Chapter I: A Few Pages From Clide De Winton’s Note‐Book (7)

The guillotine has been so prominent a figure in the foregoing sketch, as indeed throughout the whole span of the Reign of Terror, that a word on its origin may not be uninteresting. It is popularly supposed to have been invented by Dr. Guillotin, but this is a mistake. The first idea of it emanated from him, and he had the unenviable glory of giving it his name; but these are his only claims to its invention. The guillotine would seem to be almost a creature born spontaneously of the Revolution, a cruel offspring of the self‐devouring monster. It is strange that, until the “_Sainte Guillotine_” was enthroned as the agent of that murder‐mad reign, no mention is ever made in the reports of the time of the exact kind of machine used in capital punishment. We read of persons being “condemned” and “executed,” but there is no more definite account of the manner of execution. The _lanterne_ was the mode of capital punishment up to the Reign of Terror, and the mob could always do summary justice on its victims by making a gallows of the nearest lamp‐post; but when speed became the primary object, this was found too tedious, besides being troublesome. Towards the close of the year 1789 Dr. Guillotin was elected to the States‐General. He was such a mediocre, insignificant person in every way that his appearance in the Assembly caused general surprise and laughter. In the _Portraits of Celebrated Persons_, a contemporaneous work, we find him thus treated: “By what accident has a man without either ability or reputation obtained for himself a frightful immortality? He _fathered_ a work written by a lawyer—Hardouin—who had too much character to produce it in his own name; and his work having been censured by the parliament, Guillotin, who assumed the responsibility of it, became the man of the day, and owed to it that gleam of reputation which ensured his election to the States‐General. He was, in truth, a _nobody_ who made himself a _busy‐body_, and by meddling with everything was at once mischievous and ridiculous.” This meddling personage made himself extremely ridiculous on the one occasion to which may be traced his ill‐ starred celebrity. He proposed in the Assembly that some machine, more humane and expeditious than the process of hanging, should be invented for capital punishment, and, after describing the idea that was in his mind, he proceeded to illustrate it by a pantomime with his fingers, straightening out the left index, and bringing down that of the right hand over the thumb with a snap. “There, now, I put your head here; this falls, and it is cut off; you feel nothing; it is the affair of a moment!” Roars of laughter followed this lucid and cheerful explanation, and the next day the ballad‐mongers diverted Paris with a song, the burden of which was “a machine that will kill us right off, and be christened _la guillotine_!” The doctor said no more about his idea, but, jocosely presented as it was, it nevertheless made an impression on the Assembly, who adopted it three years later. Meantime, they were beset by complaints from the _Tiers Etat_, who could not reconcile it to their dignity that the _bourgeoisie_ should be hanged while the _noblesse_ were beheaded. Let it be hanging all round, they said, and they would be satisfied; but why should nobles have their head cut off, while plebeians “swung at the lantern?” The grievance met with cold sympathy, however, until the times were ripe for reform, and it became urgent to find some more expeditious means of despatching both nobles and plebeians into the other world. Dr. Guillotin’s proposal was reconsidered; an officer of the Criminal Court, named Laquiante, designed an instrument, which was approved of by the authorities and confided for execution to a piano‐maker—a native of Strasbourg, we believe—named Schmidt. There was a good deal of haggling over the cost. Schmidt, in the first instance, wanted nine hundred and sixty francs, which was found exorbitant and refused. In consideration, however, of his having suggested some improvements in the original design, they consented to let him take out a patent, and to give him an order for eighty‐three machines, one for every department in France, at five hundred francs each, and to be made as quickly as possible. They were three months quarrelling over the bargain, and all this time an unfortunate criminal, of the name of Pelletier, was lying in prison, waiting to be executed; when at last the price was settled and the first machine ready, he had the miserable distinction of inaugurating it on the 25th of April, 1792. The prejudice had been very strong against the new mode of decapitation, the clergy especially arguing that “the sight of blood would prove highly demoralizing to the people.” Samson, the executioner, was one of the staunchest opposers of the innovation on the same grounds, and also because of the shock the spectacle would give to many spectators. His letter to the Assembly embodying his opinions and experience on the subject is a curious bit of literature, highly creditable to the hangman, as indeed all that has come down to us concerning him seems to be. The humane desire to abridge the sufferings of the criminal overcame, however, every objection, and hanging was formally abolished and replaced by decapitation. The new instrument—most unjustly, as we see—was called the guillotine, in spite of a semi‐official mention of it as _Louison_, and some efforts to make that name adhere. The worthy doctor was doomed to notoriety on account of his having first mooted the affair and made Paris laugh over it. Nothing secures immortality with the Parisians like a joke.

Apropos of the guillotine, we may mention that the Samsons were a respectable family of Abbeville, and held the office of “Executioner of the High Acts of Justice,” by descent, from the year 1722. Charles Henri Samson, who beheaded Louis XVI., came into office in 1778, and retired on a pension in 1795. He was succeeded by his son in his formidable functions, the latter having resigned the grade of captain in the artillery to undertake them.

Robert Cavelier De La Salle.

