The little party of seven resumed their voyage on the last day of June, and floating with the rapid current, a few days afterward passed the rocks, above the site of Alton, where was painted the image of the ravenous Piasau, of which they had been told by the Northern Indians, and on the same day reached the mouth of the Pekitanoni, the Indian name for the rapid and turbulent Missouri. Inwardly resolving, at some future time, to ascend its muddy current, to cross the ridge beyond, and, descending some river which falls into the Great South sea (as the Pacific was then called), to publish the gospel to all the people of the continent, the zealous father passed onward toward the south. Coasting slowly along the wasting shore, lingering in the mouths of rivers, or exploring dense forests in the hope of meeting the natives, they continued on their course until they reached the mouth of a river which they called the Ouabache, or Wabash, none other than the beautiful Ohio.[67] Here they found the advanced settlement of Shawanese, who had been pushed toward the southwest by the incessant attacks of the Iroquois. But by this time, fired with the hope of ascertaining the outlet of the Mississippi, they postponed their visit to these people until their return, and floated on.
It is amusing, as well as instructive, to observe how little importance the travellers gave to the river Ohio, in their geographical assumptions. In the map published by Marquette with his “Journal,” the “Ouabisquigou” as he denominates it, in euphonious French-Indian, compared to the Illinois or even to the Wisconsin, is but an inconsiderable rivulet! The lonely wanderers were much farther from the English settlements than they supposed; a mistake into which they must have been led, by hearing of the incursions of the Iroquois; for even at that early day they could not but know that the head-waters of the Ohio were not distant from the hunting-grounds of that warlike confederacy. Even this explanation, however, scarcely lessens our wonder that they should have known so little of courses and distances; for had this river been as short as it is here delineated, they would have been within four hundred miles of Montreal.
After leaving the Ohio, they suffered much from the climate and its incidents; for they were now approaching, in the middle of July, a region of perpetual summer. Mosquitoes and other venomous insects (in that region we might even call them ravenous insects) became intolerably annoying; and the voyageurs began to think they had reached the country of the terrible heats, which, as they had been warned in the north, “would wither them up like a dry leaf.” But the prospect of death by torture and savage cruelty had not daunted them, and they were not now disposed to be turned back by any excess of climate. Arranging their sails in the form of awnings to protect them from the sun by day and the dews by night, they resolutely pursued their way.
Following the course of the river, they soon entered the region of cane-brakes, so thick that no animal larger than a cat could penetrate them; and of cotton-wood forests of immense size and of unparalleled density. They were far beyond the limits of every Indian dialect with which they had become acquainted—were, in fact, approaching the region visited by De Soto, on his famous expedition in search of Juan Ponce de Leon's fountain of youth.[68] The country was possessed by the Sioux and Chickasaws, to whom the voyageurs were total strangers; but they went on without fear. In the neighborhood of the southern boundary of the present state of Arkansas, they were met in hostile array by great numbers of the natives, who approached them in large canoes made from the trunks of hollow trees. But Marquette held aloft the symbol of peace, the ornamented calumet, and the hearts of the savages were melted, as the pious father believed, by the touch of God. They threw aside their weapons, and received the strangers with rude but hearty hospitality. They escorted them, with many demonstrations of welcome, to the village of Michigamia; and, on the following day, having feasted their strange guests plentifully, though not with the unsavory meats of the Illinois, they marched in triumphal procession to the metropolis of Akansea, about ten leagues distant, down the river.
This was the limit of their voyage. Here they ascertained, beyond a doubt, that the Mississippi flowed into the gulf of Mexico, and not, as had been conjectured, into the great South sea. Here they found the natives armed with axes of steel, a proof of their traffic with the Spaniards; and thus was the circle of discovery complete, connecting the explorations of the French with those of the Spanish, and entirely enclosing the possessions of the English. No voyage so important has since been undertaken—no results so great have ever been produced by so feeble an expedition. The discoveries of Marquette, followed by the enterprises of La Salle and his successors, have influenced the destinies of nations; and passing over all political speculations, this exploration first threw open a valley of greater extent, fertility, and commercial advantages, than any other in the world. Had either the French or the Spanish possessed the stubborn qualities which hold, as they had the useful which discover, the aspect of this continent would, at this day, have been far different.
On the seventeenth of July, having preached to the Indians the glory of God and the Catholic faith, and proclaimed the power of the Grand Monarque—for still we hear nothing of speech-making or delivering credentials on the part of Joliet—he set out on his return. After severe and wasting toil for many days, they reached a point, as Marquette supposed, some leagues below the mouth of the Moingona, or Des Moines. Here they left the Mississippi, and crossed the country between that river and the Illinois, probably passing through the very country which now bears the good father's name, entering the latter stream at a point not far from the present town of Peoria. Proceeding slowly up that calm river, preaching to the tribes along its banks, and partaking of their hospitality, he was at last conducted to Lake Michigan, at Chicago, and by the end of September was safe again in Green Bay, having travelled, since the tenth of June, more than three thousand miles.
