Picard kept me waiting two weeks before he called and scheduled the next appointment for me. I spent the two weeks wondering if the biography was now dead. If there were no more interviews, what did I have? Maybe enough material for an article, but there just wasn’t enough for a book. I needed more time with Jolliet.
While I waited in suspense, I went over to the National Library to see if the president was right about books on LaSalle. Like all national buildings, it is built on the east side of Green Bay, up the side of a gradual hill to make all the buildings look more imposing. Not that they had much choice. The west side of the Fox River is flat and marshy. Buildings tend not to look too imposing if they are gradually sliding into the ground.
The National Library looked like a smallish version of the Louvre. But then every public building in New France looked like a small version of the Louvre. Architecture seems to be a lost art among them. My passport and local address got me access to the main reading room and I spent three days scanning books on LaSalle. It appeared that Jolliet was right about people being embarrassed about the man, since there were many books of apology or accusation. Three centuries after his disaster in Texas, there were still family members who had recollections to publish, mostly recalling what an arrogant imbecile LaSalle was.
But Jolliet was apparently alone in being confused by the man. All the authors I found had definite ideas about him. Many of the books concerned various conspiracy theories. Because LaSalle always traveled with Dominican friars, it was the Jesuits who sabotaged his efforts out of jealousy. Because he was nobility, it was the king who sabotaged him as a way to keep his nobles in their place. Or it was the governor who undercut him. Or it was the Americans. Nothing yet had been published about extra-terrestrials, but it looked like just a matter of time before that theory hit print too.
None of this did me any good. Whatever happened between Louis Jolliet and Robert La Salle on the banks of Lake Ontario, there was nothing I could use to discredit the French. Jolliet could have been in league with the Jesuits if in fact there was a Jesuit conspiracy, but no American would care. We do have a good number of Irish Catholics in the US, and some Italians, but the vast majority of Americans is Protestant, and couldn’t tell a Jesuit from a Dominican if their life depended upon it. For me to claim that the current administration is illegitimate because of something like that would simply put every American reader to sleep before the third paragraph. I mentally filed LaSalle away as a dead end (no pun intended).
By the second week of waiting I was so restless and bored that I actually went to the office and worked. The network folks were having trouble building a series of web pages to handle customer orders. Having been accessing libraries online for a decade, I showed the techies how to write the proper Java scripts. I don’t know if they were more surprised that I knew Java or that I was willing to work. I know I am the spoiled son of a wealthy man, but I try not to be a useless spoiled son of a wealthy man.
Evenings I spent with Elise. We attended at least three parties a week, and we would have a quiet dinner together once every week or two as well. I liked being with her, but in some ways she made my situation worse. If my interviews with the President were over, there was no longer any reason for me to stay in Green Bay. I would not miss the cold, but I would miss Elise. Some nights I was so frustrated over my situation I just wanted to scream.
Then the call came. Listening to every inflection in Picard’s voice, it didn’t appear that anything was out of the ordinary. This was just one more meeting in the series. I hoped that was the truth. We talked about lacrosse, set a time for the next meeting, and ended pleasantly. I felt like I could breathe again.
The day of our meeting was in late November. This is the worst time of the year in Wisconsin. The snow has not fallen yet, and all the trees are bare. The wind has a bite in it and the sky is an endless series of dirty gray clouds. I barely noticed all that as I raced up the Fox freeway to the meeting. My project was on again. Maybe today would be the day I got the clue I needed, maybe it would be a future meeting, but at least the meetings were started again.
Our meeting was in Jolliet’s study again, and again he began by showing me he knew what I was doing.
“Was I right about LaSalle?” He asked.
“Yes, there is less said about him here than one would expect, and I have to say that what is written about him either accuses him of great crimes, or proposes vast conspiracies that border on lunacy. Your authors definitely have a different view of him than American historians do.”
“Unfortunately, we will have to come back to him later in this story. He and Louis were never rivals, but they did have very different approaches to the creation of our current state.
“Can we talk about 1672?” I asked. “Father Marquette has been promised an opportunity to evangelize amongst the Illinois, but has been told to wait while he reestablishes the Hurons and Ottawas at St. Ignace. There he sits. Louis has been exploring for copper and trading goods at Sault St. Marie. Both are perfectly positioned for the journey they will take. But how is the journey launched? How do they get permission to do what I presume both men wanted to do?”
