They were brave and warlike, with perhaps more amiable qualities than the more ferocious, robust Iroquois. The nation appears to have been a confederacy of tribes, each of which was divided into clans or gentes on the Iroquois principle, which I shall shortly explain. Two chiefs, one for peace and one for war, assisted by a council of tribal chiefs, {117} constituted the general government. Each tribe had a system of local or self-government—to use a phrase applicable to modern federal conditions—consisting of chiefs and council. The federal organisation was not, however, so carefully framed and adjusted as that of their kin, the Iroquois. At council meetings all the principal men attended and votes were taken with the aid of reeds or sticks, the majority prevailing in all cases. The whole organisation was essentially a democracy, as the chiefs, although an oligarchy in appearance, were controlled by the voices and results of the councils. In this as in other American savage nations, the rule governing the transmission of hereditary honours and possessions was through the female line.

Beyond the Huron villages, south of Nottawasaga Bay—so named probably from the Nottaways, a branch of the same family, driven by war to the south—we come to the Tionotates or Tobacco tribe, who were kin in language and customs to their neighbours and afterwards joined their confederacy. The Neutral Nation, or Attiwandaronks of Iroquois stock, had their homes on the north shore of Lake Erie, and reached even as far as the Niagara. They were extremely cruel, and kept for a long while their position of neutrality between the Hurons and Five Nations. To the south of Lake Erie rose the smoke of the fires of the Eries, generally translated "Cats," but, properly speaking, the "Raccoons." Like the Andastes, near the Susquehanna, mentioned in a previous chapter, they were famous warriors, and for years held their own against the Iroquois, but {118} eventually both these nations yielded to the fury of the relentless confederacy.

We have now come to the western door of the "long house" (Ho-de-no-sote) of the Iroquois, who called themselves "the people of the long house" (Ho-de-no-sau-nee), because they dwelt in a line of villages of "long houses," reaching from the Genesee to the Mohawk, where the eastern door looked toward the Hudson and Lake Champlain. The name by which they have been best known is considered by Charlevoix and other writers to be originally French; derived from "Hiro" (I have spoken)—the conclusion of all their harangues—and Koue, an exclamation of sorrow when it was prolonged, and of joy when pronounced shortly. They comprised five nations, living by the lakes, that still bear their names in the State of New York, in the following order as we go east from Niagara:

IROQUOIS NATIONS. ENGLISH NAMES. FRENCH NAMES.

Nundawaeona ) Seneca Tsonnontouans Great hill people )

Gueugwehono ) Cayuga Goyogouin People of the marsh )

Onundaegaono ) Onondaga Onnontague People of the hills )

Onayotekaeono ) Oneida Onneyote Granite people )

Gaeneaegaono ) Mohawk Agnier Possessors of the flint )



Each tribe lived in a separate village of long houses, large enough to hold from five to twenty families. Each family was a clan or kin—resembling the gens of the Roman, the genos of the Greek—a {119} group of males and females, whose kinship was reckoned only through females—the universal custom in archaic times in America. As among these people the marriage tie was easily sundered and chastity was the exception,—remarkably so among the Hurons, their kindred—it is not strange that all rank, titles, and property should be based on the rights of the woman alone. The child belonged consequently to the clan, not of the father, but of the mother. Each of these tenement houses, as they may well be called, was occupied by related families, the mothers and their children belonging to the same clan, while the husbands and the fathers of these children belonged to other clans; consequently, the clan or kin of the mother easily predominated in the household.[2] Every clan had a name derived from the animal world, as a rule, and a rude picture {120} of the same was the "totem" or coat-of-arms of the kin or gens, found over the door of a long house or tattooed on the arms or bodies of its members. The Tortoise, Bear, and Wolf, were for a long time the most conspicuous totems of the Iroquois. These people were originally a nation of one stock of eight clans, and when they separated into five tribes or sections, each contained parts of the original clans. Consequently, "all the members of the same clan, whatever tribe they belonged to, were brothers or sisters to each other in virtue of their descent from the same common female ancestor, and they recognised each other as such with the fullest cordiality."

Whatever was taken in the hunt, or raised in cultivation, by any member of the household—and the Iroquois were good cultivators of maize, beans, and squash—was used as a common stock for that particular household. No woman could marry a member of her own clan or kin. The marriage might be severed at the will of either party. Yet, while the Iroquois women had so much importance in the household and in the regulation of inheritance, she was almost as much a drudge as the squaw of the savage Micmacs of Acadia and the Gulf.

The tribe was simply a community of Indians of a particular family or stock, speaking one of the dialects of its language. For instance, the Five Nations or Tribes spoke different dialects of the Iroquoian stock language, but each could understand the other sufficiently for all purposes of deliberation and discussion. Each tribe was governed by its {121} own council of sachems and chiefs—the latter inferior in rank—elected by their respective clans, but invested with office by the whole tribe. For all purposes of tribal government the tribes had separate territories and jurisdiction. For common purposes they united in a confederation in which each tribe occupied a position of complete equality—the exception being the Tuscaroras—Dusgaoweh or "shirt-wearing people"—who came from the south at the beginning of the eighteenth century, and made up the "Six Nations." If a tribe made peace it would not bind the other tribes unless they had given their consent in formal council, or by the presence of their representatives. A general council of fifty sachems, equal in rank and authority, administered the affairs of the confederation. These sachems were created in perpetuity in certain clans of the several tribes and invested with office by the general council. They were also sachems in their respective tribes, and with other clan-chiefs formed the council which was supreme over all matters appertaining to the tribe exclusively. Women, too, had their clan and other councils, and could make their wishes known through the delegates they appointed to the council of the league. In the federal council the sachems voted by tribes, and unanimity was essential before action was taken or a conclusion arrived at. The general council was open to the whole community for the discussion of public questions, but the council alone decided. The council of each tribe had power to convene the general council, but the latter could not convene itself. {122} With the object of preventing the concentration of too much power in one man's hands, the federal council appointed two war chiefs, equal in authority. The council fire or brand was always burning in the valley of the Onondagas, where the central council met as a rule in the autumn, or whenever a tribe might consider a special meeting necessary. The Onondagas had also the custody of the "Wampum," or mnemonic record of their structure of government, and the Tadodae'ho, or most noble sachem of the league, was among the same tribe. The origin of the confederacy is attributed in legendary lore to Hae-yo-went'-hae, the Hiawatha of Longfellow's poem.

These are the main features of that famous polity of the Iroquois which gave them so remarkable a power of concentration in war, and was one reason of their decided superiority over all the other nations of America. In council, where all common and tribal affairs were decided, the Iroquois showed great capacity for calm deliberation, and became quite eloquent at times. Their language was extremely figurative, though incapable of the expression of abstract thought, as is the case with Indian tongues generally. The Indian—essentially a materialist—could only find his similes, metaphors, and illustrations in the objects of nature, but these he used with great skill. The Iroquois had a very keen appreciation of their interests, and were well able to protect them in their bargains or contracts with the white men. In war they were a terrible foe, and a whisper of their neighbourhood brought consternation to Indian camps and cabins, from the Kennebec {123} to the Delaware, from the Susquehanna to the Illinois. They have been well described as "the scourge of God upon the aborigines of the continent." In their political organisation, their village life, their culture of the soil, their power of eloquence, their skill as politicians as well as warriors, they were superior to all the tribes in America as far as New Mexico, although in the making of pottery and other arts they were inferior to the mound-builders of the Ohio and the Mississippi—probably the Allegewi who gave their names to the Alleghanies and are believed by some writers to have been either exterminated by a combination of Algonquin and Iroquois or driven southward where they were absorbed in other nations. At no time could the Iroquois muster more than 3000 warriors; and yet they were the scourge and dread of all the scattered tribes of Algonquins, numbering in the aggregate probably 90,000 souls, and eventually crushed the Hurons and those other tribes of their own nationality, who did not belong to their confederacy and had evoked their wrath.

The Algonquin and Huron-Iroquois nations had many institutions and customs in common. Every clan had some such totem as I have described in the case of the Iroquois. Every tribe had its chiefs as military leaders and its councils for deliberation and decision. Consequently the democratic principle dominated the whole organisation. Eloquence was always prized and cultivated as a necessity of the system of government. Some tribes had their special orators among the chiefs. Though a general {124} war was dependent on the action of the council, yet any number of warriors might go on the warpath at any time against the enemies of the tribe. They had no written records, but their memories were aided in council or otherwise by reeds or sticks and rude pictures; strings of wampum—cleverly manufactured from shells—served as annals, which the skilled men of a tribe could decipher and explain. The wampum belts performed an important part in the declaration of war or peace, and the pipe was equally effective in the deliberations of council and in the profession of amity. Murder might be expiated by presents to the family or relatives of the dead, and crime was rarely followed by death except there was a question of other nations, who would not be content unless the blood of their kinsman was washed away by blood. Charity and hospitality were among the virtues of the Indian race, especially among the Iroquois, and while there was food in a village no one need starve. The purity of love was unknown to a savage nature, chiefly animated by animal passion. Prisoners were treated with great ferocity, but the Iroquois exceeded all nations in the ingenuity of torture. Stoicism and endurance, even heroic, were characteristics of Indians generally, when in the hands of their enemies, and the cruellest insult that a warrior could receive was to be called a woman. Sometimes prisoners were spared and adopted into the tribe, and among most nations the wife or mother or sister of a dead chief might demand that he be replaced by a prisoner to whom they may have taken a fancy. After torture parts {125} of the bodies of the victim would be eaten as a sort of mystic ceremony, but this custom was peculiar to the Hurons and Iroquois only. In their warlike expeditions they had no special discipline, and might be successfully met on the open field or under the protection of fortified works. Their favourite system was a surprise or furious onslaught. A siege soon exhausted their patience and resources. They were as treacherous as they were brave. In the shades of the forest, whose intricacies and secrets they understood so well, they were most to be feared. Behind every tree might lurk a warrior, when once a party was known to be on the warpath. To steal stealthily at night through the mazes of the woods, tomahawk their sleeping foes, and take many scalps, was the height of an Indian's bliss. Curious to say, the Indians took little precautions to guard against such surprises, but thought they were protected by their manitous or guardian spirits.

