The Price of Glory

By Patrick Shannon

The Price of Glory is the story of a noble mission, conceived by the man who vowed to see it through to completion.  His name was Robert La Salle.

His goal was to establish a French colony at the mouth of the Mississippi river and then claim the entire river valley and all its tributaries for his king, Louis XIV.  While it was La Salle who conceived the brilliant idea, it was he who was responsible for its failure.  That and the primitive state of navigation in the 17th century.

Taming a wilderness populated only by its original inhabitants was a grim task.  The Price of Glory, based rigorously on historical facts but written as a novel, will place you at the center of all the action, terror, cruelty, betrayal and bravery induced by the attempt to tame that land which would become part of America.  It will also reveal the volatile and unstable personality of Robert La Salle which insured its failure.

In the end, the hundreds of lost lives under his care proved to be too high a price for his glory.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Sep 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781977268983

Patrick Shannon

Patrick Shannon is the author of four previous books which received eight literary awards. He served in the U.S. Coast Guard and then traveled extensively for a major oil corporation. He is a member of the Phi Kappa Phi Scholastic Society. 

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The Price of Glory

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2023 Patrick Shannon

v3.0

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Dedication

To Miss Sobotka: I got the message.

Acknowledgement

Cartography by Julie Witmer Custom Map design

Contents

Foreword

About the Book

Part 1: The Elusive River

Chapter 1 - Confirmation

Chapter 2 - Factions

Chapter 3 - The Grand Design

Chapter 4 - Colbert and the King

Chapter 5 - Backlash

Chapter 6 - At the Threshold

Chapter 7 - The Memorial

Chapter 8 - By the King’s Grace

Chapter 9 - Henry Tonty

Chapter 10 - Money and Men

Chapter 11 - Niagara

Chapter 12 - The Griffon

Chapter 13 - A Sea of Troubles

Chapter 14 - The Illinois

Chapter 15 - Odyssey

Chapter 16 - Mutiny

Chapter 17 - Unleashed Fury

Chapter 18 - Searching for Tonty

Chapter 19 - Regrouping

Chapter 20 - The River

Part 2: Our Wise Commander

Chapter 21 - No End of Troubles

Chapter 22 - Mapping the Future

Chapter 23 - A Little White Lie

Chapter 24 - Discord

Chapter 25 - Mortgaging the Future

Chapter 26 - Signs of Strain

Chapter 27 - Now Voyager . . .

Chapter 28 - . . . Sail Thou Forth . . .

Chapter 29 - . . . To Seek and Find

Chapter 30 - By Land and By Sea

Chapter 31 - A Curious Turn of Fortune

Chapter 32 - Friends and Enemies

Chapter 33 - A Place of Their Own

Chapter 34 - Grand Camp

Chapter 35 - A Stroll Through Hell

Chapter 36 - As If We Were Never There

Chapter 37 - Neither a Home nor a Fort.

Chapter 38 - The Lifeline is Severed

Chapter 39 - Parting Ways

Chapter 40 - Valediction

Chapter 41 - Hostages

Chapter 42 - Ever Faithful

Chapter 43 - Slaughter of the Lambs

Chapter 44 - Final Judgment

Bibliography

Foreword

It gave me no pleasure to challenge Robert LaSalle’s stature as an Ameican icon. But I hope that when you read this book, you will at least question his place in our Pantheon of heroes. And, also, I hope you will understand why I felt that this story had to be told.

This is a grim story, and La Salle is not the only villain. You will read how most of the actors in this drama, both French and Indian alike, lived up to the epitaph La Salle’s mutineers painted on the side of their half-finished boat. It is a look at what we humans can become when the constraints of civilization are absent.

History books have an obligation to present the facts and tell the truth, as far as they may be ascertained. While this book is a dramatization of historical events, I assure you that I have taken great pains to adhere to that obligation.

Lasttly, I wrote this book because it covers a period of our history that is neglected in the curricula of our Secondary schools. And we are nothing unless we fully understand everything that took place before our nation was born.

