It was mid-December before Picard could schedule a couple more hours for me. It was apparent that the president was involved in some major undertaking. It was also a busy season for all of Canada. As I had learned the previous winter, most of the Green Bay elite have the good sense to get out of Green Bay once winter sets in. Their favorite place to go is New Orleans from January to March. They have even managed to get the poor Huguenots down there to stage something called Mardi Gras, a very Catholic celebration being hosted by the very Protestant Huguenots as a way of getting money from the tourists.
So Green Bay has an endless series of parties in December since people can celebrate both the arrival of Christmas and their imminent departure from this godforsaken ice berg. Elise and I had invitations to at least one party a night and so got to see every possible way the French could decorate a faux chateau. No doubt whole forests of evergreens were disappearing from artic lands to bring temporary pine scents to lacquered parlors. On the other hand, the French can cook, and their red wines still warm a cold December night. So we attended most of the parties we were invited to. Spending nearly every evening with Elise was a very good thing to do, and I have to admit there were a few days when I didn’t even grumble about the snow storms, sub-zero temperatures, and icy roads. Elise made up for lots of Green Bay’s shortcomings.
My next appointment with the President finally arrived on a snowy mid-December day. I wondered what the President would do for the Holidays. Would he abandon Green Bay like everyone else after the first of the year? He didn’t seem like the Mardi Gras type, but then who knew what the elite really did in New Orleans in January. I would be glad to take a break for a while and visit my family in Philadelphia. But I would miss Elise. She filled my thoughts most hours of the day.
As I pulled into the President’s driveway, I wondered if I had come on the wrong day. The circle drive was filled with cars, some even parked out on the street. And a dozen security men stood watchful. Who was visiting? I wondered. Had Picard given me the wrong day? Or had something suddenly come up? I parked as best I could and then trudged through the snow to the front door. Three security men were waiting for me outside the door, none of whom seemed to care that I had an appointment. Fortunately, Picard must have been watching from inside, and he interceded on my behalf.
“As you can tell,” Picard whispered as he led me down a small hallway, “The president is receiving a number of important guests.”
“Does he have time to see me today?”
“I asked him that early this morning, and he specifically said I was to keep this appointment with you. But I have to warn you, he may be a bit late.” Picard led me into a very small room near the kitchen. It almost looked like a small office the kitchen staff might use. I assured Picard I would be happy to wait, and I settled in to a small wooden chair in the corner. I was prepared to wait a long while, but I had just gotten my tape recorder and note pad out when the door opened and the President appeared.
“I apologize for putting you in such a small room,” The President began, “But as you could tell, the rest of the house is full.”
“Would you like me to return at another time?
“Oh no, this is the perfect time.” He took the padded chair I had left for him, smiling like a man who was very proud of himself. “You see, I need you as a reason to leave another meeting. Since it is an affair of state I cannot tell you the nature of the meeting, but I can tell you a little secret about negotiations. With me out of the room, my seconds will struggle with the other side. They will reach some agreement within the hour. Then I will return. Since I have not been a party to the negotiations, I can then choose to accept what my assistants have done, or I can determine if a better offer is possible. In this case, I am free to restart negotiations.”
I had to admit that was pretty clever. “So we have an hour to talk about the Green Bay settlement and the first stages up the Fox?”
“Yes. I understand you have seen a bit of the river during your stay here.” He paused for effect, then continued before I could respond. “That is both good and bad. It is good that you have seen the general geography, but bad in that it could be misleading. The Fox you see today bears little resemblance to the Fox explored by Louis and Father Marquette. You see we never leave rivers alone. If they flow through a city, we wall them in, making them more narrow and much faster. I once presided at a ceremony outside St. Louis where they tried to re-enact poling a flat boat up the Missouri River. They were lucky they weren’t all drowned. The current is far faster now than it was a century ago, because we force it through a concrete narrows called the City of Saint Louis.”
“In the case of the Fox, we did just the opposite. It has been maintained at a minimum thirty-five feet in width for the last century – at great expense. But the Fox doesn’t want to be thirty five feet wide. It wants to be six or eight feet wide up above Lake Butte des Morts. That’s how it was when Louis found it – barely big enough to be more than a drainage ditch.”
“But I get ahead of myself. Let’s begin back at Green Bay, or as it was called then – The Bay. But I must warn you, Picard may come at any time, and then I must leave.”
“I understand. I welcome as much time as you can give me today.”