A spirit of materialism prevailed in all their superstitions. They had no conception of one all-pervading, omniscient divine being, governing and watching over humanity, when the missionaries first came among them. It was only by making use of their belief in the existence of a supreme chief for every race of animals, that the priests could lead their converts to the idea of a Great Spirit who ruled all creation. In their original state of savagery or barbarism, any conception an Indian might have of a supernatural being superior to himself was frittered away by his imagining that the whole material world was under the influence of innumerable mysterious {126} powers. In the stirring of the leaves, in the glint of the sunbeam amid the foliage, in the shadow on his path, in the flash of the lightning, in the crash of the thunder, in the roar of the cataract, in the colours of the rainbow, in the very beat of his pulse, in the leap of the fish, in the flight of the birds, he saw some supernatural power to be evoked. The Indian companions of Champlain, we remember, threw tobacco to the genius or Manitou of the great fall of the Ottawa. The Manitou of the Algonquins, and the Okies or Otkons of the Hurons and Iroquois were not always superior, mysterious beings endowed with supernatural powers, like the Algonquin Manabozho, the Great Hare, the king of all animals; or a deified hero, like Hiawatha, the founder of the Iroquois confederacy, and Glooscap, the favourite of Micmac legends. The Manitou or Oki might even be a stone, a fish-bone, a bird's feather, or a serpent's skin, or some other thing in the animate or inanimate world, revealed to a young man in his dreams as his fetich or guardian through life. Dreams were respected as revelations from the spirit world. As Champlain tells us, during his first expedition to Lake Champlain, the Indians always questioned him as to his dreams, and at last he was able to tell them that he had seen in a vision some Iroquois drowning in the lake, and wished to help them, but was not permitted to do so by the Indians of his own party. This dream, in their opinion, was a portent in their favour.

A fetich became at last even the object of an Indian's worship—to be thanked, flattered, {127} expostulated with, according to the emergency. It can be easily seen that in this Indian land of mysterious agencies, of manitous and spirits, the medicine-man and conjuror exercised a great power among old and young, chiefs and women. He had to be consulted in illness, in peace, in war, at every moment of importance to individual or nation. Even in case of illness and disease he found more value in secret communications with the supernatural world, and in working on the credulity of his tribesmen, than in the use of medicines made from plants. The grossest superstition dominated every community. All sorts of mystic ceremonies, some most cruel and repugnant to every sense of decency, were usual on occasions when supernatural influences had to be called into action.

Every respect was paid to the dead, who were supposed to have gone on a journey to a spirit land. Every one had such a separate scaffold or grave, generally speaking, as Champlain saw among the Ottawas, but it was the strange custom of the Hurons to collect the bones of their dead every few years and immure them in great pits or ossuaries with weirdlike ceremonies very minutely described in the Relations. In a passage previously quoted Champlain gave credit to the Indians for believing in the immortality of the soul. The world to which the Indian's imagination accompanied the dead was not the Heaven or Hell of the Jew or Christian. Among some tribes there was an impression rather than a belief that a distinction was made in the land of the Ponemah or Hereafter between the great or {128} useful, and the weak or useless; but generally it was thought that all alike passed to the Spirit Land, and carried on their vocations as in life. It was a Land of Shades where trees, flowers, animals, men, and all things were spirits.

"By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews In vestments for the-chase arrayed The hunter still the deer pursues, The hunter and the deer a shade."



[1] See Horatio Hale's "Fall of Hochelaga," in Journal of American Folklore, Cambridge, Mass., 1894.

[2] In this necessarily very imperfect description of the organisation and customs of the Five Nations I depend mainly on those valuable and now rare books, The League of the Iroquois, and Houses and Home Life of the Aborigines, by Lewis H. Morgan. The reader should also consult Horatio Hale's Iroquois Book of Rites.



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IX.

CONVENTS AND HOSPITALS—VILLE-MARIE—MARTYRED MISSIONARIES—VICTORIOUS IROQUOIS—HAPLESS HURONS.

(1635-1652.)

A scene that was witnessed on the heights of Quebec on a fine June morning, two hundred and eighty-three years ago, illustrated the spirit that animated the founders of Canada. At the foot of a cross knelt the Governor, Charles Hault de Montmagny, Knight of Malta, who had come to take the place of his great predecessor, Samuel Champlain, whose remains were buried close by, if indeed this very cross did not indicate the spot. Jesuits in their black robes, soldiers in their gay uniforms, officials and inhabitants from the little town below, all followed the example of Montmagny, whose first words were, according to Father Le Jeune, the historian of those days: "Behold the first cross that I have seen in this country, let us worship the crucified Saviour in his image." Then, this act of devotion accomplished, the procession entered the {130} little church dedicated by Champlain to Notre Dame de la Recouvrance, where the priests solemnly chanted the Te Deum and offered up prayers for the King of France.

The Church was first, the State second. After the service the new governor entered the fort of St. Louis, only a few steps from the sacred building, received the keys amid salutes of cannon and musketry, and was officially installed as head of the civil and military government of Canada, at this time controlled by the Company of the Hundred Associates. Then he was called upon to act as god-father for a dying Indian who desired baptism. In the smoky cabin packed with Indians Montmagny stood by the earnest Jesuit and named the Algonquin Joseph. "I leave you to think," says Father Le Jeune, "how greatly astonished were these people to see so much crimson, so many handsomely dressed persons beneath their bark roofs."



During the period of which I am now writing we see the beginnings of the most famous educational and religious institutions of the country. The Hotel Dieu was founded in 1639, by the Soeurs Hospitalieres from the convent of St. Augustine, in Dieppe, through the benefactions of the Duchess d'Aiguillon, the niece of Cardinal Richelieu. Rich, fascinating, and beautiful women contributed not only their fortunes but their lives to the service of the Church. Marie Madeleine de Chauvigny, who belonged to a noble family in Normandy, married at a very early age a M. de la Peltrie, who left her a young widow of twenty-two years of age, without {132} any children. Deeply attached to her religion from her youth, she decided to devote her life and her wealth to the establishment of an institution for the instruction of girls in Canada. Her father and friends threw all possible obstacles in the way of what they believed was utter folly for a gentle cultured woman, but she succeeded by female wiles and strategy in carrying out her plans. On the first of August, 1639, she arrived at Quebec, in company with Marie Guyard, the daughter of a silk manufacturer of Tours, best known to Canadians as Mere de l'Incarnation, the mother superior of the Ursulines, whose spacious convent and grounds now cover seven acres of land on Garden Street in the ancient capital. She had a vision of a companion who was to accompany her to a land of mists and mountains, to which the Virgin beckoned as the country of her future life-work. Canada was the land and Madame de la Peltrie the companion foreshadowed in that dream which gave Marie Guyard a vocation which she filled for thirty years with remarkable fidelity and ability.

Madame de la Peltrie and Marie Guyard were accompanied by Mdlle. de Savonniere de la Troche, who belonged to a distinguished family of Anjou, and was afterwards known in Canada as Mere de St. Joseph, and also by another nun, called Mere Cecile de Sainte-Croix. A Jesuit, Father Vimont, afterwards superior, and author of one of the Relations, and the three Hospital sisters, arrived in the same ship.

The company landed and "threw themselves on their knees, blessed the God of Heaven, and kissed {133} the earth of their near country, as they now called it." A Te Deum followed in the Jesuits' church which was now completed on the heights near their college, commenced as early as 1635—one year before the building of Harvard College—through the generosity of Rene Rohault, eldest son of the Marquis de Gamache. The first visit of the nuns was to Sillery, four miles to the west of Quebec, on the north bank of the river, where an institution had been established for the instruction of the Algonquin and other Indians, through the liberality of Noel Brulart de Sillery, a Knight of Malta, and a member of an influential French family, who had taken a deep interest in the settlement of Canada and proved it by his bounty. Madame de la Peltrie and her companions, the Jesuit historian tells us naively, embraced the little Indian girls "without taking heed whether they were clean or not."

It was during Montmagny's term of office that the city of Montreal was founded by a number of religious enthusiasts. Jerome le Royer de la Dauversiere, receiver of taxes at La Fleche in Anjou, a noble and devotee, consulted with Jean Jacques Olier, then a priest of St. Sulpice in Paris, as to the best means of establishing a mission in Canada. Both declared they had visions which pointed to the island of Mont Royal as the future scene of their labours. They formed a company with large powers as seigniors as soon as they had obtained from M. de Lauzon, one of the members of the Company of Hundred Associates, a title to the island. They interested in the project Paul de Chomedey, Sieur {134} de Maisonneuve, a devout and brave soldier, an honest and chivalric gentleman, who was appointed the first governor by the new company. Mdlle. Jeanne Mance, daughter of the attorney-general of Nogent-le-Roi, among the vine-clad hills of Champagne, who had bound herself to perpetual chastity from a remarkably early age, gladly joined in this religious undertaking. The company had in view the establishment of communities of secular priests, and of nuns to nurse the sick, and teach the children—the French as well as the savages. Madame de Bullion, the rich widow of a superintendent of finance, contributed largely towards the enterprise, and may be justly considered the founder of Hotel Dieu of Montreal.

