When La Salle, after an arduous journey, in which he encountered untold hardships, arrived at Fort Frontenac, he found that owing to a report of his death, his creditors had seized his property, which however was restored to him by help of the governor, and he was enabled to pursue his enterprise.
During his absence Hennepin, bearing the calumet or pipe of peace, and with two companions, followed the Illinois to the Mississippi, ascending which he advanced as far as the falls of St. Anthony, which he thus named in honour of his patron saint. He spent the summer in excursions through the surrounding country, and after a short captivity among the Sioux, returned by the Wisconsin and Fox rivers to Green Bay, whence proceeding to Quebec, he went to France, and, in 1682, published an account of his travels, stating incorrectly that he had discovered the sources of the Mississippi.
Tonti, in the meantime, who was left at Rock Fort or the Post of the Miamis, near the Illinois village, encountered many disasters. The men left at Crevecœur deserted, and the Iroquois, enemies alike of the Illinois and La Salle, descended the river, and compelled Tonti and the few who remained with him, with the exception of an aged Franciscan, Gabriel de la Ribourd, to flee to Lake Michigan, where they were kindly received by the Potawatomies. La Salle, on his return therefore the following year, with men and stores, and rigging for a new vessel, had the mortification and grief of finding the two forts abandoned. Distressed but not disheartened, the brave adventurer set about to retrieve his fortunes; and having built another fort on the Illinois, which he called St. Louis, set out to find Tonti and his men, in which having succeeded, they all returned to the Illinois. The following winter was actively employed in building a second vessel, in which, early in the following year, 1682, he descended the Illinois, and entering upon the waters of “the Father of Rivers,” was once more on the career of successful achievement. The voyage was happy and prosperous, interrupted only to plant a cabin on the first Chickasa bluff, to raise the cross by the Arkansas, or to plant the arms of France near the Gulf of Mexico. The country was formally claimed for the French monarch, and in honour of him called Louisiana.
“The following year La Salle returned for the third time to France, the tidings of his achievement, which had preceded him, having awakened the utmost enthusiasm. Colbert was now dead, but his son Seignelay, minister for maritime affairs, attached no less importance than his father had done to the French affairs in the New World.” Four vessels were, therefore, prepared for the colonisation of the lands bordering the mouth of the Mississippi, on board of which ware 280 persons, of whom 100 were soldiers; with about thirty volunteer gentlemen, two of whom, “the young Cavalier, and the rash passionate Maranget,” were nephews of La Salle; there were also various mechanics and some young women, so confident were the hopes of permanent colonisation.
Disasters and ill omens commenced early on the voyage; and Beaujeu, the naval commander, who appears to have been a man of dogged obstinacy, continually thwarted and annoyed La Salle. On the 10th of January, 1685, they were near the mouth of the Mississippi, where Tonti, already aware of the enterprise, having descended the river from fort St. Louis with twenty Canadians and thirty Indians, was awaiting his old commander. La Salle however, unfortunately not recognising the land marks, or losing his reckoning, sailed past it, and perceiving his error, would have returned; but again he was opposed by Beaujeu, who persisted on still sailing westward, and by this means they reached the Bay of Matagorda. Hoping that all might yet be well, La Salle yielded to the self-will of Beaujeu, and entered the bay, trusting that the streams which emptied themselves into it were branches of the Mississippi. Here, on the shore of Texas, the ill-fated company disembarked, the store-ship being unfortunately wrecked in entering the harbour. The people at once lost hope; La Salle alone was calm and energetic; but Providence did not bless his efforts; endeavouring to save by boats some of the stores of the wrecked vessel; a storm arose and the wreck went to pieces; nearly everything was lost, and the same night the Indians came down and murdered two of the volunteers.
Terror and despair prevailed; La Salle alone was calm and resolute, and by the force of his character, and the inspiration of his example, sufficient energy remained to construct a fort on the shore of the remains of the wreck, where about 230 persons remained, while La Salle, with sixteen companions, ascended a stream on the west of the bay, in the hope of reaching the Mississippi. But no Mississippi was to be found. An elevated situation above the Bay of Matagorda was selected by La Salle for the erection of a fortified post, which was called St. Louis. This settlement it was which gave to France a claim upon Texas, of which possession was taken, as a portion of Louisiana, in the name of the French.
About six months were spent in constructing this fort, which was built from timber felled in the neighbouring groves, and with fragments of the wreck brought up in canoes, together with a good supply of arms. After all, the little colony was not ill-supplied, if they had been possessed of courage and perseverance. Whilst these necessary works were going forward, La Salle carefully explored the neighbouring country for “the fatal river;” on one occasion being absent four months and returning in rags. But his presence always renewed hope. In April of the next year he set out again with twenty companions, and wandered into New Mexico. On his return, he found the last of the vessels left with the colonists wrecked, and themselves reduced to about six-and-thirty, grown desperate and cruel by despair. He now determined, seeing that no succour was likely to reach them from France, to proceed to Canada on foot, and with sixteen companions set out on this terrible undertaking, their baggage laden on the wild horses of the prairies, and with moccassins made of green buffalo hides. The journey was full of unprecedented hardships. We will give the concluding scene of the tragedy in the words of our able historian Bancroft.
“In the little company of wanderers were two men, Duhaut and l’Archevêque, who had embarked their capital in the enterprise; of these Duhaut had long shown a spirit of mutiny. Inviting Maranget to take charge of the fruits of a buffalo hunt, they quarrelled with and murdered him. Wondering at the delay of his nephew’s return, La Salle went in search of him. At the brink of a river he observed eagles hovering as if over carrion, and fired an alarm gun. Warned by the sound, Duhaut and l’Archevêque crossed the river; the former skulked in the prairie-grass; La Salle asked of the latter, ‘Where is my nephew?’ At the moment of the answer Duhaut fired and La Salle fell dead without a word. ‘You are down now, proud bashaw! you are down now!’ shouted one of the conspirators, as they despoiled the body, which was left on the prairie, naked and without burial, to be devoured by wild beasts.
“Such was the end of this daring adventurer. For force of will and vast conceptions, for various knowledge and quick adaptation of his genius to untried circumstances, for a sublime magnanimity, that resigned itself to the will of Heaven and yet triumphed over affliction by energy of purpose and unfaltering hope—he had no superior among his countrymen.
“After beginning the colonisation of Upper Canada, he perfected the discovery of the Mississippi from the falls of St. Anthony to its mouth; and he will be remembered through all time as the father of colonisation in the great central valley of the West.”