Chapter II: The French (2)

After a short stay here the little fleet of canoes resumed the long voyage before them. On the 24th, the explorers landed near the Third Chickasaw Bluff to hunt. Here they built a stockade which was called Fort Prudhomme.[6]

Few incidents marked the passage of the explorers through the countries of the Arkansas, Tensas[7] and Natchez nations, till the Frenchmen reached the neighborhood of the Quinipissas, when they were shot at from the canebrakes along the banks, though without receiving any hurt.

Knowing he was among a multitude of foes, La Salle prudently refrained from returning the fire.

On the 6th of April, the explorers found the river branching out before them in three streams. Which to take, they knew not. That there should be no mistake about it, La Salle took the westernmost himself, Tonty the middle, and another the eastern branch. Presently some one dipped up a cupful of water to drink. It proved to be brackish to the taste. La Salle knew now he was nearing his goal.

At last the canoes glided past the outermost point of low, reedy land, out upon the broad bosom of the Gulf.

Landing not far above the mouth of the river, La Salle caused the arms of France to be set up at that place, and then and there, on the ninth day of April, 1682, he took formal possession of the country watered by the Mississippi. It was in the name of Louis XIV. that he did so, in whose honor La Salle declared the name of this vast acquisition to be Louisiana.

Yet in no long time we find Louis writing with his own hands words like these: "Like you,"—he is addressing M. de La Barre,[8]—"I am persuaded that the discovery of the Sieur de La Salle is very useless; and it is necessary hereafter to prevent similar enterprises which can have no other result than to debauch the people by the hope of gain, and to diminish the revenue from the beaver."

FOOTNOTES

[1] FORT AT NIAGARA, on the east side of Niagara River,
"a little below the mountain-ridge of Lewiston;" came into
possession of United States, 1796.

[2] GREAT ILLINOIS TOWN. First known to the whites as
Kaskaskia (see chapter "Joliet and Marquette"); its site
corresponds with the village of Utica, on the Chicago and R.
I. Railway, five miles east of La Salle.

[3] CACHES, French for hiding-places. The word is naturalized
in the West. A pit, or Indian barn, in which grain, etc., was
stored. The custom, universal among the Indians, was adopted
by white hunters and traders in their expeditions.

[4] CRÈVECŒUR, French, broken-hearted.

[5] THE GRIFFIN should have brought back cables, anchors,
sails, etc., for a vessel to be built on the Illinois, in
which La Salle purposed sailing down to the Gulf. Though the
vessel was built, the purpose came to naught for reasons given
in the text.

[6] FORT PRUDHOMME is on early maps. So named for one of La
Salle's men who wandered away and was lost in the woods. La
Salle left a few men here to await his return.

[7] TENSAS. The customs of these people were identical with
those described under the caption of "Florida Indians," as
seen by De Soto's men, which see. They kept a sacred fire
burning. (Refer to legend of Pecos, New Mexico Indians, for
analogy of customs in this respect.) Tensas County, La., was
the home of these Indians. La Salle also visited the Natchez
town, near the site of the present city of Natchez, where he
saw the same religious rites performed as among the Tensas.

[8] DE LA BARRE had succeeded Frontenac as governor of
Canada. He was La Salle's enemy.

DISCOVERY OF THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI.

It will be remembered, that, when La Salle found himself so unfortunately stopped among the Illinois, his active mind was promptly casting about for something to be achieved elsewhere. This object he found in the Upper Mississippi, which he determined should be explored in his absence, so interlocking his own discoveries with those of Joliet and Marquette. Two of his people were accordingly sent to perform this duty, with whom went Father Hennepin,[1] the Franciscan missionary before spoken of.

The party set out from Fort Crèvecœur on the last day of February, 1680, while at the same time La Salle was starting northward for Lake Ontario.

As historian of the expedition, Hennepin's vanity has led him to claim the leadership for himself, while he accuses La Salle of meaning to get rid of him,[2] in the same breath. We know, however, from La Salle that neither is true. La Salle was much too good a judge of character not to see through the friar after so long trial of him, though, knowing him to be capable, he gave him the chance of being useful. For the expedition itself, it is certain La Salle had it much at heart. Touching Hennepin's narrative, La Salle dryly says the friar "spoke more according to his wishes than what he knew," or, in the familiar phrase, was in the habit of drawing on his imagination for his facts.

Hennepin himself seems to have been that singular anomaly, seldom met with in real life, a brave braggart, whose self-conceit and arrogant self-assertion stand forth in strong contrast with the modesty and patience always shown by La Salle when he is speaking of his own achievements. And it is further characteristic of the two men, that while one felt he could afford to wait for time to do him justice, the other sought the cheap glory to be had by sounding his own praise abroad, even when exposure was certain to follow. So that nothing Hennepin has written can be accepted as true, without other evidence to substantiate it. The more is the pity! But the exaggerations of all our early chronicles show that they were penned by men influenced by the passions or rivalries of the time, often so distorting what is true as to make it fit the particular end they may have had in view. To this lamentable want of integrity may be attributed the fact that history has so often to be re-written.