Maisonneuve and Mdlle. Mance, accompanied by forty men and four women, arrived at Quebec in August, 1641, when it was far too late to attempt an establishment on the island. Governor de Montmagny and others at Quebec disapproved of the undertaking which had certainly elements of danger. The governor might well think it wisest to strengthen the colony by an establishment on the island of Orleans or in the immediate vicinity of Quebec, instead of laying the foundations of a new town in the most exposed part of Canada. However, all these objections availed nothing against the enthusiasm of devotees. In the spring of 1642, Maisonneuve and his company left Quebec. He was accompanied by Governor de Montmagny, Father Vimont, superior of the Jesuits, and Madame de la Peltrie, who left the Ursulines very abruptly and inconsiderately {135} under the conviction that she had a mission to fill at Mont Royal.



On the 17th May, Maisonneuve and his companions landed on the little triangle of land, the Place Royale of Champlain, formed by the junction of a stream with the St. Lawrence. They fell immediately on their knees and gave their thanks to the {136} Most High. After singing some hymns, they raised an altar which was decorated by Madame de la Peltrie and Mdlle. Mance, and celebrated the first great mass on the island. Father Vimont, as he performed this holy rite of his Church, addressed the new colonists with words which foreshadowed the success of the Roman Catholic Church in the greatest Canadian city, which was first named Ville-Marie.

A picket enclosure, mounted with cannon, protected the humble buildings erected for the use of the first settlers on what is now the Custom-house Square. The little stream—not much more than a rivulet except in spring—which for many years rippled between green, mossy banks, now struggles beneath the paved street.

An obelisk of gray Canadian granite now stands on this historic ground. Madame de la Peltrie did not remain more than two years in Ville-Marie, but returned to the convent at Quebec which she had left in a moment of caprice. Mdlle. Mance, who was Madame de Bullion's friend, remained at the head of the Hotel Dieu. The Sulpicians eventually obtained control of the spiritual welfare, and in fact of the whole island, though from necessity and policy the Jesuits were at first in charge. It was not until 1653 that one of the most admirable figures in the religious and educational history of Canada, Margaret Bourgeoys, a maiden of Troyes, came to Ville-Marie, and established the parent house in Canada of the Congregation de Notre-Dame, whose schools have extended in the progress of centuries from Sydney, on the island of Cape Breton, to the Pacific coast.

{137}

Yet during these years, while convents and hospitals were founded, while brave gentlemen and cultured women gave up their lives to their country and their faith, while the bells were ever calling their congregations to mass and vespers, the country was defended by a mere handful of inhabitants, huddled together at Quebec, at Three Rivers, and at the little settlement of Ville-Marie. The canoes of the Iroquois were constantly passing on the lakes and rivers of Canada, from Georgian Bay to the Richelieu, and bands of those terrible foes of the French and their Indian allies were ever lurking in the woods that came so dangerously close to the white settlements and the Indian villages.

In 1642, Father Isaac Jogues was returning from the missions on Lake Huron, with Couture, an interpreter, and Goupil, a young medical attendant—both donnes or lay followers of the Jesuits. They were in the company of a number of Hurons who were bringing furs to the traders on the St. Lawrence, when the Iroquois surprised them at the western end of Lake St. Peter's. The prisoners were taken by the Richelieu to the Mohawk country and Father Jogues was the first Frenchman to pass through Lake George[1]—with its picturesque hills and islets—which in a subsequent journey he named Lac du Saint-Sacrament, because he reached it on the eve of Corpus Christi. The Frenchmen were carried from village to village of the Iroquois, and {138} tortured with all the cruel ingenuity usual in such cases. Goupil's thumb was cut off with a clam shell, as one way of prolonging pain. At night the prisoners were stretched on their backs with their ankles and wrists bound to stakes. Couture was adopted into the tribe, and was found useful in later years as an intermediary between the French and Mohawks. Goupil was murdered and his body tossed into a stream rushing down a steep ravine. Despite his sufferings Father Jogues never desisted from his efforts to baptise children and administer the rites of his Church to the tortured prisoners. On one occasion he performed the sacred office for a dying Huron with some rain or dewdrops which were still clinging to an ear of green corn which had been thrown to him for food. After indescribable misery, he was taken to Fort Orange, where the Dutch helped him to escape to France, but he returned to Canada in the following year.

Bands of Iroquois continued to wage war with relentless fury on all the Algonquin tribes from the Chaudiere Falls of the Ottawa to the upper waters of the Saguenay. Bressani, a highly cultured Italian priest, was taken prisoner on the St. Lawrence, while on his way to the Huron missions, and carried to the Mohawk villages, where he went through the customary ordeal of torture. He was eventually given to an old woman who had lost a member of her family, but when she saw his maimed hands—one split between the little finger and the ring-finger—she sent him to the Dutch, who ransomed and sent him to France, whence he came back like Jogues, a year later.

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In 1645 the Mohawks made peace with the French, but the other members of the Five Nations refused to be bound by the treaty. Father Isaac Jogues ventured into their country in 1646, and after a successful negotiation returned to consult the governor at Quebec; but unhappily for him he left behind a small box, filled with some necessaries of his simple life, with which he did not wish to encumber himself on this flying visit. The medicine-men or sorcerers, who always hated the missionaries as the enemies of their vile superstitious practices, made the Indians believe that this box contained an evil spirit which was the origin of disease, misfortune, and death. When Father Jogues came back, he found the village divided into two parties—one wishing his death, the other inclined to show him mercy, and after infinite wrangling between the factions, he was suddenly killed by a blow from a tomahawk as he was entering a long-house, to attend a feast to which he had been invited. His body was treated with contumely, and his head affixed to a post of the palisades of the village. He was the first martyr who suffered death at the hands of the Iroquois.

The "black robe" was now to be seen in every Indian community of Canada; among the Hurons and Algonquins as far as Lake Huron, among the White Fish tribe at the head-waters of the Saguenay, and even among the Abenakis of the Kennebec. Father Gabriel Druilletes, who had served an apprenticeship among the Montagnais, was in charge of this Abenaki mission, and in the course of years {140} visited Boston, Plymouth, and Salem, in the interests of the Canadian French, who wished to enter into commercial relations with New England, and also induce its governments to enter into an alliance against the Iroquois. The authorities of the New England confederacy eventually refused to evoke the hostility of the dangerous Five Nations. Father Druilletes, however, won for Canada the enduring friendship of the Abenakis, as Acadian history shows.

It is impossible within the limited space of this chapter to give any accurate idea of the spirit of patience, zeal, and self-sacrifice which the Jesuit Fathers exhibited in their missions among the hapless Hurons. For years they found these Indians very suspicious of their efforts to teach the lessons of their faith. It was only with difficulty the missionaries could baptise little children. They would give sugared water to a child, and, apparently by accident, drop some on its head, and at the same time pronounce the sacramental words. Some Indians believed for a long time that the books and strings of beads were the embodiment of witchcraft. But the persistency of the priests was at last rewarded by the conversion, or at all events the semblance of conversion, of large numbers of Hurons. It would seem, according as their fears of the Iroquois increased, the Hurons gave greater confidence to the French, and became more dependent on their counsel. In fact, in some respects, they lost their spirit of self-reliance. In some villages the converts at last exceeded the number of unbelievers. By {141} 1647 there were eighteen priests engaged in the work of eleven missions, chiefly in the Huron country, but also among the Algonquin tribes on the east and northeast of Lake Huron or at the outlet of Lake Superior. Each mission had its little chapel, and a bell, generally hanging on a tree. One central mission house had been built at Ste. Marie close to a little river, now known as the Wye, which falls into Thunder Bay, an inlet of Matchedash Bay. This was a fortified station in the form of a parallelogram, constructed partly of masonry, and partly of wooden palisades, strengthened by two bastions containing magazines. The chapel and its pictures attracted the special admiration of the Indians, whose imagination was at last reached by the embellished ceremonies of the Jesuits' church. The priests, thoroughly understanding the superstitious character of the Indians, made a lavish use of pictorial representations of pain and sufferings and rewards, allotted to bad and good. Father Le Jeune tells us that "such holy pictures are most useful object-lessons for the Indians." On one occasion he made a special request for "three, four, or five devils, tormenting a soul with a variety of punishments—one using fire, another serpents, and another pincers." The mission house was also constantly full of Indians, not simply enjoying these pictures, but participating also in the generous hospitality of the Fathers.