The pious hymns of the good and noble Marquette and his companions had not ceased to reverberate over the waters of the Great River, awakening the echoes of its banks and overhanging forests, when a bold and devoted spirit, fired by the fame of previous explorations, was meditating on the shores of Lake Ontario the prosecution of the grand work begun by the illustrious missionary. The world was startled with the news that the waters over whose bosom the missionaries and traders of Canada drove their canoes at the north, after meandering through the vast plains and forests of the continent, poured themselves into the Gulf of Mexico. This great physical problem was settled by Father Marquette and the Sieur Joliet, who, after having explored the course of the Mississippi for eleven hundred miles, returned to electrify the world by the reports of their brilliant success. But as yet comparatively little was known of this gigantic stream. The imagination of the most sanguine and the hearts of the boldest were appalled at the task; but it was a destined step in the onward march of religion and civilization. A Catholic missionary had gloriously led the way; a Catholic nobleman no less gloriously advanced to complete the work. This was Robert Cavelier de La Salle.

He was born at Rouen, in Normandy, of a good family, but the date of his birth has not been transmitted to us. He spent ten or twelve years of his early life in one of the Jesuit seminaries of France, where he received a good education, and he was well acquainted with mathematics and the natural sciences. His renunciation of his patrimony and his long sojourn among the Fathers of the Society of Jesus justify the belief that he was intended for the priesthood. Providence, however, destined him for a somewhat different sphere of labor and usefulness, but one in close co‐ operation with the great work of the church among mankind. He carried with him from the seminary of the Jesuits the highest testimonials of his superiors for purity of character, unblemished life, and exhaustless energy. By his own high qualities and noble achievements he has won a diploma for himself, inscribed on the brightest pages of our history, and more honorable than man can confer.

Emerging from the seminary full of youth, intelligence, and daring spirit, he joined one of the numerous bands of emigrants from France who came to seek adventures and fortunes in the New World. He came to Canada about the year 1667, and embarked with great energy in the fur trade, then the prevailing means of obtaining an exchange of European wealth and merchandise. His enterprising spirit soon carried him to the frontiers, and in his frail canoe he traversed the vast rivers and broad lakes of the continent, mingling with the aborigines, and acquiring information and experience of their modes of life, character, and languages. He explored Lake Ontario, and ascended Lake Erie. The activity of his mind and the restlessness of his genius could not be satisfied even with the vast and adventurous field of trade presented to him; for he shared largely in the prevailing ambition of discovering a northwest passage across the continent to China and Japan, an evidence of which he left behind him in the name of Lachine, which he bestowed upon one of his trading posts on the island of Montreal. He saw in that extended chain of lakes the link that united America with Asia, and indulged in the fond and proud dream that, as the discoverer of the long‐sought passage, his name would be inscribed beside that of Columbus on the scroll of immortality.

Seeing the advantages of the position selected by the Comte de Frontenac, the Governor of Canada, in fortifying the outlet of Lake Ontario, La Salle erected one of his trading posts under the protection of Fort Fontenac. He acquired the favor and friendship of the governor, and soon rejoiced in the esteem and confidence of the public. Up to this time his efforts were apparently chiefly expended in bold and energetic efforts to build up his fortunes. But his resources were inferior to the grand enterprises which he contemplated. He accordingly repaired to France in 1675, where, aided by the influence of Frontenac and the recommendations of the minister Colbert, he obtained from his sovereign, Louis XIV., letters‐patent, granting him Fort Frontenac and the seigniory of a large tract of land about the same, upon condition that he would rebuild the fort of stone, garrison it at his own expense, and clear up certain lands. This grant secured to him a large domain and the exclusive traffic with the Five Nations. The king also raised him and his family to the rank of nobility as a reward for his services and noble actions. His patent of nobility bears date the 13th of May, 1675.

Returning to America, the Cavalier de La Salle took possession of his seigniory, and soon proved how well he merited the confidence and favors he enjoyed. He fulfilled all his stipulations with the king. In two years Fort Frontenac reared its massive walls and bastions of stone which cast their shadows on the waters of Ontario. A number of French families clustered around the fort; the Recollect missionaries induced their Indian neophytes and catechumens to pitch their tents and offer up their newly‐ learned devotions under its shadow; the rugged wilds were supplanted by cultivated fields, gardens, and pastures, and the new lord of Cataraqui was at once the pioneer of civilization and the friend of religion. Such was the origin of the present city of Kingston.