“The Bay consisted of barely a dozen rough huts plus a mission building that was really just a hut itself. It would be generations before any real church construction began. And the traders lived just as simply. Poles would be pulled together into an arch and bark would cover the poles. That summarized every building within a thousand miles.”
“The importance of The Bay could be seen in the fact that there had been at least one Jesuit stationed here permanently for the last three years, and there currently were two priests – Claude Allouez and Louis Andre. There weren’t a lot of priests in New France, so seeing two in one place was significant. There were also several traders, most of whom happened to be out of town when Louis arrived. Of course most of them were trading illegally and had taken off when they saw an official party arriving. They would return to the settlement as soon as Louis left. As for Indians, there were several tribes that passed through, often staying for days or even weeks before moving on. The fishing and hunting were good and life was pleasant here. The missionaries always tried to get Indians to settle in one place so that they could be instructed in the ways of the Lord, but that was never easy. How many had settled more or less permanently in The Bay in 1673? Who could know? Maybe a few dozen.”
“Father Andre was on a short visit to another Indian tribe, so it was Claude Allouez who greeted them when they landed. This was the man they needed to see anyway. Allouez had already been up the Fox as far as the Mascoutin. He had done that three years earlier, and had just come back from doing it again. He could give them complete instructions on how to find the village and how to make their way through the lakes and marshes they would see first. But first he and Father Marquette went off by themselves for private prayers. And no doubt they also caught up about friends they had encountered over the past months.”
“The site of Allouez’ mission, which he called Saint-Francois-Xavier, was really very attractive. It is located about five miles farther up the Fox than the current downtown area of Green Bay. The Fox is 170 feet higher on Lake Winnebago than it is here in Green Bay, and it drops over several small falls and rapids. The mission was located at the bottom of the last falls. There was the sound of falling water in the background, trees on every side, a few small fields that had been planted in corn. I am sure all the men were happy to spend the night.”
“The relationship between Allouez and Marquette was an interesting one. Allouez was sixty at the time of this meeting, an incredible age given the difficulty of the life he lived. Marquette was little more than half that. Allouez was the first to Green Bay, the first up the Fox, the first to talk with the Mascoutin and learn the value of the upper Fox. It would have been so easy
for him to just get in a canoe with a few Indians and make the voyage Marquette was about to make. But he didn’t. At his age he must have known he wouldn’t have many more chances, but he stayed at his post, disciplined to the end. There appears to have been no jealousy or friction between the men. Instead, Allouez explained everything about the Fox to Marquette, and then told the same stories to Louis and the others after dinner. Essentially he handed the route to the Wisconsin River to the group and wished them well. He truly was a holy man.”
“The two priests said a mass that night and led prayers again the next morning. Allouez even heard confessions from several of the men as the party loaded up the packs and set off on the first portage of the morning. It took them several trips to get all their goods up to the top of the falls and to the end of the first portage. Then they all exchanged lengthy farewells as Louis and Marquette parted from Allouez.”
“If you drive down to Oshkosh from Green Bay it takes about an hour, right? It took Louis and his party over a week. They were paddling up current so it went slowly, but the real problem with the first leg was all the rapids and portages. In the first thirty miles they had five major rapids to portage around. They not only had their provisions and camp goods, but all their trading goods and gifts as well. Add in the guns that they needed to carry both ways as they brought their first load up a portage only to turn right around to get the next load, and you can see why they would need a week in this first section. Fortunately, the land they were passing through was all relatively level (remember they were just ascending 170 feet over thirty miles), so they weren’t climbing major hills or balancing precariously on the edge of cliffs. It was just a matter of carrying one load after another over one portage after another.”
“Each evening they would camp, and while some of the party went out to hunt and to scout the area, Louis would bring out his map. Remember he had many responsibilities. If this turned out to be an important waterway, he had to map it. He also had to give a good appraisal of effort it would require to move men and material over this route. What he saw so far was that work would be required, but there were no major barriers. The portages they had made seemed little different than the portages required to get between Montreal and Three Rivers. Sometimes Father Marquette would sit with Louis and they would compare maps. Marquette also had a report to make, only his would go to a different master. Other evenings Marquette would busy himself with his ecclesiastical duties.”
“And the men? So far they were in a great mood. They knew where they were, they had a good sense of where they would be going – at least for the next couple weeks, and while the burdens were heavy, they were no heavier than normal. As long as each man had tobacco in his pipe and food in his belly, these voyageurs would carry a hundred-pound pack for hours without complaint. And the hunting was good. There were deer here, and huge geese following the river north.”