It was in 1648 that the first blow descended on this unhappy people who were in three years' time to be blotted out as a warlike, united nation in {142} America. In that year the Iroquois attacked the mission of St. Joseph (Teanaustaye), fifteen miles from Ste. Marie, where in 1638 a famous Iroquois, Ononkwaya, had been tortured. All the people had been massacred or taken prisoners in the absence of the warriors who were mostly in pursuit of a band of Iroquois. Father Daniel, arrayed in the vestments of his vocation, was among the first to fall a victim to the furious savages, who instantly cast his body into the flames of his burning chapel,—a fitting pyre for the brave soldier of the Cross. St. Ignace, St. Louis, and other missions were attacked early in the following year. Fathers Jean de Brebeuf and Gabriel Lalemant were tortured and murdered at St. Ignace. From village after village the shrieks of helpless women and men and children, tied to stakes in burning houses, ascended to a seemingly pitiless Heaven. Many persons were tortured on the spot, but as many or more reserved for the sport of the Iroquois villages. Father Brebeuf was bound to a stake, and around his neck was thrown a necklace of red-hot tomahawks. They cut off his lower lip, and thrust a heated iron rod down his throat. It was doubtless their delight to force a groan or complaint from this stalwart priest, whose towering and noble figure had always been the admiration of the Canadian Indians, but both he and Lalemant, a relatively feeble man, showed themselves as brave as the most courageous Indian warriors under similar conditions.

When a party from Ste. Marie came a few days later to the ruins of St. Ignace, they found the {143} tortured bodies of the dead missionaries on the ground, and carried them to the mission house, where they were buried in sacred earth. The skull of the generous, whole-souled Brebeuf is still to be seen within a silver bust in the Hotel Dieu of Quebec. Father Gamier was killed at the mission of St. Jean (Etarita), in the raids which the Iroquois made at a later time on the Tobacco Nation, the kindred of the Hurons. Father Chabanel, who was on his way from St. Jean to Ste. Marie, was never heard of, and it is generally believed that he was treacherously killed and robbed by a Huron.

The Hurons were still numerous despite the losses they had suffered—counting even then more families than the Five Nations—but as they looked on the smoking ruins of their villages and thought of the undying hatred which had followed them for so many years they lost all courage and decided to scatter and seek new homes elsewhere. Father Ragueneau, the superior of the Jesuits, after consultation with the Fathers and Frenchmen at Ste. Marie, some fifty persons altogether, felt they could no longer safely remain in their isolated position when the Hurons had left the country. They removed all their goods to the Isle of St. Joseph, now one of the Christian Islands, near the entrance of Matchedash Bay, where they erected a fortified post for the protection of several thousand Hurons who had sought refuge here. Before many months passed, the Hurons believed that their position would be untenable when the Iroquois renewed their attacks, and determined to leave the island. Some ventured {144} even among the Iroquois and were formally received into the Senecas and other tribes. A remnant remained a few months longer on the island, but they soon left for Quebec after killing some thirty of the bravest Iroquois warriors, who had attempted to obtain possession of the fort by a base act of treachery. A number belonging to the Tobacco Nation eventually reached the upper waters of the Mississippi where they met the Sioux, or Dacotahs, a fierce nation belonging to a family quite distinct from the Algonquins and Iroquois, and generally found wandering between the head-waters of Lake Superior and the Falls of St. Anthony. After various vicissitudes these Hurons scattered, but some found their rest by the side of the Detroit River, where they have been always known as Wyandots. Some three hundred Hurons, old and young, left St. Joseph for Quebec, where they were most kindly received and given homes on the western end of the Isle of Orleans, where the Jesuits built a fort for their security; but even here, as we shall see, the Iroquois followed them, and they were eventually forced to hide themselves under the guns of Quebec. War and disease soon thinned them out, while not a few cast in their lot with the Iroquois who were at last themselves seeking recruits. The Huron remnant finally found a resting-place at Lorette on the banks of the St. Charles, a few miles from the heights of the Capital.

The only memorials now in Canada of a once powerful people, that numbered at least twenty thousand souls before the time of their ruin and {145} dispersion, are a remnant still retaining the language of their tribe on the banks of the Detroit; a larger settlement on the banks of the St. Charles, but without the distinguishing characteristics of their ancestors who came there from Isle St. Joseph; the foundations of the old mission house of Ste. Marie, and the remarkable graves and ossuaries which interest the student and antiquary as they wander in the summer-time through the picturesque country where the nation was once supreme.



[1] It was so called in 1753, after the reigning sovereign of England by an ambitions and politic Irishman, Sir William Johnson, whose name is constantly occurring in the history of the wars between England and France.



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X.

YEARS OF GLOOM—THE KING COMES TO THE RESCUE OF CANADA—THE IROQUOIS HUMBLED.

(1652-1667.)

It was noon on the 20th May, 1656, when the residents of Quebec were startled by the remarkable spectacle of a long line of bark canoes drawn up on the river immediately in front of the town. They could hear the shouts of the Mohawk warriors making boast of the murder and capture of unhappy Hurons, whom they had surprised on the Isle of Orleans close by. The voices of Huron girls—"the very flower of the tribe," says the Jesuit narrator—were raised in plaintive chants at the rude command of their savage captors, who even forced them to dance in sight of the French, on whose protection they had relied. The governor, M. de Lauzon, a weak, incapable man, only noted for his greed, was perfectly paralysed at a scene without example, even in those days of terror, when the Iroquois were virtually masters of the St. Lawrence valley from Huron to Gaspe.

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At this very time a number of Frenchmen—probably fifty in all—were in the power of the Iroquois, and the governor had no nerve to make even an effort to save the Hurons from their fate. To understand the situation of affairs, it is necessary to go back for a few years. After the dispersion of the Hurons, the Iroquois, principally the Mohawks, became bolder than ever on the St. Lawrence. M. du Plessis-Bochat, the governor of Three Rivers, lost his life in a courageous but ill-advised attempt to chastise a band of warriors that were in ambush not far from the fort. Father Buteux was killed on his way to his mission of the Attikamegs or White Fish tribe, at the headwaters of the St. Maurice. In 1653, Father Poucet was carried off to a Mohawk village, where he was tortured in the usual fashion, and then sent back to Canada with offers of peace. The Senecas and Cayugas were then busily engaged in exterminating the Eries, who had burned one of their most famous chiefs, whose last words at the stake were prophetic: "Eries, you burn in me an entire nation!"

A peace, or rather a truce, was declared formally in the fall of 1653. Then, at the request of the Onondagas, Father Simon le Moyne, a missionary of great tact and courage, who was the first Frenchman to ascend the St. Lawrence as far as the Thousand Isles, ventured into the Iroquois country, where he soon became a favourite. As a result of the negotiations which followed this mission, Governor de Lauzon was persuaded to send a colony to the villages of the Onondagas. This colony was composed {148} of Captain Dupuy, an officer of the garrison, ten soldiers, and between thirty and forty volunteers. Father Dablon, who had previously gone with Father Chaumonot among the Onondagas, and had brought back the request for a colony, accompanied the expedition, which left Quebec in the month of June, 1656. On the way up the river the Onondagas were attacked by a band of Mohawks, when the boats carrying the French had gone ahead and were not within sight. Some of the Onondagas were killed and wounded, and then the Mohawks found out that they had surprised and injured warriors belonging to a tribe of their own confederacy. They endeavoured to explain this very serious act of hostility against their own friends and allies by the excuse that they had mistaken them for Hurons, whom they were on the way to attack. There is little doubt that they well understood the character of the expedition, and attacked it through envy of the success of the Onondagas in obtaining the settlement of Frenchmen in their villages.

When the Mohawks had made their explanations, they allowed the angry Onondagas to proceed on their journey, while they themselves went on to Quebec where, as we have already seen, they showed their contempt of the French by assailing the Hurons under the very guns of the fort of St. Louis. As soon as the French colony arrived at the Onondaga villages, they took possession of the country in the name of Jesus. On an eminence overlooking the lake they erected the mission of St. Mary of Gannentaha, the correct Iroquois name for Onondaga, {149} in the vicinity of the present city of Syracuse. The Onondagas generally appeared delighted at the presence of the French, though at this very time the Mohawks continued to paddle up and down the St. Lawrence to the consternation of the French and Canadian Indians alike. The Jesuit priest Garreau was killed in one of these excursions while accompanying a party of Ottawas to Lake Superior.

The colonists at Gannentaha at last found that their own lives were threatened by a conspiracy to destroy them, but they succeeded in deceiving the Indians and in escaping to Canada in the month of March, after living only two years among the Onondagas. Whilst the Indians were sleeping away the effects of one of those mystic feasts, at which they invariably stuffed themselves to repletion, the Frenchmen escaped at night and reached the Oswego River, which they successfully descended by the aid of flat-boats which they had secretly constructed after the discovery of the plot. The party reached the French settlement with the loss of three men, drowned in the descent of the rapids of the St. Lawrence, probably the Cedars. The enterprise was most hazardous at this season when the ice had to be broken on the rivers before the boats could be used. But this very fact had its advantage, since the bark canoes of the Indians would have been useless had they followed the party. This exploit is one of the most remarkable ever performed by the French in those early days, and shows of what excellent material those pioneers of French colonisation were made.