At the same time La Salle prosecuted his commercial enterprises with renewed vigor, and these, in return, seemed at first to promise to repay his perseverance and energy. Now for the first time the rapids of the St. Lawrence were stemmed, and the waters of Ontario ploughed by the keels of three small barks with decks erected on them. Had all depended on energy and zeal, success and prosperity would have followed, and the young nobleman would have achieved a fortune, fame, and power that would not have been long in winning for him a position among the proudest and most powerful nobility of France. But his fame was destined rather to be associated with the foundation of a great republic than with the more limited work of founding a noble family, to whom to transmit a princely fortune, and with building up the power of a brilliant despotism. His enterprises failed, wealth eluded his grasp, and he found himself oppressed with vast debts, incurred in the great undertakings in which he had embarked. Turning from this field of disaster, his vigorous mind again became filled with visions of the northwest passage and with his darling projects of discovery. He studied the accounts of the Spanish and other adventurers and discoverers on the continent. Joliet, in 1674, passing down from the upper lakes, had visited Fort Frontenac, of which La Salle was then commander under Gov. Frontenac, and thus La Salle was one of the first to learn of the brilliant achievements and discoveries of the illustrious Marquette and Joliet, and was probably one of the first to see the maps and journal which the latter lost between the fort and the next French post. These did not seem, at the time, to have deeply impressed the mind of La Salle, who was then engaged in other plans; for it was after this that he embarked in the project of founding the seigniory of Cataraqui on the shores of Ontario, and in the vast trading operations above referred to. On the failure of these he began to plan new adventures and discoveries. His study of the reports of Spanish and French explorers led him before all others to identify the great river of Marquette and Joliet with that of De Soto. Blending the taste for commerce with the thirst for fame, he saw in the vast herds of bison, described as roaming over the prairies that extended from the banks of the Missouri and Illinois rivers, the means of shipping cargoes of buffalo‐skins and wool to France from the banks of those rivers _via_ the Mississippi and the Gulf of Mexico. Nor did he yet relinquish his trading projects at the north; for these he expected to connect with his contemplated trading posts on the Mississippi, Fort Frontenac still remaining his principal post. Nor did he yet abandon the hope of discovering from the head‐waters of the Mississippi a passage to the China Sea.

Filled with these grand and noble views, he returned to France in 1677, and still enjoying the recommendation of Frontenac and the favor of the great Colbert and of his son and successor in the ministry, the Marquis de Seignelay, he succeeded in obtaining from the king, on the 12th of May, 1678, new letters‐patent, confirming his rights to the fort and the seigniory of Cataraqui, and authorizing him to advance as far westward as he desired, to build forts wherever he might choose, and prosecute his commercial enterprises as before, with the single exception that he should not trade with the Hurons and other Indians who brought their furs to Montreal, in order that there might be no interference with other traders. At the recommendation of his friend, the Prince de Conti, La Salle took into his service as his lieutenant the veteran Chevalier de Tonty, an Italian by birth, who proved a great acquisition to the work, and was the ever‐faithful friend and companion of the great captain.

In two months La Salle completed his work in France, and in the autumn of 1678, sailed from Rochelle, accompanied by Tonty, the Sieur de la Motte, a pilot, mariners, ship‐carpenters, and other workmen. He was well provided with anchors, sails, cordage, and everything necessary for rigging vessels, with stores of merchandise for trading with the Indians, and whatever might be useful for his projected expedition. Arriving at Quebec in September, he immediately pushed forward to Fort Frontenac—but not without having to surmount great difficulties and labors in getting his heavy canoes and freight over the perilous rapids of the St. Lawrence—where he arrived exhausted and emaciated by his fatigues, but full of courage and hope.

As the winter approached La Salle pressed forward the preparations for his grand enterprise, which he resolved to enter upon in the spring. On the 18th of November, 1678, he despatched the hardy and faithful Tonty, accompanied by Father Louis Hennepin, to the Niagara River in one of his brigantines of ten tons, with workmen, provisions, implements, and materials, to undertake the construction and equipment of a vessel to bear his party over the upper lakes—a work which was to be accomplished with a handful of men, in the midst of winter, at a distance of hundreds of miles from any civilized settlement, and surrounded by savage tribes, whose enmity had been enkindled by the malice of La Salle’s enemies, who, actuated by the rivalry of trade, had induced the Indians to believe that he intended to monopolize their trade upon terms dictated by himself at the cannon’s mouth. Tonty set to work with a cheerful heart. He encountered perils and hardships, which overcame the endurance of La Motte, who abandoned the enterprise, and retired to Quebec to seek ease and rest from such labors. Tonty persevered until the 20th of January, when La Salle by his presence inspired him and his companions with new ardor and courage. About this time the brigantine was cast away on the southern shore of Lake Ontario, in consequence of dissensions among the pilots; and several bark canoes, with their valuable freight of goods and provisions, were wrecked and lost. His difficulties with the Senecas also compelled La Salle to relinquish the fort which he had begun to build at the falls of Niagara as a protection to his ship‐builders, and to content himself with a mere shed or store‐house. A spirit less brave and firm than La Salle’s would have quailed under the misfortunes which, through the inclemency of the season and the malice of men, surrounded his steps. But these only nerved him to greater exertion. In six days after his arrival the keel of his vessel was laid, the cavalier driving the first bolt with his own hand. “When he saw the snow began to melt,” he sent out fifteen men in advance of his exploring expedition, with instructions to pass over the lakes to Mackinac, provide provisions for the expedition, and await the arrival of the main party.

Leaving Tonty now to conduct the building of the vessel, La Salle made a journey of over three hundred miles of frozen country to Fort Frontenac, to arrange his financial business before setting out in the spring. His only food was a bag of corn; his baggage was drawn over the snow and ice by two men and a dog. At the fort he had to exert all his ability and energy to counteract the malicious efforts and practices of his enemies for his ruin. His creditors at Quebec became alarmed by the reports and calumnies of his foes. His effects at that town were seized and sacrificed, while the property which he was compelled to leave at Fort Frontenac was in value double all his debts. But the delay of his expedition would be to him a greater evil than the loss of property, so that he could not stop to remedy or resist these proceedings. In the midst of such harassing cares he bore in mind the necessity of providing for the religious wants of his companions and of the benighted heathen nations which he intended to visit. He secured the services of three Recollect missionaries, Fathers Gabriel de la Ribourde, Louis Hennepin, and Zenobe Membré. He had already, while commanding at Fort Frontenac, built for these good missionaries a house and chapel; he now bestowed upon their order eighteen acres of land near the fort, and one hundred acres of forest‐land.