“After a week, they reached Lake Winnebago. They could smell it for more than a day before they actually climbed the last portage to reach it. The lake was at least four feet lower than it is now. Parts of it were just a few feet deep. It was just a large bowl – forty miles long and ten miles wide – where water and marsh grass intermingled. It was early June now, and the days were warm enough to begin the decay of all the nutrients that had washed into the lake in the spring floods and now turned yellow and brown in the sun. They probably wished to hurry through the lake – it was just twenty more miles to where the upper Fox entered the lake – but Louis needed to make his maps, so the men paddled carefully down the western shore while Louis mapped the shoreline.
“In two days they found where the upper Fox enters the lake in the midst of what is now Oshkosh. It must have seemed like a relief to them – to see the rush of water coming down the Fox. This was obviously a significant river. They paddled against the current and in less than an hour came to Lake Butte des Morts.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but why Lake of the Dead?” I asked.
“There are Indian graves along the northern shore. I have heard many different stories about which tribes, which times, which locations. Our archeologists are still working to learn more about that site.”
“So it wasn’t the site of a great battle or great tragedy.”
“Not that we know of, but as I said, there are many stories. Various tribes had been using the Fox River route for centuries. Who will ever know all that history? In any case, the lake is also pretty marshy, but the flow of water is sufficient to maintain a significant channel down the middle. Louis and his men camped on the edge of Oshkosh, ready to cross Lake Butte des Morts in the morning.”
“It is well they stopped. Lake Butte des Morts is a long thin lake, about fifteen miles long and just three miles wide. It angles west and connects with another large lake, Like Winneconne, which is almost the same size. The problem is that Lake Winneconne is fed by the Wolf River. So if they take the main channel and move from the first lake into the second, they miss the Fox entirely. The channel is misleading. Allouez had warned them about this, so they got a fresh start in the morning and slowly paddled along the south shore of the lake looking for the Fox. They had one false start as they came to another tributary, but after half an hour they could see the river shrinking rapidly. They backed out, went around another point, and came to the Fox.”
“I drove out to that point in October,” I added. “I could see where the river might be hard to find. Of course it is impossible to know what it looked like three hundred years ago, but now even with all the navigation lights and such, it does not look like a major river.”
“That is the mystery of the Fox. It is hardly worth noticing, except it happens to go one hundred miles in exactly the right direction at exactly the right depth so that small craft can navigate it easily. It is like a gift from God.”
“Where did they meet the Mascoutin?”
“They were up the Fox another ten miles. Louis and his men paddled all day before they got to the village. It was a very large village – maybe three thousand people. And they were happy to see Louis and Marquette. They had loved Allouez, and were excited that another priest had come to them.”
“Family legend has it that Louis met Angelique the moment they landed at the village. As the story goes, Father Marquette stood up in his canoe and made the sign of the cross as his canoe approached, and several of the villagers replied with the same sign – Angelique among them. That’s how Louis noticed her. She was taller than average, more modestly dressed, and she stood making the sign of the cross as the canoes landed. Did she notice Louis? That depends upon who you ask. According to her, she stood waiting for Marquette to step ashore, and then she and several others went with him to the hut that Allouez had used as a chapel. She never once looked at Louis. He claims she looked at him for just an instant before she went into the chapel. Both would banter back and forth about that moment for the rest of their lives. The one thing they would agree on was that it would be years before they met again.”
“They stayed in the village three days, and it was a good three days. Louis and his men were there to trade and to hire guides. The Mascoutin were happy to trade. They seemed to need everything and they had plenty of beaver pelts to exchange. Louis also had gifts to give to all the village leaders, and spared no expense. Allouez had said good things about this tribe, and Louis wanted to cement that relationship.”
“He probably did not need to be as free with his gifts as he was. The Mascoutin were pretty bright. While every other tribe Louis would meet on the voyage would tell the same story – don’t go on, terrible things will happen – the Mascoutin were much more mature in their business acumen. The other tribes wanted to be the termination point for the French traders, the last stop, so the tribe could trade farther down stream and reap the profits. The Mascoutin saw they were in better position to be middlemen. If the Fox turned out to be important, then much traffic would travel i
ts length. They sat astride the river, ready to supply parties going both ways. They wanted Louis to go on, to discover that the Fox was an important waterway.”