In the spring of 1660 it was discovered that an {150} organised attack was to be made on all the settlements by a large force of over a thousand Iroquois, who were to assemble at the junction of the Ottawa and St. Lawrence rivers. It is stated on credible authority that Montreal—Canada in fact—was saved at this critical juncture by the heroism of a few devoted Frenchmen. Among the officers of the little garrison that then protected Montreal, was Adam Daulac or Dollard, Sieur des Ormeaux, who obtained leave from Maisonneuve, the governor, to lead a party of volunteers against the Iroquois, who were wintering in large numbers on the upper Ottawa. Sixteen brave fellows, whose names are all recorded in the early records of Montreal, took a solemn oath to accept and give no quarter, and after settling their private affairs and receiving the sacrament, they set out on their mission of inevitable death. Dollard and his band soon reached the impetuous rapids of the Long Sault of the Ottawa, destined to be their Thermopylae. There, among the woods, they found an old circular inclosure of logs, which had been built by some Indians for defensive purposes. This was only a wretched bulwark, but the Frenchmen were in a state of exalted enthusiasm, and proceeded to strengthen it. Only two or three days after their arrival, they heard that the Iroquois were descending the river. The first attacks of the Iroquois were repulsed, and then they sent out scouts to bring up a large force of five hundred warriors who were at the mouth of the Richelieu. In the meantime they continued harassing the inmates of the fort, who were suffering for food and {151} water. A band of Hurons who had joined the French just before the arrival of the Iroquois, now deserted them, with the exception of their chief, who as well as four Algonquins, remained faithful to the end. The forests soon resounded with the yells of the Iroquois, when reinforced. Still Dollard and his brave companions never faltered, but day after day beat back the astonished assailants, who knew the weakness of the defenders, and had anticipated an easy victory. At last a general assault was made, and in the struggle Dollard was killed. Even then the survivors kept up the fight, and when the Iroquois stood within the inclosure there was no one to meet them. Four Frenchmen, still alive, were picked up from the pile of corpses. Three of these were instantly burned, while the fourth was reserved for continuous torture a day or so later. The faithless Hurons gained nothing by their desertion, for they were put to death, with the exception of five who eluded their captors, and took an account of this remarkable episode to the French at Montreal. The Iroquois were obviously amazed at the courage of a few Frenchmen, and decided to give up, for the present, their project of attacking settlements defended by men so dauntless.

Even the forces of nature seemed at this time to conspire against the unfortunate colony. A remarkable earthquake, the effects of which can still be seen on the St. Lawrence,—at picturesque Les Eboulements, which means "earth slips," for instance,—commenced in the month of February, 1663, and did not cease entirely until the following summer.

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Fervent appeals for assistance were made to the King by Pierre Boucher, the governor of Three Rivers, by Monseigneur Laval, the first bishop, by the Jesuit Fathers, and by the governors of New France, especially by M. d'Avaugour, who recommended that three thousand soldiers be sent to the colony, and allowed to become settlers after a certain term of service. By 1663, the total population of Canada did not exceed two thousand souls, the large majority of whom were at Quebec, Montreal, and Three Rivers. It was at the risk of their lives that men ventured beyond the guns of Montreal. The fur-trade was in the hands of monopolists. The people could not raise enough food to feed themselves, but had to depend on the French ships to a large extent. The Company of the Hundred Associates had been found quite unequal to the work of settling and developing the country, or providing adequate means of defence. Under the advice of the great Colbert, the King, young Louis Quatorze, decided to assume the control of New France and make it a royal province. The immediate result of the new policy was the coming of the Marquis de Tracy, a veteran soldier, as lieutenant-general, with full powers to inquire into the state of Canada. He arrived at Quebec on the 30th June, 1665, attended by a brilliant retinue. The Carignan-Salieres Regiment, which had distinguished itself against the Turks, was also sent as a proof of the intention of the King to defend his long-neglected colony. In a few weeks, more than two thousand persons, soldiers and settlers, had come to Canada. Among {153} the number were M. de Courcelles, the first governor, and M. Talon, the first intendant, under the new regime. Both were fond of state and ceremony, and the French taste of the Canadians was now gratified by a plentiful display of gold lace, ribbons, wigs, ornamented swords, and slouched hats. Probably the most interesting feature of the immigration was the number of young women as wives for the bachelors—as the future mothers of a Canadian people.

The new authorities went energetically to work. The fortifications at Quebec, Three Rivers, and Montreal were strengthened, and four new forts erected from the mouth of the Richelieu to Isle La Mothe on Lake Champlain. The Iroquois saw the significance of this new condition of things. The Onondagas, led by Garacontie, a friend of the Jesuits, made overtures of peace, which were favourably heard by "Onontio," as the governor of Canada had been called ever since the days of Montmagny, whose name, "Great Mountain," the Iroquois so translated. The Mohawks, the most dangerous tribe, sent no envoys, and Courcelles, in the inclement month of January, went into their country with a large force of regular soldiers and fur hunters, but missed the trail to their villages, and found himself at the Dutch settlements, where he learned, to his dismay, that the English had become the possessors of the New Netherlands. On its return, the expedition suffered terribly from the severe cold, and lost a number of persons who were killed by the Indians, always hovering in the rear. The Mohawks then {154} thought it prudent to send a deputation to treat for peace, but the Marquis de Tracy and Governor de Courcelles were suspicious of their good faith, and sent a Jesuit priest to their country to ascertain the real sentiment of the tribe. He was recalled, while on the way, on account of the news that several French officers—one of them a relative of the lieutenant-general—had been murdered by the Mohawks. The lieutenant-general and governor at once organised a powerful expedition of the regular forces and Canadian inhabitants—some thirteen hundred in all—who left Quebec, with those two distinguished officers in command, on the day of the Exaltation of the Cross, the 14th September, 1666, as every effort was made to give a religious aspect to an army, intended to avenge the death of martyred missionaries, as well as to afford Canada some guarantees of peace. It took the expedition nearly a month to reach the first village of the Mo hawks, but only to find it deserted. It was the same result in three other villages visited by the French. The Mohawks had made preparations for defence, but their courage failed them as they heard of the formidable character of the force that had come into the country. They deserted their homes and great stores of provisions. Villages and provisions were burned, and the Iroquois saw only ashes when they returned after the departure of the French. It was a great blow to these formidable foes of the French. Peace was soon made between the Five Nations and the French. The Marquis de Tracy then returned to France, and for twenty years {155} Canada had a respite from the raids which had so seriously disturbed her tranquillity, and was enabled at last to organise her new government, extend her settlements, and develop her strength for days of future trial.



{156}

XI.

CANADA AS A ROYAL PROVINCE—CHURCH AND STATE.

(1663-1759.)

We have now come to that period of Canadian history when the political and social conditions of the people assumed those forms which they retained, with a few modifications from time to time, during the whole of the French regime. Four men now made a permanent impress on the struggling colony so long neglected by the French Government. First, was the King, Louis Quatorze, then full of the arrogance and confidence of a youthful prince, imbued with the most extravagant idea of his kingly attributes. By his side was the great successor of Mazarin, Jean Baptiste Colbert, whose knowledge of finance, earnest desire to foster the best resources of the kingdom, acknowledged rectitude, as well as admirable tact, gave him not only great influence in France, but enabled him to sway the mind of the autocratic king at most critical junctures. Happily for Colbert and Canada, Louis was a most industrious {157} as well as pleasure-seeking sovereign, and studied the documents, which his various servants, from Colbert to the intendants in the colonies, sent him from time to time respecting their affairs.

In Canada itself the great minister had the aid of the ablest intendant ever sent by the King to Canada. This was Jean Baptiste Talon, who was not inferior to Colbert for his knowledge of commerce and finance, and clearness of intellect.

We see also in the picture of those times the piercing eyes and prominent nose of the ascetic face of the eminent divine who, even more than Colbert and Talon, has moulded the opinions of the Canadian people in certain important respects down to the present time. Monseigneur Laval was known in France as the Abbe de Montigny, and when the Jesuits induced him to come to Canada he was appointed grand vicar by the Pope, with the title of Bishop of Petrosa.

Before the Canadian bishops and their agents in France decided on the Abbe de Montigny as a bishop they had made an experiment with the Abbe Queylus, one of the four Sulpician priests who came to Montreal in 1657, to look after the spiritual, and subsequently its temporal, interests. The Abbe had been appointed vicar-general of Canada by the Archbishop of Rouen, who claimed a certain ecclesiastical jurisdiction in the country, and the Jesuits at Quebec were at first disposed to make him bishop had they found him sufficiently ductile. After some experience of his opinions and character, they came to the conclusion that he was not a friend of their {158} order, and used all their influence thenceforth to drive him from Canada. Then they chose the Abbe de Montigny, between whom and the Abbe Queylus there ensued a conflict of authority, which ended eventually in the defeat of the latter, as well as of the Archbishop of Rouen. The Abbe, divested of his former dignity and pretensions, returned in later years to the island of Montreal, of which the Sulpicians had become the seigniorial proprietors, when the original company were too weak to carry out the objects of their formation. The same order remains in possession of their most valuable lands in the city and island, where their seminary for the education of priests and youth generally occupies a high position among the educational institutions of the province.

Bishop Laval was endowed with an inflexible will, and eminently fitted to assert those ultramontane principles which would make all temporal power subordinate to the Pope and his vicegerents on earth. His claim to take precedence even of the governor on certain public occasions indicates the extremes to which this resolute dignitary of the Church was prepared to go on behalf of its supremacy.



No question can be raised as to Bishop Laval's charity and generosity. He accumulated no riches for himself—he spent nothing on the luxuries, hardly anything on the conveniences of life, but gave freely to the establishment of those famous seminaries at Quebec, which have been ever since identified with the religious and secular instruction of the French Canadians, and now form part of the noble university which bears his name.