For six weeks the explorers plied their paddles against the current of the Mississippi unmolested. One day when they had drawn their canoe on shore to repair it, the Frenchmen were suddenly surrounded by a war party of Sioux[3]—the very people of all others whom they most wished to avoid.

In a moment the whites were made prisoners. The scowling looks and threatening gestures of their captors boded them no good. Hennepin proffered the peace-pipe. It was snatched from his hand. When he began muttering prayers aloud, the Indians angrily signed to him to be silent, thinking he was preparing some charm to overpower them with, but they let him chant the same prayers, he says, thinking there could be no sorcery or medicine in song. Presently the Sioux began their homeward journey, thus making it clear to the Frenchmen that their future discoveries must be made as captives.

In nineteen days the party landed near the site of St. Paul.[4] From here the trail was struck leading to the Sioux villages, which were reached after five days of hard marching and harder usage at the hands of the Sioux warriors.

Here the prisoners were separated, Hennepin going to an aged chief who adopted him as his own son. So they passed the winter among the Sioux.

In the following summer, when the Sioux went on their annual buffalo hunt, they took the three Frenchmen along with them. This was the prisoners' opportunity for regaining their liberty, and they hastened to make use of it. La Salle had promised to send word of himself to them at the mouth of the Wisconsin, and they knew he would not fail them. Telling the Sioux their friends were coming, loaded with gifts, the greedy Sioux were easily induced to let Hennepin and one other go down the river to meet them alone and unguarded. One Frenchman remained behind with the Sioux as a hostage for the others.

The two whites began their descent of the river, carrying their canoe round the Falls of St. Anthony,[5] to which Father Hennepin gave this name, till, after many adventures, Lake Pepin[6] was reached.

To their consternation, the travellers were overtaken at this point by a party of Sioux who had followed their prisoners so closely, as hardly to lose sight of them, and now pushed on ahead to the Wisconsin. Finding neither traders[7] nor goods there, as they had been led to expect, the Sioux paddled back again in bad humor to the place where the whites had remained. After being soundly rated for the cheat they had practised, the unlucky whites were forced to turn about and go back again as they came.

After some longer stay among the Sioux, the captives were found by some French traders who had made their way from Lake Superior, through the Sioux country, to the Mississippi. Hearing of the three white men, while on the way, these traders had kept on from village to village, till they reached the one in which Hennepin and his companions were detained, and ransomed them out of the hands of the savages.

At the head of the rescuing party was one Du Lhut, or Duluth, for whom the city of Duluth is named, as Lake Pepin is also said to have been named for another of this party. Thus, in St. Anthony's Falls, Lake Pepin, and Duluth we have a group of names commemorating the men of La Salle's exploring party, as well as the exploration itself.

All the Frenchmen now returned to the Sioux villages at Mille Lac together.

They finally made their way back to the French settlements by the Wisconsin and Green Bay route, as Marquette had done before them, and the Sioux[8] also for many generations had travelled to the great lake.

FOOTNOTES

[1] FATHER LOUIS HENNEPIN, a Récollet, or Franciscan
friar, published his _Description of Louisiana_, 1683, with
subsequent editions, under various titles, 1697, 1698, etc.
While his exaggerations make it difficult to separate what is
true from what is false, yet his writings are an indispensable
part of the History of the Great West.

[2] GET RID OF HIM, by exposing him to be scalped among
hostile Indians.

[3] SIOUX, properly Dacotahs, may be nominally divided in
two great bodies by the Mississippi River. Those living on
the east side were Eastern Sioux, those on the west, Western
Sioux. Their country reached from the westernmost tributaries
of the Mississippi to Lake Superior. In power, they were
to the West what the Iroquois were to the East—the scourge
of weaker nations. The Sioux ceded their lands east of the
Mississippi to the United States, in 1837, living on the St.
Peter's till the massacres of 1862-63 drove them thence.

[4] ST. PAUL, nine miles below the Falls of St. Anthony,
capital city of Minnesota, settled about 1840; Benjamin
Gervais, the first settler.

[5] FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY. St. Anthony of Padua was
Hennepin's patron saint. The Sioux were in the habit of
hanging buffalo-robes on the trees as offerings to the spirit
of the waters. Minneapolis is the growth of the water-power
of these falls, having increased from 2,564 in 1860, to 46,000
in 1880.

[6] LAKE PEPIN, a broadening of the Mississippi, about
twenty-five miles long. There is a pretty Indian legend
connected with Maiden's Rock in the lake, told in Mrs.
Eastman's Legends of the Sioux.

[7] LA SALLE asserts that the Jesuits told the men he
had engaged to do this that the friar had been killed, so
preventing them from going.

[8] THE SIOUX ALSO. Recall the fact stated earlier, that
Marquette fell in with the Sioux at or about Green Bay.

