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BINDING  LIST  FEB  l    1927 


MEI^ENDEZ 


FRANCE    AND    ENGLAND 


NORTH    AMERICA. 


A    SERIES    OF    HISTORICAL    NARRATIVES. 


FRANCIS   PARKMAN, 


41  rm>R  OF  "HISTORY  OF  THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  EOXTIAC,"  "PRAIBIE  AND 

ROCKY  SlOUXTittN   LIFE."    ETC. 


PART  FIRST 


BOSTON: 

LITTLE,   BROWN  AND   COMPANY 

1874. 


F 


/ 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

FRANCIS  PARKMAN, 
IB  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


tt-esswork  by  John  Wilson  and  Son. 


TO  THE  MEMORY 
OF 

THEODORE   PARKMAN,   ROBERT   GOULD   SHAW. 
AND   HENRY  WARE   HALL, 

SLAIN  IN  BATTLE, 
THIS  VOLUME  IS  DEDICATED  BY  THEIR  KINSMAN, 

THE  AUTHOR 


DEPARTMENTAL 


PIONEERS   OF   FRANCE 


NEW   WORLD. 


FRANCIS   PARKMAN, 

AUTHOR  OF   "HISTORY  OF  THE   CONSPIRACY  OF  FOXTIAC,"   "  PRAIRIE   AND 
ROCKY   MOUNTAIN    LIFE,"    ETC. 


ELKVKNTH  KIUTI0.4. 


BOSTON: 

LITTLE,  BROWN  AND   COMPANY 
1874. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

FBANCIS  PARKMAN, 
lu  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  springs  of  American  civilization,  unlike  those 
of  the  older  world,  lie  revealed  in  the  clear  light  of 
History.  In  appearance,  they  are  feeble  ;  in  reality, 
copious  and  full  of  force.  Acting1  at  the  sources  of 
life,  instruments  otherwise  weak  hecome  mighty  for 
good  and  evil,  and  men,  lost  elsewhere  in  the  crowd, 
stand  forth  as  agents  of  Destiny.  In  their  toils,  their 
sufferings,  their  conflicts,  momentous  questions  were  at 
stake,  and  issues  vital  to  the  future  world,  —  the  prev- 
alence of  races,  the  triumph  of  principles,  health  or 
disease,  a  blessing  or  a  curse.  On  the  obscure  strife 
where  men  died  by  tens  or  by  scores  hung  questions 
of  as  deep  import  for  posterity  as  on  those  mighty  con- 
tests of  national  adolescence  where  carnage  is  reckoned 
by  thousands.  It  is  not  the  writer's  purpose,  however, 
to  enter  upon  subjects  which  have  already  been  thor- 
oughly investigated  and  developed,  but  to  restrict  him- 
self to  those  where  new  facts  may  be  exhibited,  or  facts 
already  known  may  be  placed  in  a  more  clear  and  just 
light. 

The  subject  to  which  the  earlier  narratives  of  the 
proposed  series  will  be  devoted  is  that  of  "  France  iu 


viJi  INTRODUCTION. 

the  New  World,"  —  the  attempt  of  Feudalism,  Mon- 
archy, and  Rome  to  master  a  continent  where,  at 
this  hour,  half  a  million  of  hayonets  are  vindicating 
the  ascendency  of  a  regulated  freedom  ;  —  Feudalism 
still  strong  in  life,  though  enveloped  and  overborne  by 
new  -  born  Centralization  ;  Monarchy  in  the  flush  of 
triumphant  power  ;  Rome,  nerved  by  disaster,  spring- 
ing with  renewed  vitality  from  ashes  and  corruption, 
and  ranging  the  earth  to  reconquer  abroad  what  she 
had  lost  at  home.  These  banded  powers,  pushing  into 
the  -wilderness  their  indomitable  soldiers  and  devoted 
priests,  unveiled  the  secrets  of  the  barbarous  continent, 
pierced  the  forests,  traced  and  mapped  out  the  streams, 
planted  their  emblems,  built  their  forts,  and  claimed  all 
as  their  own.  New  France  was  all  head.  Under 
King,  Noble,  and  Jesuit,  the  lank,  lean  body  would  not 
thrive.  Even  Commerce  wore  the  sword,  decked  itself 
with  badges  of  nobility,  aspired  to  forest  seigniories 
and  hordes  of  savage  retainers. 

Along  the  borders  of  the  sea,  an  adverse  power  was 
strengthening  and  widening  with  slow,  but  steadfast 
growth,  full  of  blood  and  muscle,  —  a  body  without  a 
head.  Each  had  its  strength,  each  its  weakness,  each 
its  own  modes  of  vigorous  life :  but  the  one  was  fruit- 
ful, the  other  barren  ;  the  one  instinct  with  hope,  the 
other  darkening  with  shadows  of  despair. 

By  name,  local  position,  and  character,  one  of  these 
communities  of  freemen  stands  forth  as  the  most  con- 
spicuous representative  of  this  antagonism  ;  —  Liberty 
and  Absolutism,  New  England  and  New  France.  The 


INTRODUCTION.  Jx 

one  was  the  offspring  of  a  triumphant  government ; 
the  other,  of  an  oppressed  and  fugitive  people :  the  one, 
an  unflinching  champion  of  the  Roman  Catholic  reac- 
tion ;  the  other,  a  vanguard  of  the  Reform.  Each  fol- 
lowed its  natural  laws  of  growth,  and  each  came  to  its 
natural  result.  Vitalized  by  the  principles  of  its  foun- 
dation, the  Puritan  commonwealth  grew  apace.  New 
England  was  preeminently  the  land  of  material  prog- 
ress. Here  the  prize  was  within  every  man's  reach  ; 
patient  industry  need  never  doubt  its  reward  ;  nay,  in 
defiance  of  the  four  Gospels,  assiduity  in  pursuit  of 
gain  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  a  duty,  and  thrift 
and  godliness  were  linked  in  equivocal  wedlock.  Polit- 
ically, she  was  free-;  socially,  she  suffered  from  that 
subtile  and  searching  oppression  which  the  dominant 
opinion  of  a  free  community  may  exercise  over  the 
members  who  compose  it.  As  a  whole,  she  grew  upon 
the  gaze  of  the  world,  a  signal  example  of  expansive 
energy  ;  but  she  has  not  been  fruitful  in  those  salient 
and  striking  forms  of  character  which  often  give  a 
dramatic  life  to  the  annals  of  nations  far  less  pros- 
perous. 

We  turn  to  New  France,  and  all  is  reversed.  Here 
was  a  bold  attempt  to  crush  under  the  exactions  of  a 
grasping  hierarchy,  to  stifle  under  the  curbs  and  trap- 
pings of  a  feudal  monarchy,  a  people  compassed  by 
influences  of  the  wildest  freedom,— whose  schools  were 
the  forest  and  the  sea,  whose  trade  was  an  armed  barter 
with  savages,  and  whose  daily  life  a  lesson  of  lawless 
independence.  But  this  fierce  spirit  had  its  vent.  Th« 


x  INTRODUCTION. 

story  of  New  France  is,  from  the  first,  a  story  of  war  . 
of  war  —  for  so  her  founders  believed  —  with  the  adver- 
sary of  mankind  himself;  war  with  savage  tribes  and 
potent  forest-commonwealths ;  war  with  the  encroaching1 
powers  of  Heresy  and  of  England.  Her  brave,  unthink- 
ing people  were  stamped  with  the  soldier's  virtues  and 
the  soldier's  faults ;  and  in  their  leaders  were  displayed, 
on  a  grand  and  novel  stage,  the  energies,'  aspirations, 
and  passions  which  belong  to  hopes  vast  and  vague, 
ill-restricted  powers,  and  stations  of  command. 

The  growth  of  New  England  was  a  result  of  the 
aggregate  efforts  of  a  busy  multitude,  each  in  his  nar- 
row circle  toiling  for  himself,  to  gather  competence  or 
wealth.  The  expansion  of  New  France  was  the  achieve- 
ment of  a  gigantic  ambition  striving  to  grasp  a  conti- 
nent. It  was  a  vain  attempt.  Long  and  valiantly  her 
chiefs  upheld  their  cause,  leading  to  battle  a  vassal  pop- 
ulation, warlike  as  themselves.  Borne  down  by  num- 
bers from  without,  wasted  by  corruption  from  within, 
New  France  fell  at  last ;  and  out  of  her  fall  grew  revo- 
lutions whose  influence,  to  this  hour,  is  felt  through 
every  nation  of  the  civilized  world. 

The  French  dominion  is  a  memory  of  the  past; 
and,  when  we  evoke  its  departed  shades,  they  rise  upon 
us  from  their  graves  in  strange  romantic  guise.  Again 
their  ghostly  camp-fires  seem  to  burn,  and  the  fitful  light 
is  cast  around  on  lord  and  vassal  and  black  -  robed 
priest,  mingled  with  wild  forms  of  savage  warriors, 
knit  in  close  fellowship  on  the  same  stern  errand.  A 
boundless  vision  grows  upon  us :  an  untamed  conti- 


INTRODUCTION.  xj 

nent ;  vast  wastes  of  forest  verdure ;  mountains  silent 
in  primeval  sleep  ;  river,  lake,  and  glimmering  pool ; 
wilderness  oceans  mingling  with  the  sky.  Such  was 
the  domain  which  France  conquered  for  Civilization. 
Plumed  helmets  gleamed  in  the  shade  of  its  forests, 
priestly  vestments  in  its  dens  and  fastnesses  of  ancient 
barbarism.  Men  steeped  in  antique  learning,  pale  with 
the  dose  breath  of  the  cloister,  here  spent  the  noon  and 
evening  of  their  lives,  ruled  savage  hordes  with  a  mild, 
parental  sway,  and  stood  serene  before  the  direst  shapes 
of  death.  Men  of  courtly  nurture,  heirs  to  the  polish 
of  a  far-reaching  ancestry,  here,  with  their  dauntless 
hardihood,  put  to  shame  (he  boldest  sons  of  toil. 

This  memorable,  but  half-  forgotten  chapter  in  the 
book  of  human  life  can  be  rightly  read  only  by  lights 
numerous  and  widely  scattered.  The  earlier  period  of 
New  France  was  very  prolific  in  a  class  of  publications, 
which  are  often  of  much  historic  value,  but  of  which 
many  are  exceedingly  rare.  The  writer,  however,  has 
at  length  gained  access  to  them  all.  Of  the  unpub- 
lished records  of  the  colonies,  the  archives  of  France  are 
of  course  the  grand  deposit ;  but  many  documents  of 
important  bearing  on  the  subject  are  to  be  found  scat- 
tered in  public  and  private  libraries,  chiefly  in  France 
and  Canada.  The  task  of  collection  has  proved  abun- 
dantly irksome  and  laborious.  It  has,  however,  been 
greatly  lightened  by  the  action  of  the  governments  of 
New  York,  Massachusetts,  and  Canada,  in  collecting 
from  Europe  copies  of  documents  having  more  or  lesa 
relation  to  their  own  history.  It  has  been  greatly  light- 


xii  INTRODUCTION. 

ened,  too,  by  a  most  kind  cooperation,  for  which  the 
writer  owes  obligations  too  many  for  recognition  at 
present,  but  of  which  he  trusts  to  make  fitting  acknowl- 
edgment hereafter.  Yet  he  cannot  forbear  to  mention 
the  name  of  Mr.  John  Gilmary  Shea,  of  New  York, 
to  whose  labors  this  department  of  American  history 
has  been  so  deeply  indebted,  and  that  of  the  Hon. 
Henry  Black,  of  Quebec.  Nor  can  he  refrain  from 
expressing  his  obligation  to  the  skilful  and  friendly 
criticism  of  Mr.  Charles  Folsom. 

In  this,  and  still  more  must  it  be  the  case  in  suc- 
ceeding volumes,  the  amount  of  reading  applied  to  their 
composition  is  far  greater  than  the  citations  represent, 
much  of  it  being  of  a  collateral  and  illustrative  nature. 
This  was  essential  to  a  plan  whose  aim  it  was,  while 
scrupulously  and  rigorously  adhering  to  the  truth  of 
facts,  to  animate  them  with  the  life  of  the  past,  and,  so 
far  as  might  be,  clothe  the  skeleton  with  flesh.  If  at 
times  it  may  seem  that  range  has  been  allowed  to  fancy, 
it  is  so  in  appearance  only  ;  since  the  minutest  details 
of  narrative  or  description  rest  on  authentic  documents 
or  on  personal  observation. 

Faithfulness  to  the  truth  of  history  involves  far  more 
than  a  research,  however  patient  and  scrupulous,  into 
special  facts.  Such  facts  may  be  detailed  with  the 
most  minute  exactness,  and  yet  the  narrative,  taken 
as  a  whole,  may  be  unmeaning  or  untrue.  The  nar 
rator  must  seek  to  imbue  himself  with  the  life  and 
spirit  of  the  time.  He  must  study  events  in  their 
bearings  near  and  remote ;  in  the  character,  habits,  and 


INTRODUCTION.  xjjj 

manners  of  those  who  took  part  in  them.  He  must 
himself  be,  as  it  were,  a  sharer  or  a  spectator  of  the 
action  lie  describes. 

With  respect  to  that  special  research,  which,  if  in- 
adequate, is  still  in  the  most  emphatic  sense  indispen- 
sable, it  has  been  the  writer's  aim  to  exhaust  the  exist- 
ing material  of  every  subject  treated.  While  it  would 
be  folly  to  claim  success  in  such  an  attempt,  he  has 
reason  to  hope,  that,  so  far  at  least  as  relates  to  the 
present  volume,  nothing  of  much  importance  has  es- 
caped him.  With  respect  to  the  general  preparation 
just  alluded  to,  he  has  long  been  too  fond  of  his  theme 
to  neglect  any  means  within  his  reach  of  making  his 
conception  of  it  distinct  and  true. 

To  those  who  have  aided  him  with  information  and 
documents,  the  extreme  slowness  in  the  progress  of  the 
work  will  naturally  have  caused  surprise.  This  slow- 
ness was  unavoidable.  During  the  past  eighteen  years, 
the  state  of  his  health  has  exacted  throughout  an  ex- 
treme caution  in  regard  to  mental  application,  reduc- 
ing it  at  best  within  narrow  and  precarious  limits,  and 
often  precluding  it.  Indeed,  for  two  periods,  each  of 
several  years,  any  attempt  at  bookish  occupation  would 
have  been  merely  suicidal.  A  condition  of  sight  aris- 
ing from  kindred  sources  has  also  retarded  the  work, 
since  it  has  never  permitted  reading  or  writing  contin- 
uously for  much  more  than  five  minutes,  and  often  has 
not  permitted  them  at  "all.  A  previous  work,  The 
Conspiracy  of  Pontiac,  was  written  in  similar  cir- 
cumstances. 

b 


X1V  INTRODUCTION. 

The  writer  means,  if  possible,  to  carry  the  present 
design  to  its  completion.  Such  a  completion,  however, 
will  by  no  means  be  essential  as  regards  the  individ- 
ual volumes  of  the  series,  since  each  will  form  a  sepa- 
rate and  independent  work.  The  present  volume,  it 
will  be  seen,  contains  two  distinct  and  completed  narra- 
tives. Some  progress  has  been  made  in  others. 

BOSTOX,  January  1, 1865. 


CONTENTS. 


HUGUENOTS  IN  FLORIDA. 

PAOB 

PREFATORY  NOTE 1 

CHAPTER  I. 
1512-1561. 

EARLY    SPANISH    ADVENTURE. 

Spanish  Voyagers.  —  Romance  and  Avarice.  —  Ponce  de  Leon. — 
The  Fountain  of  Youth  and  the  River  Jordan.  —  Discovery  of 
Florida.  —  Garay.  —  Ayllon.  —  Paniphilo  de  Narvaez.  —  His  Fate. 
—  Hernando  de  Soto.  —  His  Enterprise.  —  His  Adventures.  —  His 
Death.  —  Succeeding  Voyagers.  —  Spanish  Claim  to  Florida.  — 
English  and  French  Claim.  —  Spanish  Jealousy  of  France 6 

CHAPTER  II. 

1550-1558. 

VILtEGAONON. 

Spain  in  the  Sixteenth  Century.  —  France.  —  The  Huguenots.  — 
The  Court.  —  Caspar  de  Coligny .  —  Priests  and  Monks.  —  Nicholas 
Durand  de  Villegagnon.  —  His  Exploits.  —  His  Character.  —  His 
Scheme  of  a  Protestant  Colony.  —  Huguenots  at  Rio  Janeiro.— 
Despotism  of  Villegagnon.  —  Villegagnon  and  the  Ministers.  — 
Polemics.  —  The  Ministers  expelled.  —  Their  Sufferings. — Ruin 
of  tha  Colony 16 

CHAPTER  III. 
1562,  1563. 

JEAN   RIBAUT. 

A  Second  Huguenot  Colony.  —  Coligny,  his  Position.  —  The  Hugue- 
not Party,  its  Motley  Character.  —  The  Puritans  of  Massachu- 
setts. —  Ribaut  sails  for  Florida.  —  The  River  of  May.  —  Hopes.  — 


XVJ  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Illusions.  —  The  Sea  Islands.  —  Port  Royal.  —  Charlesfort.  — Albert 
and  his  Colony.  —  Frolic.  —  Adventure.  —  Improvidence.  — 
Famine.  —  Mutiny.  —  Barre'  takes  Command.  —  A  Brigantine  built. 

—  Florida  abandoned.  —  Tempest.  —  Desperation.  —  Cannibalism.    28 

CHAPTER   IV. 
1564. 

LAUDONNIERE. 

The  New  Colony.  —  Rene  de  Laudonniere.  —  The  Peace  of  Amboise. 

—  Satouriona. —  The  Promised  Land.  —  Miraculous  Longevity.  — 
Fort  Caroline.  —  Native  Tribes.  —  Ottigny  explores  the  St.  John's. 

—  River  Scenery.  —  The  Thimagoa.  —  Conflicting  Alliances. — 
Indian  War.  —  Diplomacy  of  Laudonniere.  — Vasseur's  Expedition. 

—  Battle  and  Victory 42 

CHAPTER   V. 

1564,  1565. 

CONSPIRACY. 

Discontent.  —  Plot  of  Roquette. —  Piratical  Excursion.  —  Sedition.— 
Illness  uf  Laudonniere. — The  Commandant  put  in  Irons. — Plan 
of  the  Mutineers.  —  Buccaneering.  —  Disaster  and  Repentance.  — 
The  Ringleaders  hanged.  —  Order  restored 69 

CHAPTER   VI. 

1564,  1565. 

FAMINE.  —  WAR.  —  SUCCOR. 

La  Roche  Ferriere. — Pierre  Gamble.  —  The  King  of  Calos.  —  Ro- 
mantic Tales.  —  Ottigny's  Expedition.  —  Starvation.  —  Efforts  to 
escape  from  Florida.  —  Indians  unfriendly.  —  Seizure  of  Outina.  — 
Attempts  to  extort  Ransom.  — Ambuscade. —  Battle.  —  Desperation 
of  the  French.  —  Sir  John  Hawkins  relieves  them.  —  Ribaut  brings 
Reinforcements.  —  Advent  of  the  Spaniards 68 

CHAPTER  VII. 