Patrick Shannon

About the Book

While researching material for another book, I came across Robert La Salle’s role in the expansion of New France on the American continent. As I delved into that tragic tale, I decided it should be told in order to set the historical record straight for a wider reading public, and that is why I chose to write it in the form of a historical novel.

It is a contradictory tale, juxtaposing daring accomplishments with ruthless conduct, and it puts all the aspects of our human nature on display. I hope the book will at least give my readers pause to better consider the characteristics of those on whom they would bestow the title of Hero.

A comment on place names is necessary. In the 17th Century, the American continents’ rivers and sites bore a multitude of names: Indian, French and Spanish. To help the reader locate the events of the story, I have taken the liberty of using current geographical names.

A comment on personal names is also appropriate. Where both the first and last names are known, the characters sometimes address each other by their first names when called for by the situation. However, in some cases the reader will notice that this is not done. It is only because the historical sources do not provide the first names.

With regard to the accounts of torture and cannibalism, there are some claims that the cannibalism never occurred. In writing my book, I had no choice but to remain faithful to my available sources, which do describe such incidents. Those eyewitness journals and scholarly accounts are listed in the Bibliography at the end of this book.

Readers may be skeptical about the heavy loads of supplies, equipment and people described as being carried by canoes. In his journal, Nicolas La Salle describes the vessels as follows:

The birch canoes are twenty feet long and three feet wide . . . and can carry twelve hundred pounds weight.

And these were craft that had not been constructed especially for the French explorers. The native tribes used then to transport their own cargoes, or several warriors when necessary.

After the initial tasks of establishing the new settlement on Garcitas Creek, La Salle announced that he was going to journey by land to the northeast and try to find the Mississippi. There is some controversy as to whether he, instead, traveled west to the Rio Grande and then up that river to its confluence with the Pecos River. While there is some evidence that supports this, Henri Joutel’s journal states that he went northeast. And so - since he subsequently did go in that direction but accomplished nothing - to keep from complicating the main flow of the story, I have followed Joutel’s version.

There is a long-standing controversy about whether La Salle’s final camp was near the Brazos River or the Trinity. In his journal, Henri Joutel places it at the Brazos. However, his estimates of directions and distances are open to question. I elected, instead, to use Robert S. Weddle’s choice of the Trinity, based on the observations in his book, The Wreck of the Belle and the Ruin of La Salle, that Joutel’s detailed descriptions of the land no longer described the Blackland Prairie they had been traversing. My choice, however, does not affect the flow of actual events.

Finally, a clarification about the weather must be made. If the descriptions of the winter conditions seem excessive, especially along the Gulf coast, it was because the world was still experiencing a period now known as the Little Ice Age, and temperatures were significantly colder than today.

Part 1

The Elusive River

Principle Characters in Part 1

Robert Cavalier La Salle, explorer of the Canadian and American wilderness

La Salle’s most trusted circle

Henry Tonty, La Salle’s most loyal friend and fellow traveler

Nika, a Shawnee Indian given to La Salle as a boy and with him on all his expeditions

Louis Frontenac, Governor of New France and business partner of la Salle

Francois La Forest, Commander of Fort Frontenac

La Salle’s enemies

Father Claude Dablon, Superior General of the Jesuits in New France

Jacque Duchesneau, Intendant of New France at Quebec

The Iroquois, a confederacy of the Mohawk, Oneida, Onendaga, Cayuga and Seneca nations.

Supporters in France

Jean-Baptiste Colbert, Minister of Finance for France

Marquis de Seignelay, Colbert’s son and successor

Prince Conti, the son-in-law of Louis XIV, married at age thirteen.

Eusébe Renaudot, Priest/publisher who, because of their shared opposition to the Jesuits, extolled La Salle’s expeditions.

Claude Bernou, Priest who also supported La Salle because of his anti-Jesuit stance.