THE LOST COLONY: ST. LOUIS OF TEXAS.

Thus, in 1682, La Salle had secured an empire for France, and at last found a legitimate field for his own ambition. His Louisiana comprised every thing between the Alleghanies and Rio Grande, the Gulf of Mexico and Hudson's Bay. Upon opening the maps of the time we find the English crowded into the comparatively narrow limits extending from the eastern slopes of the Appalachian range to the sea, the Spaniards occupying those between the Rio Grande and Gulf of California, while the whole great heart of the continent, including portions of Carolina and Florida, with its magnificent system of waterways, is covered by the names New France and Louisiana.

But La Salle himself, the man of large and luminous views, had now reached the high-water-mark of his achievements. The wave which owed its impetus to his active brain, expended its force with his life.

Upon his return voyage up the Mississippi the explorer fell sick. He was taken to Fort Prudhomme, the one built by his order on the way down, where he lay for months a helpless invalid, chafing under the inaction thus forced upon him. As soon as he felt strong enough to bear the journey, La Salle proceeded on to Michilimackinac, where he was no sooner arrived than he set about the work of rebuilding the trading-post on the Illinois, in room of the one his treacherous followers had destroyed in his absence.

This was to be his half-way house to the Mississippi. Here he trusted to gather a colony alike capable of drawing to itself all the trade of a vast tributary region, as of defending itself and his allies, the Illinois, against the incursions of the Iroquois.

But La Salle's greater project for securing the results of his discoveries, by planting a colony at the mouth of the Mississippi, henceforth looked to reaching that point by sea and not by land. To transport every thing overland from Quebec to the Gulf was of course impracticable. No one knew this better than La Salle himself, yet he also foresaw the importance of keeping the way to Canada open if the colony at the Gulf was to thrive. To this end the fort on the Illinois, and that at the Chickasaw Bluff, were but incidents.

After establishing himself strongly on the Illinois, La Salle went to France in order to lay his projects before the King.

In consequence of a rupture with Spain he found the court well disposed to listen to his proposals. These contemplated the building of a fort sixty leagues above the mouth of the Mississippi, which La Salle assumed would draw around it, as to a common centre, all the neighbor tribes. Gifts and good usage had already disposed these tribes favorably toward the French, while the Spaniards had already alienated them by harsh treatment. With their help La Salle asserted that the conquest of New Biscay,[1] with its rich silver-mines, would be an easy matter, because there were not more than four hundred Spaniards in all that province.

The plan met instant favor. To enable La Salle to carry it out, four vessels were given him instead of the two he asked for. A naval officer by the name of Beaujeu was assigned to command them at sea. La Salle set himself to work with his usual energy. Soldiers, priests and colonists, arms, munitions and stores, were provided in sufficient number or quantity to put the colony on its feet at once.

Long before the ships were ready to sail from Rochefort, La Salle and Beaujeu had quarrelled. Beaujeu overrated himself, and underrated La Salle. Often betrayed by those he trusted most, La Salle's naturally suspicious nature led him to distrust every one, above all Beaujeu, who constantly ridiculed him and his schemes to his friends. So La Salle's reserve gave offence to Beaujeu, who grew sulky, and was at no pains to conceal his dislike for the whole affair. Here then at the very outset the seeds of disaster were sowed. It was under such unpromising conditions that the fleet set sail in July, 1684, for the Gulf of Mexico.

Three of the vessels reached St. Domingo in two months, with a large number of sick on board, of whom La Salle himself was one. The fourth had been taken at sea by Spanish buccaneers, thus depriving the colonists of the tools and provisions with which she was loaded.

Upon La Salle's recovery from what came near proving a fatal illness, the fleet again put to sea, though it was now November, and much precious time had been lost.

Steering westward into the Gulf, they made their landfall on New Year's Day, but when La Salle went on shore to look about him, he could discover no sign of the great river he was in search of. The colonists were upon a low, flat coast, without natural landmarks to guide them, or knowledge of the longitude of the place they were seeking, or of the currents which the Gulf sets in motion. No wonder, then, that La Salle failed to recognize any part of the inhospitable coast before him.

Finding no trace of the Mississippi, and as the failure to do so was every day productive of disputes between himself and Beaujeu, La Salle resolved to land where he was, notwithstanding his belief that he had gone too far to the westward. He was, in fact, at the time of taking this resolution, on the coast of Texas, more than four hundred miles from the Mississippi.

Almost at the moment of landing, La Salle's storeship, which contained the greater part of his provisions, grounded, and became a wreck; it is said, through the carelessness or treachery of her master, who also was on bad terms with La Salle. Indeed, from first to last La Salle's enemies seem to have exerted themselves to ruin him with a zeal that, if honestly employed, would easily have insured the success of all his plans.