1565. 

MENENDEZ. 

Spain. — Pedro  Menendez  de  Avilc's.  —  His  Boyhood. —  His  Early 
Career.  —  His  Petition  to  the  King.  —  Commissioned  to  conquer 


CONTENTS.  xv|| 

PAGE 

Florida.  —  His  Powers.  —  His  Designs.  —  A  New  Crusaic. — 
Sailing  of  the  Spanish  Fleet.  —  A  Storm.  — Porto  Hico. —  Energy 
of  Menendez. —  He  reaches  Florida.  — Attacks  Ribaut's  Ships. — 
Founds  St.  Augustine.  —  Alarm  of  the  French.  —  Bold  Decision 
of  Ribaut.  —  Defenceless  Condition  of  Fort  Caroline.  —  Hibaut 
thwarted.  —  Tempest.  —  Menendez  marches  on  the  Frencli  Fort.  — 
His  Desperate  Position.  —  The  Fort  taken.  —  The  Massacre.  — 
The  Fugitives 85 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

1565 

MASSACRE   OP   THE   HERETICS. 

Menendez  returns  to  St.  Augustine.  —  Tidings  of  the  French.  — 
Ribnut  shipwrecked.  —  The  March  of  Menendez.  —  He  discovers 
the  French.  —  Interviews.  —  Hopes  of  Mercy.  —  Surrender  of  the 
French.  —  Massacre.  —  Return  to  St.  Augustine.  —  Tidings  of 
Ribaut's  Party.  —  His  Interview  with  Menendez. —  Deceived  and 
betrayed.  —  Murdered.  —  Another  Massacre.  —  French  Accounts. 

—  Schemes  of  the  Spaniards.  —  Survivors  of  the  Carnage.  —  In- 
diflerence  of  the  Frencli  Court 119 

CHAPTER  IX. 
1567-1574. 

DOMINIQUE   DK   GOUUGUE8. 

His  Past  Life.—  His  Hatred  of  Spaniards.—  Resolves  on  Vengeance. 

—  His  Band  of  Adventurers.  —  His  Plan  divulged.  —  His  Speech.— 
Enthusiasm  of  his  Followers.  —  Condition  of  the   Spaniards.  — 
Arrival   of  Gourgues.  —  Interviews   with    Indians.  —  The  Span- 
iards attacked.  —  The    First   Fort  carried.  —  Another   Victory. 

—  The   Final   Triumph.  —  The   Prisoners   hanged.  —  The  Forts 
destroyed.  —  !5equel  of  Gourgues's  Career.  —  Menendez.  —  His 
Death 14° 

i* 


xviii  CONTENTS. 

CHAMPLALN  AND   HIS   ASSOCIATES. 

•      PACK 

PREFATORY  NOTE 166 

CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

1488-1543. 

EARLY    FRENCH   ADVENTURE    IN    NORTH    AMERICA. 

Traditions  of  French  Discovery.  —  Cousin.  —  Normans,  Bretons, 
Basques.  —  Legends  and  Superstitions.  —  Francis  I.  —  Verrazzano. 

—  His  Voyage  to  North  America.  —  Jacques  Cartier.  —  His  First 
Voyage.  —  His  Second  Voyage.  —  Anchors  at  Quebec. — Indian 
Masquerade.  —  Visits  Hochelaga. —  His  Reception.  —  Mont  Royal. 

—  Winter  at  Quebec.  —  Scurvy.  —  Wonderful  Cures.  —  Kidnap- 
ping. —  Return   to  France.  —  Roberval.  —  Spanish  Jealousy.  — 
Cartier's  Third  Voyage.  —  Cap  Rouge.  —  Roberval  sails  for  New 
France.  —  His  Meeting  with  Cartier.  —  Marguerite  and  the  Isle  of 
Demons.  —  Roberval  at   Cap  Rouge. —  His  Severity. — Ruin  of 
the  Colony.  —  His  Death 169 

CHAPTER  II. 

1542-1604. 

LA    ROCHE.  —  CHAMPLAIN.  —  DE    MONTS. 

French  Fishermen  and  Fur-Traders.  —  La  Roche.  —  His  Voyage.  — 
The  Convicts  of  Sable  Island.  —  Pontgrave*  and  Chauvin.  — 
Tadoussac.  —  Henry  the  Fourth.  —  Tranquillity  restored  in 
France.  —  Samuel  de  Champlain.  —  He  visits  the  West  Indies 
and  Mexico.  —  His  Character.  —  De  Chastes  and  Champlain. — 
Champlain  and  Pontgrave  explore  the  St.  Lawrence.  —  Death  of 
De  Chastes.  —  De  Monts.  —  His  Acadian  Schemes.  —  His  Patent.  208 

CHAPTER  III. 

1604,  1605. 

ACADIA   OCCUPIED. 

Catholic  and  Calvinist.  —  The  Lost  Priest.  —  Port  Royal.  —  The 
Colony  of  St.  Croix.  —  Winter  Miseries.  —  Explorations  of 
Champlain.  —  lie  visits  the  Coast  of  Massachusetts.  —  De  Monts 
at  Port  Royal 223 


CONTENTS.  xlx 

CHAPTER  IV. 

1605-1G07. 

LESCARBOT    AND    C1IA MI'L.VI.V. 

FAUX 

De  Monts  at  Paris. —  Marc  Lesearbot. —  Rochelle. —  A  New  Em- 
barkation.—  The  Ship  aground. —  The  Outward  Voyage.  —  Arri- 
val at  Port  Royal.  —  Disappointment.  —  Voyage  of  Cliamplain.  — 
Skirmish  with  Indians.  —  Masquerade  of  Lescarbot.  —  Winter 
Life  at  Port  Royal.  —  L'Ordre  de  Bon-Temps.  —  Excursions. — 
Spring  Employments.  —  Hopes  blighted.  —  Port  Royal  abandoned. 

—  Membertou.  —  Return  to  France 234 

CHAPTER  V. 

1610,  1611. 

THE    JESUITS   AND    TIIKIR   PATRONESS. 

Schemes  of  Poutrincourt.  —  The  Jesuits  and  the  King.  —  The 
Jesuits  disappointed.  —  Sudden  Conversions.  —  Indian  Proselytes. 

—  Assassination  of  the  King.  — Biencourt  at  Court.  —  Madame  de 
Guercheville.  —  She  resists  the  King's  Suit.  —  Becomes  a  Devotee. 

—  Her  Associates  at  Court.  —  She  aids  the  Jesuits.  —  Biard  and 
Masse.  —  They  sail  for  America 251 

CHAPTER   VI. 

1611,  1612. 

JESUITS    IN   ACADIA. 

The  Jesuits  arrive.  —  Collision  of  Powers  Temporal  and  (Spiritual. 

—  Excursion  of  Biencourt.  —  Father  Masse.  —  His  experience  as 
a  Missionary.  —  Death  of  Membertou.  —  Father  Biard's  Indian 
Studies.  —  Dissension.  —  Misery  at  Port  Royal.  —  Grant  to  Madame 
de  Guercheville.  —  Gilbert  du  Thet.  —  Quarrels.  —  Anathemas.  — 
Truce 264 

CHAPTER  VII. 
1613. 

8ADS8AYE.  —  AROALL. 

Forlorn  Condition  of  Poutrincourt.  —  Voyage  of  Saussaye.  — Mount 
Desert.  —  -St.  Savior.  —  The  Jesuit  Colony.  —  Captain  Samuel 
Argall.  —  lie  attacks  the  French.  —  Death  of  Du  Thet.  —  Knav- 
ery of  Arg*"..  —  St.  Savior  destroyed.  —  The  Prisoners 278 


XX  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
1613-1015. 

RUIN  OF  FRENCH  ACADIA. 

FAGK 

The  Jesuits  at  Jamestown.  —  Wrath  of  Sir  Thomas  Dale.  —  Second 
Expedition  of  Argall.  —  Port  Royal  demolished.  —  Equivocal 
Posture  of  the  Jesuits  — Jeopardy  of  Father  Biard.  —  Biencourt 
and  Argall.  —  Adventures  of  Biard  and  Quentin.  —  Sequel  of 
Argall's  History.  — Death  of  Poutrincourt. —  The  Freneli  will  not 
abandon  Acadia 284 

CHAPTER   IX. 

1608,  1609. 

CHAMPLAIN    AT    QUEBEC. 

A  New  Enterprise. —  The  St.  Lawrence.  —  Conflict  with  Basques. 

—  Tadoussac.  —  The  Saguenay.  —  Quehec  founded.  —  Conspiracy. 

—  The  Montagnais.  —  Winter  at  Quebec.  —  Spring.  —  Projects  of 
Exploration 296 

CHAPTER  X. 

1600, 

LAKE    CHAM  PLAIN. 

Champlain  joins  a  War-Part}-.  —  Preparation.  —  War-Dance.  — 
Departure. — The  River  Riuhelieu.  —  The  Rapids  of  Chambly. 

—  The  Spirits    consulted.  —  Discovery    of   Lake    Champlain. — 
Battle    with   the   Iroquois.  —  Fate    of   Prisoners. — Panic  of  the 
Viet  jrs 310 

CHAPTER  XI. 
1610-1612. 

WAR. TRADE.  —  DISCOVERY. 

Champlain  at  Fontainebleau.  —  Champlain  on  the  St.  Lawrence. — 
Alarm.  —  Battle.  —  Victory.  —  War-Parties.  —  Rival  Traders.  — 
Icebergs. — Adventurers. —  Champlain  at  Montreal.  —  Return  to 
France.  —  Narrow  Escape  of  Champlain.  —  The  Comte  de  Sea- 
sons. —  The  Prince  of  Conde.  —  Designs  of  Champlain 326 


CONTENTS.  XX| 

CHAPTER  XII. 
1612,  1613. 

THE    IMPOSTOR   VIGNAW. 

PAOB 

Illusions.  —  A  Path  to  the  North  Sea.  —  Cfiamplain  on  the  Ottawa. 

—  Forest  Travellers.  —  The  Cliaudiere.  —  Isle  des  Allumettes. — 
Ottawa  Towns.  —  Tessouat.  —  Indian  Cemetery.  —  Feast. —  The 
Impostor  exposed.  —  Return   of   Champlain. —  False  Alarm.— 
Arrival  at  Montreal 839 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
1615. 

DISCOVERY    OF    LAKE    HURON. 

Religious  Zeal  of  Champlain.  —  Recollet  Friars.  —  St.  Francis.  — 
The  Franciscans.  —  The  Friars  in  New  France.  —  Dolbeau. —  Le 
Caron.  —  Policy  of  Champlain.  —  Missions.  — Trade.  —  Explo- 
ration.—  War.  —  Le  Caron  on  the  Ottawa.  —  Cliamplain's  Ex- 
pedition. —  He  reaches  Lake  Nipissing.  —  Embarks  on  Lake 
Huron.  —  The  Huron  Villages.  —  Meeting  with  Le  Caron.  —  Mass 
in  the  Wilderness 867 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
1615,1616. 

THE   GREAT   WAR-PARTY. 

Muster  of  Warriors.  —  Departure.  —  The  River  Trent.  —  Deer-Huns. 

—  Lake  Ontario.  —  The  Iroquois  Town.  —  Attack.  —  Repulse.  — 
Champlain  wounded.  —  Retreat.  —  Adventures  of  Etienne  Brule". 

—  Winter  Hunt.  —  Champlain   lost  in   the  Forest.  —  Returns  to 
the  Huron  Villages.  —  Visits  the  Tobacco  Nation   and   tbe  Che- 
ceux  Releces  —  Becomes   Umpire  of  Indian   Quarrels.  —  Returns 

to  Quebec 870 

CHAPTER  XV. 
1616-1627. 

HOSTILE   SECTS. — RIVAL   INTERESTS. 

Quebec.  —  Condition  of  the  Colonists.  —  Dissensions. — Montmorcn- 
cy.  —  Arrival  of  Madame  de  Champlain.  —  Her  History  and 
Character.  —  Indian  Hostility  —  The  Monopoly  of  William  and 
Emery  de  Caen.  —  The  Due  de  Vuntadour.  —  The  Jesuits.  — 


xxji  CONTENTS. 

PACK 

Their  Arrival  at  Quebec.  —  Catholics  and  Heretics.  —  Com- 
promises. —  The  Rival  Colonies.  —  Despotism  in  New  France  and 
in  New  England.  —  Richelieu.  —  The  Company  of  the  Hundred 
Associates 887 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

1628,  1629. 

THE    ENGLISH   AT    QUEBEC. 

Revolt  of  Rochelle. — War  with  England,  -r-  David  Kirk. — The 
English  on  the  St.  Lawrence.  —  Alarms  at  Quebec.  —  Bold  Atti- 
tude of  Champlain.  —  Naval  Battle.  —  The  French  Squadron 
destroyed.  —  Famine  at  Quebec.  —  Return  of  the  English.  — 
Quebec  surrendered.  —  Another  Naval  Battle.  —  Michel.  —  His 
Quarrel  with  Brebeuf.  —  His  Death.  —  Exploit  of  Daniel.  — 
Champlain  at  London 401 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

1632-1635. 

DEATH    OF   CHAMPLAIN. 

New  France  restored  to  the  French  Crown.  —  Motives  for  reclaiming 
it.  —  Caen  takes  Possession  of  Quebec.  —  Return  of  Jesuits.— 
Arrival  of  Champlain.  —  Daily  Xife  at  Quebec.  —  Policy  and 
Religion.  —  Death  of  Champlain. — His  Character. — Future  of 
No«r  France 412 


HUGUENOTS  IN  FLORIDA; 


SKETCH   OF  HUGUENOT  COLONIZATION  IN   BRAZIL. 


HUGUENOTS  IN  FLORIDA. 


THE  story  of  New  France  opens  with  a  tragedy. 
The  political  and  religious  enmities  which  were  soon  to 
bathe  Europe  in  blood  broke  out  with  an  intense  and 
concentred  fury  in  the  distant  wilds  of  Florida.  It 
was  under  equivocal  auspices  that  Coligny  and  his  par- 
tisans essayed  to  build  up  a  Calvinist  France  in  Amer- 
ica, and  the  attempt  was  met  by  all  the  forces  of  national 
rivalry,  personal  interest,  and  religious  hate. 

This  striking-  passage  of  our  early  history  is  remark- 
able for  the  fulness  and  precision  of  the  authorities  that 
illustrate  it.  The  incidents  of  the  Huguenot  occupa- 
tion of  Florida  are  recorded  by  eight  eye  -  witnesses. 
Their  evidence  is  marked  by  an  unusual  accord  in  re- 
spect to  essential  facts,  as  well  as  by  a  minuteness  of 
statement  which  suggests  vivid  pictures  of  the  events 
described.  The  following  are  the  principal  authorities 
consulted  for  the  main  body  of  the  narrative. 

Ribauld,  The  Whole  and  True  Discoverie  of  Terra 
Florida.  This  is  Captain  Jean  Ribaut's  account  of 
his  voyage  to  Florida  in  1562.  It  was  "prynted  at 
London,"  "  newly  set  forthe  in  Englishe  "  in  1563,  and 
reprinted  by  Hakluyt  in  1582  in  his  black-letter  tract 
1 


2  HUGUENOTS  IN  FLORIDA. 

entitled  Divers  Voyages.     It  is  not  known  to  exist  in 
the  original  French. 

L'Histoire  Notable  de  la  Floride,  mise  en  lumiere 
par  M.  Basanier,  (Paris,  1586).  The  most  valuable 
portion  of  this  work  consists  of  the  letters  of  Rene  de 
Laudonniere,  the  French  commandant  in  Florida  in 
1564,  '65.  They  are  interesting,  and,  with  necessary 
allowance  for  the  position  and  prejudices  of  the  writer, 
trustworthy. 

Challeux,  Discours  de  VHistoire  de  la  Floride^ 
(Dieppe,  1566).  Challeux  was  a  carpenter,  who  went 
to  Florida  in  1565.  He  was  above  sixty  years  of  age, 
a  zealous  Huguenot,  and  a  philosopher  in  his  way. 
His  story  is  affecting  from  its  simplicity.  Various  edi- 
tions of  it  appeared  under  various  titles. 

Le  Moyne,  Brevis  Narratio  eorum  quce  in  Florida 
Americw  Provincid  Gallis  acciderunt.  Le  Moyne 
was  Laudonniere's  artist.  His  narrative  forms  the 
Second  Part  of  the  Grands  Voyages  of  De  Bry, 
(Frankfort,  1591).  It  is  illustrated  by  numerous 
drawings  made  by  the  writer  from  memory,  and  accom- 
panied with  descriptive  letter-press. 

Coppie  d'une  Lettre  venant  de  la  Floride,  (Paris, 
1565).  This  is  a  letter  from  one  of  the  adventurers 
under  Laudonniere.  It  is  reprinted  in  the  Recueil  de 
Pieces  sur  la  Floride  of  Ternaux-Compans. 

line  Requcte  au  Roy,  faite  en  forme  de  Complainte, 
(1566).  This  is  a  petition  for  redress  to  Charles  the 
Ninth  from  the  relatives  of  the  French  massacred  in 
Florida  by  the  Spaniards.  It  recounts  many  incidents 
of  tii  lit  tragedy. 


HUGUENOTS  IN  FLORIDA.  3 

La,  Reprinse  de  la  Floride  par  le  Cappitaine  Gourgue. 
This  is  a  manuscript  in  the  Bibliotheque  Imperiale, 
printed  in  the  Recueil  of  Ternaux-Compans.  It  con- 
tains a  detailed  account  of  the  remarkable  expedition 
of  Dominique  de  Gourgues  against  the  Spaniards  in 
Florida  in  1567,  '68. 

Charlevoix,  in  his  Histoire  de  la  Nouvelle  France, 
speaks  of  another  narrative  of  this  expedition,  in  manu- 
script, preserved  in  the  Gourgues  family.  A  copy  of 
it,  made  in  1831  by  the  Vicomte  de  Gourgues,  has  been 
placed  at  the  writer's  disposal. 

Various  works  upon  the  Huguenots  in  Florida,  in 
French  and  Latin,  were  published  towards  the  end  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  but  all  are  founded  on  some  one 
or  more  of  those  just  named.  The  Spanish  authorities 
are  the  following  :  — 

Barcia,  (Cardenas  y  Cauo,)  Ensaijo  Cronologico  para 
la  Historia  General  de  la  Florida^  (Madrid,  1723). 
This  annalist  had  access  to  original  documents,  of  great 
interest.  Some  of  them  are  used  as  material  for  his 
narrative,  others  are  copied  entire.  Of  these,  the  most 
remarkable  is  that  of  Soils  de  las  Meras,  Memorial 
de  todas  las  Jornadas  de  la  Conquista  de  la  Florida. 