On La Salle’s odyssey from Fort Crevecoure to Fort Frontenac

Jacques Autray

Collin

Andre Hunault

Violette

With Tonty in the Iroquois-Illinois Battle

Francois Boisrondet

Etienne Renault

Luc, a servant boy

Other members of the voyage to the Illinois

Father Louis Hennepin, a missionary priest

Father Gabriel, a missionary priest

Father Zenobe, a missionary priest

La Motte, one of La Salle’s Lieutenants

Maps for Part One

Chapter 1

Confirmation

Canada, 1673

The mysterious river. The Great Water, as the native people called it, even though many of them had never seen it. Was it merely a myth? Where did it lie? Through what unknown regions did it flow? From what source? To the French colonists of Canada, it had become a tantalizing prospect. If it did really exist, and if it emptied into the Pacific Ocean, it would prove to be the Holy Grail that had been sought since Europeans first set foot upon the continent: a passage to the riches of Asia.

Unknown to them at the time, the Mississippi River’s existence had already been confirmed, over a century earlier, by a Spanish explorer: Hernando De Soto. But Spain had placed no importance on his discovery, put it out of their minds and disclosed little of the event to the world. They were too preoccupied with the extraction of Mexico’s gold and silver to consider the river’s strategic importance. It would be left to the French to do that.

His Aide burst through the door. "He’s here! They made it! Look, sir, it’s a miracle!"

Count Frontenac, the Governor of New France, gazed in astonishment at the haggard man standing before him. His name was Louis Joliet who, in company with the Jesuit priest Jacque Marquette, had been dispatched from Quebec four months earlier by order of Jean-Baptiste Colbert, Minister of Finance in France. Their charge: to locate the Mississippi River, explore its length and determine whether it did, indeed, provide a route to Asia.

His deerskin garments gave evidence of the physical toll their quest had taken. His face betrayed the emotional toll.

Welcome back! My God, I was about to give up hope of ever seeing you again. Sit down, man. Sit down.

Thank you, Governor. Joliet sank wearily into the proffered chair.

Where’s Father Marquette? He isn’t . . .

No, he’s alive but totally exhausted. I thought it better that he stay in the mission at Green Bay before coming the rest of the way.

Good. Good. You look like you could use a long rest, too.

No argument there, but I didn’t want to waste a minute in giving you our news.

Oh, God bless you for that, but first you must have a brandy.

Frontenac poured out a generous portion, handed it to Joliet and then sat down eagerly in front of the man. "Well? . . . . . Did you find it?"

Not only found it, but we traveled over half its length downstream.

"Did you? That’s incredible news! But are you sure it’s the Mississippi?"

Oh yes, said Joliet. The Indians all along the way confirmed that it was called the ‘Great Water’ by some and the ‘Father of Waters’ by others. And if you could see the size and might of it, you’d have no doubt. The volume of water is awesome, and it’s fed by four major rivers just in the distance we traveled. Two from the east and two from the west.

So, the stories were true.

Yes.

Well, how in the world did you reach it from here?

"By a very roundabout way, but one that I’m sure was easier than going overland. We went up to Michilimackinac, across Lake Michigan to Green Bay, then down the Fox River, portaged over to the Wisconsin, and followed it down to the Mississippi. I don’t want to get near a canoe for a very long time."

I can imagine. My God, what a voyage! But, of course, the critical question is the river’s destination. Were you able to determine whether it flows to the Pacific?

I’m afraid it doesn’t. The Acansa natives we met at the last tributary had a few Spanish articles of clothing among them, and they described white men at the mouth of the river who were surely Spanish. We all know they consider the Gulf to be the Spanish Sea, so it can only mean that the Mississippi flows into the Gulf of Mexico, Governor.

That sent the wheels in Frontenac’s head spinning. That’s not going to make Colbert happy. He forbade us to make any far-flung expeditions like this, but he sanctioned yours because of the chance of a route to Asia. I don’t know how he’ll feel about a direct route to the Gulf.

Well, said Joliet, it’s a major artery right down through the heart of this continent. It must be worth something.

