JOLIET AND MARQUETTE.

"Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war."

In Louis Joliet,[1] Talon, the intendant,[2] found the man he wanted. Joliet promised to see the mouth of the Mississippi before he came back to give an account of himself, and being already a veteran explorer, no less was expected of him than that he would keep his word.

We remember that exploration and conversion were now always to go hand in hand. One of the Jesuit missionaries at the Lakes was therefore named by his superior to go along with Joliet. This was Father James Marquette. Father Marquette was then in charge of the mission at Michilimackinac, where Joliet found him impatiently expecting his coming, for ever since Marquette had heard the Indians talk about the great river, the wish to make a pilgrimage to it had lain next his heart. He prayed the Virgin to obtain for him this boon, and his prayer had been granted at last. Marquette had also heard of the Missouri, and the natives who dwelt in prodigious numbers along its banks. All these things he was anxious to see with his own eyes in order to know how far the truth would agree with what had been told him. He was impatient to carry the gospel among all these lost tribes, to whom he felt himself called by special appointment of Heaven.

The explorers set out from Mackinac[3] in May, 1673, in two canoes. They were seven men in all. Coasting Lake Michigan[4] till they came to Green Bay, they entered Fox River, crossed Lake Winnebago, and on the 7th of June reached the Mascoutin Village, where to Marquette's great joy a cross[5] was standing unharmed among the wigwams to signify that Christians had already been there.

They had now reached the farthest limit of previous exploration. So far as known no traveller had gone beyond this spot.

At this place the explorers took Indian guides. Setting out again on the 10th, they forced the canoes slowly along through shallow waters, choked with wild rice, which grew so tall about them as almost to meet above their heads, till they could go no farther. Then lifting the canoes from the water, the explorers bore them on their shoulders across the prairie to the Wisconsin, upon which they again launched them.

"They glided calmly down the tranquil stream, by islands choked with trees and matted with entangling grape-vines, by forests, groves and prairies, the parks and pleasure-grounds of a prodigal Nature; by thickets and marshes and broad bare sandbars; under the shadowing trees, between whose tops looked down from afar the bold brow of some woody bluff. At night the bivouac—the canoes inverted on the bank, the flickering fire, the meal of bison flesh or venison, the evening pipes, and slumber beneath the stars; and when in the morning they embarked again, the mist hung on the river like a bridal veil, then melted before the sun, till the glassy water and the languid woods basked breathless in the sultry glare."

On the 17th of June, Marquette and Joliet reached the site of Prairie du Chien. Here the Wisconsin was swallowed up in the broad current of a mightier stream whose dark waters swept by without pause, like something conscious of its power. No sooner had they looked than the eager explorers knew it for the object of their hopes and prayers. A few vigorous strokes of the paddles, and they were floating on its majestic tide lost in wonder and praise, for the half had not been told them. There could be no mistake. The long-sought Mississippi had been found again.

With cautious strokes and watchful eyes the canoes were steered southward. Sometimes sailing in the dark shadows of overhanging forests where danger might lurk unseen, again gliding on through sunny prairies, unfolding vistas of quiet beauty to the view, the delighted explorers kept on their venturous course. It was a voyage which threw around them the charm of an exceeding loveliness.

Now and then the party would land to cook a hasty meal, but not knowing what sort of people they might meet with, they dared not sleep on shore. So at nightfall the canoes were anchored off in the stream. For a whole week they floated on in a primeval solitude. No sign of the hand of man was to be seen about them. No human voice was raised in welcome or in warning. All was silent as at the creation. Herds of bison, grazing along the banks, raised their shaggy heads to gaze in wonder at the passing travellers, but in all this time nothing in human form appeared to molest them.

One day the explorers saw footprints upon the shore. Consulting together, they resolved to follow them. Leaving the canoes in charge of their men, Joliet and Marquette set out. The path led to a village whose inhabitants sallied forth at the strange white men's halloo, amazed to see them there. The chief men offered the peace-pipe. Marquette asked them what people they were.

"We are the Illinois," was the ready reply. Then the two Frenchmen knew they were among friends[6] who would tell them what they wanted to know about the river below—what people they were likely to fall in with, and whether friendly or not. The Illinois feasted the strangers, and spread buffalo-robes for them to sleep on, but urged them not to think of descending the river farther on account of the demon which guarded the passage.

Going back to their comrades, with the whole village for an escort, the explorers pushed off again on their voyage. First they passed the Illinois, with its remarkable rocks. Next the Missouri,[7] child of the mountains, poured its turbid flood into the clear waters of the Mississippi with such impetuous force as to cut its way through to the opposite bank, so giving its own dull hue to the whole stream.

Getting clear of all dangers, the adventurous voyagers next passed the mouth of the Ohio, or Beautiful River. Day after day they floated on between forests of cypress, only once meeting with Indians by the way, till they had descended as far as the mouth of the Arkansas, when suddenly a fleet of war canoes was seen putting off from the shore to cut them off. In vain Marquette waved the calumet,[8] which the Illinois had given him to be his safeguard, and which among savages is the symbol of peace. The young warriors fitted their arrows and bent their bows. In another moment the explorers would have been riddled with arrows, but for the timely arrival of the elders who called out to the young men to stay their hands. With these the French now held a parley, and having made known their pacific intentions, were suffered to land and were kindly treated.

With the help of one among them who understood a little of the Illinois tongue, Marquette was able to make his purpose to reach the sea understood. He now learned that this was not the principal town of the Arkansas nation. That was eight or ten leagues farther down the river. So the next day the Frenchmen went on to the greater town,[9] where they hoped to learn all they wished to know.

Strangely enough, the explorers had now reached the very point made memorable by the coming of De Soto a century and a half earlier. And as if his fate had cast a spell over the spot where they stood following the course of the great river with their eyes till it was lost in the distance, neither Joliet nor Marquette was destined to pass beyond it.

Here the Indians gave the explorers a feast, while holding a council upon the question whether they could or could not proceed with safety. In return the whites distributed gifts among the Indians. These Indians had little food except corn, of which they raised three crops each year. In addition to this, they gave their visitors dog's flesh to eat, as a mark of honorable treatment. Although they had knives and hatchets of European make, and could mould rude earthenware pots and jars to cook their food in, these people were of lower condition than those who lived higher up the river, although from symmetry of form they were known as the "handsome men." The men went entirely nude; the women wore skins about their loins.

They told Marquette that the people lower down would never let him pass through their country; that they were a people who had fire-arms and knew how to use them. This made them so formidable to their neighbors, that these Arkansas dared not hunt the buffalo in that country, though the plains there were alive with them.

Such ill reports touching the obstacles in the way of further progress decided the explorers to turn back, although the Indians said the sea was only ten journeys distant. They were too few to fight. Their capture would most surely frustrate the whole purpose of the expedition. All felt that this chance should not be risked. They had at least gone far enough to settle the vexed question about the outlet to the sea. All indications pointed to the Gulf of Mexico.

It is evident that the explorers took counsel of their own wishes, perhaps of their own fears, in making their decision to go back. Be that as it may, Joliet had not kept his promise to Talon.

On the 17th of July the explorers began their long journey homeward. They were weeks making their way back to the Illinois, into which they turned their canoes, knowing it would shorten the journey. Ascending this river to the Indian town of Kaskaskia, the party procured guides who conducted them to Lake Michigan.