Francisco  Lopez  de  Mendoza,  De  Theureux  resul- 
tat  et  du  bon  voyage  que  Dieu  notre  Seigneur  a  lien 
voulu  accordcr  a  la  flotte  qui  par  tit  de  la  ville  de  Cadiz 
pour  se  rendre  a  la  cote  de  la  Floride.  This  is  a  Span- 
ish manuscript,  translated  into  French  and  printed  in 
the  Recueil  de  Pieces  sur  la  Floride  of  Teruaux-Cam- 
pans.  Mendoza  was  chaplain  of  the  expedition  com- 


4,  HUGUENOTS  IN  FLORIDA. 

manded  by  Menendez  de  Aviles,  and,  like  Soils,  ho  was 
an  eye-witness  of  the  events  which  he  relates. 

Pedro  Menendez  de  Aviles,  Siete  Cartas  escritas  al 
Ret/,  Anos  de  1565  y  1566,  MSS.  These  are  the 
despatches  of  the  Adelantado  Menendez  to  Philip  the 
Second.  They  were  procured  for  the  writer,  together 
with  other  documents,  from  the  archives  of  Seville,  and 
their  contents  are  now  for  the  first  time  made  public. 
They  consist  of  seventy  -  two  closely  written  foolscap 
pages,  and  are  of  the  highest  interest  and  value  as 
regards  the  present  subject,  confirming  and  amplifying 
the  statements  of  Soils  and  Mendoza,  and  giving  new 
and  curious,  information  with  respect  to  the  designs  of 
Spain  upon  the  continent  of  North  America. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  specify  here  the  authorities  for 
the  introductory  and  subordinate  portions  of  the  narra- 
tive. 

The  writer  is  indebted  to  Mr.  Buckingham  Smith, 
for  procuring  copies  of  documents  from  the  archives 
of  Spain ;  to  Mr.  Bancroft,  the  historian  of  the  United 
States,  for  the  use  of  the  Vicomte  de  Gourgues's  copy 
of  the  journal  describing  the  expedition  of  his  ancestor 
against  the  Spaniards  ;  and  to  Mr.  Charles  Russell 
Lowell  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum,  and  Mr.  John  Lang- 
don  Sibley,  Librarian  of  Harvard  College,  for  obliging 
aid  in  consulting  books  and  papers. 

The  portrait  at  the  beginning  of  this  volume  is  a 
fac-si-uile  from  an  old  Spanish  engraving,  of  undoubted 
authenticity.  This,  also,  was  obtained  through  the  kind- 
ness of  Mr.  Buckingham  Smith. 


HUGUENOTS  IN  FLORIDA. 
CHAPTER  I. 

1512  — 1561. 
EARLY    SPANISH    ADVENTURE. 

SPANISH  VOYAGKKS. — ROMANCE  AND  AVARICE. —  PONCE  DK  LEON. —  IHB 
FOUNTAIN  OF  YOUTH  AND  TUB  RIVER  JORDAN.  —  FLORIDA  DISCOVERED. 
—  PAMPHILO  DE  NARVAEZ.  —  HERNANDO  DE  SOTO — His  CAREER.  —  His 
DEATH.  —  SUCCEEDING  VOYAGERS.  —  SPANISH  CLAIM  TO  FLORIDA.  — 
SPANISH  JEALOUSY  OF  FRANCE. 

TOWARDS  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  Spain 
achieved  her  final  triumph  over  the  infidels  of  Granada, 
and  made  her  name  glorious  through  all  generations  by 
the  discovery  of  America.  The  religious  zeal  and  ro- 
mantic daring'  which  a  long-  course  of  Moorish  wars 
had  called  forth,  were  now  exalted  to  redoubled  fervor. 
Every  ship  from  the  New  World  came  freighted  with 
marvels  which  put  the  fictions  of  chivalry  to  shame ; 
and  to  the  Spaniard  of  that  day  America  was  a  region 
of  wonder  and  mystery,  of  vague  and  magnificent  prom-  / 
ise.  Thither  adventurers  hastened,  thirsting  for  glory 
and  for  gold,  and  often  mingling  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  crusader  and  the  valor  of  the  knight-errant  with  the 
bigotry  of  inquisitors  and  the  rapacity  of  pirates.  They 
roamed  over  land  and  sea ;  they  climbed  unknown 
i* 


g  EARLY  SPANISH  ADVENTURE.  [1512. 

mountains,  surveyed  unknown  oceans,  pierced  the  sultry 
intricacies  of  tropical  forests  ;  while  from  year  to  year 
and  from  day  to  day  new  wonders  were  unfolded,  new 
islands  and  archipelagoes,  new  regions  of  gold  and  pearl, 
and  barbaric  empires  of  more  than  Oriental  wealth. 
The  extravagance  of  hope  and  the  fever  of  adventure 
knew  no  bounds.  Nor  is  it  surprising  that  amid  such 
waking  marvels  the  imagination  should  run  wild  in 
romantic  dreams ;  that  between  the  possible  and  the 
impossible  the  line  of  distinction  should  be  but  faintly 
drawn,  and  that  men  should  be  found  ready  to  stake 
life  and  honor  in  pursuit  of  the  most  insane  fantasies. 

Such  a  man  was  Juan  Ponce  de  Leon,  a  veteran  cav- 
alier, whose  restless  spirit  age  could  not  tame.  Still 
greedy  of  honors  and  of  riches,  he  embarked  at  Porto 
Rico  with  three  brigantines,  bent  on  schemes  of  discov- 
ery. But  that  which  gave,  the  chief  stimulus  to  bis 
enterprise  was  a  story,  current  among  the  Indians  of 
Cuba  and  Hispaniola,  that  on  the  island  of  Bimini,  one 
of  the  Lucayos,  there  was  a  fountain  of  such  virtue, 
that,  bathing  in  its  waters,  old  men  resumed  their  youth.1 

i  Herrera,  Hist.  General,  d.  I.  1.  IX.  c.  XII. ;  De  Laet,  Norns  Orbt's,  1. 
T.  c.  XVI. ;  Garcilaso,  Hist.,  dela  Florida,  p.  1. 1.  I.  c.  III.  Gornara,  Hist. 
Gen.  des  Indes  Occident  ales,  1.  II.  c.  X.  Compare  Peter  Martyr,  DK  Ili-hus 
Oceanicis,  d.  VII.  c.  VII.,  who  says  that  the  fountain  was  in  Florida. 

The  stor}7  hap  an  explanation  sufficiently  characteristic,  having  been 
suggested,  it  is  said,  by  the  beauty  of  the  native  women,  which  none 
could  resist,  and  which  kindled  the  fires  of  youth  in  the  veins  of  age. 

The  terms  of  Ponce  de  Leon's  bargain  with  the  King  are  set  forth  in 
the  MS.  Capitulation  con  Juan  Ponce  sobre  Biminy.  He  was  to  have 
exclusive  right  to  the  island,  settle  it  at  his  own  cost,  and  be  called 
Adelantado  of  Bimini  ;  but  the  King  was  to  build  and  hold  forts  there, 
send  agents  to  divide  the  Indians  among  the  settlers,  and  receive  Srst  a 
tenth,  afterward  a  fifth  of  the  gold. 


1528.]  PONCE.  —  PAMPHILO  DE  NARVAEZ.  7 

It  was  said,  moreover,  that  on  a  neighboring  shore 
might  be  found  a  river  gifted  with  the  same  beneficent 
property,  and  believed  by  some  to  be  no  other  than  the 
Jordan.1  Ponce  de  Leon  found  the  island  of  Bimini, 
but  not  the  fountain.  Farther  westward,  in  the  latitude 
of  thirty  degrees  and  eight  minutes,  he  approached  an 
unknown  land  which  he  named  Florida,  and  steering1 

'  C* 

southward,  explored  its  coast  as  far  as  the  extreme 
point  of  the  peninsula,  when,  after  some  farther  explo- 
rations, he  retraced  his  course  to  Porto  Rico. 

Ponce  de  Leon  had  not  regained  his  youth,  but  his 
active  spirit  was  unsubdued. 

Nine  years  later  he  attempted  to  plant  a  colony  in 
Florida  ;  but  the  Indians  attacked  him  fiercely  ;  he  was 
mortally  wounded,  and  died  soon  afterwards  in  Cuba.2 

The  voyages  of  Garay  and  Vasquez  de  Aylion 
threw  new  light  on  the  discoveries  of  Ponce,  and  the 
general  outline  of  the  coasts  of  Florida  became  known 
to  the  Spaniards.3  Meanwhile,  Cortes  had  conquered 
Mexico,  and  the  fame  of  that  iniquitous  but  magnificent 
exploit  rang  through  all  Spain.  Many  an  impatient 
cavalier  burned  to  achieve  a  kindred  fortune.  To  the 
excited  fancy  of  the  Spaniards  the  unknown  land  of  Flor- 
ida seemed  the  seat  of  surpassing  wealth,  and  Pamplnlo 
de  Narvaez  essayed  to  possess  himself  of  its  fancied 

1  Fontanedo  in  Tcrnatix-Compans,  Rcc.iieil  siir  la   Floride,  18,  19,  42. 
Compare  Horrera  as  above  cited.     In  allusion  to  this  belief,  the  name 
Jordan  was  given  eight  years  afterwards  by  Aylion  to  a  river  of  South 
Carolina. 

2  Hakluyt,   Voyayes,  V.  333;    Herrera,  d.  III.  1.  I.  c.  XIV.  ;   BarcU, 
Kiif.ii//o  Croiiolot/ico,  5. 

8  Peter  Martyr  in  Hakluyt,  V.  333,  503;  De  Laet,  1.  IV.  c.  II. 


3  EARLY  SPANISH  ADVENTURE.  [1628. 

treasures.  Landing  on  its  shores,  and  proclaiming  de- 
struction to  the  Indians  unless  they  acknowledged  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Pope  and  the  Emperor,1  he  advanced 
into  the  forests  with  three  hundred  men.  Nothing  could 
exceed  their  sufferings.  Nowhere  could  they  find  the 
gold  they  came  to  seek.  The  village  of  Appalache, 
where  they  hoped  to  gain  a  rich  booty,  offered  nothing 
but  a  few  mean  wigwams.  The  horses  gave  out,  and 
the  famished  soldiers  fed  upon  their  flesh.  The  men 
sickened,  and  the  Indians  unceasingly  harassed  their 
march.  At  length,  after  two  hundred  and  eighty 
leagues2  of  wandering,  they  found  themselves'  on  the 
northern  shore  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  desperately 
put  to  sea  in  such  crazy  boats  as  their  skill  and  means 
could  construct.  Cold,  disease,  famine,  thirst,  and  the 
fury  of  the  waves,  melted  them  away.  Narvaez  him- 
self perished,  and  of  his  wretched  followers  no  more 
than  four  escaped,  reaching  by  land,  after  years  of  vicis- 
situde, the  Christian  settlements  of  New  Spain.3 

The  interior  of  the  vast  country  then  comprehended 
under  the  name  of  Florida  still  remained  unexplored. 

1  Sommation  aux  Habitants  de  la  Floride,  in  Ternaux-Compans,  1. 

2  Their  own  exaggerated  reckoning.     The  journey  was  from  Tampa 
Bay  to  the  Appalachicola,  by  a  circuitous  route. 

8  Narrative  of  Alvar  Nunez  Cabepa  de  Vaca,  second  in  command  to 
Narvaez,  translated  by  Buckingham  Smith.  Cabe^a  de  Vaca  was  one  of 
the  four  who  escaped,  and,  after  living  for  years  among  the  tribes  of 
Mississippi,  crossed  the  River  Mississippi  near  Memphis,  journeyed  west- 
ward by  the  waters  of  the  Arkansas  and  Red  River  to  New  Mexico  and 
Chihuahua,  thence  to  Cinaloa  on  the  Gulf  of  California,  and  thence  to 
Mexico.  The  narrative  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  early  rela- 
tions. See  also  Ramusio,  III.  310,  and  Purchas,  IV.  1499,  where  a  por- 
tion of  Cabeca  de  Vaca  is  given.  Also,  Garcilaso,  c.  III. ;  Go.nara,  1.  II. 
c.  XI. ;  De  Laet,  1.  IV.  c.  III. ;  Barcia,  Ensayo  Cronologico,  19. 


1639  J  HERNANDO   DE   SOTO.  Q 

The  Spanish  voyager,  as  his  caravel  ploughed  the  ad- 
jacent seas,  might  give  full  scope  to  his  imagination, 
and  dream  that  beyond  the  long,  low  margin  of  for- 
est which  bounded  his  horizon  lay  hid  a  rich  harvest 
for  some  future  conqueror ;  perhaps  a  second  Mexico 
with  its  royal  palace  and  sacred  pyramids,  or  another 
Cuzco  with  its  temple  of  the  Sun,  encircled  with  a 
frieze  of  gold.  Haunted  by  such  visions,  the  ocean 
chivalry  of  Spain  could  not  long  stand  idle. 

Hernando  de  Soto  was  the  companion  of  Pizarro  in 
the  conquest  of  Peru.  He  had  come  to  America  a 
needy  adventurer,  with  no  other  fortune  than  his  sword 
and  target.  But  his  exploits  had  given  him  fame  and 
fortune,  and  he  appeared  at  court  with  the  retinue  of  a 
nobleman.1  Still  his  active  energies  could  not  endure 
repose,  and  his  avarice  and  ambition  goaded  him  to  fresh 
enterprises.  He  asked  and  obtained  permission  to  con- 
quer Florida.  While  this  design  was  in  agitation,  Ca- 
bec;a  de  Vaca,  one  of  those  who  had  survived  the  expe- 
dition of  Narvaez,  appeared  in  Spain,  and  for  purposes 
of  his  own  spread  abroad  the  mischievous  falsehood,  that 
Florida  was  the  richest  country  yet  discovered.2  De 
Soto's  plans  were  embraced  with  enthusiasm.  Nobles 
and  gentlemen  contended  for  the  privilege  of  joining  his 
standard  ;  and,  setting  sail  with  an  ample  armament,  he 
landed  at  the  Bay  of  Espiritu  Santo,  now  Tampa  Bay, 
in  Florida,  with  six  hundred  and  twenty  chosen  men,8 

1  Hilntion  nf  the.  Portuguese  Ufntleman  of  Eleat,  c.  I.     See  Devxbrimcnto 
da  Florida,  c.  I.    See,  also,  Hakluyt,  V.  483. 
-  Relation  of  I/if  Genii  f  man  of  Elms,  e.  1 1. 
1  Rdation  of  Eitdma,  in   Ternaux-Compans,  51.     The  Gentleman  of 


JO  EARLY  SPANISH  ADVENTURE.  [1541. 

a  band  as  gallant  and  well  appointed,  as  eager  in  pur- 
pose and  audacious  in  hope,  as  ever  trod  the  shores  of 
the  New  World.  The  clangor  of  trumpets,  the  neighing 
of  horses,  the  fluttering  of  pennons,  the  glittering  of 
helmet  and  lance,  startled  the  ancient  forest  with  un- 
wonted greeting.  Amid  this  pomp  of  chivalry,  religion 
was  not  forgotten.  The  sacred  vessels  and  vestments 
with  bread  and  wine  for  the  Eucharist  were  carefully 
provided  ;  and  De  Soto  himself  declared  that  the  enter- 
prise was  undertaken  for  God  alone,  and  seemed  to  be 
the  object  of  His  especial  care.1  These  devout  maraud- 
ers could  not  neglect  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  Indians 
whom  they  had  come  to  plunder  ;  and  besides  fetters 
to  bind,  and  bloodhounds  to  hunt  them,  they  brought 
priests  and  monks  for  the  saving  of  their  souls. 

The  adventurers  began  their  march.  Their  story  has 
been  often  told.  For  mont-h  after  month  and  year  after 
year,  the  procession  of  priests  and  cavaliers,  cross-bow- 
men, arquebusiers,  and  Indian  captives  laden  with  the 
baggage,  still  wandered  on  through  wild  and  houndless 
wastes,  lured  hither  and  thither  by  the  ignis- fatims  of 
their  hopes.  They  traversed  great  portions  of  Georgia, 
Alabama,  and  Mississippi,  everywhere  inflicting  and 
enduring  misery,  but  never  approaching  their  phantom 
El  Dorado.  At  length,  in  the  third  year  of  their  journey- 
ing, they  reached  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  a  hun- 
dred and  thirty-two  years  before  its  second  discovery  by 

Elvas  says  in  round  numbers  six  hundred.  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  who 
is  unworthy  of  credit,  makes  the  number  much  greater. 

1  Letter  from  De  Soto  to  the  Municipality  of  Santiago,  dated  at  the 
Harbor  of  Espiritu  Santo,  9  July,  1539.    See  Ternaux-Compans,  43. 


1541.]  DEATH  OF  DE   SOTO. 


11 


Marquette.  One  of  tlieir  number  describes  the  great 
river  as  almost  half  a  league  wide,  deep,  rapid,  and 
constantly  rolling  down  trees  and  drift-wood  on  its  tur- 
bid current.1 

The  Spaniards  crossed  over  at  a  point  above  the 
mouth  of  the  Arkansas.  They  advanced  westward,  but 
found  no  treasures, — nothing  indeed  but  hardships,  and 
an  Indian  enemy,  furious,  writes  one  of  their  officers, 
"as  mad  dogs."2  They  heard  of  a  country  towards 
the  north  where  maize  could  not  be  cultivated  because 
the  vast  herds  of  wild  cattle  devoured  it.3  They 
penetrated  so  far  that  they  entered  the  range  of  the 
roving  prairie  -  tribes ;  for,  one  day,  as  they  pushed 
their  way  with  difficulty  across  great  plains  covered 
with  tall,  rank  grass,  they  met  a  band  of  savages  who 
dwelt  in  lodges  of  skins  sewed  together,  subsisting  on 
game  alone,  and  wandering  perpetually  from  place  to 
place.4  Finding  neither  gold  nor  the  .South  Sea,  for 
both  of  which  ihey  had  hoped,  they  returned  to  the 
banks  of  the  Mississippi. 

De  Soto,  says  one  of  those  who  accompanied  him, 
was  a  "  stern  man,  and  of  few  words."  Even  in  the 
midst  of  reverses,  his  will  had  been  law  to  his  followers, 
and  he  had  sustained  himself  through  the  depths  of  dis- 
appointment with  the  energy  of  a  stubborn  pride,  lint 
his  hour  was  come.  He  fell  into  deep  dejection,  followed 

1  Portuguese.  Relation,  c.  XXII. 

2  Bieclma,  95. 

8  Portuguese  Relation,  c.  XXIV.  A  still  earlier  mention  of  the  bison 
occurs  in  the  journal  of  Cabeca  de  V;ica.  Tlievet,  in  his  Siu-i>\l>trilA, 
1558,  gives  a  picture  intended  to  represent  a  bison-bull.  Coronado  saw  thii 
animal  in  1540,  but  was  not,  as  some  assert,  its  first  discoverer. 