Tonty having faithfully completed his task, the ship was launched, receiving the name of _Griffin_, as a compliment to the Comte de Frontenac, whose armorial bearings were adorned with two griffins. Tonty was next sent in search of the fifteen men who had previously set out. The _Griffin_, with La Salle, the missionaries, and the remainder of the party on board, sailed on the 7th of August, 1679, on the bosom of Lake Erie. The artillery saluted the vessel, as she dashed through the waves, and the missionary and crew chanted a grateful _Te Deum_ in honor of Him who had speeded their work. The Senecas gazed with wonder at a bark of sixty tons riding the lake with greater ease and grace than their own canoes. Reaching in safety the straits connecting Lakes Erie and Huron, he considered the expediency of planting a colony on the majestic Detroit, as he glided between its islands; and on the 12th, S. Clare’s Day, as he traversed its shallow waters, he bestowed upon the little river the name of that saint. While the ship was passing over Lake Huron, she was overtaken by a terrible storm, which caused even the bold captain to fear for the safety of all on board. Uniting with the missionaries in petitions for the intercession of S. Anthony of Padua, he made a promise to dedicate the first chapel built in the countries he was going to discover in honor of that patron saint, in case he should escape. The province from which the missionaries of the expedition had come was that of S. Anthony of Padua, in Artois; hence the selection of this saint as their protector on this occasion, as well as for the reason that he is frequently invoked as the patron of mariners. The storm abated, and on the 27th of August, the _Griffin_, aided by friendly winds, entered a safe harbor in the island of Mackinac.

Here again the “great wooden canoe” was an object of admiration and dread to the natives, heightened by the roar of the cannon on board. La Salle, clad in a cloak of scarlet and gold, visited the nearest village, and the pious priests offered up the Holy Sacrifice for the benefit of those benighted savages. The opposite bank had been the scene of the missionary labors of the illustrious Marquette. The captain visited this spot, endeavoring there and in the neighboring country to propitiate the friendship of the natives as he advanced. His enemies had here too been at work, poisoning the minds of the Indians against him far and near, and tampering with the advanced corps of fifteen men whom he had sent out, and who, under such influences, became faithless to their leader: some of them deserted, and others squandered the provisions which he had entrusted to them. Again setting sail, the _Griffin_ bore them to Green Bay, where La Salle had the satisfaction of meeting some of his advanced party who had continued faithful to him and their duty, and who now returned with a goodly quantity of furs, the result of successful traffic with the Indians. After two weeks he loaded the _Griffin_ with the rich furs brought in by his men, and sent her with the pilot and five mariners back to the Niagara, amidst the murmurs of his men, who dreaded the work of proceeding in light canoes. It has been remarked(159) that had he adopted the Ohio as his conduit to the Mississippi, one vessel would have answered his purpose, and much suffering and delay been saved, for this river had been known to the missionaries; by his present plan, he had to build two vessels, one above the falls of Niagara, and one on the Illinois River. He now set out to descend Lake Michigan in four bark canoes, September the 19th, the party consisting of La Salle, the fathers, and seventeen men; and they continued their perilous voyage along the west side of the lake. They were overtaken before nightfall by a violent storm, and for several days they struggled through wind, rain, sleet, and waves, until they landed with great danger near the river Milwaukee. Seeing their perilous situation, La Salle leaped into the water, and with his own hands helped to drag his canoe ashore. Those in the other boats followed his example, and soon the landing was effected and the canoes secured.

La Salle was accompanied in his expedition by a faithful Indian, who proved a useful member of the party; for his unerring gun frequently relieved the hunger of the travellers with game from the surrounding forests. They also procured corn from the natives, always paying its full value; and even when they had to take it from villages temporarily abandoned, where there was no one to receive payment, its value in goods was left in its place. At this bleak landing near the Milwaukee the Indians, moved with sympathy for their exhausted and weather‐beaten condition, brought deer and corn for their relief, smoked with them the calumet of friendship, and entertained them with war dances and songs. Cheered on their way by the kindly offices and generous sympathy of the natives, in which they felt that

“Kindness by secret sympathy is tied,
For noble souls in nature are allied,”

they pushed on with renewed courage to encounter again the perils of the elements. The voyage from this point to the end of the lake was one continued series of hardships and dangers. They found it frequently a relief from the fury of the waves to drag their canoes over the rugged rocks; and as they pulled them ashore the heaving surf dashed the spray over their heads. They encountered a wandering party of Outagamies, or Fox Indians, near a green and refreshing spot, where they stopped to rest and refresh themselves, and it was only the address, deliberation, and iron courage of La Salle that prevented a bloody conflict with these treacherous savages. On the first of November the entire party came safely into the mouth of the Miami River, now S. Joseph’s, previously appointed as the rendezvous, at which the several companies were to meet.