“They had some convincing to do. Louis was already concerned about the river. They were just ten miles from its mouth and it seemed already to be disappearing. Barely fifteen feet wide at this point, there was so little current that it did not seem believable that such a small river could continue the four or five days paddling that the tribe said would take them to a larger river. He said later that he was half a mind to back paddle and try the Wolf River which seemed much more significant.”
“But the chiefs supplied two men who would paddle ahead of them and show them the way up the river, and everyone in the village was so decent to them and so convincing in their description of the river system they would take to the Mississippi, that Louis decided to continue up the Fox at least a little farther.”
“The other thing that happened in the village is that they learned to appreciate Father Marquette. The six voyageurs were all devout, so they respected Marquette, and as men who had traveled the inland seas they appreciated his willingness to travel and share the dangers of the trip. But there were hidden tensions between them. For his part, Marquette had seen what traders so often did in Indian villages. They got drunk, they got rough, and they bedded as many women as they could. They sinned. He had to worry what these men would do on this voyage. Would they sin before God and before him? For their part, they had to wonder how helpful Marquette would be on the trip. Sure he did his share of the paddling and the portaging, and it always helped to have a man of God around, but how good would he be with the Indians?”
“Both sides were pleasantly surprised. Louis had brought some spirits along, but he and the men were very judicious in its use. And they were polite with the women. The village had its usual number of widows, many of whom were plainly available, but none of the men took advantage of the situation. If anything, they were such models of decorum, they left the tribe unprepared for some of the traders who would follow.”
“Meanwhile they saw a side of Marquette that made them surprised and excited. It turned out Marquette was a natural actor. Now the actor was revealed. He had even brought his own props. He had had years on Lake Superior and at St. Ignace to learn how to explain the catechism in ways that excited the Indian mind. Now each night they were with the Mascoutins he repeated the life and trials of Jesus Christ. Somewhere in his bag was a white cloth that he used for a backdrop. The crown of thorns and large cross were easily constructed with local materials, while the cup and the bread of the last supper came from his bag.”
“He was a huge hit. There was modest attention when he began the first night. There was a big campfire and Louis gave out his gifts and told his story. Then the chiefs told their stories of battles won and voyages taken to distant lands. Then Marquette began. The cloth backdrop was something they had never seen a story teller use before, and that interested them, and then he began with the story, acting out each of the stage of Christ’s life, screaming at the Pharisees in the Temple, and spreading the loaves and fishes, and then dying in agony on the cross. They were mesmerized.”
“By the next night the entire village was present at the campfire, along with anyone who had been passing through the village. No other story tellers dared compete. They simply set the stage and let Marquette tell the story of Christ. If anything, they were more excited the second night as they began to understand the story. The third night was the same. Every soul in the village gathered early and sat in rapt silence, shedding real tears as Christ dies, and screaming with joy when he rose from the dead. They celebrated his resurrection more happily than they would have celebrated a good harvest or a successful hunt. Christ was risen!”
“It was hard to leave the next morning. The Mascoutins wanted Marquette to stay on, but of course now that they had seen how good he could be with Indians, the voyageurs were unanimous that he should accompany them all the way. Farewells took much of the morning, but finally, they pushed their canoes into the sluggish current and began paddling up the tiny river once more.”
“If Louis was unimpressed with the Fox earlier in his voyage, he certainly saw nothing in the river that changed his mind. It was narrow, slow, and wound around seemingly insignificant bumps in the landscape. It seemed that around every curve they would come to the end. But on the river went.”
“I had a geography professor who told us that rivers are sticks or snakes. Rivers are sticks when there is significant elevation. They rush down in a straight line. Rivers are snakes when there is little drop over their course and when the volume of the water is not great. The Lower Fox is a stick; the Upper Fox is an incredibly long snake. Even in June the current barely moved, so the men made good time as they paddled up stream, but there was little happiness in the group since they could all see the river was barely moving. They expected that this was a dead end and that they would just have to turn around and paddle back down the river to find a more significant river heading west.”
“For five days they paddled, certain that they were paddling in vain. The river flowed into small, stagnant lakes on two occasions and met up with other small rivers other times, but the only real change was that the river narrowed a little at each bend. By the fifth day the river was barely six feet wide and had only a few inches of depth. It didn’t seem possible that a river so small could continue for such a distance. But somehow it continued.”