*  Biedma  91 


Jg  EARLY  SPANISH  ADVENTURE.  i!648. 

by  an  attack  of  fever,  and  soon  after  died  miserably. 
To  preserve  his  body  from  the  Indians,  his  followers 
sank  it  at  midnight  in  the  river,  and  the  sullen  waters 
of  the  Mississippi  buried  his  ambition  and  his  hopes.1 

The  adventurers  were  now,  with  few  exceptions,  dis- 
gusted with  the  enterprise,  and  longed  only  to  escape 
from  the  scene  of  their  miseries.  After  a  vain  attempt 
to  reach  Mexico  by  land,  they  again  turned  hack  to  the 
Mississippi,  and  labored,  with  all  the  resources  which 
their  desperate  necessity  could  suggest,  to  construct  ves- 
sels in  which  they  might  make  their  way  to  some  Chris- 
tian settlement.  Their  condition  was  most  forlorn.  Few 
of  their  horses  remained  alive ;  their  baggage  had  been 
destroyed  at  the  burning  of  the  Indian  town  of  Mavila, 
and  many  of  the  soldiers  were  without  armor  and  with- 
out weapons.  In  place  of  the  gallant  array  which,  more 
than  three  years  before,  had  left  the  harbor  of  Espiritu 
Santo,  a  company  of  sickly  and  starving  men  were 
laboring  among  the  swampy  forests  of  the  Mississippi, 
some  clad  in  skins,  and  some  in  mats  woven  from  a 
kind  of  wild  vine.2 

Seven  brigantines  were  finished  and  launched ;  and, 
trusting  their  lives  on  board  these  frail  vessels,  they  de- 
scended the  Mississippi,  running  the  gantlet  between 
hostile  tribes  who  fiercely  attacked  them.  Reaching 
ihe  Gulf,  though  not  without  the  loss  of  eleven  of  their 
number,  they  made  sail  for  the  Spanish  settlement  ou 
the  River  Panuco,  where  they  arrived  safely,  and  where 

1  Porttiyupse  Relation,  c.  XXX. 

2  Ibid.  c.  XX.     See  Hakluyt,  V.  515. 


1568.J  GUIDO   DE   LAS   BAZARES.  J«J 

the  inhabitants  met  them  with  a  cordial  welcome.  Three 
hundred  and  eleven  men  thus  escaped  with  life,  leaving 
behind  them  the  bones  of  their  comrades  strewn  broad- 
cast through  the  wilderness.1 

De  Soto's  fate  proved  an  insufficient  warning,  for 
those  were  still  found  who  begged  a  fresh  commission 
for  the  conquest  of  Florida ;  but  the  Emperor  would 
not  hear  them.  A  more  pacific  enterprise  was  under- 
taken by  Cancello,  a  Dominican  monk,  who  with  sev- 
eral brother-ecclesiastics  undertook  to  convert  the  natives 
to  the  true  faith,  but  was  murdered  in  the  attempt.2 
Nine  years  later  a  plan  was  formed  for  the  colonization 
of  Florida,  and  Guido  de  las  Bazares  sailed  to  explore 
the  coasts,  and  find  a  spot  suitable  for  the  establish- 
ment.3 After  his  return,  a  squadron,  commanded  by 

1 1  have  followed  the  accounts  of  Biedma  and  the  Portuguese  of  Elvas 
rejecting  the  romantic  narrative  of  Garcilaso,  in  which  fiction  is  hopelessly 
mingled  with  truth. 

2  Relation  of  BeMa,  Ternaux-Compans,  107 ;  Documeiitos  IndJitos,  Touic 
XXVI.  340.  Comp.  Garcilaso,  1.  I.  c.  III. 

8  The  spirit  of  this  and  other  Spanish  enterprises  may  be  gathered 
from  the  following  passage  in  an  address  to  the  King  signed  by  Dr.  Pedro 
de  Santander,  and  dated  15  July,  1557. 

"  It  is  lawful  that  your  Majesty,  like  a  good  shepherd,  appointed  by  the 
hand  of  the  Eternal  Father,  should  tend  and  lead  out  your  sheep,  since 
the  Holy  Spirit  has  shown  spreading  pastures  whereon  are  feeding  lost 
sheep  which  have  been  snatched  away  by  the  dragon,  the  Demon.  These 
pastures  are  the  New  World  wherein  is  comprised  Florida,  now  in  posses- 
sion of  the  Demon,  and  here  he  makes  himself  adon-d  and  revered. 
This  is  the  Land  of  Promise,  possessed  by  idolaters,  the  Amorite,  Amal- 
ekite,  Moabite,  Canaanite.  This  is  the  land  promised  by  the  Eternal 
Father  to  the  Faithful,  since  we  are  commanded  by  God  in  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures to  take  it  from  them,  being  idolaters,  and,  by  reason  of  their  idolatry 
and  sin,  to  put  them  all  to  the  knife,  leaving  no  living  tiling  save  maidens 
and  children,  their  cities  robbed  and  sacked,  their  walls  and  houses  lev- 
elled to  the  earth." 

The  writer  then  goes  into  detail,  proposing  to  occupy  Florida  at  varioiu 
2 


l^  EARLY  SPANISH  ADVENTURE.  [1541. 

Angel  de  Villafane,  and  freighted  with  supplies  and 
men,  put  to  sea  from  San  Juan  d'Ulloa;  but  the 
elements  were  adverse,  and  the  result  was  a  total 
failure.1  Not  a  Spaniard  had  yet  gained  foothold  in 
Florida. 

That  name,  as  the  Spaniards  of  that  day  understood 
it,  comprehended  the  whole  country  extending  from  the 
Atlantic  on  the  east  to  the  longitude  of  New  Mexico  on 
the  west,  and  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  the  River 
of  Palms  indefinitely  northward  towards  the  polar  sea.2 
This  vast  territory  was  claimed  by  Spain  in  right  of  the 
discoveries  of  Columbus,  the  grant  of  the  Pope,  and  the 
various  expeditions  mentioned  above.  England  claimed 
it  in  right  of  the  discoveries  of  Cabot ;  while  France 
could  advance  no  better  title -than  mi«ht  be  derived 

O 

from  the  voyage  of  Verazzano. 

With  restless  jealousy  Spain  watched  the  domain 
which  she  could  not  occupy,  and  on  France,  especially, 
she  kept  an  eye  of  deep  distrust.  When,  in  154-1,  Car- 
tier  and  Roberval  essayed  to  plant  a  colony  in  the  part 
of  ancient  Spanish  Florida  now  called  Canada,  she  sent 
spies  and  fitted  out  caravels  to  watch  that  abortive  en- 
points  with  from  one  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  colonists,  found  a  city 
to  be  called  Philippina,  also  another  at  Tuscaloosa,  to  be  called  Caesarea, 
another  at  Tallahassee,  and  another  at  Tampa  Bay,  where  he  thinks  many 
slaves  could  be  had.  Carta  dd  Doctor  Pedro  de  Sanlander,  MS. 

1  The  papers  relating  to  these  abortive  expeditions  are  preserved  by 
Ternaux-Compans. 

2  Garcilaso,  1.  I.  c.  II.;  Ilerrera  in  Purchas,  III.  808;  De  Laet,  1.  IV. 
c,  XIII.     Barcia,  Knsdi/o  Cronoloijico,  An    MDCXI.,  speaks  of  Quebec 
as  a  part  of  Florida.     In  a  map  of  the  time  of  Henry  the   Second   of 
France,  all  North  America  is  named  Terra  Florida. 


1541.]  SPANISH  JEALOUSY.  1£ 

terprise.1  Her  fears  proved  just.  Canada,  indeed, 
was  long  to  remain  a  solitude  ;  but,  despite  the  papal 
bounty  gifting  Spain  with  exclusive  ownership  of  a 
hemisphere,  France  and  Heresy  at  length  took  root  in 
the  sultry  forests  of  modern  Florida. 

1  See  various  papers  on  this  subject  in  the  Coleecion  de  Fiirw*  Dot* 
mentos  of  Buckingham  Smith. 


CHAPTER  II. 

1550—1558. 
VILLEGAGNON. 

SPAIN  AND  FRANCE  IN  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURT. —  CASPAR  DE  COLIGNY. — 
VILLEGAGNON.  —  His  EARLY  EXPLOITS. —  His  SCHEME  OP  A  PROTESTANT 
COLONY.  —  HUGUENOTS  AT  Rio  JANEIRO.  —  POLEMICS.  — TYRANNY  OF  VIL- 

LEGAGNON.  —  THE  MINISTERS  EXPELLED.  —  THE    COLONY  RUINED. 

IN  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  Spain  was  the 
incubus  of  Europe.  Gloomy  and  portentous,  she  chilled 
the  world  with  her  baneful  shadow.  Her  old  feudal 
liberties  were  gone,  absorbed  in  the  despotism  of  Ma- 
drid. A  tyranny  of  monks  and  inquisitors,  with  their 
swarms  of  spies  and  informers,  their  racks,  their  dun- 
geons, and  their  fagots,  crushed  all  freedom  of  thought 
or  speech  ;  and,  while  the  Dominican  held  his  reign  of 
terror  and  force,  the  deeper  Jesuit  guided  the  mind 
from  infancy  into  those  narrow  depths  of  bigotry  from 
which  it  was  never  to  escape.  Political  despotism,  re- 
ligious despotism,  commercial  despotism  ;  —  the  hands 
of  the  government  were  on  every  branch  of  industry. 
Perverse  regulations,  uncertain  and  ruinous  taxes, 
monopolies,  encouragements,  prohibitions,  restrictions, 
cramped  the  national  energy.  Mistress  of  the  Indies, 
Spain  swarmed  with  beggars.  Yet,  verging  to  decay, 
she  had  an  omindus  and  appalling  strength.  Her  con- 
dition was  that  of  an  athletic  man  penetrated  with 


1560.]  SPAIN  AND  FRANCE.  jiy 

disease,  which  had  not  yet  unstrung  the  thews  and 
sinews  formed  in  his  days  of  vigor.  Philip  the  Sec- 
ond could  command  the  service  of  warriors  and  states- 
men developed  in  the  years  that  were  past.  The 
gathered  energies  of  ruined  feudalism  were  wielded  by 
a  single  hand.  The  mysterious  King,  in  his  den  in 
the  Escurial,  dreary  and  silent,  and  bent  like  a  scribe 
over  his  papers,  was  the  type  and  the  champion  of 
arbitrary  power.  More  than  the  Pope  himself,  he  was 
the  head  of  Catholicity.  In  doctrine  and  in  deed,  the 
inexorable  bigotry  of  Madrid  was  ever  in  advance  of 
Rome. 

Not  so  with  France.  She  was  full  of  life,  —  a  dis- 
cordant and  struggling  vitality.  Her  monks  and  priests, 
unlike  those  of  Spain,  were  rarely  either  fanatics  or 
bigots ;  yet  not  the  less  did  they  ply  the  rack  and  the 
fagot,  and  howl  for  heretic  blood.  Their  all  was  at 
stake :  their  vast  power,  their  bloated  wealth,  wrapped 
up  in  the  ancient  faith.  Men  were  burned,  women 
buried  alive.  All  was  in  vain.  To  the  utmost  bounds 
of  France,  the  leaven  of  the  Reform  was  working.  The 
Huguenots,  fugitives  from  torture  and  death,  found  an 
asylum  at  Geneva,  their  city  of  refuge,  gathering  around 
Calvin,  their  great  high-priest.  Thence  intrepid  col- 
porteurs, their  lives  in  their  hands,  bore  the  Bible  and 
the  psalm-book  to  city,  hamlet,  and  castle,  to  feed  the 
using  flame.  The  scattered  churches,  pressed  by  a 
common  danger,  began  to  ^organize.  An  ecclesiastical 
republic  spread  its  ramifications  through  France,  and 
grew  underground  to  a  vigorous  life,  —  pacific  at  the 

2* 


1 8  VILLEGAGNON.  [1550. 

outset,  for  the  great  body  of  its  members  were  the  quiet 
bourgeoisie,  by  habit,  as  by  faith,  averse  to  violence. 
Yet  a  potent  fraction  of  the  warlike  noblesse  was  also 
of  the  new  faith  ;  and  above  them  all,  preeminent  in 
character  as  in  station,  stood  Caspar  de  Coligny,  Ad- 
miral of  France. 

The  old  palace  of  the  Louvre,  reared  by  the  "  Roi 
Chevalier "  on  the  site  of  those  dreary  feudal  towers 
which  of  old  had  guarded  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  held 
within  its  sculptured  masonry  the  worthless  brood  of 
Valois.  Corruption  and  intrigue  ran  riot  at  the  court. 
Factious  nobles,  bishops,  and  cardinals,  with  no  God 
but  pleasure  and  ambition,  contended  around  the  throne 
or  the  sick-bed  of  the  futile  king.  Catherine  de  Medi- 
cis,  with  her  stately  form,  her  mean  spirit,  her  bad  heart, 
and  fathomless  depths  of  duplicity,  strove  by  every  sub- 
tle art  to  hold  the  balance  of  power  among  them.  Guise, 
bold,  pitiless,  insatiable,  and  his  brother  the  Cardinal 
of  Lorraine,  the  incarnation  of  falsehood,  reoted  their 
ambition  on  the  Catholic  party.  Their  army  was  a 
legion  of  priests,  and  the  black  swarms  of  countless 
monasteries,  who  by  the  distribution  of  alms  held  in  pay 
the  rabble  of  cities  and  starving  peasants  on  the  lands 
of  impoverished  nobles.  Montmorency,  Conde,  Navarre, 
leaned  towards  the  Reform,  —  doubtful  and  inconstant 
chiefs,  whose  faith  weighed  light  against  their  interests. 
Yet,  amid  vacillation,  selfishness,  weakness,  treachery, 
one  great  man  was  like  a  tpwer  of  trust,  and  this  was 
Gaspar  de  Coligny. 

Firm  in  his  convictions,  steeled  by  perils  and 


1641.]  HIS   EARLY  EXPLOITS.  JQ 

ance,  calm,  sagacious,  resolute,  grave  even  to  seventy, 
a  valiant  and  redoubted  soldier,  Coligny  looked  abroad 
on  the  gathering  storm  and  read  its  danger  in  advance. 
He  saw  a  strange  depravity  of  manners ;  bribery  and 
violence  overriding  justice ;  discontented  nobles,  and 
peasants  ground  down  with  taxes.  In  the  midst  of 
this  rottenness,  the  Calvinist  churches,  patient  and  stern, 
were  fast  gathering  to  themselves  the  better  life  of  the 
nation.  Among  and  around  them  tossed  the  surges  of 
clerical  hate.  Luxurious  priests,  libertine  monks,  saw 
their  disorders  rebuked  by  the  grave  virtues  of  the 
Protestant  zealots.  Their  broad  lands,  their  rich  en- 
dowments, their  vessels  of  silver  and  of  gold,  their 
dominion  over  souls  —  in  itself  a  revenue,  —  all  these 
were  imperilled  by  the  growing  heresy.  Nor  was  the 
Reform  less  exacting,  less  intolerant,  or,  when  its  hour 
came,  less  aggressive  than  the  ancient  faith.  The  storm 
was  thickening.  It  must  burst  soon. 

When  the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth  beleaguered 
Algiers,  his  camps  were  deluged  by  a  blinding  tempest, 
and  at  its  height  the  infidels  made  a  furious  sally.  A 
hundred  Knights  of  Malta,  on  foot,  wearing  over  their 
armor  surcoats  of  crimson  blazoned  with  the  white  cross, 
bore  the  brunt  of  the  assault.  Conspicuous  among 
them  was  Nicholas. Durand  de  Villegagnon.  A  Moor- 
ish cavalier,  rushing  upon  him,  pierced  his  arm  with  a 
lance,  and  wheeled  to  repeat  the  blow ;  but  the  knight 
leaped  on  the  infidel,  stabbed  him  with  his  dagger,  and 
flinging  him  from  his  horse,  mounted  in  his  place. 
Again,  a  Moslem  host  landed  in  Malta  and  beset  the 


20  VILLEGAGNON:  [1554. 

Cite  Notable.  The  garrison  was  weak,  disheartened, 
and  without  a  leader.  Villegagnon  with  six  followers, 
all  friends  of  his  own,  passed  under  cover  of  night 
through  the  infidel  leaguer,  climbed  the  walls  by  ropes 
lowered  from  above,  took  command,  repaired  the  shat 
tered  towers,  aiding  with  his  own  hands  in  the  work, 
and  animated  the  garrison  to  a  resistance  so  stubborn., 
that  the  besiegers  lost  heart  and  betook  themselves  to 
their  galleys.  No  less  was  he  an  able  and  accomplished 
mariner,  prominent  among  that  chivalry  of  the  sea  who 
held  the  perilous  verge  of  Christendom  against  the 
Mussulman.  He  claimed  other  laurels  than  those  of 
the  sword.  He  was  a  scholar,  a  linguist,  a  contro^ 
versialist,  potent  with  the  tongue  and  with  the  pen  ; 
commanding  in  presence,  eloquent  and  persuasive  in 
discourse.  Yet  this  Crichton  of  France  had  proved 
himself  an  associate  nowise  desirable.  His  sleepless 
intellect  was  matched  with  a  spirit  as  restless,  vain, 
unstable,  and  ambitious,  as  'it  was  enterprising  and 
bold.  Addicted  to  dissent,  and  enamored  of  polemics, 
he  entered  those  forbidden  fields  of  inquiry  and  con- 
troversy to  which  the  Reform  invited  him.  Undaunted 
by  his  monastic  vows,  he  battled  for  heresy  with  tongue 
and  pen,  and  in  the  ear  of  Protestants  professed  him 
self  a  Protestant.  As  a  Commander  of  his  Order,  he 
quarrelled  with  the  Grand  Master,  a  domineering  Span- 
iard ;  and,  as  Vice-Admiral  of  Brittany,  he  wars  deep  in 
a  feud  with  the  Governor  of  Brest.1  Disgusted  at 

1  Villegagnon  himself  has  left  an  account  in  Latin  of  the  expedition 
against  Algiers  under  the  title,  Caroli  V.  Imperatoris  Expeditio  in  African 


ISM.]  HIS  PKOJECTED  COLONY.  g* 

home,  his  fancy  crossed  the  seas.  He  would  fain  build 
for  France  and  himself  an  empire  amid  the  tropical 
splendors  of  Brazil.  Few  could  match  him  in  the  gift 
of  persuasion  ;  and  the  intrepid  seaman  whose  skill  and 
valor  had  run  the  gantlet  of  the  English  fleet,  and 
borne  Mary  Stuart  of  Scotland  in  safety  to  her  espou- 
sals with  the  Dauphin,1  might  well  be  intrusted  with  a 
charge  of  moment  so  far  inferior.  Henry  the  Second 
was  still  on  the  throne.  The  lance  of  Montgomery  had 
not  yet  rid  France  of  that  infliction.  To  win  a  share  in 
the  rich  domain  of  the  New  World,  of  which  Portuguese 
and  Spanish  arrogance  claimed  the  monopoly, — such 
was  the  end  held  by  Villegagnon  before  the  eyes  of  the 
King.  Of  the  Huguenots,  he  said  not  a  word.  For  Col- 
igny  he  had  another  language.  He  spoke  of  an  asylum 
for  persecuted  religion,  a  Geneva  in  the  wilderness,  far 
from  priests  and  monks  and  Francis  of  Guise.  The 
Admiral  gave  him  a  ready  ear;  nay,  it  is  doubtful  if 
he  himself  had  not  first  conceived  the  plan.  Yet,  to  the 
King,  an  active  burner  of  Huguenots,  he,  too,  urged  it 
as  an  enterprise,  not  for  the  Faith,  but  for  France.  In 

Paris,  1542.  Also,  an  account  of  the  war  at  Malta,  De  Bello  Mditensi. 
Paris,  1553. 