This disaster, taken with the fact that he knew not where he was, would have staggered any one but La Salle. His dispirited people were huddled together on the sands, among the bales and boxes saved from the wreck, out of which they made themselves a temporary intrenchment and shelter, for like vultures who scent their prey from afar, hostile Indians hovered about the encampment, watching their chance to cut off any who should stray away from its protection.

Yet misgiving for the success of an enterprise so disastrously begun, was turned into dread when the colonists learned that they were nowhere near their actual destination. La Salle, indeed, tried to put heart in them by pretending to believe otherwise, but a little time soon dispelled this fallacy. He, however, took the best means of quieting discontent by setting every one at work. Beaujeu had sailed away after promising much, but performing little else. The colonists now had much more to fear from the Spaniards, than the Spaniards from them. Yet for La Salle nothing remained but to make the best of the situation until he should have time to look it fairly in the face.

Meanwhile, the essential thing to be done was to get his people housed in a situation which should admit of their living in some comfort and security, as the place where they first landed was alike destitute of wood, water and comfortable lodging.

He therefore chose a site on the Lavaca River,[2] two leagues above its entrance into Matagorda Bay. To this place the colonists removed themselves and their goods, and under the energetic direction of La Salle, whose previous training now stood him in good stead, they set about building themselves a home in this out-of-the-way corner of the world. As it rose from the soil, the ever-loyal La Salle named it St. Louis,[3] in honor of his sovereign.

The summer was hot and sickly. Death was soon busy among the colonists, those who ate wild fruits imprudently suffering first of all. Now and then the Indians would kill some straggling hunter. Thus, in one or another form, death lurked about them. And beneath these apparent dangers, in which all shared alike, smouldered the embers of unreasoning discontent which certain of La Salle's followers were always fanning into a flame.

Having seen his people comfortably housed, and in condition to defend themselves, the indefatigable La Salle now turned his attention to the prime purpose of his expedition, with the certainty of the needle to its pole, for all he had so far done was merely a step in this direction. There was no time to lose.

Although it is not clear why La Salle should determine to march overland, rather than make search along the shores, the character of the Gulf coast affords a possible clew. This is described by Mr. Cable as follows: "Across the southern end of the State,"—he is speaking now of Louisiana,—"from Sabine Lake to Chandeleur Bay, with a north and south width of from ten to thirty miles, and an average of about fifteen, stretch the Gulf marshes, the wild haunt of myriads of birds and water-fowl, serpents and saurians, hares, raccoons and wildcats, deep-bellowing frogs, and clouds of insects, and by a few hunters whose solitary and rarely frequented huts speck the wide green horizon at remote intervals."

It was now October, 1685. With fifty men La Salle set out for the river he had discovered only to lose again. Those who staid behind, lived on buffalo-meat,[3] turtles, oysters, fish, and wild fowl which the prairies or lagoons around them plentifully supplied in their season.

In March, the exploring party came back unsuccessful and in rags. They had wandered far, but had not found the Mississippi. One crowning disaster now befell these exiles. Up to this time they had kept one little vessel of their fleet with them, which was to take them to the Mississippi so soon as its exact situation should be discovered. This vessel, in which their sole dependence lay, was now lost.

In desperate situations, desperate measures are alone to be availed of. La Salle's resolve was heroic. He determined to make a last effort to reach the Mississippi and the lakes. Indeed, there was now no hope of obtaining relief nearer than Canada, therefore to Canada he must go, leaving the colonists to await his return.

For this purpose La Salle chose twenty men, with whom he again set out from the fort on the 22d of April, 1686. Each man carried his own pack and weapons, and as the little band filed out upon the prairie, the hopes of the lost colony went forth with them in their desperate venture.

But these hopes sunk low when La Salle came back with only eight of the twenty who had gone with him. The explorers had penetrated as far as the country of the Cenis Indians,[4] when sickness and desertion had so crippled their strength as to make further progress hopeless for the time. They, however, procured some horses from the Indians which were brought back to the fort.

No other resource being open, La Salle once more essayed the task before him. In the straits in which he and his people were placed, his splendid qualities for leadership shine out of the gloom like a guiding star. The resources of the colony were nearly exhausted in fitting out previous parties, but the scanty stores were ransacked anew to equip those who were to be the saviors of the rest. The horses which La Salle had brought in were loaded with baggage and ammunition. All was ready. A midnight mass was solemnly said. La Salle spoke a few hopeful words to those who were to endure a suspense perhaps even greater than his own, and then, mastering his own feelings, he turned away to join his followers,—the forlorn hope of the expiring colony.

On the 15th of March, 1687, the hunters who were out killed a buffalo. The party therefore halted till the meat could be brought into camp. Here it was that the hatred, long nursed in secret, openly revealed itself in murder. Misery always begets quarrels, but in this case the sole incitement was revenge. La Salle had the unhappy faculty of making enemies, of whom his worst ones were then close at hand, and plotting for his life. A quarrel about the meat hastened the work on. Those who were faithful to La Salle became the conspirators' first victims. Three of these, whom La Salle had sent over to the hunters' camp, were butchered while they slept.