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With a man like Laval at the head of the Church in Canada at this early period, it necessarily exercised a powerful influence at the council board, and in the affairs of the country generally. If he was sometimes too arbitrary, too arrogant in the assertion of his ecclesiastical dignity, yet he was also {160} animated by very conscientious motives with respect to temporal questions. In the quarrel he had with the governor, Baron Dubois d'Avaugour, an old soldier, as to the sale of brandy to the Indians, he showed that his zeal in the discharge of what he believed to be a Christian and patriotic duty predominated above all such mercenary and commercial considerations as animated the governor and officials, who believed that the trading interests of the country were injured by prohibition. Laval saw that the very life-blood of the Indians was being poisoned by this traffic, and succeeded in obtaining the removal of D'Avaugour. But all the efforts of himself and his successor, Saint-Vallier, could not practically restrain the sale of spirituous liquors, as long as the fur-trade so largely depended on their consumption.

At this time, and for a long time afterwards, Protestantism was unknown in Canada, for the King and Jesuits had decided to keep the colony entirely free from heresy. The French Protestants, after the revocation of the edict of Nantes, gave to England and the Netherlands the benefit of their great industry and manufacturing knowledge. Some of them even found their way to America, and stimulated the gathering strength of the southern colonies of Virginia and the Carolinas.

The new regime under Colbert was essentially parental. All emigration was under the direction of the French authorities. Wives were sent by shiploads for the settlers, newly-wedded couples received liberal presents suitable to their condition in a new country; early marriages and large families were {161} encouraged by bounties. Every possible care was taken by the officials and religious communities who had charge of such matters, that the women were of good morals, and suitable for the struggles of a colonial existence.

While State and Church were providing a population for the country, Colbert and Talon were devoting themselves to the encouragement of manufactures and commerce. When the Company of the Hundred Associates, who appear to have been robbed by their agents in the colony, fell to pieces, they were replaced by a large organisation, known as the Company of the West, to which was given very important privileges throughout all the French colonies and dependencies. The company, however, never prospered, and came to an end in 1674, after ten years' existence, during which it inflicted much injury on the countries where it was given so many privileges. The government hereafter controlled all commerce and finance. Various manufactures, like shipbuilding, leather, hemp, and beer, were encouraged, but at no time did Canada show any manufacturing or commercial enterprise. Under the system of monopolies and bounties fostered by Colbert and his successors, a spirit of self-reliance was never stimulated. The whole system of government tended to peculation and jobbery—to the enrichment of worthless officials. The people were always extremely poor. Money was rarely seen in the shape of specie. The few coins that came to the colony soon found their way back to France. From 1685 down to 1759 the government issued a {162} paper currency, known as "card money," because common playing cards were used. This currency bore the crown and fleur-de-lis and signatures of officials, and gradually became depreciated and worthless.



While the townsfolk of Massachusetts were discussing affairs in town-meetings, the French inhabitants of Canada were never allowed to take part in public assemblies but were taught to depend in the most trivial matters on a paternal government. Canada was governed as far as possible like a province of France. In the early days of the colony, when it was under the rule of the Company of the Hundred Associates, the governors practically exercised arbitrary power, with the assistance of a nominal council chosen by themselves. When, however, {163} the King took the government of the colony into his own hands, he appointed a governor, an intendant, and a supreme or—as it was subsequently called—a sovereign council, of which the bishop was a member, to administer under his own direction the affairs of the country. The governor, who was generally a soldier, was nominally at the head of affairs, and had the direction of the defences of the colony, but to all intents and purposes the intendant, who was a man of legal attainments, had the greater influence. He was the finance minister, and made special reports to the King on all Canadian matters. He had the power of issuing ordinances which had the effect of law, and showed the arbitrary nature of the government to which the people were subject. Every effort to assemble the people for public purposes was systematically crushed by the orders of the government. A public meeting of the parishioners to consider the cost of a new church could not be held without the special permission of the intendant. Count Frontenac, immediately after his arrival, in 1672, attempted to assemble the different orders of the colony, the clergy, the noblesse {164} or seigneurs, the judiciary, and the third estate, in imitation of the old institutions of France. The French king promptly rebuked the haughty governor for this attempt to establish a semblance of popular government.



From that moment we hear no more of the assembling of "Canadian Estates," and an effort to elect a mayor and aldermen for Quebec also failed through the opposition of the authorities. An attempt was then made to elect a syndic—a representative of popular rights in towns—but M. de Mesy, then governor, could not obtain the consent of the bishop, who knew that his views were those of the King. The result of the difficulties that followed was the dismissal of the governor, who died soon afterwards, but not until he had confessed his error, and made his peace with the haughty bishop whom he had dared to oppose.

The administration of local affairs throughout the province was exclusively under the control of the King's officers at Quebec. The ordinances of the intendant and of the council were the law. The country was eventually subdivided into the following divisions for purposes of government, settlement, and justice: 1. Districts. 2. Seigniories. 3. Parishes. The districts were simply established for judicial and legal purposes, and each of them bore the name of the principal town within its limits—viz., Quebec, also called the Prevote de Quebec, Montreal, and Three Rivers. In each of these districts there was a judge, appointed by the king, to adjudicate on all civil and criminal matters. An appeal was allowed in the most trivial cases to the {165} supreme or superior council, which also exercised original jurisdiction. The customary law of Paris, which is based on the civil law of Rome, was the fundamental law of Canada, and still governs the civil rights of the people.

The greater part of Canada was divided into large estates or seigniories, with the view of creating a colonial noblesse, and of stimulating settlement in a wilderness. It was not necessary to be of noble birth to be a Canadian seigneur. Any trader with a few louis d'or and influence could obtain a patent for a Canadian lordship. The seignior on his accession to his estate was required to pay homage to the King, or to his feudal superior in case the lands were granted by another than the King. The seignior received his land gratuitously from the crown, and granted them to his vassals, who were generally known as habitants, or cultivators of the soil, on condition of their making small annual payments in money or produce known as cens et rente. The habitant was obliged to grind his corn at the seignior's mill (moulin banal), bake his bread in the seignior's oven, give his lord a tithe of the fish caught in his waters, and comply with other conditions at no time onerous or strictly enforced in the days of the French regime. This system had some advantages in a new country like Canada, where the government managed everything, and colonisation was not left to chance. The seignior was obliged to cultivate his estate at a risk of forfeiture, consequently it was absolutely necessary that he should exert himself to bring settlers upon his lands. The obligation of the habitant to grind his corn in the seignior's {166} mill was clearly an advantage for the settlers. In the early days of the colony, however, the seigniors were generally too poor to fulfil this condition, and the habitants had to grind corn between stones, or in rude hand mills. The seigniors had the right of dispensing justice in certain cases, though it was one he very rarely exercised. As respects civil affairs, however, both lord and vassal were to all intents and purposes on the same footing, for they were equally ignored in matters of government.

In the days of the French regime, the only towns for many years were Quebec, Montreal, and Three Rivers. In remote and exposed places—like those on the Richelieu, where officers and soldiers of the Carignan-Salieres Regiment had been induced to settle—palisaded villages had been built. The principal settlements were, in course of time, established on the banks of the St. Lawrence, as affording in those days the easiest means of intercommunication. As the lots of a seigniorial grant were limited in area—four arpents in front by forty in depth—the farms in the course of time assumed the appearance of a continuous settlement on the river. These various settlements became known in local phraseology as Cotes, apparently from their natural situation on the banks of the river. This is the origin of Cote des Neiges, Cote St. Louis, Cote St. Paul, and of many picturesque villages in the neighbourhood of Montreal and Quebec. As the country became settled, parishes were established for ecclesiastical purposes and the administration of local affairs. Here the influential men were the cure, the seignior, and the captain of the militia. The seignior, from {167} his social position, exercised a considerable weight in the community, but not to the degree that the representative of the Church enjoyed. The church in the parishes was kept up by tithes, regulated by ordinances, and first imposed by Bishop Laval for the support of the Quebec Seminary and the clergy. Next to the cure in importance was the captain of the militia. The whole province was formed into a militia district, so that, in times of war, the inhabitants might be obliged to perform military service under the French governor. In times of peace these militia officers in the parishes executed the orders of the governor and intendant in all matters affecting the King. In case it was considered necessary to build a church or presbytery, the intendant authorised the habitants to assemble for the purpose of choosing from among themselves four persons to make, with the cure, the seignior, and the captain of the militia, an estimate of the expense of the structure. It was the special care of the captain of the militia to look after the work, and see that each parishioner did his full share. It was only in church matters, in fact, that the people of a parish had a voice, and even in these, as we see, they did not take the initiative. The Quebec authorities must in all such cases first issue an ordinance.

Under these circumstances it is quite intelligible that the people of Canada were obliged to seek in the clearing of the forest, in the cultivation of the field, in the chase, and in adventure, the means of livelihood, and hardly ever busied themselves about public matters in which they were not allowed to take even a humble part.



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XII.

THE PERIOD OF EXPLORATION AND DISCOVERY: PRIESTS, FUR-TRADERS, AND COUREURS DE BOIS IN THE WEST.

(1634-1687.)