“The order to start comes from Jean Talon. He is the representative of the King – the “intendant.”. Under an organizational approach started by Richilieu and maintained by Mazarin, New France is ruled by a governor, but it also has an “intendant,” or representative of the king. It if appears this would confuse people and weaken the authority of the governor, that is exactly the point. For half a century, the King had been trying to increase his authority over all aspects of French life. He did not want governors or other nobles exercising complete control over their fifes. The “intendant” system was one way to keep governors under control.
“So it was not the governor who sent Louis on his way?”
“It appears this was one case where Frontenac and Talon were in general agreement, but it was actually Talon who gave the order. Louis was summoned back to Quebec in the summer of 1672 and asked by Talon if he would attempt the trip. There would be no pay for the trip, but Talon gave him a trading license that entitled him to trade along the way and thus cover the costs of the trip. Louis agreed and spent the rest of the summer and fall outfitting his team.
“His first actions were legal. He needed business partners to cover the costs of the trade goods and provisions for the trip. Given his successful history, he had no trouble finding them. In the tradition of the time, they wrote up a description of the shares that each would receive from the profits and had it notarized October 2. He picked the five men who would accompany him, gathered his provisions, loaded his canoes, and left before the winter locked them in. Do you mind if I add one minor story here that is not really relevant?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“One of the canoes he used was his mother’s. Marie was at this time married to her third husband, and raising another set of kids. I told you this was a tough woman. When he got back from one of the great discoveries of the age, she charged him rent. When he didn’t pay, she sued him! Now there is a woman tough enough to live on the frontier.”
We laughed about this bit of historical trivia, and then the President paused and began to move towards the coffee pot in a side table. I of course jumped up and poured for both of us.
“Can we assume there was a big send-off for him?” I asked when we were both settled again.
“In the fall of the year there was a send-off for everyone. This was when all the trappers and traders filled their canoes and headed west. Hundreds of Indians were also along the route headed back to their tribe and their families. It was a seasonal migration. Louis and his companions would have had plenty of company on the first leg of his trip.”
“And what of Marquette?”
“Louis was told that he would be taking a priest with him, and of course he expected that. Talon left it to the Jesuit superior, Claude Dablon,
to pick the priest, although I am sure he was happy with the choice. Dablon gave Louis a written directive to give to Marquette when he arrived in St. Ignace. That day was December 8, 1672.
“So it was a complete surprise to Marquette?”
“Yes. He had hoped that he would be able to do missionary work among the Illinois, and had prepared for that, but he had no idea when he would be permitted to go to them, and he certainly had no idea that he would accompany a major expedition to the ends of the known world. For a man who had been isolated first in Saint Esprit, and now at Saint Ignace, it must have seemed like a miracle.” I was expecting the President to continue with the story, but he stopped and looked at me directly. He appeared to be waiting for something.
“Yes?” I asked.
“I thought you would have a question for me about this meeting.” I looked at him and then at my coffee and tried to think of what I should be asking. But nothing came to mind.
“I’m sorry. I am obviously missing an important point,” I finally said.
“The date. Louis paddled to St Ignace in December. By leaving Quebec in early October, he was able to paddle most of the distance in relative warmth, and he arrived in Sault St. Marie in early November. He had his trading post there, he had friends, he had a wooden hut to protect him from the cold, and he was surrounded by a twelve-foot high stockade fence. This was the place for him to spend the winter. It was the sensible thing to do. But he talked with the priests at the mission there, and they were convinced that Marquette should be told the news immediately. So, rather than send a messenger, or write a note to be passed along with an Indian who happened to be traveling in that direction, Louis and Claude DuPry climbed back into a canoe and paddled sixty miles across the Great Lakes in December. Have you traveled around that area yet?” he asked.
“No, business has kept me in Green Bay.” This was a lie and I regretted it the minute I said it, not because I was lying to a Frenchman, but because he would obviously know I was lying. Clearly he had the intelligence resources to know I had just been to Portage. But he did not pursue the lie.