La Salle himself was encamped six miles distant from the place where these murders were committed. Growing uneasy at the long absence of the men he had sent away, he started with an Indian guide for their camp. A friar named Douay also accompanied him. This friar noted in La Salle's talk and manner the presentiment of coming evil. On reaching a point which he supposed to be near the hunters' camp, La Salle fired his musket as a signal. One of the conspirators showed himself, while the others lay hid in the long prairie-grass unobserved. La Salle fell into the snare thus set for him. While advancing toward the decoy, whose insolent replies angered him, La Salle constantly neared the ambuscade. Suddenly a shot was fired. When the smoke cleared away, La Salle was seen stretched lifeless upon the prairie. He was quite dead.[5] The bullet had gone through his brain.

Thus, in the prime of life, fell Robert Cavelier de La Salle, and thus again must history record its indignant protest in the death of a man of highest intellectual force, whose worth to the world was monumental as compared with that of the vulgar assassin who slew him.

NOTE.—THE COLONISTS AT ST. LOUIS, except three or four who
were carried into captivity, were all massacred by the
Indians. A Spanish expedition in 1689 found the place a
solitude. Those who escaped subsequently related what had
occurred. Although this was the first white colony to be
founded in Texas,[6] in itself it was an accident, no less
productive of results, because it led the Spaniards to occupy
the country in order to keep out intruders like La Salle.
Geographical knowledge was also remarkably extended.

FOOTNOTES

[1] NEW BISCAY. Refer to chapter "New Mexico."

[2] LAVACA RIVER, also called by the French La Vache (the
cow).

[3] ST. LOUIS. This name was some time preserved in
connection with St. Bernard, or MATAGORDA BAY. Not to be
confounded with St. Louis of the Illinois.

[4] CENIS INDIANS occupied the east bank of the Trinity,
toward Red River.

[5] THE MURDER is located at a point nearly midway between
the Brazos and Trinity Rivers, on a map in the author's
possession, and not far from the old Spanish trail between
Nacodoches and the Presidio del Norte. After the murder, the
survivors went forward to the Cenis villages. In a quarrel
about the plunder, two of the ringleaders, Duhant and Liotot,
were killed by their confederates. This left the way open for
Joutel, the two priests, Cavelier (La Salle's brother), and
Douay, with three others, to continue their attempt to reach
the Mississippi. Those implicated in La Salle's murder, dared
not return to the settlements. With Indian guides the river
was struck at the Arkansas villages, where the fugitives met
with two of Tonty's men, who helped them on their way. Tonty
had been down the river on a fruitless search for La Salle.

[6] TEXAS. The name, in its present orthography, occurs at
this time in connection with La Salle's colony, but is first
found in "A Briefe Relation of Two Notable Voyages" (Hakluyt
iii. 464), made first by the friar Augustin Ruiz, in 1581, to
the Tiguas Indians, and next by Antonio de Espejo in 1583.
Shortened to Tejas (Tahas), the name was easily turned into
Texas, its present rendering.

IBERVILLE FOUNDS LOUISIANA.

Where La Salle had sowed, others were to reap, yet so comprehensive were his plans, so well matured, so entirely feasible withal, that what followed was but the natural result of his efforts. La Salle was like the general who falls in the moment of victory. All honor then to his name![1]

Therefore while we record his failure, individually, to do all he purposed in this, his last expedition, the success which came later was due to the master mind of La Salle. We shall not find, in any explorer of his time, so original a mind united with such rare gifts for doing the work to which he devoted himself.

For a time, the project of colonizing Louisiana[2] quietly slept. It was then revived by a naval officer named Iberville,[3] who thus became, in a manner, heir to La Salle's projects.

Iberville promised to rediscover the mouth of the Mississippi, and hold it afterward by building a fort at its mouth, just as La Salle would have done if he had lived to carry out his schemes.

Although it had slumbered long, the moment the project was renewed by so capable a man as Iberville, every intelligent Frenchman saw its importance. The minister Ponchartrain approved it directly it was broached to him, the more because he knew that if any man could succeed in what he undertook, Iberville would.

Iberville had seen much service in Canada, Hudson's Bay and Newfoundland. Being himself a naval officer of rank, he would command his own ships, and not be hampered by a divided command, or the jealousy of a rival, which had proved such a formidable stumbling-block to La Salle.

As the war was now over, Iberville wished to distinguish himself by some worthy action done in the interests of peaceful conquest.

Two ships were therefore got ready, which sailed from Rochefort in October, 1698, and anchored at St. Domingo[4] in December. Sailing thence they fell in with the Florida coast January 27. A bay opened before them. Iberville wished to put into this port, but on attempting to do so he found it in the possession of three hundred Spaniards from Vera Cruz, whose commander forbade his landing there. This place was called Pensacola.[5]

Fearing the Spaniards were on the same errand[6] with himself, Iberville at once made sail for the westward, hugging the shores as closely as possible in order not to miss the river among the mists which commonly hang over and hide it from view. Finding in Mobile Bay a harbor where his ships could safely ride, while he himself continued the search along the shore in boats, Iberville came to an anchor there.