Here La Salle was sorely disappointed at not finding the Chevalier Tonty. Suffering from want of food and the increasing severity of the winter, the men began to murmur; but La Salle’s bold spirit of command kept them in subjection, especially when they saw him sharing every hardship, privation, and danger with them. He kept them busy in building a fort for their protection from the savages, and in exploring the country and neighboring rivers. The missionaries caused a bark chapel to be erected, in which the divine service was attended by both Europeans and Indians. But La Salle’s apprehensions for the fate of the _Griffin_ began to increase. At length Tonty arrived, and, while he relieved his captain and men with provisions and reinforcements, he confirmed their alarm for the vessel. The _Griffin_ had not reached Mackinac, no tidings could be obtained from the Indians of her safety or fate, and it became, alas! too certain that she, the first to ride triumphantly, with her proud sails spread and her streamers unfurled, across these great lakes, had been the first to fall a victim, with her hardy crew, to the avenging waves of Lake Michigan.

The cavalier now prepared to go down the Kankakee River to the Illinois. The distance to the portage was seventy miles, and much time and labor were spent in endeavoring to find the proper portage. La Salle started out himself to explore the country, and to discover, if possible, the eastern branch of the Illinois. Detained till evening in making the circuit of a large marsh, his gun, fired as a signal, was not answered, and he resolved to spend the night alone in that fearful wilderness. He fortunately descried a fire, and on approaching saw near by a bed of leaves, from which some nomadic son of the forest, startled at the report of the gun, had just fled. La Salle scattered leaves and branches around, in order that he might not be surprised in the night, and then took possession of the Indian’s rustic bed, in which he slept peacefully till morning. To the great joy of his friends, he returned in the following afternoon, with two opossums hanging from his belt. At length the Indian hunter of the expedition found the portage. Leaving four men in the fort, the expedition set out on the 3d of December; the canoes and all the baggage were carried over five or six miles to the head‐waters of the Kankakee, and about the 5th of December the company, consisting of thirty‐three persons, commenced their passage down the dreary and marshy stream, rendered yet more gloomy by the rigors of mid‐winter. At length, after enduring hunger and cold, they came to a more genial and smiling country, and soon their canoes glided into the river Illinois. On the banks of the river they discovered and visited the largest of the Illinois villages, composed of four or five hundred cabins, in each of which resided five or six families, not far below the present town of Ottawa, in La Salle County, Illinois. But the place was deserted; the inhabitants had all gone to the hunting‐grounds for wild cattle and beaver, leaving their corn stored away in their granaries. Yielding to the necessities of his condition, and trusting to fortune for an opportunity to make ample compensation, La Salle appropriated fifty bushels of corn from the immense quantities stored away in the capacious granaries of the village. Re‐embarking on the 27th of December, the party proceeded down the current. On the 1st of January, 1680, the feast of the Circumcision of Our Lord was solemnly and appropriately celebrated, the salutations of the New Year were exchanged, and we may well imagine with what hearty and earnest good‐wishes those brave voyagers blessed each other. On the same day, after passing through Lake Pimiteony, now Lake Peoria, our voyagers came suddenly upon an Indian encampment on both sides of the river. Having heard that the Illinois were hostile, La Salle arranged his flotilla for the emergency; the men were armed, and the canoes were placed in battle array across the entire river, La Salle and Tonty occupying the two canoes nearest the shore. Observing that the Indians were somewhat alarmed and disposed to parley, La Salle boldly landed in the midst of the innumerable bands of dusky warriors, prepared for either war or peace, and by his skill and invincible courage soon succeeded in making them his friends. After smoking with them the calumet of peace, he explained the circumstance of his having taken their corn, and then paid them liberally for it, to their great satisfaction. He also told them that he came amongst them in order to give them a knowledge of the one true God, and to better their condition. An alliance of friendship was entered into, and all retired apparently to rest.

But during the night emissaries from La Salle’s enemies arrived. A grand council was held, as that is the favorite time with the Indians for transacting their most important business. The poison was infused into the minds of La Salle’s recent allies; and on the following morning his keen eye soon saw that the intrigues of his enemies had not failed to follow him to that distant region, and it was only his brave, frank, and determined bearing that enabled him to surmount the countless obstacles that were thus thrown in his way. The effect of this intrigue, however, was not wholly lost on his own men. Six of them deserted him at this trying juncture. Severe as was this loss, his proud spirit bore up manfully under it; but the loss of his vessel was a severer trial to him, but one that failed to dampen the ardor of his enthusiasm or the determination of his will. He selected a spot for a fort half a league from the Indian camp and near the present city of Peoria; and while he bestowed upon his fort the name of Crèvecœur—Broken Heart—under the sad influence of the loss of the _Griffin_ and the machinations of his enemies, the vigor with which he raised its walls and arranged its armament is ample proof that he still possessed a heart full of courage and hope.

In the middle of January the entire company took up their residence within the fort. Father Membré remained with the Indians, was adopted into the family of a noted chief, and devoted himself to the task of winning the Illinois to the Christian faith. Father de La Ribourde exercised his ministry at the fort, where he erected a chapel; and Father Hennepin is said to have “rambled as his fancies moved him.”