He  is  the  subject  of  a  long  and  erudite  treatise  in  Bayle,  T)ictionnair« 
Historique.  Notices  of  him  are  also  to  be  found  in  Gue'rin,  N(ivi</>itrun 
Fi-ancnis,  162  ;  Ib.  Marina  Ilhistres,  231 ;  Lescarbot,  Hist.de  IciXouo.  France, 
(1612,)  146-217  ;  La  Popelinicre,  I^s  Troia  Mondes,  III.  2. 

There  are  extant  against  him  a  number  of  Calvinist  satire.8.  in  prose 
and  verse,  —  L'Ktrille  de  Nicolas  Ditrand,  —  La  Sujffisance  de  Villeyai</iumt 
—  L'Espousette  des  Armoiries  de  Villegaiyian,  etc. 

1  This  was  in  1548.  The  English  were  on  the  watch,  but  Villegngnon, 
by  a  union  of  daring  and  skill,  escaped  them  and  landed  the  future  Queen 
of  Scots,  then  six  years  old,  in  Brittany,  whence  being  carrie  1  to  l'ari«. 
she  was  affianced  to  the  future  Francis  the  Second 


gg  VILLEGAGNON.  [1565. 

secret,  Geneva  was  made  privy  to  it,  and  Calvin  him- 
self embraced  it  with  zeal. 

Two  vessels  were  made  ready,  in  the  name  of  the 
King.  The  body  of  the  emigration  was  Huguenot,  min- 
gled with  young  nobles,  restless,  idle,  and  poor,  with 
reckless  artisans,  and  piratical  sailors  from  the  Norman 
and  Breton  seaports.  They  put  to  sea  from  Havre  on 
the  twelfth  of  July,  1555,  and  early  in  November  saw 
the  shores  of  Brazil.  Entering  the  harbor  of  Rio 
Janeiro,  then  called  Ganabara,  Villegagnon  landed 
men  and  stores  on  an  island,  built  huts,  and  threw  up 
earthworks.  In  anticipation  of  future  triumphs,  the 
whole  continent,  by  a  strange  perversion  of  language, 
was  called  Antarctic  France,  while  the  fort  received 
the  name  of  Coligny. 

Villegagnon  signalized  his  new-born  Protestantism 
by  an  intolerable  solicitude  for  the  manners  and  morals 
of  his  followers.  The  whip  and  the  pillory  requited  the 
least  offence.  The  wild  and  discordant  crew,  starved 
and  flogged  for  a  season  into  submission,  conspired  at 
length  to  rid  themselves  of  him  ;  but  while  they  debated 
"  whether  to  poison  him,  blow  him  up,  or  murder  him  and 
his  officers  in  their  sleep,  three  Scotch  soldiers,  prob- 
ably Calvinists,  revealed  the  plot,  and  the  vigorous 
hand  of  the  commandant  crushed  it  in  the  bud. 

But  how  was  the  colony  to  subsist  ?  Their  island  was 
too  small  for  culture,  while  the  main  land  was  infested 
with  hostile  tribes,  and  threatened  by  the  Portuguese, 
who  regarded  the  French  occupancy  as  a  violation  of 
their  domain. 


1567.]  HUGUENOTS  AT  RIO  JANEIRO.  gg 

Meanwhile,  in  France,  Huguenot  influence,  aided  by 
ardent  letters  sent  home  by  Villegagnon  in  the  returning 
ships,  was  urging  on  the  work.  Nor  were  the  Catho- 
lic chiefs  averse  to  an  enterprise  which,  by  colonizing 
heresy,  might  tend  to  relieve  France  of  its  presence. 
Another  embarkation  was  prepared,  in  the  name  of 
Henry  the  Second,  under  Bois-Lecomte,  a  nephew  of 
Villegagnon.  Most  of  the  emigrants  were  Huguenots. 
Geneva  sent  a  large  deputation,  and  among  them  sev- 
eral ministers,  full  of  zeal  for  their  land  of  promise 
and  their  new  church  in  the  wilderness.  There  were 
five  young  women,  also,  with  a  matron  to  watch  over 
them.  Soldiers,  emigrants,  and  sailors,  two  hundred 
and  ninety  in  all,  were  embarked  in  three  vessels  ;  and, 
to  the  sound  of  cannon,  drums,  fifes,  and  trumpets,  they 
unfurled  their  sails  at  Honfleur.  They  were  no  sooner 
on  the  high  seas  than  the  piratical  character  of  the 
Norman  sailors,  in  no  way  exceptional  at  that  day,  be- 
gan to  declare  itself.  They  hailed  every  vessel  weaker 
than  themselves,  pretended  to  be  short  of  provisions, 
and  demanded  leave  to  buy  them  ;  then,  boarding  the 
stranger,  plundered  her  from  stem  to  stern.  After  a 
passage  of  four  months,  on  the  ninth  of  March,  lo.57» 
they  entered  the  port  of  Ganabara,  and  saw  the  hVur- 
de-lis  floating  above  the  walls  of  Fort  Coligny.  Amid 
salutes  of  cannon,  the  boats,  crowded  with  sea-worn 
emigrants,  moved  towards  the  landing.  It  was  an 
edifying  scene  when  Villegagnon,  in  the  picturesque 
attire  which  marked  the  warlike  noblesse  of  the  period, 
came  dosvn  to  the  shore  to  greet  the  sombre  ministers 


Q4>  V1LLEGAGNON.  1557. 

of  Calvin.  With  hands  uplifted  and  eyes  raised  to 
heaven,  he  bade  them  welcome  to  the  new  asylum  of 
the  Faithful,  then  launched  into  a  long1  harangue  full  of 
zeal  and  unction.1  His  discourse  finished,  he  led  the 
way  to  the  dining-hall.  If  the  redundancy  of  spiritual 
aliment  had  surpassed  their  expectations,  the  ministers 
were  little  prepared  for  the  meagre  provision  which 
awaited  their  temporal  cravings ;  for,  with  appetites 
whetted  by  the  sea,  they  found  themselves  seated  at  a 
board,  whereof,  as  one  of  them  complains,  the  choicest 
dish  was  a  dried  fish,  and  the  only  beverage,  rain-water. 
They  found  their  consolation  in  the  inward  graces  of 
the  commandant,  whom  they  likened  to  the  Apostle 
Paul. 

For  a  time  all  was  ardor  and  hope.  Men  of  birth 
and  station,  and  the  ministers  themselves,  labored  with 
pick  and  shovel  to  finish  the  fort.  Every  day,  exhorta- 
tions, sermons,  prayers,  followed  in  close  succession,  and 


1  De  Le'ry,  fflstoria  Navigations  in  Brasiliam,  (1586,)  43.  De  Lory  was 
one  of  the  ministers.  His  account  is  long  and  very  curious.  His  work 
was  published  in  French,  in  1578  and  1611.  The  Latin  version  has  ap- 
peared under  several  forms,  and  is  to  be  found  in  the  Second  Part  of  De 
Bry,  decorated  with  a  profusion  of  engravings,  including  portraits  of  a 
great  variety  of  devils,  with  which,  it  seems,  Brazil  was  overrun,  con- 
spicuous among  whom  is  one  with  the  body  of  a  bear  and  the  head  of  a 
man.  This  ungainly  fiend  is  also  depicted  in  the  edition  of  1586.  The 
conception,  a  novelty  in  demonology,  was  clearly  derived  from  ancient 
representations  of  that  singular  product  of  Brazil,  the  sloth.  In  the 
curious  work  of  Andre  Thevet,  Les  Singularity  de  la  France  Antarctiijne, 
autrenifiit  nominee  Amdrique,  published  in  1558,  appears  the  portraiture  of 
this  animal,  the  body  being  that  "  d'un  petit  ours,"  and  the  face  that  of 
an  intelligent  man.  Thevet,  however,  though  a  firm  believer  in  devils 
of  all  kinds,  suspects  nothing  demoniacal  in  his  sloth,  which  he  held  for 
dome  time  in  captivity,  and  describes  as  "une  beste  assez  estrange." 


1657.]  POLEMICS.  ^5 

Villegagnou  was  always  present,  kneeling  on  a  velvet 
cushion,  brought  after  him  by  a  page.  Soon,  however, 
he  fell  into  sharp  controversy  with  the  ministers  upon 
points  of  faith.  Among  the  emigrants  was  a  student 
of  the  Sorbonne,  one  Cointac,  between  whom  and  the 
ministers  arose  a  fierce  and  unintermitted  war  of  words. 
Is  it  lawful  to  mix  water  with  the  wine  of  the  Eucha- 
rist? May  the  sacramental  bread  be  made  of  meal  of 
Indian  corn  1  These  and  similar  points  of  dispute  filled 
the  fort  with  wranglings,  begetting  cliques,  fictions,  and 
feuds  without  number.  Villegagnon  took  part  with 
the  student,  and  between  them  they  devised  a  new  doc- 
trine, abhorrent  alike  to  Geneva  and  to  Rome.  The 
advent  of  this  nondescript  heresy  was  the  signal  of  re- 
doubled strife.1  The  dogmatic  stiffness  of  the  Geneva 

™ 

ministers  chafed  Villegagnon  to  fury.  He  felt  himself, 
too,  in  a  false  position.  On  one  side,  he  depended  on 
the  Protestant,  Coligny  ;  on  the  other,  he  feared  the 
Court.  There  were  Catholics  in  the  colony  who  might 
report  him  as  ah  open  heretic.  On  this  point  his 
doubts  were  set  at  rest;  for  a  ship  from  France  brought 
him  a  letter  from  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  couched,  it 
is  said,  in  terms  which  restored  him  forthwith  to  the 
bosom  of  the  Church.  He  affirmed  that  he  had  been 
deceived  in  Calvin,  and  pronounced  him  a  "frightful 
heretic."  He  became  despotic  beyond  measure,  and 
would  bear  no  opposition.  The  ministers,  reduced 

i  The  history  of  these  theological  squabbles  is  given  in  detail  in  the 
Hiatoirr.  ties  Clioses  Memorable*  udutnues  en  la  Terre  du  Dre'sil.    Geneve,  1561 
The  author  was  an  eye-witness.    l)e  Le'ry  also  enlarges  upon  them. 
3 


gg  VILLEGAGNON.  [1567. 

nearly  to  starvation,  found  themselves  under  a  tyranny 
worse  than  tha't  from  which  they  had  fled.  At  length 
he  drove  them  from  the  fort  and  forced  them  to  hivouac 
on  the  main  land,  at  the  risk  of  being  butchered  by 
Indians,  until  a  vessel  loading  with  Brazil  wood  in  the 
harbor  should  be  ready  to  carry  them  back  to  France. 
The  ministers  gorte,  he  caused  three  of  the  more  zeal- 
ous Calvinists  to  be  seized,  dragged  to  the  edge  of  a 
rock,  and  thrown  into  the  sea.1  A  fourth,  equally  ob- 
noxious, but  who,  being  a  tailor,  could  ill  be  spared,  was 
permitted  to  live  on  condition  of  recantation.  Then, 
mustering  the  colonists,  he  warned  them  to  shun  the 
heresies  of  Luther  and  Calvin  ;  threatened  that  all  who 
openly  professed  them  should  share  the  fate  of  their 
three  comrades  ;  and,  his  harangue  over,  feasted  the 
whole  assembly,  in  token,  says  the  narrator,  of  joy  and 
triumph.2 

Meanwhile,  in  their  crazy  vessel,  the  banished  minis- 
ters drifted  slowly  on  their  way.  Storms  fell  upon 
them,  their  provision  failed,  their  water-casks  were 
empty,  and,  tossing  in  the  wilderness  of  waves,  or  rock- 
ing on  the  long  swells  of  subsiding  gales,  they  sank 
wellnigh  to  despair.  In  their  famine  they  chewed  the 
Brazil  wood  with  which  the  vessel  was  laden,  devoured 
every  scrap  of  leather,  singed  and  ate  the  horn  of  lan- 
terns, hunted  rats  through  the  hold  and  sold  them  to 
each  other  at  enormous  prices.  At  length,  stretched 

1  Histoire  des  Chases  Mtmorables,  44. 

2  ll>.  46.     Compare  Nicholas  Barre,  Lettres  sur  la  Navigation  du  Chevalier 
de  Vitteyaignon.    Paris,  1558. 


1658.]  THE   COLONY  RUINED.  37 

on  the  deck,  sick,  listless,  attenuated,  scarcely  able  to 
move  a  limb,  they  descried  across  the  waste  of  sea 
the  faint,  cloud-like  line  that  marked  the  coast  of  Brit- 
tany. Their  perils  were  not  past;  for,  if  we  may  be- 
lieve one  of  them,  Jean  de  Lery,  they  bore  a  sealed 

V.  •*  J 

illegagnon  to  the  magistrates  of  the  first 

French  port  at  which  they  might  arrive.  It  denounced 
them  as  heretics,  worthy  to  be  burned.  Happily  the 
magistrates  leaned  to  the  Reform,  and  the  malice  of  the 
commandant  failed  of  its  victims. 

Villegagnon  himself  soon  sailed  for  France,  leaving 
the  wretched  colony  to  its  fate.  His  voyage  ended,  he 
entered  the  lists  against  Calvin,  and  engaged  him  in  a 
hot  controversial  war,  in  which,  according  to  some  of  his 
contemporaries,  the  knight  often  worsted  the  theologian 
at  his  own  weapons.  Before  the  year  1558  was  closed, 
Ganabara  fell  a  prey  to  the  Portuguese.  They  set 
upon  it  in  force,  battered  down  the  fort,  and  slew  the 
feeble  garrison,  or  drove  them  to  a  miserable  refuge 
among  the  Indians.  Spain  and  Portugal  made  good 
their  claim  to  the  vast  domain,  the  mighty  vegetation, 
the  undeveloped  riches  of  "Antarctic  France." 


CHAPTER   IIL 

1562,     1563. 
JEAN     RIBAUT. 

l'<iK  HUGUENOT  PARTY,  ITS  MOTLEY  CHARACTER.  —  RIBAUT  SAILS  ron 
FLORIDA.  —  THE  RIVER  OF  MAY.  —  HOPES.  —  ILLUSIONS. —  PORT  ROYAL. 
—  ClIARLESFORT.  —  FROLIC.  —  IMPROVIDENCE.  —  FAMINE.  —  MUTINY. — 
FLORIDA  ABANDONED.  —  DESPERATION.  —  CANNIBALISM. 

IN  the  year  1562  a  cloud  of  black  and  deadly  por- 
tent was  thickening  over  France.  Surely  and  swiftly 
she  glided  towards  the  abyss  of  the  religious  wars. 
None  could  pierce  the  future,  perhaps  none  dared  to 
contemplate  it :  the  wild  rage  of  fanaticism  and  hate, 
friend  grappling  with  friend,  brother  with  brother,  fa- 
ther with  son  ;  altars  profaned,  hearthstones  made  des- 
olace ;  the  robes  of  Justice  herself  bedrenched  with 
murder.  In  the  gloom  without  lay  Spain,  imminent 
and  terrible.  As  on  the  hill  by  the  field  of  Dreux,  her 
veteran  bands  of  pikemen,  dark  masses  of  organized 
ferocity,  stood  biding  their  time  while  the  battle  surged 
below,  then  swept  downward  to  the  slaughter,  —  so  did 
Spain  watch  and  wait  to  trample  and  crush  the  hope  of 
humanity. 

In  these  days  of  fear,  a  second  Huguenot  colony 
sailed  for  the  New  World.  The  calm,  stern  man  who 
represented  and  led  the  Protestantism  of  France  felt  to 
his  inmost  heart  the  peril  of  the  time.  He  would  fait 


1662.]  THE  HUGUENOT  PARTY.  go 

build  up  a  city  of  refuge  for  the  persecuted  sect.  Yet 
Gaspar  de  Coligny,  too  high  in  power  and  rank  to  be 
openly  assailed,  was  forced  to  act  with  caution.  He 
must  act,  too,  in  the  name  of  the  Crown,  and  in  virtue 
of  his  office  of  Admiral  of  France.  A  nobleman  and 
a  soldier,  —  for  the  Admiral  of  France  was  no  seaman, 
—  he  shared  the  ideas  and  habits  of  his  class  ;  nor  is 
there  reason  to  believe  him  to  have  been  in  advance  of 
his  time  in  a  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  successful 
colonization.  His  scheme  promised  a  military  colony, 
not  a  free  commonwealth.  The  Huguenot  party  was 
already  a  political,  as  well  as  a  religious  party.  At 
its  foundation  lay  the  religious  element,  represented  by 
Geneva,  the  martyrs,  and  the  devoted  fugitives  who 
sang  the  psalms  of  Marot  among  rocks  and  caverns. 
Joined  to  these  were  numbers  on  whom  the  faith  sat 
lightly,  whose  hope  was  in  commotion  and  change. 
Of  the  latter,  in  great  part,  was  the  Huguenot  no- 
llesse,  from  Conde,  who  aspired  to  the  crown, 

"  Ce  petit  horn  me  tant  joli, 
Qui  toujours  chante,  toujours  rit," 

to  the  younger  son  of  the  impoverished  seigneur  whose 
patrimony  was  his  sword.  More  than  this,  the  rest- 
less, the  factious,  the  discontented,  began  to  link  their 
fortunes  to  a  party  whose  triumph  would  involve  confis- 
cation of  the  wealth  of  the  only  rich  class  in  France. 
An  element  of  the  great  revolution  was  already  min- 
gling in  the  strife  of  religions. 

America  was  still  a  land  of  wonder.     The  ancient 
spell  still  hung  unbroken  over  the  wild,  vast  world  of 
3* 


30  JEAN  KIBAUT.  [1562. 

mystery  beyond  the    sea,  a  land  of   romance,  of  ad- 
venture, of  gold. 

Fifty-eight  years  later  the  Puritans  landed  on  the 
sands  of  Massachusetts  Bay.  The  illusion  was  gone, 
—  the  ignis-fatuus  of  adventure,  the  dream  of  wealth. 
The  rugged  wilderness  offered  only  a  stern  and  hard- 
won  independence.  In  their  own  hearts,  not  in  the 
promptings  of  a  great  leader  or  the  patronage  of  an 
equivocal  government,  their  enterprise  found  its  birth 
and  its  achievement.  They  were  of  the  boldest,  the 
most  earnest  of  their  sect.  There  were  such  among 
the  French  disciples  of  Calvin  ;  but  no  Mayflower  ever 
sailed  from  a  port  of  France.  Coligny's  colonists  were 
of  a  different  stamp,  and  widely  different  was  their  fate. 