It might have been expected that one who had made so magnificent a discovery—who had braved so much and endured so much—would wish to announce in person, to the authorities in Canada, or in France, the results of his expedition. Nay, it would not have been unpardonable had he desired to enjoy, after his labors, something of the consideration to which their success entitled him. And, certainly, no man could ever have approached his rulers with a better claim upon their notice than could the unpretending voyageur. But vainglory was no more a part of his nature, than was fear. The unaspiring priest remained at Green Bay, to continue, or rather to resume, as a task laid aside only for a time, his ministrations to the savages. Joliet hastened on to Quebec to report the expedition, and Marquette returned to Chicago, for the purpose of preaching the gospel to the Miami confederacy; several allied tribes who occupied the country between Lake Michigan and the Des Moines river. Here again he visited the Illinois, speaking to them of God, and of the religion of Jesus; thus redeeming a promise which he had made them, when on his expedition to the South.
But his useful, unambitious life was drawing to a close. Let us describe its last scene in the words of our accomplished historian:—
“Two years afterward, sailing from Chicago to Mackinac, he entered a little river in Michigan. Erecting an altar, he said mass, after the rites of the Catholic church; then, begging the men who conducted his canoe to leave him alone for a half hour,
——'In the darkling wood,
Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication.'
“At the end of the half hour they went to seek him, and he was no more. The good missionary, discoverer of a world, had fallen asleep on the margin of the stream that bears his name. Near its mouth, the canoe-men dug his grave in the sand. Ever after, the forest rangers, in their danger on Lake Michigan, would invoke his name. The people of the West will build his monument.”[69]
The monument is not yet built; though the name of new counties in several of our western states testifies that the noble missionary is not altogether forgotten, in the land where he spent so many self-denying years.
/> Such was the voyageur priest; the first, in chronological order, of the succession of singular men who have explored and peopled the great West. And though many who have followed him have been his equals in courage and endurance, none have ever possessed the same combination of heroic and unselfish qualities. It ought not to be true that this brief and cursory sketch is the first distinct tribute yet paid to his virtues; for no worthier subject ever employed the pen of the poet or historian.
Note.—Struck with the fact that the history of this class of men, and of their enterprises and sufferings, has never been written, except by themselves in their simple “Journals” and “Relations”—for the résumé given of these by Sparks, Bancroft, and others, is of necessity a mere unsatisfactory abstract—the writer has for some time been engaged in collecting and arranging materials, with the intention of supplying the want. The authorities are numerous and widely scattered; and such a work ought to be thoroughly and carefully written, so that much time and labor lies between the author and his day of publication. Should he be spared, however, to finish the work, he hopes to present a picture of a class of men, displaying as much of true devotion, genuine courage, and self-denial, in the humble walk of the missionary, as the pages of history show in any other department of human enterprise.
FOOTNOTES:
[52] In common use, this word was restricted so as to indicate only the boatmen, the carriers of that time; but I am writing of a period anterior, by many years, to the existence of the Trade which made their occupation.
[53] Joutel, who was one of La Salle's party, and afterward wrote an account of the enterprise, entitled Journal Historique, published in Paris, 1713. Its fidelity is as evident upon its face, as is the simplicity of the historian.
[54] This was in the winter of 1679-'80; and the Five Nations, included in the general term Iroquois, had not then made the conquest upon which the English afterward founded their claim to the country. They were, however, generally regarded as enemies by all the Illinois tribes.
[55] A collective name, including a number, variously stated, of different tribes confederated.
[56] Annals of the West, by J. H. Perkins and J. M. Peck, p. 679. St. Louis. 1850.
[57] The substance of the Journal may be found, republished by Dr. Sparks, in the second edition of Butler's Kentucky, p. 493, et seq., and in vol. x. of his American Biography.
[58] Miscellanies, “Review of Ranke's History of the Popes.”
[59] In a book which he published at Utrecht, in 1697, entitled A New Discovery of a Vast Country, he claims to have gone down the Mississippi to its mouth before La Salle. The whole book is a mere plagiarism. See Sparks's Life of La Salle, where the vain father is summarily and justly disposed of.
[60] Most of these dates may be found in Bancroft's United States, vol iii.
[61] The legend of the Piasau is well known. Within the recollection of men now living, rude paintings of the monster were visible on the cliffs above Alton, Illinois. To these images, when passing in their canoes, the Indians were accustomed to make offerings of maize, tobacco, and gunpowder. They are now quite obliterated.
[62] June 10, 1673.
[63] I mean, of course, the upper Mississippi; for De Soto had reached it lower down one hundred and thirty-two years before.
[64] It was announced, some months since, that our minister at Rome, Mr. Cass, had made discoveries in that city which threw more light upon this expedition. But how this can be, consistently with the fact stated in the text (about which there is no doubt), I am at a loss to divine.
[65] The place of Marquette's landing—which should be classic ground—from his description of the country, and the distance he specifies, could not have been far from the spot where the city of Keokuk now stands, a short distance above the mouth of the Des Moines. The locality should, if possible, be determined.
[66] It was by virtue of a treaty of purchase—signed at Fort Stanwix on the 5th of November, 1768—with the Six Nations, who claimed the country as their conquest, that the British asserted a title to the country west of the Alleghenies, Western Virginia, Kentucky, etc.
