"Eagles fly above, but sheep flock together."—Spanish.
The Mississippi had now been struck at two points. Its course had been explored for six hundred miles, glimpses of its greatness had been caught, its mysteries partly solved. A man of greater mark now put his hand to the completion of what Marquette and Joliet had left unfinished.
Robert Cavelier de la Salle[1] was no simple explorer, having some little education, like Joliet, or pious missionary, whose sole object was to make proselytes, like Marquette.
La Salle was a man of far different mould. In him the man of brains, of ideas, of resources, of unbending will, were all joined in one. He was a serious man,—a man of heroic patience, whose highest qualities shone forth brightest in moments of supreme trial. Disaster, calumny, treachery, disease, assailed by turns, but could never crush his indomitable spirit. Whether he stood alone amid the wreck of his projects, or was confronted by unforeseen perils, his fortitude never forsook him. Although rather stern than indulgent toward his men, there was that in him which commanded respect and obedience; more, La Salle did not desire. He was the master-spirit of his own enterprises—the originator and executor of them—not the simple agent of other men's schemes. From a study of the man, in the light of what he aimed to do and what he actually achieved, we should say that, "Where there's a will there's a way," was the inspiration of La Salle's efforts, and unique maxim of his career.
But La Salle had his drawbacks also. Naturally thoughtful and reserved he lived too much apart, in himself, to be a good companion in the wandering republic of which he was the head, though his followers learned to look up to him if they could not love him. He could not unbosom himself to his inferiors, nor could they understand that mixture of pride and reserve which wrapped him about like a garment. What they took for austerity of manner was the absorption of the man in himself. Those who knew him best would have followed him to the end of the world, but La Salle was so constituted that few could know him. Of all this La Salle, himself, was unconscious. His responsibilities were too great, his cares too many, for indulgence in trivial things. With minds like Louis XIV., Colbert or Frontenac, the case was different. La Salle impressed them as no ordinary man could. So when the possibility of getting control of our continent by stretching a chain of French posts from Quebec to the St. Lawrence unfolded itself to his mind, in its grandeur, the King at once saw in La Salle the fittest man for the work. And La Salle knew no such word as fail.
La Salle was one of those who in the beginning believed the Mississippi flowed into the Vermilion Sea. If we may put faith in appearances, his original idea was not so much to descend the great river to its mouth, as to make his way across the continent to the great South Sea, and so to reach China and Japan. And the name of La Chine,[2] which La Salle gave his own residence, at Montreal, really seems an indication of what was then uppermost in his mind.
This is instructive as showing how slowly geographical knowledge of the westward half of the continent unfolded itself.
As we have said, Cavelier de la Salle was a man of one idea, practical in some things, visionary in others, but in pursuit of a purpose as steadfast as fate.
In 1666, at twenty-three, he found himself in Canada. He took up his residence at the upper end of the island of Montreal, where the St. Lawrence is broken up into rapids which to this day bear the name of La Salle's residence, La Chine.
Here La Salle quietly spent three years, hearing the while from the Indians who came to La Chine, all sorts of strange stories about the vast region toward the setting sun, and the people who lived in it.
We have seen the missions already firmly established on the Great Lakes. Joliet and Marquette had reached the Mississippi by one route and returned by another and different one, leading them through the heart of the great Illinois nation, to whom Marquette believed himself specially called. His labors among this people had left an impression highly favorable to those who might come after him.
It was from the Iroquois, who came to visit him at La Chine, that La Salle first heard of the Ohio. The passion for discovery seems to have found swift and intense development in him. He was young, ambitious and eager for adventure. La Salle was only twenty-six when he resolved to go in search of the Ohio.
Immediately he sold La Chine to procure an outfit. In the summer of 1669 he set out for the Iroquois country where we lose sight of him altogether. Yet, while no itinerary of his journey remains extant, his claim to have discovered the Ohio is conceded by his rival, Joliet.
Meanwhile, Frontenac, that man of action, was not idle. He was bent on opening the direct road to the western lakes, peaceably if he could, forcibly if he must, but at any rate to open it. To this end he now showed the Iroquois that he was not afraid of them by building a fort at Kingston,[3] which was called, in his honor, Fort Frontenac. This post gave the command of Lake Ontario to the French. It was at once a check and a menace to the Iroquois, who saw the mastery of the lakes slipping away from them but could not prevent it. Through his favor with Frontenac, La Salle secured from the king a grant of Fort Frontenac, which, in his hands, became not only an important trading-post, but the base of future contemplated discoveries. Here La Salle brooded over the projects which were to make him famous not for a day, but for all time.
For ten years more La Salle is found repairing his fortunes, maturing his plans, acquiring information, or studying Indian dialects. The Gulf of Mexico was to be reached, and a French port and colony established there into which all the trade of the river should flow. Thus the Mississippi, in French hands, was to be a wedge dividing the Spaniards in Florida from the Spaniards in New Mexico. Possessed of the two great waterways of the continent—the St. Lawrence and Mississippi—France was to take the first place in America. When all was ready La Salle laid his plans before the King.
In his memorial La Salle forcibly contrasts the barren soil, dense forests and harsh climate of Canada, with the fertile soil, sunny prairies and genial climate of the West. He describes it as being a country possessed of every thing requisite for planting flourishing colonies; and as one thoroughly familiar with it. Its native products, its abundance of fish and game, its pleasant streams, are all dwelt upon without the exaggeration with which explorers usually embellish their reports. In La Salle's view the facts were all-sufficient for his purpose.
In thus seeking the enlargement of French empire at the expense of Spain, La Salle had found a congenial field for his talents—a purpose which lifts him above the rank of a mere explorer or trader. It is true he expected to find riches and honor for himself, yet these were things which, of necessity, hinged upon the success of the scheme as a whole, not of a part.
Impressed by La Salle's representations, Louis granted him a patent for those regions he proposed to discover, with power to build forts and govern therein for the term of five years. La Salle was to do all this at his own cost, looking to his monopoly of trade to reimburse himself. So he set about borrowing money right and left. Never generous, the King limited himself to giving La Salle the opportunity he asked for.
While in Paris, on the business of the patent, La Salle became acquainted with an Italian officer, named Tonty, who afterward served him with rare fidelity in his various expeditions. Upon La Salle's return to Quebec, Father Louis Hennepin, a Franciscan friar, sought and obtained leave to join him. And thus matters stood in September, 1678.