La Salle engaged a portion of his men in building a brigantine forty‐two feet long and twelve feet broad, in which to descend the Mississippi. On the 29th of February, 1680, he sent an expedition under the direction of Father Hennepin, accompanied by Picard Du Gay and Michel Ako, to explore for the first time the Mississippi above the mouth of the Wisconsin, the point from which Father Marquette’s voyage down the great river commenced. In six weeks the hull of the brigantine was nearly ready to receive the masts and rigging, but the necessary materials were wanting to complete the equipment. An abundance of such materials had been placed on board the _Griffin_, but these had been buried beneath the waters of the lake with the ill‐fated vessel. Gloomy indeed was the prospect before our brave cavalier; but bold resolves are rapidly conceived and speedily executed by daring spirits. He placed Tonty in command of the fort, and, in order to procure what was necessary for the new vessel, he determined to return on foot to Fort Frontenac, distant at least twelve hundred miles. His journey lay along the southern shores of Lakes Erie and Ontario, through vast forests; innumerable rivers intervened, which he had to ford or cross on rafts, and this, too, at a season of the year when the drifting snow and floating ice threw extraordinary dangers and fatigues in the path of the traveller. For food he must rely entirely upon the hazards of the chase. The history of our race contains the record of few such undertakings as this; yet the spirit of La Salle faltered not. On the 2d of March the bold cavalier shouldered his musket and knapsack, and, with three Frenchmen and his Indian hunter, started upon his perilous journey:

“My heart is firm;
There’s naught within the compass of humanity
But I would dare and do.”

After La Salle’s departure the brave and faithful Tonty began to experience in turn the frowns of fortune. While superintending the erection of a new fort at a spot selected by La Salle, Tonty received the news of an insurrection at Fort Crèvecœur. This, too, was instigated by La Salle’s enemies. Deserted by more than half his party, Tonty took up his quarters at the great Indian village, where he was treated with hospitality. After a residence there of six months a war‐party of Iroquois and Miamis approached the village, and for a long time Tonty and Father Membré, at great peril and with much ill treatment at the hands of the invading savages, endeavored to negotiate a peace. Failing in every effort, and finding that dangers and perils were gathering thick and fast around him, Tonty resolved to make his escape with his remaining five companions, which he succeeded in accomplishing, in an old and leaky canoe, on the 18th of September. On the following day, about twenty‐five miles from the village, they drew the canoe to the shore for repairs. While thus engaged they had the misfortune of losing for ever the great and good Father Gabriel de La Ribourde, who, with a mind fond of the beautiful in nature, as well as with a soul that loved all men, had wandered too far up the banks of the river, drawn on by the picturesque scenery that lay before him, was met by three young Kickapoo warriors, and fell a victim to the unsparing tomahawk. After passing, with heavy hearts, over ice and snow, rambling for some time almost at random in the woods, and enduring hunger and delays, they fortunately reached a village of the Potawatamies, where they were received with hospitality. Tonty was detained at the village by a severe and dangerous illness. Father Membré advanced to the missionary station at Green Bay; here they all met in the spring, and then proceeded to Mackinac to await the return of La Salle.

In the meantime La Salle, after stopping twenty‐four hours at the Indian village which he had previously visited, and finding that the two men whom he had despatched from the Miami River to Mackinac had obtained no tidings of the _Griffin_, now abandoned every lingering hope for her safety. He pressed forward on his great journey, only to hear of new disasters and losses at Fort Frontenac. The fact that he accomplished such a journey under such circumstances is sufficient to illustrate the endurance and unbending resolution of this great explorer. Of this chapter in the history of La Salle Bancroft thus writes:

“Yet here the immense power of his will appeared. Dependent on
himself, fifteen hundred miles from the nearest French settlement,
impoverished, pursued by enemies at Quebec, and in the wilderness
surrounded by uncertain nations, he inspired his men with
resolution to saw trees into plank and prepare a bark; he
despatched Louis Hennepin to explore the Upper Mississippi; he
questioned the Illinois and their southern captives on the course
of the Mississippi; he formed conjectures concerning the Tennessee
River; and then, as new recruits were needed, and sails and
cordage for the bark, in the month of March, with a musket and a
pouch of powder and shot, with a blanket for his protection, and
skins of which to make moccasins, he, with three companions, set
off on foot for Fort Frontenac, to trudge through thickets and
forests, to wade through marshes and melting snows, having for his
pathway the ridge of highlands which divide the basin of the Ohio
from that of the lakes—without drink, except water from the
brooks; without food, except supplies from his gun. Of his
thoughts on that long journey no record exists.”