An  excellent  seaman  and  stanch  Protestant,  Jean 
Ribaut  of  Dieppe,  commanded  the  expedition.  Under 
him,  besides  sailors,  were  a  band  of  veteran  soldiers, 
and  a  few  young  nobles.  Embarked  in  two  of  those 
antiquated  craft  whose  high  poops  and  tub-like  propor- 
tions are  preserved  in  the  old  engravings  of  De  Bry, 
they  sailed  from  Havre  on  the  eighteenth  of  February,. 
1562.  They  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  on  the  thirtieth 
of  April,  in  the  latitude  of  twenty-nine  and  a  half  de- 
grees, saw  the  long,  low  line  where  the  wilderness  of 
waves  met  the  wilderness  of  woods.  It  was  the  coast 
of  Florida.  Soon  they  descried  a  jutting  point,  which 
they  called  French  Cape,  perhaps  one  of  the  headlands 
of  Matanzas  Inlet.  They  turned  their  prows  northward, 
skirting  the  fringes  of  that  waste  of  verdure  which 
rolled  in  shadowy  undulation  far  to  the  unknown  West. 


1662.]  THE   RIVER   OF  MAY".  31 

On  the  next  morning,  the  first  of  May,  they  found 
themselves  off'  the  mouth  of  a  great  river.  Riding  at 
anchor  on  a  sunny  sea,  they  lowered  their  hoats,  crossed 
the  bar  that  obstructed  the  entrance,  and  floated  on  a 
basin  of  deep  and  sheltered  water,  alive  with  leaping 
fish.  Indians  were  running  along  the  beach  and  out 
upon  the  sand-bars,  beckoning  them  to  land.  They 
pushed  their  boats  ashore  and  disembarked,  —  sailors, 
soldiers,  and  eager  young  nobles.  Corselet  and  morion, 
arquebus'e  and  halberd,  flashed  in  the  sun  that  flickered 
through  innumerable  leaves,  as,  kneeling  on  the  ground, 
they  gave  thanks  to  God  who  had  guided  their  voyage 
to  an  issue  full  of  promise.  The  Indians,  seated  gravely 
under  the  neighboring  trees,  looked  on  in  silent  respect, 
thinking  that  they  worshipped  the  sun.  They  were  in 
full  paint,  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  and  in  a  most 
friendly  mood.  With  their  squaws  and  children,  they 
presently  drew  near,  and,  strewing  the  earth  with  laurel- 
boughs,  sat  down  among  the  Frenchmen.  The  latter 
were  much  pleased  with  them,  and  Ribaut  gave  the 
chief,  whom  he  calls  the  king,  a  robe  of  blue  cloth, 
worked  in  yellow  with  the  regal  fleur-de-lis. 

But  Ribaut  and  his  followers,  just  escaped  from  the 
dull  prison  of  their  ships,  were  intent  on  admiring  the 
wild  scenes  around  them.  Never  had  they  known  a 
fairer  May-Day.  The  quaint  old  narrative  is  exuberant 
with  delight.  The  tranquil  air,  the  warm  sun,  woods 
fresh  with  young  verdure,  meadows  bright  with  flowers ; 
the  palm,  the  cypress,  the  pine,  the  magnolia ;  the  graz- 
ing deer  ;  herons,  curlews,  bitterns,  woodcock,  and  un 


g£  JEAN  RIBAUT.  [1562. 

known  water-fowl  that  waded  in  the  ripple  of  the  beach  ; 
cedars  bearded  from  crown  to  root  with  long,  gray  moss  ; 
huge  oaks  smothering  in  the  serpent  folds  of  enormous 
grape-vines :  such  were  the  objects  that  greeted  them  in 
their  roamings,  till  their  new-discovered  land  seemed 
"  the  fairest,  fruitfullest,  and  pleasantest  of  al  the  world." 

They  found  a  tree  covered  with  caterpillars,  and  here- 
upon the  ancient  black-letter  says,  —  "Also  there  be 
Silke  wormes  in  meruielous  number,  a  great  deale  fairer 
and  better  then  be  our  silk  wormes.  To  bee  short,  it 
is  a  thing  vnspeakable  to  consider  the  thinges  that  bee 
seene  there,  and  shalbe  founde  more  and  more  in  this 
incornperable  lande." 

Above  all,  it  was  plain  to  their  excited  fancy,  that  the 
country  was  rich  in  gold  and  silver,  turquoises  and 
pearls.  One  of  the  latter, ~"  as  great  as  an  Acorne  at 
ye  least,"  hung  from  the  neck  of  an  Indian  who  stood 
near  their  boats  as  they  reem  barked.  They  gathered^ 
too,  from  the  signs  of  their  savage  visitors,  that  the 
wonderful  land  of  Cibola,  with  its  seven  cities  and  its 
untold  riches,  was  distant  but  twenty  days'  journey  by 
water.  In  truth,  it  was  on  the  Gila,  two  thousand 
miles  off',  and  its  wealth  a  fable. 

They  named  the  river  the    River  of   May,  —  it  is 

1  The  True  and  Last  Disroverie  of  Florida,  made  by  Captain  John  Ribaidt, 
in  the  i/eere  1562,  dedicated  to  a  great  Nobleman  in  Fmunce,  and  translated 
into  Entjlmhe  by  one  Thomas  Hacklt.  This  is  Ribaut's  journal,  which 
seems  not  to  exist  in  the  original.  The  translation  is  contained  in  the 
rare  black-letter  tract  of  Hakluyt  called  Divers  Voyages,  London,  1582, 
a  copy  of  which  is  in  the  library  of  Harvard  College.  It  has  been  reprinted 
by  the  Hakluyt  Society.  The  journal  first  appeared  in  1563,  under  the 
title  of  The  Whole  and  True  Discocerie  of  Terra  Florida,  (Englished  The 
Flarishing  Land.)  This  edition  is  of  extreme  rarity. 


1562.]  PORT  ROYAL.  33 

now  the  St.  John's,  —  and  on  its  southern  shore,  near 
its  mouth,  they  planted  a  stone  pillar  engraved  with  the 
arms  of  France.  Then,  once  more  embarked,  they  held 
their  course  northward,  happy  in  that  benign  decree 
which  locks  from  mortal  eyes  the  secrets  of  the  future. 

Next  they  anchored  near  Fernandina,  and  to  a  neigh- 
boring river,  probably  the  St.  Mary's,  gave  the  name  of 
the  Seine.  Here,  as  morning  broke  on  the  fresh,  moist 
meadows  hung  with  mists,  and  on  broad  reaches  of  in- 
land waters  which  seemed  like  lakes,  they  were  tempted 
to  land  again,  and  soon  "  espied  an  innumerable  number 
of  footesteps  of  great  Hartes  and  Hindes  of  a  wonderful! 
greatnesse,  the  steppes  being  all  fresh  and  new,  and  it 
seemeth  that  the  people  doe  nourish  them  like  tame  Cat- 
tell."  By  two  or  three  weeks  of  exploration  they  seem 
to  have  gained  a  clear  idea  of  this  rich  semi-aquatic 
region.  Ribaut  describes  it  as  "a  countrie  full  of  hauens 
riuers  and  Hands  of  such  fruitfulnes,  as  cannot  with 
tongue  be  expressed."  Slowly  moving  northward,  they 
named  each  river,  or  inlet  supposed  to  be  a  river,  after 
the  streams  of  France,  —  the  Loire,  the  Charente,  the 
Garonne,  the  Gironde.  At  length,  they  reached  a 
scene  made  glorious  in  after-years.  Opening  betwixt 
flat  and  sandy  shores,  they  saw  a  commodious  haven, 
and  named  it  Port  Royal. 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  May  they  crossed  the  bar, 
where  the  war-ships  of  Dupont  crossed  three  hundred 
years  later.1  They  passed  Hilton  Head,  where  in 

1  The  following  is  the  record  of  this  early  visit  to  Port  Royal,  taken 
from  Ribaut's  report  to  Coligny  :  — 
"And  when  wee  had  sounded  the  entrie  of  the  Chanell  (thanked  be 


34.  JEAN   RIBAUT.  11562. 

an  after-generation  Rebel  batteries  belched  their  vain 
thunder,  and,  dreaming-  nothing  of  what  the  roll- 
ing centuries  should  bring  forth,  held  their  course 
along  the  peaceful  bosom  of  Broad  River.  On  the 
left  they  saw  a  stream  which  they  named  Libourne, 
probably  Skull  Creek ;  on  the  right,  a  wide  river, 
probably  the  Beaufort.  When  they  landed,  all  was 
solitude.  The  frightened  Indians  had  fled,  but  they 
lured  them  back  with  knives,  beads,  and  looking- 
glasses,  and  enticed  two  of  them  on  board  their  ships. 
Here,  by  feeding,  clothing,  and  caressing  them,  they 
tried  to  wean  them  from  their  fears ;  but  the  captive 
warriors  moaned  and  lamented  day  and  night,  till 
Ribaut,  with  the  prudence  and  humanity  which  seem 
always  to  have  characterized  him,  gave  over  his  purpose 
of  carrying  them  to  France,  and  set  them  ashore  again. 
Ranging  the  woods,  they  found  them  full  of  game, 
wild  turkeys  and  partridges,  bears  and  lynxes.  Two 
deer,  of  unusual  size,  leaped  up  from  the  underbrush. 
Cross-bow  and  arquebuse  were  brought  to  the  level  ;  but 
the  Huguenot  captain,  "  moved  with  the  singular  fair- 
ness and  bigness  of  them,"  forbade  his  men  to  shoot. 

God),  wee  entered  safely  therein  with  our  shippes,  against  the  opinion  of 
many,  finding  the  same  one  of  the  fayrest  and  greatest  Hauens  of  the 
worlde.  Howe  be  it,  it  must  he  remembred,  least  men  approaching  nearo 
it  within  seven  leagues  of  the  lande,  bee  abashed  and  afraide  on  the  East 
side,  drawing  towarde  the  Southeast,  the  grounde  to  be  flatte,  for  neuerthe- 
lesse  at  a  full  sea,  there  is  euery  where  foure  fadome  water  keeping  the 
right  Chanel." 

Ribaut  thinks  that  the  Broad  River  of  Port  Royal  is  the  Jordan  of  the 
Spanish  navigator  Vasquez  de  Ayllon,  whd  was  here  in  1520,  and  gave 
the  name  of  St.  Helena  to  a  neighboring  cape  (Garcilaso,  Florida  dtl  Inra) 
The  adjacent  district,  now  called  St.  Helena,  is  the  Chicora  of  the  oW 


1662.]  CHARLESFORT.  35 

Preliminary  exploration,  not  immediate  settlement, 
had  been  the  object  of  the  voyage  ;  bat  all  was  still  rose- 
color  in  the  eyes  of  the  voyagers,  and  many  of  their 
number  would  fain  linger  in  the  New  Canaan.  Ribaut 
was  more  than  willing  to  humor  them.  He  mustered 
his  company  on  deck,  and  made  them  a  stirring  ha- 
rangue. He  appealed  to  their  courage  and  their  pa- 
triotism, told  them  how,  from  a  mean  origin,  men  rise 
by  enterprise  and  daring  to  fame  and  fortune,  and 
demanded  who  among  them  would  stay  behind  and 
hold  Port  Royal  for  the  King.  The  greater  part  came 
forward,  and  "  with  such  a  good  will  and  joly  corage," 
writes  the  commander,  "  as  we  had  much  to  do  to  stay 
their  importunitie."  Thirty  were  chosen,  and  Albert 
de  Pierria  was  named  to  command  them. 

A  fort  was  forthwith  begun,  on  a  small  stream  called 
the  Chenonceau,  probably  Archer's  Creek,  about  six 
miles  from  the  site  of  Beaufort.  They  named  it  Charles- 
fort,  in  honor  of  the  unhappy  son  of  Catherine  de  Medi- 
cis,  Charles  the  Ninth,  the  future  hero  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew. Ammunition  and  stores  were  sent  on  shore,  and, 
on  the  eleventh  of  June,  with  his  diminished  company, 
Ribaut,  again  embarking,  spread  his  sails  for  France. 

From  the  beach  at  Hilton  Head,  Albert  and  his  com- 
panions might  watch  the  receding  ships,  growing  less 
and  less  on  the  vast  expanse  of  blue,  dwindling  to  faint 
specks,  then  vanishing  on  the  pale  verge  of  the  waters. 
They  were  alone  in  those  fearful  solitudes.  From  the 
North  Pole  to  Mexico  there  was  no  Christian  deni/en 
but  they. 


36  JEAN  RIBAUT.  [1661 

But  how  were  they  to  subsist \  Their  thought  was  not 
of  subsistence,  but  of  gold.  Of  the  thirty,  the  greater 
number  were  soldiers  and  sailors,  with  a  few  gentlemen, 
that  is  to  say,  men  of  the  sword,  born  within  the  pale 
of  nobility,  who  at  home  could  neither  labor  nor  trade 
without  derogation  from  their  rank.  For  a  time  they 
busied  themselves  with  finishing  their  fort,  and,  this 
done,  set  forth  in  quest  of  adventures. 

The  Indians  had  lost  fear  of  them.  Ribaut  had 
enjoined  upon  them  to  use  all  kindness  and  gentleness 
in  their  dealing  with  the  men  of  the  woods  ;  and  they 
more  than  obeyed  him.  They  were  soon  hand  and  glove 
with  chiefs,  warriors,  and  squaws  ;  and  as  with  Indians 
the  adage,  that  familiarity  breeds  contempt,  holds  with 
peculiar  force,  they  quickly  divested  themselves  of  the 
prestige  which  had  attached  at  the  outset  to  their  sup- 
posed character  of  children  of  the  Sun.  Good-will, 
however,  remained,  and  this  the  colonists  abused  to  the 
utmost. 

Roaming  by  river,  swamp,  and  forest,  they  visited  in 
turn  the  villages  of  five  petty  chiefs,  whom  they  called 
kings,  feasting  everywhere  on  hominy,  beans,  and  game, 
and  loaded  with  gifts.  One  of  these  chiefs,  named 
Audusta,  invited  them  to  the  grand  religious  festival  of 
his  tribe.  Thither,  accordingly,  they  went.  The  vil- 
lage was  alive  with  preparation,  and  troops  of  women 
were  busied  in  sweeping  the  great  circular  area,  where 
the  ceremonies  were  to  take  place.  But  as  the  noisy 
and  impertinent  guests  showed  a  disposition  to  undue 
merriment,  the  chief  shut  them  all  in  his  wigwam,  lest 


1562.^  EXCURSIONS.  — FROLICS.  37 

their  Gentile  eyes  should  profane  the  mysteries.  Here, 
immured  in  darkness,  they  listened  to  the  howls,  yelp- 
ings, and  lugubrious  songs  that  resounded  from  with- 
out. One  of  them,  however,  by  some  artifice,  con- 
trived to  escape,  hid  behind  a  bush,  and  saw  the  whole 
solemnity  :  the  procession  of  the  medicine-men  and  the 
bedaubed  and  befeathered  warriors  ;  the  drumming,  the 
dancing,  the  stamping;  the  wild  lamentation  of  the 
women,  as  they  gashed  the  arms  of  the  young  girls 
with  sharp  mussel-shells  and  flung  the  blood  into  the 
air  with  dismal  outcries.  A  scene  of  ravenous  feast- 
ing followed,  in  which  the  French,  released  from  dur- 
ance, were  summoned  to  share. 

Their  carousal  over,  they  returned  to  Charlesfort, 
where  they  were  soon  pinched  with  hunger.  The  In- 
dians, never  niggardly  of  food,  brought  them  supplies 
as  long  as  their  own  lasted  ;  but  the  harvest  was  not 
yet  ripe,  and  their  means  did  not  match  their  good-will. 
They  told  the  French  of  two  other  kings,  Ouade 
and  Couexis,  who  dwelt  towards  the  South,  and  were 
rich  beyond  belief  in  maize,  beans,  and  squashes.  Em- 
barking without  delay,  the  mendicant  colonists  steered 
for  the  wigwams  of  these  potentates,  not  by  the  open 
sea,  but  by  a  perplexing  inland  navigation,  including, 
as  it  seems,  Calibogue  Sound  and  neighboring  waters. 
Arrived  at  the  friendly  villages,  on  or  near  the  Savan- 
nah, they  were  feasted  to  repletion,  and  their  boat  was 
laden  with  vegetables  and  corn.  They  returned  re- 
joicing ;  but  their  joy  was  short.  Their  storehouse  at 
Charlesfort,  taking  fire  in  the  night,  burned  to  the 


gg  JEAN  RIBAUT.  [1662. 

ground,  and  with  it  their  newly  acquired  stock.  Once 
more  they  set  forth  for  the  realms  of  King  Ouade,  and 
once  more  returned  laden  with  supplies.  Nay,  the  gen- 
erous savage  assured  them,  that,  so  long  as  his  corn- 
fields yielded  their  harvests,  his  friends  should  not  want. 
How  long  this  friendship  would  have  lasted  may  well 
be  matter  of  doubt.  With  the  perception  that  the  de- 
pendants on  their  bounty  were  no  demigods,  but  a  crew 
of  idle  and  helpless  beggars,  respect  would  soon  have 
changed  to  contempt  and  contempt  to  ill-will.  But  it 
was  not  to  Indian  war-clubs  that  the  embryo  colony  was 
to  owe  its  ruin.  Within  itself  it  carried  its  own  de- 
struction. The  ill-assorted  band  of  landsmen  and  sail- 
ors, surrounded  by  that  influence  of  the  wilderness 
which  wakens  the  dormant  savage  in  the  breasts  of 
men,  scon  fell  into  quarrels.  Albert,  a  rude  soldier, 
with  a  thousand  leagues  of  ocean  betwixt  him  and  re- 
sponsibility, grew  harsh,  domineering,  and  violent  be- 
yond endurance.  None  could  question  or  oppose  him 
without  peril  of  death.  He  hanged  a  drummer  who 
had  fallen  under  his  displeasure,  and  banished  La  Chere, 
a  soldier,  to  a  solitary  island,  three  leagues  from  the 
fort,  where  he  left  him  to  starve.  For  a  time  his  com- 
rades chafed  in  smothered  fury.  The  crisis  came  at 
length.  A  few  of  the  fiercer  spirits  leagued  together, 
assailed  their  tyrant,  and  murdered  him.  The  deed 
done,  and  the  famished  soldier  delivered,  they  called  to 
the  command  one  Nicholas  Barre,  a  man  of  merit. 
Barre  took  the  command,  and  thenceforth  there  was 
peace. 


1563.]  A  VESSEL  BUILT.  £Q 

Peace,  such  as  it  was,  with  famine,  homesickness, 
disgust.  The  rough  ramparts  and  rude  buildings  of 
Charlesfort,  hatefully  familiar  to  their  weary  eyes,  the 
sweltering  forest,  the  glassy  river,  the  eternal  silence  of 
the  lifeless  wilds  around  them,  oppressed  the  senses 
and  the  spirits.  Did  they  feel  themselves  the  pioneers 
of  religious  freedom,  the  advance-guard  of  civilization  ? 
Not  at  all.  They  dreamed  of  ease,  of  home,  of  pleas- 
ures across  the  sea,  —  of  the  evening  cup  on  the  bench 
before  the  cabaret,  of  dances  with  kind  damsels  of 
Dieppe.  But  how  to  escape  ^  A  continent  was  their 
solitary  prison,  and  the  pitiless  Atlantic  closed  the 
egress.  Not  one  of  them  knew  how  to  build  a  ship  ; 
but  Ribaut  had  left  them  a  forge,  with  tools  and  iron, 
and  strong  desire  supplied  the  place  of  skill.  Trees 
were  hewn  down  and  the  work  begun.  Had  they  put 
forth,  to  maintain  themselves  at  Port  Royal,  the  energy 
and  resource  which  they  exerted  to  escape  from  it,  they 
might  have  laid  the  corner-stone  of  a  solid  colony. 