We have now come to that interesting period in the history of Canada, when the enterprise and courage of French adventurers gave France a claim to an immense domain, stretching from the Gulf of St. Lawrence indefinitely beyond the Great Lakes, and from the basin of those island seas as far as the Gulf of Mexico. The eminent intendant, Talon, appears to have immediately understood the importance of the discovery which had been made by the interpreter and trader, Jean Nicolet, of Three Rivers, who, before the death of Champlain, probably in 1634, ventured into the region of the lakes, and heard of "a great water"—no doubt the Mississippi—while among the Mascoutins, a branch of the Algonquin stock, whose villages were generally found in the valley of the Fox River. He is considered to have been the first European who reached Sault Ste. Marie—the strait between Superior and {169} Huron—though there is no evidence that he ventured beyond the rapids, and saw the great expanse of lake which had been, in all probability, visited some years before by Etienne Brule, after his escape from the Iroquois. Nicolet also was the first Frenchman who passed through the straits of Mackinac or Michillimackinac, though he did not realise the importance of its situation in relation to the lakes of the western country. It is told of him that he made his appearance among the Winnebagos in a robe of brilliant China damask, decorated with flowers and birds of varied colours, and holding a pistol in each hand. This theatrical display in the western forest is adduced as evidence of his belief in the story that he had heard among the Nipissings, at the head-waters of the Ottawa, that there were tribes in the west, without hair and beards, like the Chinese. No doubt, he thought he was coming to a country where, at last, he would find that short route to the Chinese seas which had been the dream of many Frenchmen since the days of Cartier. We have no answer to give to the question that naturally suggests itself, whether Champlain ever saw Nicolet on his return, and heard from him the interesting story of his adventures. It was not until 1641, or five years after Champlain's death, that Father Vimont gave to the world an account of Nicolet's journey, which, no doubt, stimulated the interest that was felt in the mysterious region of the west. From year to year the Jesuit and the trader added something to the geographical knowledge of the western lakes, where the secret was soon to be {170} unlocked by means of the rivers which fed those remarkable reservoirs of the continent. In 1641 Fathers Raymbault and Jogues preached their Faith to a large concourse of Indians at the Sault between Huron and Superior, where, for the first time, they heard of the Sioux or Dacotah, those vagrants of the northwest, and where the former died without realising the hope he had cherished, of reaching China across the western wilderness. Then came those years of terror, when trade and enterprise were paralysed by those raids of the Iroquois, which culminated in the dispersion of the Hurons. For years the Ottawa valley was almost deserted, and very few traders or coureurs de bois ventured into the country around the western lakes. An enterprising trader of Three Rivers, Medard Chouart, Sieur de Grosseilliers, is believed to have reached the shores of Lake Superior in 1658, and also to have visited La Pointe, now Ashland, at its western extremity, in the summer of 1659, in company with Pierre d'Esprit, Sieur Radisson, whose sister he had married. Some critical historians do not altogether discredit the assumption that these two venturesome traders ascended the Fox and Wisconsin rivers, and even reached the Mississippi, twelve years before Jolliet and Marquette.

With the peace that followed the destruction of the Mohawk villages by Tracy and Courcelles, and the influx of a considerable population into Canada, the conditions became more favourable for exploration and the fur trade. The tame and steady life of the farm had little charm for many restless spirits, {171} who had fought for France in the Carignan Regiment. Not a few of them followed the roving Canadian youth into the forest, where they had learned to love the free life of the Indians. The priest, the gentilhomme, and the coureur de bois, each in his way, became explorers of the western wilderness.

From the moment the French landed on the shores of Canada, they seemed to enter into the spirit of forest life. Men of noble birth and courtly associations adapted themselves immediately to the customs of the Indians, and found that charm in the forest and river which seemed wanting in the tamer life of the towns and settlements. The English colonisers of New England were never able to win the affections of the Indian tribes, and adapt themselves so readily to the habits of forest life as the French Canadian adventurer.

A very remarkable instance of the infatuation which led away so many young men into the forest, is to be found in the life of Baron de Saint-Castin, a native of the romantic Bernese country, who came to Canada with the Carignan Regiment during 1665, and established himself for a time on the Richelieu. But he soon became tired of his inactive life, and leaving his Canadian home, settled on a peninsula of Penobscot Bay (then Pentagoet), which still bears his name. Here he fraternised with the Abenaquis, and led the life of a forest chief, whose name was long the terror of the New England settlers. He married the daughter of Madocawando, the implacable enemy of the English, and so influential did he become that, at his summons, all the tribes on {172} the frontier between Acadia and New England would proceed on the warpath. He amassed a fortune of three hundred thousand crowns in "good dry gold," but we are told he only used the greater part of it to buy presents for his Indian followers, who paid him back in beaver skins. His life at Pentagoet, for years, was very active and adventurous, as the annals of New England show. In 1781 he returned to France, where he had an estate, and thenceforth disappeared from history. His son, by his Abenaqui Baroness, then took command of his fort and savage retainers, and after assisting in the defence of Port Royal, and making more than one onslaught on the English settlers of Massachusetts, he returned to Europe on the death of his father. The poet Longfellow has made use of this romantic episode in the early life of the Acadian settlements:

"The warm winds blow on the hills of Spain, The birds are building and the leaves are green, The Baron Castine, of St. Castine, Hath come at last to his own again."



Year after year saw the settlements almost denuded of their young men, who had been lured away by the fascinations of the fur trade in the forest fastnesses of the west. The government found all their plans for increasing the population and colonising the country thwarted by the nomadic habits of a restless youth. The young man, whether son of the gentilhomme, or of the humble habitant, was carried away by his love for forest life, and no enactments, however severe—not even the penalty of {174} death—had the effect of restraining his restlessness. That the majority of the coureurs de bois were a reckless, dare-devil set of fellows, it is needless to say. On their return from their forest haunts, after months of savage liberty, they too often threw off all restraint, and indulged in the most furious orgies. Montreal was their favourite place of resort, for here were held the great fairs for the sale of furs. The Ottawas, Hurons, and other tribes came from distant parts of the North and West, and camped on the shores in the immediate vicinity of the town. When the fair was in full operation, a scene was represented well worthy of the bold brush of a Dore. The royal mountain, then as now, formed a background of rare sylvan beauty. The old town was huddled together on the low lands near the river, and was for years a mere collection of low wooden houses and churches, all surrounded by palisades. On the fair ground were to be seen Indians tricked out in their savage finery; coureurs de bois in equally gorgeous apparel; black-robed priests and busy merchants from all the towns, intent on wheedling the Indians and bush rangers out of their choicest furs.

The principal rendezvous in the west was Mackinac or Michillimackinac. Few places possessed a more interesting history than this old headquarters of the Indian tribes and French voyageurs. Mackinac may be considered, in some respects, the key of the upper lakes. Here the tribes from the north to the south could assemble at a very short notice and decide on questions of trade or war. It was long the metropolis of a large portion of the Huron {175} and Ottawa nations, and many a council, fraught with the peace of Canada, was held there in the olden times. It was on the north side of the straits that Father Marquette—whose name must ever live in the west—some time in 1671 founded the mission of St. Ignace, where gradually grew up the most important settlement which the French had to the northwest of Fort Frontenac or Cataraqui. The French built a chapel and fort, and the Hurons and Ottawas lived in palisaded villages in the neighbourhood. The coureurs de bois were always to be seen at a point where they could be sure to find Indians in large numbers. Contemporary writers state that the presence of so many unruly elements at this distant outpost frequently threw the whole settlement into a sad state of confusion and excitement, which the priests were at times entirely unable to restrain. Indians, soldiers, and traders became at last so demoralised, that one of the priests wrote, in his despair, that there seemed no course open except "deserting the missions and giving them up to the brandy-sellers as a domain of drunkenness and debauchery."

But it would be a mistake to judge all the coureurs de bois by the behaviour of a majority, who were made up necessarily from the ruder elements of the Canadian population. Even the most reckless of their class had their work to do in the opening up of this continent. Despising danger in every form, they wandered over rivers and lakes and through virgin forests, and "blazed" a track, as it were, for the future pioneer. They were the first to lift the {176} veil of mystery that hung, until they came, on many a solitary river and forest. The posts they raised by the side of the western lakes and rivers, were so many videttes of that army of colonisers who have built up great commonwealths in that vast country, where the bushranger was the only European two centuries ago. The most famous amongst their leaders was the quick-witted Nicholas Perrot—the explorer of the interior of the continent. Another was Daniel Greysolon Duluth, who became a Canadian Robin Hood, and had his band of bushrangers like any forest chieftain. For years he wandered through the forests of the West, and founded various posts at important points, where the fur trade could be prosecuted to advantage. Posterity has been more generous to him than it has been to others equally famous as pioneers, for it has given his name to a city at the head of Lake Superior. Like many a forest which they first saw in its primeval vastness, these pioneers have disappeared into the shadowy domain of an almost forgotten past, and their memory is only recalled as we pass by some storm-beat cape, or land-locked bay, or silent river, to which may still cling the names they gave as they swept along in the days of the old regime.



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XIII.

THE PERIOD OF EXPLORATION AND DISCOVERY: FRANCE IN THE VALLEY OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

(1672-1687.)