He arrived safely at Fort Frontenac, but his affairs had all gone wrong in his absence. In the destruction of his vessel and cargo he had sustained a loss of a large portion of his means; besides this, his agents had plundered him in the fur trade on Lake Ontario; a vessel freighted with merchandise for him had been lost in the Bay of St. Lawrence; his heavily‐ laden canoes had been dashed to pieces by the rapids above Montreal; some of his men, corrupted by his enemies, had deserted, carrying his property among the Dutch in New York, and his creditors, availing themselves of a report, gotten up by his enemies, that he and his companions had been lost, had seized on his remaining effects, and sacrificed them in the market. But one friend remained to him in all Canada—the Comte de Frontenac. The undaunted La Salle still pushed forward his work; having arranged his affairs as well as he could, he secured the services of La Forest as an officer, and engaged more men. On the 23d of July, 1680, he set out on his return. Detained more than a month on Lake Ontario by head‐ winds, he reached Mackinac in the middle of September, and the Miami towards the end of November. Proceeding to the spot where he had left Tonty, he found his forts abandoned, the Illinois village abandoned, and could hear nothing of the companions whom he had left behind him. He now heard of the Iroquois war, and spent some time and effort in endeavoring to effect an alliance of all the neighboring tribes against the Illinois. Finding it impossible to accomplish his purpose for want of a larger force, he returned to the Miami River late in May, 1681, and about the middle of June he had the happiness of saluting Tonty and his companions in the harbor of Mackinac. The two cavaliers sat down together, and related to each other their respective misfortunes and hardships. Thus another year’s delay was occasioned; but in the meantime the trade with the Indians was prosecuted with vigor. Some idea may be formed of the material of which these two men were made when it is related that even now, when all their plans had failed and all seemed lost to them, the ardor with which they first commenced this wonderful task remained unbroken and undiminished. In order to renew their preparations for the exploration of the Mississippi, they all set out in a few days for Fort Frontenac, from which La Salle had already twice departed with the bold and lofty purpose of exploring and laying open to the world the interior geography of the continent. An eyewitness to these interesting conferences between La Salle and Tonty relates that the former maintained “his ordinary coolness and self‐possession. Any one but him would have renounced and abandoned the enterprise; but, far from that, by a firmness of mind and an almost unequalled constancy, I saw him more resolute than ever to continue his work and to carry out his discovery.”(160)

As already mentioned, Father Hennepin had been commissioned by the captain to explore, with his selected companions, the Upper Mississippi, probably the last aspiration of La Salle after the discovery of the northwest passage to the China Sea. Proceeding down the Illinois to its mouth, Father Hennepin directed his canoe up the unexplored stream, and on the eleventh day he and his companions were near the Wisconsin River. Turning up this river, they proceeded nineteen days, when the grand cataract burst for the first time upon the view of Europeans.

“It hath a thousand tongues of mirth,
Of grandeur, or delight,
And every heart is gladder made
When water greets the sight.”

It was called “The Falls of St. Anthony” in honor of the holy founder of the order of the Recollects. Falling in with the Sieur Du Luth, the two parties, nine in number, rambled and messed together till the end of September, 1680, when they all set out for Canada. Father Hennepin sailed from Quebec to France, where he published, in 1684, an account of his travels and discoveries. Thirteen years after this, and ten after the death of La Salle, he published his _New Discovery of a Vast Country in America, between New Mexico and the Frozen Ocean_, in which the love of the marvellous is regarded by historians as having far transcended the limits of authentic and trustworthy narrative, and as conflicting with the recognized and just pretensions of La Salle.

Upon his return to Fort Frontenac La Salle lost no time in preparing for another effort. He arranged his affairs with his creditors, pledged Fort Frontenac and the adjacent lands and trading privileges for his future expenses, and enlisted forces for his expedition. On the 28th of August, 1681, the company set out in canoes from the head of the Niagara River, and on the third of November they had arrived at the Miami. The constant and ever‐faithful Tonty and the good Father Membré accompanied the expedition, which consisted of fifty‐four persons, of whom twenty‐three were Frenchmen, eighteen Abnakis or Loup Indians, ten Indian women whom the Indians insisted should go along in order to do their cooking, and three children. Six weeks were consumed at the Miami in making the necessary arrangements. The Sieur Tonty and Father Membré proceeded with nearly the entire company along the southern border of Lake Michigan to the mouth of the Chicago River, dragging their canoes, baggage, and provisions for about eighty leagues over the frozen waters of the Illinois on sledges prepared by the indefatigable Tonty. La Salle travelled on foot from the Miami River, and joined the company on the 4th of January, 1682. They continued their journey in the same way up the Chicago to Lake Peoria, where the canoes were carried upon the waters, and on the 6th of February the great river, then called the “Colbert,” received its explorers safely upon its waves. They were detained by the floating ice till about the 19th, when the flotilla commenced its eventful voyage. On the same day, six leagues lower down, they passed the mouth of the Missouri, then called the Osage. They stopped at a deserted village of the Tamaroas Indians, whose people were absent on the chase, and then slowly passed on for forty leagues till they reached the Ohio, stopping frequently on the route to replenish their stock of provisions by hunting and fishing. Leaving the Ohio, they passed through one hundred and twenty miles of low, marshy river, full of thick foam, rushes, and walnut‐trees, till, on the 26th of February, they came to Chickasaw Bluffs, where they rested. Here a fort was built and called Fort Prudhomme, in memory of Peter Prudhomme, one of their companions, who was lost while hunting in the woods, supposed to have been killed or carried off by a party of Indians, whose trail was discovered near by. Afterwards, by the untiring and determined efforts of La Salle, and after nine days scouring the country, Prudhomme was found and restored to his companions; but the fort long retained his name. Proceeding about a hundred miles, they heard the sound of drums and the echo of war‐cries, and soon they came abreast of the villages of the Arkansas Indians, whose inhabitants were informed at one and the same time that the strangers were prepared for war—as was evidenced by the erection of a redoubt upon the shore; or for peace—as was manifested by their extending the calumet of peace. They found the Indians peaceable and friendly, and here our voyagers stopped to rest. Two weeks were spent amongst these gay, open‐hearted, and gentle natives in smoking the calumet, partaking of feasts, and obtaining Indian corn, beans, flour, and various kinds of fruits, for which they repaid their entertainers with presents which, however trifling, pleased their fancy much. Father Membré erected a cross, around which the natives assembled; and though he could not speak their language, he succeeded in acquainting them with the existence of the true God and some of the mysteries of the true faith. The Indians seemed to appreciate all he said, for they raised their eyes to heaven and fell upon their knees in adoration; they rubbed their hands upon the cross, and then all over their own bodies, as if to communicate its holiness to themselves; and, on the return voyage, the missionary found that they had protected the cross by a palisade. La Salle also took possession of the country with great ceremony in behalf of France, and erected the arms of the king, at which the Indians expressed great pleasure.