[67] The geographical mistakes of the early French explorers have led to some singular discussions about Western history—have even been used by diplomatists to support or weaken territorial claims. Such, for example, is the question concerning the antiquity of Vincennes, a controversy founded on the mistake noticed in the text. Vide Western Annals. 2d Ed. Revised by J. M. Peck.
[68] In 1541, De Soto crossed the Mississippi about the thirty-fifth parallel of latitude, or near the northern boundary of the state of that name. It is not certain how far below this Marquette went, though we are safe in saying that he did not turn back north of that limit.
[69] Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. iii., p. 161, et seq., where the reader may look for most of these dates.
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III.
THE PIONEER.
“I hear the tread of pioneers,
Of nations yet to be—
The first low wash of waves where soon
Shall roll a human sea.”
Whittier.
“The axe rang sharply 'mid those forest shades
Which, from creation, toward the sky had towered
In unshorn beauty.”
Sigourney.
Next, in chronological order, after the missionary, came the military adventurer—of which class La Salle was the best representative. But the expeditions led by these men, were, for the most part, wild and visionary enterprises, in pursuit of unattainable ends. They were, moreover, unskilfully managed and unfortunately terminated—generally ending in the defeat, disappointment, and death of those who had set them on foot. They left no permanent impress upon the country; the most acute moral or political vision can not now detect a trace of their influence, in the aspect of the lands they penetrated; and, so far from hastening the settlement of the Great Valley, it is more probable that their disastrous failures rather retarded it—by deterring others from the undertaking. Their history reads like a romance; and their characters would better grace the pages of fiction, than the annals of civilization. Further than this brief reference, therefore, I find no place for them, in a work which aims only to notice those who either aided to produce, or indicated, the characteristics of the society in which they lived.
THE PIONEER.
Soon after them, came the Indian-traders—to whose generosity so many of the captives, taken by the natives in those early times, were indebted for their ransom. But—notwithstanding occasional acts of charity—their unscrupulous rapacity, and, particularly, their introduction of spirituous liquors among the savages, furnish good reason to doubt, whether, on the whole, they did anything to advance the civilization of the lands and people they visited. And, as we shall have occasion to refer again, though briefly, to the character in a subsequent article, we will pass over it for the present, and hasten on to the Pioneer.
Of this class, there are two sub-divisions: the floating, transitory, and erratic frontierman—including the hunter, the trapper, the scout and Indian-fighter: men who can not be considered citizens of any country, but keep always a little in advance of permanent emigration. With this division of the class, we have little to do: first, because they are already well understood, by most readers in this country, through the earlier novels of Cooper, their great delineator; and, second, because, as we have intimated, our business is chiefly with those, whose footprints have been stamped upon the country, and whose influence is traceable in its civilization. We, therefore, now desire to direct attention to the other sub-division—the genuine “settler;” the firm, unflinching, permanent emigrant, who entered the country to till the land and to possess it, for himself and his descendants.
And, in the first place, let us inquire what motives could induce men to leave regions, where the axe had been at work for many years—where the land was reduced to cultivation, and the forest reclaimed from
the wild beast and the wilder savage—where civilization had begun to exert its power, and society had assumed a legal and determined shape—to depart from all these things, seeking a new home in an inhospitable wilderness, where they could only gain a footing by severe labor, constant strife, and sleepless vigilance? To be capable of doing all this, from any motive, a man must be a strange compound of qualities; but that compound, strange as it is, has done, and is doing, more to reclaim the west, and change the wilderness into a garden, than all other causes combined.
A prominent trait in the character of the genuine American, is the desire “to better his condition”—a peculiarity which sometimes embodies itself in the disposition to forget the good old maxim, “Let well-enough alone,” and not unfrequently leads to disaster and suffering. A thorough Yankee—using that word as the English do, to indicate national, not sectional, character—is never satisfied with doing well; he always underrates his gains and his successes; and, though to others he may be boastful enough, and may, even truly, rate the profits of his enterprise by long strings of “naught,” he is always whispering to himself, “I ought to do better.” If he sees any one accumulating property faster than himself, he becomes emulous and discontented—he is apt to think, unless he goes more rapidly than any one else, that he is not moving at all. If he can find no one of his neighbors advancing toward fortune, with longer strides than he, he will imagine some successful “speculator,” to whom he will compare himself, and chafe at his inferiority to a figment of his own fancy. If he possessed “a million a minute,” he would cast about for some profitable employment, in which he might engage, “to pay expenses.” He will abandon a silver-mine, of slow, but certain gains, for the gambling chances of a gold “placer;” and if any one within his knowledge dig out more wealth than he, he will leave the “diggings,” though his success be quite encouraging, and go quixoting among the islands of the sea, in search of pearls and diamonds. With the prospect of improvement in his fortunes—whether that prospect be founded upon reason, be a naked fancy, or the offspring of mere discontent—he regards no danger, cares for no hardship, counts no suffering. Everything must bend before the ruling passion, “to better his condition.”
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