“You should visit. You can drive there in a day from Green Bay. I am afraid the area is little changed over the last three centuries. The shoreline is heavily wooded. The water’s edge is rocky. Winds pick up the waves and throw them on shore. A strong team could do the trip in several days in the summer. In December, only a madman would try.
“Why did he try?”
“He went personally because that is the kind of man he was. He spent a week in the cold and ice and wind so he could explain the voyage to Marquette and help him prepare for the trip. Then, once Marquette was told, he spent another week paddling back to the Sault. Marquette needed to spend the winter readying the local Hurons and Ottawas for his departure – there were Christenings and Catechism classes and too many Final Rites. Louis drew up the best maps he could make, listed the trade goods he would need and the provisions, and began the packing.”
“I should talk about the packing. Louis was maybe five feet four. So was almost all his crew. People were smaller then, and these men were small even by the standards of the day. But they had to portage large packs great distances. If packs were too small, then more would be needed and the men would have to make more trips at each portage. So they took large packs – one hundred pounds. They used harnesses to spread the weight over both their shoulders and their neck, but by any measure, these men were carrying large loads. It was Louis’ job to determine what went into each pack and to make sure each pack had the same weight. It was important enough for him to spend weeks in the process.”
“Among the things he packed was writing utensils and navigation instruments. He was not an amateur like LaSalle. He knew his job was to carefully record where they had been, not just so that others could follow in his path, but because this was a voyage of discovery. As he found new lands, he would claim them for the King. The logs he kept were as close to legal documents as they had at the time. He had to be able to prove where he had been and what he had seen. He would keep a log, and so would Marquette. That not only gave them better evidence of their discoveries, but provided a second source of the materials in case one of the logs was lost through an accident. As it turned out that was an excellent precaution, but one that still did not solve the whole problem. But we can talk about that later.”
“Louis had his men with him in the Sault and they spent the winter discussing the trip and staring at maps. You know their names – all of them are famous now. Jacques Largillier (aka the Beaver), Pierre Moreau (aka the Mole), Jean Tiberge, Jean Plattier, and Claude duPry. And yes, given what Claude duPry was later to do for Louis and the family, we have named one child Claude in each generation. I am named for him.”
“It was a long and cold winter, but the men stayed busy while they waited. Finally in the first week of May Indians began arriving to trade and they knew the rivers were open again. Loading all their goods into two canoes, the six men left Sault St. Marie on May 11 and began the most important voyage of their generation. They arrived in Saint Ignace May 16 and spent a day helping Father Jacques repack his goods. When the sun rose on May 17, 1673 they climbed into their canoes and set off.”
“How much do you think they knew about what they were getting into?” I asked. “They had talked with Illinois tribesmen, and Allouez had gone a little bit up the Fox. Do you think they had any sense for the distances they would be covering?”
“The biggest problem they faced was that almost everything they “knew” was wrong. I told you about that once. Every Indian tribe had the same strategy. They tried to scare the French from venturing further so that a trading post would be set up by their tribe and their tribe could then have easier access to French guns and trade goods. It was a clever strategy to gain advantage over competing tribes. But it meant talking to Indians about the trip was useless. Every tribe said the same thing – don’t go further, it is too dangerous. The danger took different forms – hostile Indians, roaring rapids, whirlpools that suck in all canoes – but the message was always the same -- everything ahead will kill you, don’t go on.”
“But they went on.”
“Yes. Thirty miles a day over open water. Seven men in two birchbark canoes loaded to the gunnels with hundred-pound packs.
A this point Picard knocked softly at the door and then entered. “Your next appointment is here,” he announced. I thanked the President for his time and then waited in the outer hallway while Picard escorted a pair of politicians in to see the President. I thought I recognized them but wasn’t sure. They also looked at me carefully, whether it was from the habit of all politicians to check for competition and gauge the direction of the wind, or whether they really did know who I was and why I was there. I saw no smiles for me, but noticed how quickly their faces became jovial when they turned to the President. So be it, I thought. I am not here to make friends. I am here to make very permanent enemies. I pulled on my fur coat and walked out to my Citroen.
Chapter 8
1673 - Crossing Lake Michigan to the Green Bay Settlement
The Canadian Civil War: Volume 1 - Birth of a Nation Page 7