As Frontenac expected, Colbert lost all interest in the great river that ran in the wrong direction. But two individuals, upon learning of its course, quickly perceived that it could be exploited to great advantage. Their objectives, however, were in direct opposition to one another. One of those men was Father Claude Dablon, Superior General of all the Jesuit missions in New France. The other was Robert Cavalier de La Salle.

La Salle had arrived in New France in the spring of 1666. At that time, Montreal was the feudal property of a corporation of priests who called themselves the Seminary of St. Sulpice. Because of their island’s vulnerability to attacks by the Iroquois, they began to grant large tracts of land to individuals who had potential as armed defenders. La Salle seemed to meet their requirements and was granted a generous tract at La Chine on the south side of the island, thus elevating him above his bourgeois status with the title of Seigneur. His holdings provided him with a very comfortable living, but his passion for adventure and an appetite for fame prompted him to sell off his seigneural rights and head off into the wilderness in a failed attempt to find that elusive water route to Asia.

It was this colorful biography that had piqued Frontenac’s interest in him, a year before Joliet’s and Marquette’s triumphal accomplishment.

Chapter 2

Factions

Canada, One Year Earlier, 1672

When Frontenac arrived in Quebec, New France was mostly confined to the St. Lawrence River and five Jesuit missions scattered around the Great Lakes. As such, it was right in the middle of the cruel Iroquois Confederacy which had ruthlessly driven out all other tribes not of their league. Only one thing kept them from trying to drive out the French: the trade in furs.

Beaver pelts were the driving force of New France’s economy. Obtained from the Iroquois in exchange for French goods, they fetched a high price in France, and a comfortable share of the profits was retained by the Canadian traders. Frontenac was well aware of this when, fifty-two years old and in dire financial straits, he sailed from France to assume governance over the rough and dangerous colony. And he was determined to share in its largesse.

He was not there long before hearing of a man who sounded like he might be an effective ally in restoring his solvency. It was La Salle. At only twenty-nine years of age, he had already made several explorations which had gained him notoriety, and he was currently ruffling the feathers of the very fur traders on whom Frontenac had cast his eyes.

La Salle was a tall, handsome man, with a fine physique developed from the rigors of his expeditions. But, as if a comely appearance were not a sufficient asset, his innate pride and ambition compelled him to alter his name. He was baptized René-Robert Cavalier, but being simply Messr. Cavalier would not do, even though he was a member of the prosperous and influential Cavalier family of Rouen, France. So, he added de La Salle to his name, a flagrantly illegitimate use of heraldic appellation, and issued forth bearing a title of nobility which he did not possess.

He did present an aristocratic appearance, but in close proximity his eyes had a quality that distracted from that image. A strange cast of light emanated from them which made one sense that there was another Robert La Salle lurking within.

Frontenac managed to conceal his reaction to that disconcerting effect as La Salle was ushered into his chamber.

You wanted to see me, Governor?

Oh, La Salle. Yes, come in.

Thank you.

Sit down and be comfortable. Some wine?

Please.

Frontenac poured two glasses, sat down opposite his guest and offered a smile that was not returned. I want you to know that this is not a matter of official business, La Salle. It’s just that I’ve heard things about you, and I’d like to get to know you better. Pick your brains, if I may.

La Salle, a suspicious and secretive man, didn’t like the sound of that. And on what point of colonial law do you presume to pry into my affairs?

What?! Oh, good Lord man. I intend nothing of the kind. I was hoping you could educate me as to how things work around here. I’ve heard you’re a shrewd and unconventional fellow.

La Salle’s defensiveness dissolved at the prospect of displaying his acute powers of perception. There’s much I can tell you, Governor, but it will take some time to educate you properly.

Frontenac chuckled inwardly at the man’s arrogance but felt it might be an advantage to play to his ego. Yes, you be the Master and I the student, and my time is yours.

The idea of being Master in a situation appealed to La Salle. What is it you want to know?

The fur trade. Who runs it, and . . . uh . . .