On the 17th they proceeded on their route, and were received and entertained most hospitably at another village of the same Akansas nation. On the 20th they arrived at a small lake formed by the waters of the Mississippi, on the opposite side of which they found a gentle tribe of Indians, far more civilized than any they had yet met, whose sovereign ruled over his people with regal ceremony, whose houses were built with walls and cane roofs, were adorned with native paintings, and furnished with wooden beds and other domestic comforts. Their temples were ornamented, and served as sepulchres for their departed chiefs. La Salle being too fatigued to visit this interesting people, he sent the Sieur Tonty and Father Membré on an embassy to the king, to whom they carried presents, and who received them with great ceremony. The king next returned the compliment by a visit to the commander, sending his master of ceremonies and heralds before him, and coming two hours afterwards himself, preceded by two men carrying fans of white feathers, himself dressed in a white robe beautifully woven of the bark of trees, with a canopy over his head, and attended by a royal retinue. The king’s demeanor during the interview was grave but frank and friendly. Resuming their route on the 26th of March, thirty or forty miles below this they came among the Natchez Indians, whose village La Salle, with some of his companions, visited by invitation, sleeping there that night and receiving hospitality. A cross was erected here, too, to which were attached the arms of France, signifying that thereby they took possession of the country in the name of their sovereign. The Holy Mass was also offered, and the company received the Blessed Sacrament. They next visited the village of Koroa, and then, advancing over a hundred miles, on the 2d of April they came to the country of the Quinipissas, a belligerent tribe, who answered a proposal to smoke the calumet of peace by a shower of arrows. But having no object to attain by difficulties with the natives, La Salle passed on to the village of the Tangiboas, three of whose deserted cabins he saw full of the bodies of Indians who, fifteen or sixteen days before, had fallen victims in an engagement in which the village was sacked and pillaged. Speaking of La Salle while thus descending the great river, Bancroft writes: “His sagacious eye discerned the magnificent resources of the country. As he floated down its flood; as he framed a cabin on the first Chickasaw bluff; as he raised the cross by the Arkansas; as he planted the arms of France near the Gulf of Mexico, he anticipated the future affluence of the emigrants, and heard in the distance the footsteps of the advancing multitude that were coming to take possession of the valley.”

To Be Concluded Next Month.

Birth‐Days.

“WHO ARE JUST BORN, BEING DEAD.”

Who weeps when love, a cradled babe, is born?
Rather we bring frankincense, myrrh, and gold,
While softest welcomes from our lips are rolled
To meet the dawning fragrance of a morn
Of checkered being. Even while the thorn
Keeps pace with rosy graces that unfold,
Do we with rapture cry, “Behold, behold,
A heaven‐dropped flower our garden to adorn!”
And yet when from our darling fall the years
As from the rose the shrivelled petals rain,
And into newer life the soul again
Springs thornless to the air of purer spheres,
So blinded are we by our bitter pain
We greet the sweeter birth with selfish tears.

The Future Of The Russian Church.

By The Rev. Cæsarius Tondini, Barnabite.

II.—Continued.

Let it only be borne in mind _what_ are those things which are required of her members by the faith and discipline of the Orthodox Church, and it will be granted us, at least face to face with unbelief, that her priests need something more than the ordinary respectability of a worthy man, an obedient subject of his sovereign, a good father of a family, faithful to his wife and devoted to his children.(161)

This _something more_ is possessed by the Catholic Church. The Russian Church has lost it. Whatever may be thought of the ecclesiastical law on the celibacy of the priesthood, we think it cannot be denied that a priest, living as an angel upon earth, exercises an influence which is always lacking to a married priest. This “magnetism of purity,” as it has been called, has inspired one of the noblest odes of the great English poet, Tennyson;(162) and they who in good faith argue against sacerdotal celibacy do so because, in their opinion, the purity required by the Catholic Church is a virtue too celestial to be met with here below; thus reasoning as did that Jew who, after reading a treatise on the Holy Eucharist by the Abbé Martinet,(163) said to us, “This cannot be true, because it would be too beautiful!” Those who reason as did this Jew conclude too easily from difficulty—what virtue is not difficult?—to impossibility? We do not undertake to convince those who have not faith, and who refuse to allow the efficacy of supernatural means; for the task would be a hopeless one. But if they have faith, we will submit to them the following consideration, which will not be without some weight.