocean. The wise intendant was impressed with the importance of possessing a channel of navigation to the waters of the south and west, and before his departure from America made arrangements to have the course of the mysterious stream[389] explored. He intrusted the arduous duty to Father Marquette, a pious priest, who was experienced in Indian travel, and an adventurous and able merchant of Quebec, named Jolyet. [1673.] The Comte de Frontenac gave hearty aid to this expedition, and in the mean time he himself extended the line of French settlement to the shores of Lake Ontario,[390] built there the fort that still bears his name, and opened communication with the numerous tribes westward of the Allegany Mountains.
The exploring party, led by Marquette[391] and Jolyet, consisted of only six men, in two little bark canoes: at the very outset the Indians of the lakes told them that great and terrible dangers would beset their path, and recounted strange tales of supernatural difficulties and perils for those who had ventured to explore the mysterious regions of the West. Hearkening carefully to whatever useful information the natives could bestow, but despising their timid warnings, these adventurous men hastened on over the great lakes to the northwestern extremity of the deep and stormy Michigan, now called Green Bay. Numerous Indian tribes wandered over the surrounding country; among others, the Miamis, the most civilized and intelligent of the native race that they had yet seen. Two hunters of this nation undertook to guide the expedition to one of the tributaries of the great river of which they were in search. The French were struck with wonder at the vast prairies that lay around their route on every side, monotonous, and apparently boundless as the ocean.
The Fox River was the stream to which the Miamis first led them. Although it was broad at its entrance into the lake the upper portion was divided by marshes into a labyrinth of narrow channels; as they passed up the river, the wild oats grew so thickly in the water that the adventurers appeared to row through fields of corn. After a portage of a mile and a half, they launched their canoes in the Wisconsin River, a tributary of the Mississippi, and the guides left them to find their way into the unknown solitudes of the West. Their voyage down the tributary was easy and prosperous, and at length, to their great joy, they reached the magnificent stream of the Mississippi. The banks were rich and beautiful, the trees the loftiest they had yet seen, and wild bulls and other animals roamed in vast herds over the flowery meadows.[393]
For more than 200 miles Marquette and his companions continued their course through verdant and majestic solitudes, where no sign of human life appeared. At length the foot-prints of men rejoiced their sight, and, by following up the track, they arrived at a cluster of inhabited villages, where they were kindly and hospitably received. Their hosts called themselves Illinois, which means "men" in the native tongue, and is designed to express their supposed superiority over their neighbors. Marquette considered them the most civilized of the native American nations.
Neither fear for the future nor the enjoyment of present comfort could damp the ardor of the French adventurers; they soon again launched their little canoes on the Father of Waters, and followed the course of the stream. They passed a number of bold rocks that rose straight up from the water's edge; on one of these, strange monsters were curiously painted in brilliant colors. Soon after they came to the place where the great Missouri pours its turbid and noisy flood into the Mississippi; and next they reached a lofty range of cliffs, that stretched nearly across from bank to bank, breasting the mighty stream. With great difficulty and danger they guided their little canoes through these turbulent waters. They passed the entrance of the Ohio,[394] and were again astonished at the vast size of the tributaries which fed the flood of the mysterious river. The inhabitants of the villages on the banks accepted the calumet of peace, and held friendly intercourse with the adventurers; and although, after passing the mouth of the Arkansas River, a proposition was made in the council of one tribe to slay and rob them, the chief indignantly overruled the cruel suggestion, and presented them with the sacred pipe.
At the village where they were threatened with this great danger they were inaccurately informed that the sea was only distant five days' voyage. From this the travelers concluded that the waters of the Mississippi poured into the Gulf of Mexico, and not, as they had fondly hoped, into the Pacific Ocean. Fearing, therefore, that by venturing further they might fall into the hands of the Spaniards, and lose all the fruits of their toils and dangers, they determined to re-ascend the stream and return to Canada. After a long and dreary voyage, they reached Chicago, on Lake Michigan, where the adventurers separated. Father Marquette remained among the friendly Miamis, and Jolyet hastened to Quebec to announce their discoveries. Unfortunately, their enlightened patron, M. Talon, had already departed for France.
There chanced, however, to be at Quebec at that time a young Frenchman, of some birth and fortune, named Robert Cavalier, sieur de la Salle, ambitious, brave, and energetic. He had emigrated to America with a hope of gaining fame and wealth in the untrodden paths of a new world. The first project that occupied his active mind was the discovery of a route to China[395] and Japan, by the unexplored regions of the west of Canada. The information brought by Jolyet to Quebec excited his sanguine expectations. Impressed with the strange idea that the Missouri would lead to the Northern Ocean, he determined to explore its course, and having gained the sanction of the governor, sailed for France to seek the means of fitting out an expedition. In this he succeeded by the favor of the Prince of Conti. The Chevalier de Tonti, a brave officer, who had lost an arm in the Sicilian wars, was associated with him in the enterprise.
On the 14th of July, 1678, La Salle and Tonti embarked at Rochelle with thirty men, and in two months arrived at Quebec. They took Father Hennepin with them, and hastened on to the great lakes,[396] where they spent two years in raising forts and building vessels of forty or fifty tons burden, and carrying on the fur trade with the natives. The party then pushed forward to the extremity of Michigan. Their friendly relations with the Indians were here interrupted by a party of the Outagamis having robbed them of a coat. The French held a council to devise means of deterring the savages from such depredations, and it was somewhat hastily determined to demand restitution of the coat under the threat of putting the offending chief to death. The Outagamis, having divided the stolen garment into a number of small pieces for general distribution, found it impossible to comply with this requisition, and thinking that no resource remained, presented themselves to the French in battle array. However, through the wise mediation of Father Hennepin, the quarrel was arranged, and a good understanding restored.
La Salle now set out with a party of forty-four men and three Recollets, to pursue his cherished object of exploring the course of the Mississippi. He descended the stream of the Illinois, and was charmed with the beauty and fertility of the banks: large villages rose on each side; the first, containing 500 wooden huts, they found deserted, but in descending the river they suddenly perceived that two large bodies of Indians were assembled on opposite banks, in order of battle. After a parley, however, the Indians presented the calumet of peace, and entertained the strangers at a great feast.