“Frequently it was the two Indians who kept their spirits up and kept them entertained. They were in their early twenties, said they had paddled up this river many times to hunt, and loved to tell stories about their trips. To hear them tell it, they had killed a hundred moose at this location, or just over here, or maybe it was around the next bend. They always had something to say, all of it entertaining. It was enough. It gave the men something else to think about as they paddled across one more slime-covered pool, or slept one more night just barely above the water level. Meanwhile, the river that seemed ready to end at any moment, continued on and on.”
“Finally, late on the fifth day, the Indians told the men to stop. The Fox at this point looks no different than it does for miles in either direction, but the Indians had spotted the portage. It clearly hadn’t been used much, for while a small trail was visible now that the men knew where to look, it was impossible to tell from any of a hundred game trails they had passed along the way. They beached their canoes and the Indians led the group along the one mile trail to the great river. And there it was – the river we now call the Wisconsin.”
“It is hard to think of a greater contrast than the Upper Fox and the Wisconsin. It was June 12 and the Wisconsin was full to its banks with the muddy water that signals a powerful river pulling dirt from upstream. It was hundreds of yards across and flowing with obvious speed. There was just one problem. The river was flowing east. They had been told the Mississippi went west. This river was going in the wrong direction! The two Indian guides told them one more time that this river flowed into a larger river, the Mississippi, but what they could see from standing on shore was not reassuring.”
“They spent the rest of the day portaging their canoes and goods to the banks of the Wisconsin. Louis and two of the men also built markers on both ends of the portage so that they would be able to find it again on their own. The markers were pretty crude – just tree trunks stripped of bark and aligned in a way to attract notice – but they were fairly confident they could remember them on the return trip.”
“The two Indians were remarkably helpful. They portaged much of the supplies to the Wisconsin, helped carry canoes, and then spent the night with the party. Louis had significant gifts for both of them the next day, and Marquette included them in his prayers. All nine of them spent many minutes on their knees that morning saying their devotions in unison under Marquette’s guidance. This was a major embarkation for
them. Whether the river continued east, or turned some other direction, this was a river that had never been visited by the French. Every moment from now on would be an original discovery.”
“Here, by the way, is Marquette’s prayer. French school children memorize it in grammar school. If you stand in an airport long enough, you can hear adults mumbling it before they get on a plane to distant lands. “Let us kneel together in this vast wilderness and commend ourselves to the Mother of God. We ask her today, and every day, to intercede with her Son to protect us and guide us safely through this perilous journey.”
“The Indians guides returned back down the portage to their canoe, while Marquette and Louis made entries in their journals and updated their maps. It was Marquette who made the more poignant entry in his journal. He noted that so far, every river they had been on flowed back to Quebec – to home. The Wisconsin flowed off in a new direction – away from home. I think we can assume the men silently asked for divine guidance long after the formal prayers were over.”
“If they thought the Wisconsin flowed in the wrong direction, at least it flowed. They must have been pretty excited to get back on a river with some life to it. No sooner had they launched their canoes, than they were moving with very pleasing speed. Also, for the first time in their journey, they were paddling down stream! They had to be wary of floating debris – whole trees accompanied them for parts of the trip -- but they made great speed and enjoyed the occasion to use their muscles again and bite into the river. They even raced each other for short stretches. They must have looked like kids just let out of school.”
“Best yet, the river turned -- first south, then southwest. It might take them where they needed to go after all. That first day on the Wisconsin was one of the most enjoyable of their entire trip.”
“Excuse me.” Picard knocked and then entered. “Negotiations are now completed, Mister President.”
“That was fast. I hope my friends negotiated a good deal.” He winked at me as he stood. “I guess I shall have to go find out. By the way, I will be traveling to New Orleans after the Holidays. We could adjourn these talks until after I return in March, but why don’t you visit me there? You will enjoy New Orleans, and it will be good for you to see this Mississippi you are writing about.”
“I would be happy to visit you there. Thank you for giving me time during your vacation.”
“Good. Picard will contact you about the best time for a visit.” The President left, with Picard on his heels. I took a minute to gather up my things, and then I found my way back out of the house. The security men looked at me with a scowl, but let me leave. I tried my best to look unsuspicious, but I couldn’t help looking around some as I walked back to my car. If anything, there were even more cars and limousines parked up and down the street. The retired President was definitely unretired at the moment. Whatever he was negotiating seemed to involve half the government officials of the country.
Chapter 10
1673 - Discovery of the Mississippi