All,  gentle  and  simple,  labored  with  equal  zeal.  They 
calked  the  seams  with  the  long  moss  which  hung  in 
profusion  from  the  neighboring  trees ;  the  pines  sup- 
plied them  with  pitch;  the  Indians  made  for  them  a 
kind  of  cordage-;  and  for .  sails  they  sewed  together 
their  shirts  and  bedding.  At  length  a  brigantine  worthy 
of  Robinson  Crusoe  floated  on  the  waters  of  the  Chenon- 
ceau.  They  laid  in  what  provision  they  might,  gave 
all  that  remained  of  their  goods  to  the  delighted  In- 
dians, embarked,  descended  the  river,  and  put  to  sea. 
A  fair  wind  filled  their  patchwork  sails  and  bore  them 


40  JEAN  RIBAUT.  [1568. 

from  the  hated  coast.  Day  after  day  they  held  their 
course,  till  at  length  the  favoring-  breeze  died  away  and 
a  breathless  calm  fell  on  the  face  of  the  waters.  Florida 
was  far  behind ;  France  farther  yet  before.  Floating 
idly  on  the  glassy  waste,  the  craft  lay  motionless.  Their 
supplies  gave  out.  Twelve  kernels  of  maize  a  day 
were  each  man's  portion  ;  then  the  maize  failed,  and 
they  ate  their  shoes  and  leather  jerkins.  The  water- 
barrels  were  drained,  and  they  tried  to  slake  their  thirst 
with  brine.  Several  died,  and  the  rest,  giddy  with  ex- 
haustion and  crazed  with  thirst,  were  forced  to  ceaseless 
labor,  baling  out  the  water  that  gushed  through  every 
seam.  Head-winds  set  in,  increasing  to  a  gale,  and 
the  wretched  brigantine,  her  sails  close-reefed,  tossed 
among  the  savage  billows  at  the  mercy  of  the  storm. 
A  heavy  sea  rolled  down  upon  her,  and  threw  her  on 
her  side.  The  surges  broke  over  her,  and,  clinging 
with  desperate  gripe  to  spars  and  cordage,  the  drenched 
voyagers  gave  up  all  for  lost.  At  length  she  righted. 
The  gale  subsided,  the  wind  changed,  and  the  crazy, 
water-logged  vessel  again  bore  slowly  towards  France. 
Gnawed  with  deadly  famine,  they  counted  the  leagues 
of  barren  ocean  that  still  stretched  before.  With  hag- 
gard, wolfish  eyes  they  gazed  on  each  other,  till  a  whis- 
per passed  from  man  to  man,  that  one,  by  his  death, 
might  ransom  all  the  rest.  The  choice  was  made.  It 
fell  on  La  Chere,  the  same  wretched  man  whom  Albert 
had  doomed  to  starvation  on  a  lonely  island,  and  whose 
mind  was  burdened  with  the  fresh  memories  of  his  an- 
guish and  despair.  They  killed  him,  and  with  ravenous 


1563.]  CANNIBALISM.  4,1 

avidity  portioned  out  his  flesh.  The  hideous  repast  sus- 
tained them  till  the  French  coast  rose  in  sight,  when, 
it  is  said,  in  a  delirium  of  joy,  they  could  no  longer 
steer  their  vessel,  but  let  her  drift  at  the  will  of  the 
tide.  A  small  English  hark  bore  down  upon  them, 
took  them  all  on  board,  and,  after  landing  the  feeblest, 
carried  the  rest  prisoners  to  Queen  Elizabeth.1 

Thus  closed  another  of  those  scenes  of  woe  whose 
lurid  clouds  were  thickly  piled  around  the  stormy  dawn 
of  American  history. 

It  was  but  the  opening  act  of  a  wild  and  tragic 
drama.  A  tempest  of  miseries  awaited  those  who  es- 
sayed to  plant  the  banners  of  France  and  of  Calvin  in 
the  Southern  forests;  and  the  bloody  scenes  of  the 
religious  war  were  acted  in  epitome  on  the  shores  of 
Florida. 

1  For  all  the  latter  part  of  the  chapter,  the  authority  is  the  first  of  the 
three  long  letters  of  Rene  <le  Laudonnicre,  companion  of  Kibaut  and  his 
successor  in  command.  They  are  contained  in  the  Histoire  Notuble  de  la 
Floride,  compiled  by  Basanier,  Paris,  1586,  and  are  also  to  be  found, 
quaintly  "  d  >ne  into  English,"  in  the  third  volume  of  Hakluy  t's  great  col- 
lection. In  the  main,  they  are  entitled  to  much  confidence 
4* 


CHAPTER   IV. 

i 

1564. 
LAUDONNIERE. 

THE  NEW  COLONY.  —  SATOURTONA.  —  THE  PROMISED  LAND.  —  MIRACULOUS 
LONGEVITY.  —  FORT  CAROLINE.  —  NATIVE  TRIBES.  —  OTTIGNY  EX- 
PLORES THE  ST.  JOHN'S.  —  THE  THIMAGOA.  —  CONFLICTING  ALLIANCES. 
—  INDIAN  WAR.  —  DIPLOMACY  OF  LAUDONNIERE.  —  VASSEUR'S  EXPE- 
DITION. 

ON  the  twenty-fifth  of  June,  1564,  a  French  squad- 
ron anchored  a  second  time  off'  the  mouth  of  the  River 
of  May.  There  were  three  vessels,  the  smallest  of  sixty 
tons,  the  largest  of  one  hundred  and  twenty,  all  crowded 
with  men.  Rene  de  Laudonniere  held  command.  He 
was  of  a  noble  race  of  Poitou,  attached  to  the  House 
of  Chatillon,  of  wjiich  Coligny  was  the  head ;  pious, 
we  are  told,  and  an  excellent  marine  officer.  An  en- 
graving1, purporting  to  be  his  likeness,  shows  us  a  slen- 
der figure,  leaning  against  the  mast,  booted  to  the 
thigh,  with  slouched  hat  and  plume,  slashed  doublet, 
and  short  cloak.  His  thin  oval  face,  with  curled  mous- 
tache and  close-trimmed  beard,  wears  a  somewhat  pen- 
sive look,  as  if  already  shadowed  by  the  destiny  that 
awaited  him.1 

The  intervening  year  since  Ribaut's  voyage  had  been 
a  dark  and  deadly  year  for  France.  From  the  peaceful 

1  See  Guerin,  Navigateurs  Francois,  180.    The  authenticity  of  the  por- 
trait is  doubtful. 


1564.J  THE  NEW  COLONY.  40 

solitude  of  the  River  of  May,  that  voyager  returned  to 
a  land  reeking  with  slaughter.  But  the  carnival  of 
bigotry  and  hate  had  found  a  pause.  The  Peace  of 
Amboise  had  been  signed.  The  fierce  monk  choked 
down  his  venom  ;  the  soldier  sheathed  his  sword,  the 
assassin  his  dagger ;  rival  chiefs  grasped  hands,  and 
masked  their  rancor  under  hollow  smiles.  The  king 
and  the  queen-mother,  helpless  amid  the  storm  of  fac- 
tions which  threatened  their  destruction,  smiled  now  on 
Conde,  now  on  Guise,  —  gave  ear  to  the  Cardinal  of 
Lorraine,  or  listened  in  secret  to  the  emissaries  of  The- 
odore Beza.  Coligny  was  again  strong  at  Court.  He 
used  his  opportunity,  and  solicited  with  success  the 
means  of  renewing  his  enterprise  of  colonization.  With 
pains  and  zeal,  men  were  mustered  for  the  work.  In 
name,  at  least,  they  were  all  Huguenots ;  yet  again,  as 
before,  the  staple  of  the  projected  colony  was  unsound : 
soldiers,  paid  out  of  the  royal  treasury,  hired  artisans 
and  tradesmen,  with  a  swarm  of  volunteers  from  the 
young  Huguenot  noblesse,  whose  restless  swords  had 
rusted  in  their  scabbards  since  the  peace.  The  foun- 
dation-stone was  forgotten.  There  were  no  tillers  of 
the  soil.  Such,  indeed,  were  rare  among  the  Hugue- 
nots ;  for  the  dull  peasants  who  guided  the  plough 
clung  with  blind  tenacity  to  the  ancient  faith.  Adven- 
turous gentlemen,  reckless  soldiers,  discontented  trades- 
men, all  keen  for  novelty  and  heated  with  dreams  of 
wealth,  —  these  were  they  who  would  build  for  their 
country  and  their  religion  an  empire  beyond  the  sea.1 

1  The  principal  authorities  for  this  part  of  the  narrative  are  Laudon- 


44  LAUDONNlfcRE.  "1564. 

With  a  few  officers  and  twelve  soldiers,  Laudonniere 
landed  where  Ribaut  had  landed  before  him  ;  and  as 
their  boat  neared  the  shore,  they  saw  an  Indian  chief 
who  ran  to  meet  them,  whooping  and  clamoring  welcome 
from  afar.  It  was  Satouriona,  the  savage  potentate 
who  ruled  some  thirty  villages  around  the  lower  St. 
John's  and  northward  along  the  coast.  With  him  came 
two  stalwart  sons,  and  behind  trooped  a  host  of  tribes- 
men arrayed  in  smoke-tanned  deerskins  stained  with 
devices  in  gaudy  colors.  They  crowded  around  the 
voyagers  with  beaming  visages  and  yelps  of  gratula- 
tion.  The  royal  Satouriona  could  not  contain  the  exu- 
berance of  his  joy,  since  in  the  person  of  the  French 
commander  he  recognized  the  brother  of  the  Sun,  de- 
scended from  the  skies  to  aid  him  against  his  great 
rival,  Outina. 

Hard  by  stood  the  column  of  stone,  engraved  with 
the  fleur-de-lis,  planted  here  on  the  former  voyage.  The 
Indians  had  crowne'd  the  mystic  emblem  with  ever- 
greens, and  placed  offerings  of  maize  on  the  ground 
before  it ;  for  with  an  affectionate  and  reverent  wonder 
they  had  ever  remembered  the  steel-clad  strangers 

niere  and  his  artist,  Le  Moyne.  Laudonniere's  letters  were  published  in 
1686,  under  the  title  L'Histoire  Notable  de  la  Floride,  mise  en  lumiere  par  M. 
Basanier.  See  also  Hakluyt's  Voyages,  III.  (1812).  Le  Moyne  was  em- 
ployed to  make  maps  and  drawings  of  the  country.  His  maps  are  cu- 
riously inexact.  His  drawings  are  spirited,  and,  with  many  allowances, 
give  useful  hints  concerning  the  habits  of  the  natives.  They  are  en- 
graved in  the  Grands  Voyaues  of  De  Bry,  Part  II.  (Frankfort,  1591).  To 
each  is  appended  a  "  declaratio "  or  explanatory  remarks.  The  same 
work  contains  the  artist's  personal  narrative,  the  Brevis  Narratio.  In  the 
Recueil  de  Pieces  sur  la  Floride  of  Ternaux-Compans  is  a  letter  from  one  of 
the  adventurers. 


THE  PROMISED  LAND.  45 

whom,  two  summers  before,  Jean  Ribaut  had  led  to 
their  shores. 

Five  miles  up  the  St.  John's,  or  River  of  May,  there 
stands,  on  the  southern  bank,  a  hill  some  forty  feet 
high,  boldly  thrusting  itself  into  the  broad  and  lazy 
waters.  It  is  now  called  St.  John's  Bluff.1  Thither 
the  Frenchmen  repaired,  pushed  through  the  dense 
forest,  and  climbed  the  steep  acclivity.  Thence  they 
surveyed  their  Canaan.  Beneath  them  moved  the 
unruffled  river,  gliding  around  the  reed-grown  shores 
of  marshy  islands,  the  haunt  of  alligators,  and  along 
the  bordering  expanse  of  wide,  wet  meadows,  studded 
with  island  -  like  clumps  of  pine  and  palmetto,  and 
hounded  by  the  sunny  verge  of  distant  forests.  Far 
on  their  right,  seen  by  glimpses  between  the  shaggy 
cedar  -  boughs,  the  glistening  sea  lay  stretched  along 
the  horizon.  Before,  in  hazy  distance,  the  softened 
green  of  the  woodlands  was  veined  with  mazes  of 
countless  interlacing  streams  that  drain  the  watery 
region  behind  St.  Mary's  and  Fernandina.  To  the 
left,  the  St.  John's  flowed  gleaming  betwixt  verdant 
shores,  beyond  whose  portals  lay  the  El  Dorado  of  their 
dreams.  "  Briefly,"  writes  Laudonniere,  "  the  place  is 
so  pleasant,  that  those  which  are  melancholicke  would 
be  inforced  to  change  their  humour."2 

A  fresh  surprise  awaited  them.  The  allotted  span 
of  mortal  life  was  quadrupled  in  that  benign  climate. 
Laudonniere's  lieutenant,  Ottigny,  ranging  the  neigh- 

i  For  the  locality,  see  U.  S.  Coast  Survey,  1856,  Map  27. 
*  Translation  in  Hakluyt,  III.  389 ;  Basanier,  fol.  41. 


46  LAUDONNIERE.  [1564. 

boring  forest  with  a  party  of  soldiers,  met  a  troop  of 
Indians  who  invited  him  to  their  dwellings.  Mounted 
on  the  back  of  a  stout  savage,  who  plunged  with  him 
through  the  deep  marshes,  and  guided  him  by  devious 
pathways  through  the  tangled  thickets,  he  arrived  at 
length,  and  beheld  a  wondrous  spectacle.  In  the  lodge 
sat  a  venerable  chief,  who  assured  him  that  he  was  the 
father  of  five  successive  generations,  and  that  he  had  lived 
two  hundred  and  fifty  years.  Opposite  sat  a  still  more 
ancient  veteran,  the  father  of  the  first,  shrunken  to  a 
mere  anatomy,  and  "  seeming  to  be  rather  a  dead  car- 
keis  than  a  living  body."  "  Also,"  pursues  the  history, 
u  his  age  was  so  great  that  the  good  man  had  lost  his 
sight,  and  could  not  speak  one  onely  word  but  with  ex- 
ceeding great  paine."1  Despite  his  dismal  condition, 
the  visitor  was  told  that  he  might  expect  to  live,  in  the 
course  of  Nature,  thirty  or  forty  years  more.  As  the 
two  patriarchs  sat  face  to  face,  half  hidden  with  their 
streaming  white  hair,  Ottigny  and  his  credulous  soldiers 
looked  from  one  to  the  other,  lost  in  speechless  admira- 
tion. 

Man  and  Nature  alike  seemed  to  mark  the  borders 
of  the  River  of  May  as  the  site  of  the  new  colony; 
for  here,  around  the  Indian  towns,  the  harvests  of 
maize,  beans,  and  pumpkins  promised  abundant  food, 
while  the  river  opened  a  ready  way  to  the  mines  of  gold 
and  silver  and  the  stores  of  barbaric  wealth  which  glit- 
tered before  the  dreaming  vision  of  the  colonists.  Yet, 

1  Laudonnifcre  in  Hakluyt,  III.  388;  Basanier,  fol.  40;  Coppie  <f  ttne  Let- 
tre  venant  de  la  Floride,  in  Ternaux-Compans,  Floride,  233. 


1564.]  FORT  CAROLINE.  4,7 

the  better  to  content  himself  and  his  men,  Laudonniere 
weighed  anchor,  and  sailed  for  a  time  along  the  neigh- 
boring coasts.  Returning,  confirmed  in  his  first  im- 
pression, he  set  forth  with  a  party  of  officers  and  sol- 
diers to  explore  the  borders  of  the  chosen  stream.  The 
day  was  hot.  The  sun  beat  fiercely  on  the  woollen 
caps  and  heavy  doublets  of  the  men,  till  at  length  they 
gained  the  shade  of  one  of  those  deep  forests  of  pine 
where  the  dead,  hot  air  is  thick  with  resinous  odors,  and 
the  earth,  carpeted  with  fallen  leaves,  gives  no  sound 
beneath  the  foot.  Yet,  in  the  stillness,  deer  leaped  up 
on  all  sides  as  they  moved  ajong.  Then  they  emerged 
into  sunlight.  A  broad  meadow  was  before  them,  a 
running  brook,  and  a  lofty  wall  of  encircling  forests. 
The  men  called  it  the  Vale  of  Laudonniere.  The  after- 
noon was  spent,  and  the  sun  was  near  its  setting,  when 
they  reached  the  bank  of  the  river.  They  strewed  the 
ground  with  boughs  and  leaves,  and,  stretched  on  that 
sylvan  couch,  slept  the  sleep  of  travel-worn  and  weary 
men. 

At  daybreak  they  were  roused  by  sound  of  trumpet. 
Men  and  officers  joined  their  voices  in  a  psalm,  then 
betook  themselves  to  their  task.  It  was  the  building 
of  a  fort,  and  this  was  the  chosen  spot,  a  tract  of  dry 
ground  on  the  brink  of  the  river,  immediately  above  St. 
John's  Bluff.  On  the  right  was  the  bluff;  on  the  left, 
a  marsh  ;  in  front,  the  river  ;  behind,  the  forest. 

Boats  came  up  the  stream  with  laborers,  tents,  pro- 
vision, cannon,  and  tools.  The  engineers  marked  out 
the  work  in  the  form  of  a  triangle ;  and,  from  the  no- 


48  LAUDONNifcRE.  [1564. 

ble  volunteer  to  the  meanest  artisan,  all  lent  a  hand  to 
complete  it.  On  the  river  side  the  defences  were  a  pal- 
isade of  timber.  On  the  two  other  sides  were  a  ditch, 
and  a  rampart  of  fascines,  earth,  and  sods.  At  each 
angle  was  a  bastion,  in  one  of  which  was  the  magazine. 
Within  was  a  spacious  parade,  and  around  it  various 
buildings  for  lodging  and  storage.  A  large  house  with 
covered  galleries  was  built  on  the  side  towards  the  river 
for  Laudonniere  and  hjs  officers.  In  honor  of  Charles 
the  Ninth  the  fort  was  named  Fort  Caroline. 