Very shortly his exploring parties came to the Pascagoula River, where they found many savages living. From this river they pushed on through the intervening lagoons that everywhere intersect this shallow shore, till, on the 2d of March, the Mississippi itself was entered through one of its numerous passes.

Sailing on up the river, Iberville passed first one populous town and then another, receiving everywhere a cordial welcome from the savages, yet doubting within himself whether he was on the true Mississippi, till one day a chief brought him a letter[7] which Tonty had left for La Salle thirteen years before, when, after searching for his chief in vain, this trusty comrade had turned back for the Illinois.

After mentioning that he had found La Salle's cross thrown down, and had set up another in a better place, the letter concludes by saying, "It is a great chagrin to me that we are going back without finding you, after having coasted the Mexican (Louisiana) shore for thirty leagues, and the Florida twenty-five."

This letter having removed all Iberville's doubts, he fell down the river again, and having nowhere found, within sixty leagues of the Gulf, a proper place to begin a settlement on, he turned back to the Bay of Biloxi, where a spot was chosen and the ground marked out for one.

After seeing the establishment at Biloxi well under way, Iberville took ship for France. He was back again early in January, 1701. During his absence an English corvette had sailed twenty-five leagues up the Mississippi to a point where the river sweeps grandly round to the east. At this place her captain was warned back by the French, from which circumstance the bend received the name of the English Turn, which it has ever since borne.

Iberville also learned that English traders from Carolina[8] had penetrated into the Chickasaw country above him. Finding himself menaced both by sea and land, and delay dangerous, Iberville shut up the entrance from sea by mounting some cannon near the mouth of the river.

The century turned noiselessly on its hinges with no other establishments in all this great domain of Louisiana except that planted by La Salle on the Illinois, and the one at Biloxi.

In 1701 Iberville began a settlement at Mobile. The next year he erected storehouses and barracks on Dauphine Island[9] for permanent occupation. In a few years this island became the general headquarters of the Louisiana colony. Nothing worthy of the name, however, existed before 1708. Up to this time the handful of colonists lived on what was sent them from France, or obtained by trading French goods with the savages. They sowed wheat, but found the climate too damp for growing it with success. They also began the planting of tobacco, which did so well that its culture presently became a mainstay of the colony.

But while Iberville had thus gained a foothold, in what might be called a good strategic position for approaching the Mississippi, either from sea or through Lake Ponchartrain, he was actually but little nearer than the Spaniards at Pensacola, who kept a watch on all his movements. Never did nature seem more persistently thwarting the schemes of men than in the attempt of these Frenchmen to enter upon what they considered their rightful inheritance.

FOOTNOTES

[1] LA SALLE'S NAME is perpetuated in many places in the
United States, notably in a city and county of Illinois.

[2] COLONIZING LOUISIANA quietly slept, partly, but not
wholly, in consequence of war between England and France.

[3] IBERVILLE, LE MOYNE DE, was one of eight brothers, all
eminent in the annals of Canada. He was considered one of the
greatest sailors France has produced. In 1685 he assisted
in expelling the English from Hudson's Bay. Afterward he
took part in the defence of Quebec by Frontenac; destroyed
Pemaquid; and took St. John's, Newfoundland. As a commander
he was almost uniformly successful. Iberville's name is
perpetuated in a town and parish of Louisiana.

[4] ST. DOMINGO, or Hayti, had been seized by French
buccaneers, 1630. The French government took possession of the
island, 1677, thus establishing a _dépôt_ for their operations
in the Gulf of Mexico.

[5] PENSACOLA (Indian). A place of much historic interest.
First discovered, according to the Spaniards, by Narvaez,
then by Maldonado, one of De Soto's captains. It received
several Spanish names, notably that of Santa Maria de Galve,
but finally retained that of the neighboring tribe of savages.

[6] ON THE SAME ERRAND. That the Spaniards knew of the
Mississippi is clear from their having given it the name
Iberville afterward found so apt when ascending it,—Rio de
los Palissades,—a title suggested by the enormous rafts of
uprooted trees which the river brought down and left stranded
at its mouth.

[7] TONTY'S LETTER was left in the forks of a tree where
the Indians found it. It may be seen in full in Charlevoix,
ii. 259.

[8] ENGLISH TRADERS from Carolina were pushing their way
across the Appalachians. Many French Protestants who had fled
from their country on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes,
were settled in South Carolina, and it was feared the English
would attempt to settle a colony of them in Louisiana.

[9] DAUPHINE, originally Massacre Island.

FRANCE WINS THE PRIZE.

"_A soldier, fire, and water, soon make room for themselves._"

Iberville died at Havana in 1706, leaving his uncompleted work to his younger brother, Bienville,[1] who set vigorously about it.