Yes?

How open it is to . . .

To what?

To new blood. I’m concerned here, you understand, only about new colonists. They’ll have to make a living, won’t they?

La Salle suddenly suspected he was talking to a man who might share his own intentions, and the entire atmosphere of the conversation changed. Well, there are many independent traders, but they’re mostly men who have been at it since the beginnings of the colony. They rally to each other, you see, when outside competition appears. I know. They’re against me because I think on a much larger scale than they.

Oh? I’d like to . . .

But the serious barrier to trade is the Jesuits.

"The Jesuits?! But they’re religious. Converting savages. They’ve got no business mixing in commercial affairs."

La Salle sank back into his chair and took a long sip of his wine. Let me tell you about the Brotherhood of Good Friends.

Who?

That’s what they call themselves.

Oh. I didn’t know that. You’ve learned a fair bit about them, I take it.

"I used to be one of them."

"What?! You? You were a Jesuit priest?"

I became a novice when I was fifteen years old and was seventeen when I took my vows as a priest.

I’m . . . I’m sorry . . . You just don’t seem like the kind of man who would take to a religious life.

That’s exactly why I was released from my vows seven years later. The Order and I arrived at the very same conclusion. But the point I wish to make, Governor, is that it was the Jesuit’s cultic zealotry that drove me out, as much as a desire to make my mark in life.

You’ll have to explain that one to me.

"I won’t go so far as to say they’ve rejected their religion. They haven’t entirely. But it has become secondary to a greater faith: the Order itself. Their over-arching mission is to increase the power, property and wealth of the Order, and they view Catholicism more as an instrument for attaining that goal."

But surely, you misunderstand them. They’ve labored so hard here to convert the Indians, even to the point of martyrdom for many of them.

Yes, I won’t dispute that. They made great strides among the Huron people and succeeded in building an impressive mission there - Ste. Marie. But after the Iroquois caused its destruction and abandonment, something happened to the Brotherhood here in Canada. They woke to the realization that their conversion efforts were, in fact, acting as a detriment to the goal of a Jesuit hegemony here in New France.

"Is that what they’re after? Hmm, that would explain a lot."

Like what?

Why they wield such an extraordinary influence over civil matters here.

Oh, yes. They’ve become quite pragmatic behind their priestly facade. Realizing that conversions won’t build their empire, they now believe that practical science, politics and commercialism will. They’re very much involved in the fur trade and the search for copper right now, and I’ll bet they’re positively salivating over what a possible discovery of the Mississippi might open up to them. Governor, I assure you they already envision a Jesuit realm throughout the valley of that great river.

But where do they get the power to make such audacious plans?

The Brotherhood of Good Friends is an efficient, synchronized machine with a single and formidable seat of authority.

Father Dablon?

Yes. He demands absolute obedience. Every member is expected to lose all self-interest, merge his personality with the Order and have ambitions only for its greater glory. In short, their power derives from a collective fanaticism.

Frontenac was appalled. This is just incredible. What they’re up to amounts to treason, or something very much like it, but we’d play hell prosecuting the Catholic Church, eh?

It would be futile.

Well, how are they faring in their competition with the legitimate fur traders?

They’ve made a dent, and the traders know who’s doing it, even though the Order keeps their transactions well hidden by doing all their business at their missions. Oh, they’re working toward complete domination, believe me.

So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. The lay fur traders are fighting the Jesuits. The Jesuits are fighting them. And neither faction will allow any outsiders in.

"That’s about the size of it, but ‘allow’ is the key word. What they won’t allow might be taken from them by the proper stratagem."

That gained Frontenac’s full attention. Uh, do you have something specific in mind?

La Salle did, indeed, have a specific plan, but it was far more grandiose than what he was about to propose to Frontenac. Better to see if the man would be a reliable ally before revealing it all. Your predecessor, Courcelle, urged King Louis to let him build a fort on Lake Ontario. He had two purposes in mind: to better defend against any Iroquois invasion, and to block the flow of furs from the Upper Great Lakes tribes to the English and Dutch in New York.