Sault St. Marie was the scene of a memorable episode in the history of New France during the summer of 1671. Simon Francois Daumont, Sieur St. Lusson, received a commission from the government of Quebec to proceed to Lake Superior to search for copper mines, and also to take formal possession of the basin of the lakes and its tributary rivers. With him were two men, who became more famous than himself—Nicholas Perrot and Louis Jolliet, the noted explorers and rangers of the West. On an elevation overlooking the rapids, around which modern enterprise has built two ship-canals, St. Lusson erected a cross and post of cedar, with the arms of France, in the presence of priests in their black robes, Indians bedecked with tawdry finery, and bushrangers in motley dress. In the name of the "most high, mighty, and redoubted monarch, Louis XIV. of that name, most Christian King of France and of {178} Navarre," he declared France the owner of Sault Ste. Marie, Lakes Huron and Superior, and Isle of Mackinac, and "all of adjacent countries, rivers, and lakes, and contiguous streams." As far as boastful words and, priestly blessings could go, France was mistress of an empire in the great West.

Three names stand out in bold letters on the records of western discovery: Jolliet, the enterprising trader, Marquette, the faithful missionary, and La Salle, the bold explorer. The story of their adventures takes up many pages in the histories of this fascinating epoch. Talon may be fairly considered to have laid the foundations of western exploration, and it was left for Louis de Baude, Comte de Frontenac, who succeeded Courcelles as governor in 1672, to carry out the plans of the able intendant when he left the St. Lawrence.

Jolliet, a Canadian by birth, was wisely chosen by Talon—and Frontenac approved of the choice—to explore the West and find the "great water," of which vague stories were constantly brought back by traders and bushrangers. Jolliet was one of the best specimens of a trader and pioneer that Canadian history gives us. His roving inclinations were qualified by a cool, collected brain, which carried him safely through many a perilous adventure. He had for his companion Father Marquette, who was then stationed at the mission of St. Ignace, and had gathered from the Indians at his western missions—especially at La Pointe on Lake Superior—valuable information respecting the "great water" then {179} called the "Missipi." Both had many sympathies in common. Jolliet had been educated by the Jesuits in Canada, but unlike La Salle, he was in full accord with their objects. Marquette possessed those qualities of self-sacrifice and religious devotion which entitle him to rank with Lalemant, Jogues, and Brebeuf. While Jolliet was inspired by purely ambitious and trading instincts, the missionary had no other hope or desire than to bring a great region and its savage communities under the benign influence of the divine being whose heavenly face seemed ever present, encouraging him to fresh efforts in her service. It was in the spring of 1673 that these two men started with five companions in two canoes on their journey through that wilderness, which stretched beyond Green Bay—an English corruption of Grande Baie. Like Nicolet, they ascended the Fox River to the country of the Mascoutins, Foxes, and Kickapoos, where they obtained guides to lead them across the portage to the Wisconsin. The adventurers had now reached the low "divide" between the valleys of the Lakes and the Mississippi. The Fox River and its affluents flowed tranquilly to the great reservoirs of the St. Lawrence, while the Wisconsin, on which they now launched their canoes, carried them to a mighty river, which ended they knew not where. A month after leaving St. Ignace they found themselves "with a great and inexpressible joy"—to quote Marquette's words—on the rapid current of a river which they recognised as the Missipi. As they proceeded they saw the low-lying natural meadows and prairies where herds {180} of buffalo were grazing, marshes with a luxuriant growth of wild rice, the ruined castles which nature had in the course of many centuries formed out of the rocks of the western shores, and the hideous manitous which Indian ingenuity had pictured on the time-worn cliffs. They had pleasant interviews with the Indians that were hunting the roebuck and buffalo in this land of rich grasses. Their canoes struggled through the muddy current, which the Missouri gave as its tribute to the Missipi, passed the low marshy shores of the Ohio, and at last came near the mouth of the Arkansas, where they landed at an Indian village which the natives called Akamsea. Here they gathered sufficient information to enable them to form the conclusion that the great river before their eyes found its way, not to the Atlantic or Pacific oceans, but to the Gulf of Mexico. Then they decided not to pursue their expeditions further at that time, but to return home and relate the story of their discovery. When they came to the mouth of the Illinois River, they took that route in preference to the one by which they had come, followed the Des Plaines River,—where a hill still bears Jolliet's name—crossed the Chicago portage, and at last found themselves at the southern extremity of Lake Michigan. It was then the end of September, and Jolliet did not reach Canada until the following summer. When nearly at his journey's end, Fate dealt him a cruel blow, his canoe was capsized after running the Lachine Rapids just above Montreal, and he lost all the original notes of his journey. Frontenac, however, received from {181} him a full account of his explorations, and sent it to France.

Two centuries later than this memorable voyage of Jolliet, a French Canadian poet-laureate described it in verse fully worthy of the subject, as the following passage and equally spirited translation[1] go to show:

LA DECOUVERTE DU THE DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. MISSISSIPPI.

Jolliet . . . Jolliet . . . O, Jolliet, what splendid faery quel spectacle feerique dream Dut frapper ton regard, quand Met thy regard, when on that ta nef historique mighty stream, Bondit sur les flots d'or du Bursting upon its lonely grand fleuve inconnu unknown flow, Quel eclair triomphant, a cet Thy keel historic cleft its instant de fievre, golden tide:— Dut resplendir sur ton front Blossomed thy lip with what nu? . . . stern smile of pride? What conquering light shone on thy lofty brow?

Le voyez-vous la-bas, debout Behold him there, a prophet, comme un prophete, lifted high, L'oeil tout illumine d'audace Heart-satisfied, with bold, satisfaite, illumined eye, La main tendue au loin vers His hand outstretched toward l'Occident bronze. the sunset furled, Prendre possession de ce Taking possession of this domain domaine immense, immense, Au nom du Dieu vivant, au nom In the name of the living God, roi de France. in the name of the King Et du monde civilise? . . . of France, And the mighty modern world.

Puis, berce par la houle, et Rocked by the tides, wrapt in berce par ses reves, his glorious moods, L'oreille ouverte aux bruits Breathing perfumes of lofty harmonieux des greves, odorous woods,

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Humant l'acre parfum des Ears opened to the shores' grands bois odorants, harmonious tunes, Rasant les ilots verts et les Following in their dreams and dunes d'opale, voices mellow, De meandre en meandre, au fil To wander and wander in the l'onde pale, thread of the pale billow, Suivre le cours des flots Past islands hushed and errants. . . . opalescent dunes.

A son aspect, du sein des Lo, as he comes, from out the flottantes ramures, waving boughs, Montait comme un concert de A rising concert of murmurous chants et de murmures; song upflows, Des vols d'oiseaux marins Of winging sea-fowl lifting s'elevaient des roseaux, from the reeds; Et, pour montrer la route a la Pointing the route to his swift pirogue frele. dripping blade, S'enfuyaient en avant, trainant Then skimming before, tracing leur ombre grele their slender shade Dans le pli lumineux des eaux. In luminous foldings of the watery meads.

Et, pendant qu'il allait voguant And as he journeys, drifting a la derive, with its flow, On aurait dit qu'au loin, les The forests lifting their glad arbres de la rive, roofs aglow, En arceaux parfumes penches sur In perfumed arches o'er his son chemin, keel's swift swell, Saluaient le heros dont Salute the hero, whose undaunted l'energique audace soul Venait d'inscrire encor le nom Had graved anew "LA FRANCE" de notre race on that proud scroll Aux fastes de l'esprit humain. Of human genius, bright, imperishable.

Jolliet's companion, the Jesuit missionary, never realised his dream of many years of usefulness in new missions among the tribes of the immense region claimed by France. In the spring of 1675 he died by the side of a little stream which finds its outlet on the western shore of Lake Michigan, soon after his return from a painful journey he had taken, while in a feeble state of health, to the Indian communities of Kaskaskia between the Illinois and {183} Wabash rivers. A few months later his remains were removed by some Ottawas, who knew and loved him well, and carried to St. Ignace, where they were buried beneath the little mission chapel. His memory has been perpetuated in the nomenclature of the western region, and his statue stands in the rotunda of that marble capitol which represents, not the power and greatness of that France which he loved only less than his Church, but the national development of those English colonies which, in his time, were only a narrow fringe on the Atlantic coast, separated from the great West by mountain ranges which none of the most venturesome of their people had yet dared to cross.

The work that was commenced by Jolliet and Marquette, of solving the mystery that had so long surrounded the Mississippi, was completed by Rene Robert Cavalier, Sieur de la Salle, a native of Rouen, who came to Canada when quite a young man, and obtained a grant of land from the Sulpician proprietors of Montreal at the head of the rapids, then known as St. Louis. Like so many Canadians of those days he was soon carried away by a spirit of adventure. He had heard of the "great water" in the west, which he believed, in common with others, might lead to the Gulf of California. In the summer of 1669 he accompanied two Sulpician priests, of Montreal, Dollier de Casson and Gallinee, on an expedition they made, under the authority of Governor Courcelles, to the extreme western end of Ontario, where he met Jolliet, apparently for the first time, and probably had many conversations {184} with him respecting the west and south, and their unknown rivers. He decided to leave the party and attempt an exploration by a southerly route, while the priests went on to the upper lakes as far as the Sault. Of La Salle's movements for the next two years we are largely in the dark—in some respects entirely so. It has been claimed by some that he first discovered the Ohio, and even reached the Mississippi, but so careful an historian as Justin Winsor agrees with Shea's conclusion that La Salle "reached the Illinois or some other affluent of the Mississippi, but made no report and made no claim, having failed to reach the great river." It was on his return from these mysterious wanderings, that his seigniory is said to have received the name of La Chine as a derisive comment on his failure to find a road to China. In the course of years the name was very commonly given, not only to the lake but to the rapids of St. Louis.