Many believed Natchez to be the best point on the river for founding a settlement. Natchez therefore assumed importance to French plans for the future. But Natchez was the principal seat of a powerful nation whose enmity it would be impolitic to arouse by making forcible entry upon their lands. An opportunity soon offered itself, however, which Bienville quickly took advantage of.

In the first place some outrages committed by the Natchez upon passing traders gave Bienville the pretext he sought for building a fort at their village, which was promptly done (1714).

These people being overawed, the next step taken was the building of a fortified house at Natchitoches,[2] on the Red River, as a check to the Spaniards, who, already, were working their way east from the Rio Grande toward the Mississippi, partly to overawe the troublesome Comanches, and partly to engross the Indian trade of that region for themselves. Thus early in its history the Mississippi and its commerce were become a bone of contention between English, Spaniards and French.

Again the folly of farming out the trade of a whole country to a single individual, which had been tried in Canada with such bad effects, was repeated here in Louisiana. This monopoly was granted (1712) to Anthony Crozat for twenty-five years. Like all speculators, Crozat aimed to make the most in the shortest time, letting the future of the colony take care of itself. He was to control, absolutely, all that came into the colony or went out of it. Agriculture was neglected and trade only encouraged. And all trade was monopolized by Anthony Crozat. This was the penny wise, pound foolish, colonial system of France, adopted with the purpose of putting a little money into the royal treasury at a nominal saving to it of certain sums required for maintaining its authority in the colony. This policy turned the colony into a trading-post, and the people themselves into dependants of Crozat.

When Crozat entered upon his exclusive privileges there were but twenty-eight families in the whole province, of whom not more than half were actual settlers, the rest being either traders, innkeepers or laborers, who had no fixed residence.

The roving traders, or _Coureurs de Bois_,[3] bartered French goods with the Indians for peltries and slaves, which were sold in the settlements. It was found that tobacco, indigo, cotton and rice could be profitably cultivated, but none except slaves were employed in tilling the soil, which, indeed, is comparatively worthless in the neighborhood where the colonists first located themselves. Consequently only such things as would help to eke out a subsistence—such as corn, vegetables and poultry—were cultivated at all. In a word, the colony literally lived from hand to mouth. Instead of growing stronger and richer, of its own robust growth, it grew, if possible, weaker and poorer by reason of a policy, or system, under which no colony has ever thrived.

Little inducement was held out for the colonist to identify himself with the country, or feel that he and it must grow up together. He was a sojourner in a strange land. He could never hope to get rich by trade, since every thing must pass through the hands of Crozat's agents, at a price fixed by them.

This was by no means the whole weakness of Louisiana in her infancy. Perhaps the primary evil lay in the fact that so far the French neither controlled access to the Mississippi, in the place where they were, or had formed any settled plan for securing that solid foothold on its banks which alone could render them masters of the situation.

Crozat's failure was, in the nature of things, foreordained. His scheme, indeed, proved a stumbling-block to the colony and a loss to himself. In five years (1717) he was glad to surrender his monopoly to the crown.

From its ashes sprung the gigantic Mississippi Scheme of John Law,[4] to whom all Louisiana, now including the Illinois country, was granted for a term of years. Compared with this prodigality Crozat's concession was but a plaything. It not only gave Law's Company proprietary rights to the soil, but power was conferred to administer justice, make peace or war with the natives, build forts, levy troops and with consent of the crown to appoint such military governors as it should think fitting. These extraordinary privileges were put in force by a royal edict, dated in September, 1717.

The new company granted lands along the river to individuals or associated persons, who were sometimes actual emigrants, sometimes great personages who sent out colonists at their own cost, or again the company itself undertook the building up of plantations or lands reserved by it for the purpose. One colony of Alsatians was sent out by Law to begin a plantation on the Arkansas.[5] Others, more or less flourishing, were located at the mouth of the Yazoo, Natchez and Baton Rouge. All were agricultural plantations, though in most cases the plantations themselves consisted of a few poor huts covered with a thatch of palm-leaves. The earliest forts were usually a square earthwork, strengthened with palisades about the parapet.

The company's agricultural system was founded upon African slave labor.[6] Slaves were brought from St. Domingo or other of the West India islands. By some their employment was viewed with alarm, because it was thought the blacks would soon outnumber the whites, and might some day rise and overpower them; but we find only the feeblest protest entered against the moral wrong of slavery in any record of the time. Negroes could work in the fields, under the burning sun, when the whites could not. Their labor cost no more than their maintenance. The planters easily adopted what, indeed, already existed among their neighbors. Self-interest stifled conscience.

The new company wisely appointed Bienville governor. Three ships brought munitions, troops, and stores of every sort from France, with which to put new life into the expiring colony.