I wasn’t aware of such traffic.

It only started recently.

Well, the fort makes eminent sense on both counts. Militarily it would bolster our security significantly and keeping all the fur trade here would be in the public interest.

La Salle rose from his chair and began to slowly pace around the room. Governor, I ask your forgiveness in advance if my next statement offends you.

Oh, please, La Salle. I like your frankness, and I hope we can become friends. Say what you think.

"Thank you, I shall. Governor, I sense that it would be of great advantage to you if you could participate, incognito, in the fur trade."

That caught Frontenac by surprise, and he stared long and hard into La Salle’s eyes before responding. Yes, that’s true. I’m in a rather desperate financial condition right now, and if such an arrangement were possible, I would be most grateful to the person responsible for it.

La Salle returned to his seat. "Then let me propose this. Build the fort at the mouth of the Cataraqui River, right at the point where Lake Ontario empties into the St. Lawrence. But make it a fur trading post also. You would have clear legal authority over the military garrison there, and I can recommend two trustworthy and discrete men to manage the fur business. Governor, that site would give us control over all the pelts coming from the Upper Great Lakes. You see, we could make sure that the Indian canoes would no longer be able to travel past that point to trade with anyone else."

Frontenac’s eyes had a hungry gleam, but he was no novice at shady deals. It means putting all my trust in you, you know. To keep my name clean and, perhaps, to keep me out of prison.

I realize that, so there’s something you need to know. My ambitions involve a much greater vision for New France, one which will make it a power on this continent and, hopefully, bring me a fitting reward for making it happen. But I will need your support to accomplish it. So, I ask you. Would it make sense for me to betray you?

Can you tell me more of your plan?

Most certainly, but not right now. Let’s get the fort and trading post running and get to know each other better. Then I’ll lay the whole scheme out for you.

Frontenac was silent for an awkwardly long time, and just when La Salle began to think he had overplayed his hand, the Governor leaned forward and extended his hand. Partners?

La Salle gripped the proffered hand and said, Partners.

Thus, was forged a unique relationship which crossed the class lines of 17th Century French society. La Salle, the son of a wealthy bourgeois merchant in Rouen; Frontenac an aristocratic, but bankrupt, Count. In spite of their difference in status, they shared motives and values that transcended the ancient caste system.

Chapter 3

The Grand Design

Canada, 1673-1674

The new fort was still under construction when it became common knowledge that it would include a trading post, and howls of protest arose from both the fur traders and the Jesuits who recognized that its strategic position made it a virtual monopoly. And, of course, everyone was convinced that Frontenac was a silent partner, but they could not prove it due to La Salle’s careful manipulations.

Despite the opposition, construction was completed in 1673, trading in furs began, and Governor Frontenac started to anticipate a more solvent future, a prospect which made it easier for him to bear the accusations that were hurled his way. But then came the stunning news of Joliet’s and Marquette’s discovery that the Mississippi emptied into the Gulf of Mexico, and that made everyone pause to consider what impact it was going to have on their lives.

"Governor is it true?!" La Salle was displaying more emotion than Frontenac had thought him capable of.

Robert. Come in and sit down. Is what true?

Joliet! Marquette! Does the Mississippi really flow to the Gulf?

They didn’t make it all the way to the mouth, but they’re convinced that it does.

"Yes! I knew it!"

What do you mean, you knew it?

"When I first came here, I was like all the others, hoping there was a water route to the Pacific. But the more I explored, the more I became convinced that the great river is an artery - a highway to the Gulf. And the plan I’ve formulated was entirely dependent on that possibility. To learn, now, that it’s true . . . Oh! . . . The thing can be done now!"

Robert, I think we’ve waited long enough. Don’t you think it’s time to let me in on this great plan of yours?

La Salle, a secretive man by nature, hesitated before answering. Yes . . . Yes, I guess it is. So that you can be thinking on it too.

"Good. Then what do you say we walk out