It was at this time (February, 1718) that Bienville began the foundation of the destined metropolis of Louisiana. The spot chosen by him was clearly but a fragment of the delta which the river had been for ages silently building of its own mud and driftwood. It had literally risen from the sea. Elevated only a few feet above sea-level, threatened with frequent inundation, and in its primitive estate a cypress swamp, it seemed little suited for the abode of men, yet time has confirmed the wisdom of the choice.

Here, then, a hundred miles from the Gulf, on the alluvial banks of the great river, twenty-five convicts and as many carpenters were set to work clearing the ground and building the humble log cabins, which were to constitute the capital, in its infancy.

The settlement was named New Orleans,[7] in honor of the Regent, Orleans, who ruled France during the minority of Louis XV.

Up to this time it was supposed that large ships could not cross the bar, at the river's mouth, but upon sounding the channel, enough water was found to float one of the company's ships, which then sailed up to New Orleans. From this day, the river may be said to have been fairly open to commerce with the outside world. As respects the passage up and down, it had practically become an every-day excursion for the Canadian voyageurs who, with the Indians, had so long formed its floating population. These adventurers now drew up their canoes, along the bank, at New Orleans, whose promiscuous assemblage of Indians, habitants, convicts, soldiers and priests, they joined.

Father Charlevoix, the historian of New France, thus describes New Orleans as he saw it in 1721:—

"The most just idea I can give you is to imagine two hundred
persons who have been sent to build a city, and who are
encamped on its banks. This city is the first which one of the
greatest rivers of the world has seen rise on its borders.
It is composed of a hundred barracks placed without much
order, a large storehouse built of wood, two or three houses
which would not adorn a poor village in France, and part of
a wretched barrack which they have been willing to lend the
Lord, for his service, and of which He had scarcely taken
possession when He was thrust out and made to take shelter
under a tent."

In the cluster of French names,—Louisiana, New Orleans, Ponchartrain, Iberville and Maurepas,—the great personages who bore a conspicuous part in the founding of Louisiana are fittingly perpetuated.

From Quebec to New Orleans, from the St. Lawrence to the Gulf, a line of posts, half-military, half-religious, had sprung up in La Salle's footsteps. France had won the prize.

FOOTNOTES

[1] BIENVILLE, from his long and useful association with
the province, was called the "Father of Louisiana."

[2] NATCHITOCHES became an important strategic point with
reference to the Spaniards in Texas, who had founded missions
at San Antonio and a post at Nacodoches.

[3] "COUREURS DE BOIS, or Wood Rangers, are French or
Canadese, so called from employing their whole life in
the rough exercise of transporting merchandise goods to
the lakes of Canada and to all the other countries of that
continent in order to trade with the savages. And in regard
that they run in canoes a thousand leagues up the country,
notwithstanding the danger of the sea and enemies, I take it
they should rather be called Runners of Risks than Runners of
the Woods."—_Baron la Hontan._

[4] JOHN LAW of Edinburgh was made comptroller-general
of the finances of France, upon the strength of a scheme
for establishing a bank, and an East India and Mississippi
Company, by the profits of which the national debt of France
was to be paid off. In 1716 he opened his bank, and the
deluded of every rank subscribed for shares both in the bank
and company. A. de Pontmartin calls it the "idolatry of the
golden calf." Voltaire relates that he had seen Law come to
court with dukes, marshals and bishops in his train. The
imaginary riches of Louisiana furnished the basis for the
scheme. At first the shares went up. In 1720 the inflated
bubble exploded, spreading ruin everywhere. Law himself died
in poverty. It infused a spasm of prosperity in Louisiana,
soon to be followed by reaction which brought every thing to
a standstill. Consult any good encyclopædia.

[5] ON THE ARKANSAS, but very soon removed lower down the
river. These Germans were pioneers of free labor in Louisiana.
They became the market gardeners for New Orleans.

[6] SLAVERY. Negro slavery was then established in the
Spanish and English American colonies.

[7] NEW ORLEANS was regularly laid out in 1720. It was
protected from inundation by an embankment called a levee.

LOUIS XIV.

Louis XIV. was not only, as Richelieu, powerful, but he was majestic; not only, as Cromwell, great, but in him was serenity. Louis XIV. was not, perhaps, genius in the master, but genius surrounded him. This may lessen a king in the eyes of some, but it adds to the glory of his reign. As for me, as you already know, I love that which is absolute, which is perfect; and therefore have always a profound respect for this grave and worthy prince, so well-born, so much loved, and so well-surrounded; a king in his cradle, a king in the tomb; true sovereign in every acceptation of the word; central monarch of civilization; pivot of all Europe, seeing, so to speak, from tour to tour, eight popes, five sultans, three emperors, two kings in Spain, three kings of Portugal, four kings and one queen of England, three kings of Denmark, one queen and two kings of Sweden, four kings of Poland, and four czars of Muscovy appear, shine forth and disappear around his throne; polar star of an entire age, who, during seventy-two years, saw all the constellations majestically perform their evolutions round him.—V. HUGO. _The Rhine._