Meanwhile  Satouriona,  "  lord  of  all  that  country," 
as  the  narratives  style  him,  was  seized  with  misgivings 
on  learning  these  mighty  preparations.  The  work  was 
scarcely  begun,  and  all  was  din  and  confusion  around 
the  incipient  fort,  when  the  startled  Frenchmen  saw 
the  neighboring  height  of  St.  John's  swarming  with 
naked  warriors.  Laudonniere  set  his  men  in  array, 
and,  for  a  season,  ,pick  and  spade  were  dropped  for 
arquebuse  and  pike.  The  savage  chief  descended 
to  the  camp.  The  artist  Le  Moyne,  who  saw  him, 
drew  his  likeness  from  memory,  —  a  tall,  athletic  fig- 
ure, tattooed  in  token  of  his  rank,  plumed,  bedecked 
with  strings  of  beads,  and  girdled  with  tinkling  pieces 
of  metal  which  hung  from  the  belt,  his  only  gar- 
ment.1 He  came  in  regal  state,  a  crowd  of  warriors 
around  him,  and,  in  advance,  a  troup  of  young  Indians 
irmed  with  spears.  Twenty  musicians  followed,  blow- 
ng  hideous  discord  through  pipes  of  reeds.  Arrived, 
le  seated  himself  on  the  ground  "  like  a  monkey,"  as 

i  Le  Moyne,  Tabula  VIII.  XI. 


NATIVE   TRIBES.  ^g 

Le  Moym;  has  it  in  the  grave  Latin  of  his  Brevis 
Narratio.  A  council  followed,  in  which  broken  words 
were  aided  by  signs  and  pantomime.  A  treaty  of  alli- 
ance was  made,  and  Laudonniere  had  the  folly  to  prom- 
ise the  chief  that  he  would  lend  him  aid  against  his 
enemies.  Satouriona,  well  pleased,  ordered  his  Indians 
to  aid  the  French  in  their  work.  They  obeyed  with 
alacrity,  and  in  two  days  the  buildings  of  the  fort  were 
all  thatched,  after  the  native  fashion,  with  leaves  of  the 
palmetto. 

A  word  touching  these  savages.  In  the  peninsula 
of  Florida  were  several  distinct  Indian  confederacies, 
with  three  of  which  the  French  were  brought  into  con- 
tact. The  first  was  that  of  Satouriona.  The  next  was 
the  potent  confederacy  of  the  people  called  the  Thiina- 
goa,  under  their  chief  Outina,  whose  forty  villages  were 
scattered  among  the  lakes  and  forests  around  the  upper 
waters  of  this  remarkable  river.  The  third  was  that  of 
"  King  Potanou,''  whose  domain  lay  among  the  pine- 
barrens,  cypress-swamps,  and  fertile  hummocks,  west- 
ward and  northwestward  of  the  St.  John's.  The  three 
communities  were  at  deadly  enmity.  Their  social  state 
was  more  advanced  than  that  of  the  wandering  hunter- 
tribes  of  the  North.  They  were  an  agricultural  people. 
Around  all  their  villages  were  fields  of  maize,  beans, 
and  pumpkins.  The  harvest,  due  chiefly  to  the  labor 
of  the  women,  was  gathered  into  a  public  granary,  and 
on  it  they  lived  during  three  fourths  of  the  year,  dis- 
persing in  winter  to  hunt  among  the  forests. 

Their  villages  were  clusters  of  huts,  thatched  with 


50  LATJDONNlfcRE.  |1564. 

palmetto.  In  the  midst  was  the  dwelling  of  the  chief, 
much  larger  than  the  rest,  and  sometimes  raised  on  an 
artificial  mound.  They  were  enclosed  with  palisades, 
and,  strange  to  say,  some  of  them  were  approached  by 
wide  avenues,  artificially  graded,  and  several  hundred 
yards  in  length.  Traces  of  them  may  still  be  seen, 
as  may  also  the  mounds  in  which  the  Floridians,  like 
the  Hurons  and  various  other  tribes,  collected  at  stated 
intervals  the  bones  of  their  dead. 

The  most  prominent  feature  of  their  religion  was 
sun-worship,  and,  like  other  wild  American  tribes,  they 
abounded  in  "  medicine-men,"  who  combined  the  func- 
tions of  physician  and  necromancer. 

Social  distinctions  were  sharply  defined  among  them. 
Their  chiefs,  whose  office  was  hereditary,  sometimes 
exercised  a  power  almost  absolute.  Each  village  had 
its  chief,  subordinate  to  the  grand  chief  of  the  nation. 
In  the  language  of 'the  French  narratives,  they  were 
all  kings  or  lords,  vassals  of  the  great  monarch  Sa- 
touriona,  Outina,  or  Potanou.  All  these  tribes  are  now 
extinct,  and  it  is  difficult  to  ascertain  with  precision 
their  tribal  affinities.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  they 
were  the  authors  of  the  aboriginal  remains  at  present 
found  in  various  parts  of  Florida. 

Their  fort  nearly  finished,  and  their  league  made  with 
Satouriona,  the  gold-hunting  Huguenots  were  eager  to 
spy  out  the  secrets  of  the  interior.  To  this  end  the 
lieutenant,  Ottigny,  went  up  the  river  in  a  sail-boat. 
With  him  were  a  few  soldiers  and  two  Indians,  the 
latter  going  forth,  says  Laudonniere,  as  if  bound  to  a 


1564.]  OTTIGNY'S  VOYAGE.  *, 

wedding,  keen  for  a  fight  with  the  hated  Thirnagoa,  and 
exulting  in  the  havoc  to  be  wrought  among  them  by  the 
magic  weapons  of  their  white  allies.  They  were  doomed 
to  grievous  disappointment. 

The  Sieur  d'Ottigny  -spread  his  sail,  and  calmly 
glided  up  the  dark  waters  of  the  St.  John's,  a  scene 
fraught  with  strange  interest  to  the  naturalist  and  the 
lover  of  Nature.  Here,  two  centuries  later,  the  Bar- 
trams,  father  and  son,  guided  their  skill'  and  kindled 
their  nightly  bivouac-fire  ;  and  here,  too,  roamed  Audu- 
bon,  with  his  sketch-book  and  his  gun.  Each  alike  has 
left  the  record  of  his  wanderings,  fresh  as  the  woods 
and  waters  that  inspired  it.1  Slight  was  then  the 
change  since  Ottigny,  first  of  white  men,  steered  his 
bark  over  the  still  breast  of  the  virgin  river.  Before 
him,  like  a  lake,  the  redundant  waters  spread  far  and 
wide ;  and  along  the  low  shores,  on  jutting  points, 
or  the  margin  of  deep  and  sheltered  coves,  towered 
wild,  majestic  forms  of  vegetable  beauty.  Here  rose 
the  magnolia,  high  above  surrounding  woods ;  but  the 
flowers  had  fallen,  that  a  few  weeks  earlier  studded 
the  verdant  dome  with  silver.  From  the  edge  of  the 
bordering  swamp  the  cypress  reared  its  vast  but- 
tressed'column  and  leafy  canopy.  From  the  rugged 
arms  of  oak  and  pine  streamed  the  gray  drapery 

1  John  Bartram  visited  Florida  after  the  cession  of  1703,  with  his  son, 
William.  His  Description  of  Eaat  Florida  (Loud.  17GG)  is  the  record  of 
his  journey.  William  Bartram  was  here  again  fifteen  years  later.  His 
Travels  through  Xorth  and  South  Carolina,  Georyia,  East  and  West  Florida, 
etc.  (Phil.  1791-4,)  is  the  work  of  a  close  and  enthusiastic  student  of  Na- 
ture. Audubon's  sketches  of  Floridian  scenes,  witli  other  similar  papers, 
are  interspersed  through  the  first  edition  of  his  Ornithology,  but  omitted 
in  the  later  editions 


52  LAUDONNIEEE.  [1564. 

of  the  long  Spanish  moss,  swayed  mournfully  by  the 
faintest  breeze.  Here  were  the  tropical  plumage  of  the 
palm,  the  dark  green  masses  of  the  live-oak,  the  glis- 
tening verdure  of  wild  orange-groves  ;  and  from  out 
the  shadowy  thickets  hung  the  wreaths  of  the  jessamine 
and  the  scarlet  trumpets  of  the  bignonia. 

Nor  less  did  the  fruitful  river  teem  with  varied  forms 
of  animal  life.  From  caverns  of  leafy  shade  came 
the  gleam  and  flicker  of  many-colored  plumage.  The 
cormorant,  the  pelican,  the  heron,  floated  on  the  water, 
or  stalked  along  its  pebbly  brink.  Among  the  sedges, 
the  alligator,  foul  from  his  native  mud,  outstretched  his 
hideous  length,  or,  sluggish  and  sullen,  drifted  past  the 
boat,  his  grim  head  level  with  the  surface,  and  each 
scale,  each  folding  of  his  horny  hide,  distinctly  visible, 
as,  with  the  slow  movement  of  distended  paws,  he  bal- 
anced himself  in  the  water.  When,  at  sunset,  they 
drew  up  their  boat  on  the  strand,  and  built  their  camp- 
fire  under  the  arches  of  the  woods,  the  shores  resounded 
with  the  roaring  of  these  colossal  lizards  ;  all  night  the 
forest  rang  with  the  whooping  of  the  owls  ;  and  in  the 
morning  the  sultry  mists  that  wrapped  the  river  were 
vocal,  far  and  near,  with  the  clamor  of  wild  turkeys. 

Among  such  scenes,  for  twenty  leagues,  the  adventu- 
rous sail  moved  on.  Far  to  the  right,  beyond  the  silent 
waste  of  pines,  lay  the  realm  of  the  mighty  Potanou. 
The  Thimagoa  towns  were  still  above  them  on  the  river, 
when  they  saw  three  canoes  of  this  people  at  no  great 
distance  in  front.  Forthwith  the  two  Indians  in  the 
boat  were  fevered  with  excitement.  With  glittering 


1564.]  THE   THIMAGOA.  £<j 

eyes  they  snatched  pike  and  sword,  and  prepared  for 
fight ;  but  the  sage  Ottigny,  bearing  slowly  down  on 
the  strangers,  gave  them  time  to  paddle  ashore  and 
escape  to  the  woods.  Then,  landing,  he  approached 
tlie  canoes,  placed  in  them  a  few  trinkets,  and  withdrew 
to  a  distance.  The  fugitives  took  heart,  and,  step  by 
step,  returned.  An  intercourse  was  opened,  with  as- 
surances of  friendship  on  the  part  of  the  French, 
a  procedure  viewed  by  Satouriona's  Indians  with  un- 
speakable disgust. 

The  ice  thus  broken,  Ottigny  returned  to  Fort  Car- 
oline ;  and,  a  fortnight  later,  an  officer  named  Vasseur 
sailed  up  the  river  to  pursue  the  adventure :  for  the 
French,  thinking  that  the  nation  of  the  Thimagoa  lay 
betwixt  them  and  the  gold-mines,  would  by  no  means 
quarrel  with  them,  and  Laudonniere  repented  already 
of  his  rash  pledge  to  Satouriona. 

As  Vasseur  moved  on,  two  Indians  hailed  him  from 
the  shore,  inviting  him  to  their  dwellings.  He  accepted 
their  guidance,  and  presently  saw  before  him  the  corn- 
fields and  palisades  of  an  Indian  town.  Led  through 
the  wondering  crowd  to  the  lodge  of  Mollua,  the  chief, 
Vasseur  and  his  followers  were  seated  in  the  place  of 
honor,  and  plentifully  regaled  with  fish  and  bread.  The 
repast  over,  Mollua  began  his  discourse.  He  told  them 
that  he  was  one  of  the  forty  vassal  chiefs  of  the  great 
Outina,  lord  of  all  the  Thimagoa,  whose  warriors  wore 
armor  of  gold  and  silver  plate.  He  told  them,  too,  of 
Potanou,  his  enemy,  a  mighty  and  redoubted  prince  ; 
and  of  the  two  kings  of  the  distant  Appalachian  Mouu- 


54,  LAUDONNlfcRE.  [1564. 

tains,  rich  beyond  utterance  in  gems  and  gold.  While 
thus,  with  earnest  pantomime  and  broken  words,  the 
chief  discoursed  with  his  guests,  Vasseur,  intent  and 
eager,  strove  to  follow  his  meaning ;  and,  no  sooner  did 
he  hear  of  these  Appalachian  treasures,  than  he  prom- 
ised to  join  Outina  in  war  against  the  two  potentates 
of  the  mountains.  The  sagacious  Mollua,  well  pleased, 
promised  that  each  of  Outina's  vassal  chiefs  should  re- 
quite their  French  allies  with  a  heap  of  gold  and  silver 
two  feet  high.  Thus,  while  Laudonniere  stood  pledged 
to  Satouriona,  Vasseur  made  alliance  with  his  mortal 
enemy. 

Returning,  he  was  met,  near  the  fort,  by  one  of  Sa- 
touriona's  chiefs,  who  questioned  him  touching  his  deal- 
ings with  the  Thimagoa.  Vasseur  replied  that  he  had 
set  upon  and  routed  them  with  incredible  slaughter. 
But  as  the  chief,  seenaing  as  yet  unsatisfied,  continued 
his  inquiries,  the  sergeant,  Francois  de  la  Caille,  dre\v 
his  sword,  and,  like  Falstaflf  before  him,  reenacted  his 
deeds  of  valor,  pursuing  and  thrusting  at  the  imagi- 
nary Thimagoa,  as  they  fled  before  his  fury.  The  chief, 
at  length  convinced,  led  the  party  to  his  lodge,  and  en- 
tertained them  with  a  certain  savory  decoction  with 
which  the  Indians  were  wont  to  regale  those  whom 
they  delighted  to  honor.1 

Elated  at  the  promise  of  a  French  alliance,  Satouriona 
had  summoned  his  vassal  chiefs  to  war.  From  the  St. 
Mary's  and  the  Santilla  and  the  distant  Altamaha,  from 
every  quarter  of  his  woodland  realm,  they  had  mustered 

1  Laudonniere  in  Hakluyt,  III.  394 


1564.]  INDIAN,  WAR.  55 

at  his  call.  Along  the  margin  of  the  St.  John's,  the  for- 
est was  alive  with  their  bivouacs.  Here  were  ten  chiefs 
and  some  five  hundred  men.  And  now,  when  all  was 
ready,  Satouriona  reminded  Laudonniere  of  his  promise, 
and  claimed  its  fulfilment ;  but  the  latter  gave  evasive 
answers  and  a  virtual  refusal.  Stifling  his  rage,  the 
chief  prepared  to  go  without  him. 

Near  the  bank  of  the  river,  a  fire  was  kindled,  and 
two  large  vessels  of  water  were  placed  beside  it.  Here 
Satouriona  took  his  stand.  His  chiefs  crouched  on  the 
grass  around  him,  and  the  savage  visages  of  his  five 
hundred  warriors  filled  the  outer  circle,  their  long  hair 
garnished  with  feathers,  or  covered  with  the  heads  and 
skins  of  wolves,  panthers,  bears,  or  eagles.  Satouriona, 
looking  towards  the  country  of  his  enemy,  distorted  his 
features  into  a  wild  expression  of  rage  and  hate  ;  then 
muttered  to  himself;  then  howled  an  invocation  to  his 
god,  the  Sun  ;  then  besprinkled  the  assembly  with  wa- 
ter from  one  of  the  vessels,  and,  turning  the  other  upon 
the  fire,  suddenly  quenched  it.  "  So,"  he  cried,  "  may 
the  blood  of  our  enemies  be  poured  out,  and  their  lives 
extinguished !  "  and  the  concourse  gave  forth  an  explo- 
sion of  responsive  yells,  till  the  shores  resounded  with 
the  wolfish  din.1 

The  rites  over,  they  set  forth,  and  in  a  few  days  re- 
turned exulting,  with  thirteen  prisoners  and  a  number 
of  scalps.  The  latter  were  hung  on  a  pole  before  the 
royal  lodge,  and  when  night  came,  it  brought  with  it  a 
pandemonium  of  dancing  and  whooping,  drumming  and 
feasting. 

i  Le  Moyne  makes  the  scene  the  subject  of  one  of  his  pictures. 


56  LAUDQXXlfcRE.  iv;i 

A  notable  scheme  entered  the  brain  of  Laudonniere. 
Resolved,  cost  \vhat  it  might,  to  make  a  friend  of  Ou- 
tina.  he  conceived  it  to  be  a  stroke  of  policy  to  send  back 
to  him  two  of  the  prisoners.  In  the  morning  he  sent  a 
soldier  to  Satouriona  to  demand  them.  The  astonished 
chief  gave  a  flat  refusal,  adding  that  lie  owed  the  French 

o  ~ 

no  favors,  for  they  had  shamefully  broken  faith  with 
him.  On  this,  Laudonniere.  at  the  head  of  twenty 
soldiers,  proceeded  to  the  Indian  town,  placed  a  guard 
at  the  opening  of  the  great  lodge,  entered  with  his  ar- 
quebusiers,  and  seated  himself  without  ceremony  in  the 
highest  place.  Here,  to  show  his  displeasure,  he  re- 
mained in  silence  for  half  an  hour.  At  length  he  spoke, 
renewing  his  demand.  For  some  moments  Satouriona 
made  no  reply ;  then  lie  coldlv  observed  that  die  sight  of 
so  many  armed  men  had  frightened  the  prisoners  away. 
Laudonniere  grew  peremptory,  when  the  chief's  sou, 
Athore,  went  out,  and  presently  returned  with  the  two 
Indians,  whom  the  French  led  back  to  Fort  Caroline.1 

Satouriona  dissembled,  professed  good-will,  and  sent 
presents  to  the  fort ;  but  die  outrage  rankled  in  his 
savage  breast,  and  he  never  forgave  it. 

Captain  Vassear,  with  the  Swiss  ensign,  Arlac,  a 
sergeant,  and  ten  soldiers,  embarked  to  bear  the  ill-got- 
ten gift  to  Outina.  Arrived,  thev  were  showered  with 
thanks  by  that  grateful  potentate,  who,  hastening  to 
avail  himself  of  his  new  alliance,  invited  them  to  join 
in  a  raid  against  his  neighbor,  Potanou.  To  this  end, 
Arlac  and  five  soldiers  remained,  while  Vasseur  with 
die  rest  descended  to  Fort  Caroline. 

1  Laadmmifere  in  Haklavt,  ITJ.  $96. 


U64.J  VASSEUB'S  EXPEDITION.  57 

The  warriors  were  mustered,  the  dances  were  danced, 
and  the  songs  were  sung.  Then  the  wild  cohort  took 
up  their  march.  The  wilderness  through  which  they 
passed  holds  its  distinctive  features  to  this  day,  —  the 
shady  desert  of  the  pine-barrens,  where  many  a  wan- 
derer has  miserably  died,  with  haggard  eye  seeking 
in  vain  for  clue  or  guidance  in  the  pitiless,  inexorable 
monotony.  Yet  the  waste  has  its  oases,  the  li  hum- 
mocks," where  the  live-oaks  are  hung  with  lonff  fes- 

o  o 

toons  of  grape-vines,  —  where  the  air  is  sweet  with 
woodland  odors,  and  vocal  with  the  song  of  birds. 
Then  the  deep  cypress-swamp,  where  dark  trunks  rise 
like  the  columns  of  some  vast  sepulchre ;  above,  the 
impervious  canopy  of  leaves  ;  beneath,  a  black  and  root- 
entangled  slough.  Perpetual  moisture  trickles  down 
the  clammy  bark,  while  trunk  and  limb,  distorted  with 
strange  shapes  of  vegetable  disease,  wear  in  the  gloom 
a  semblance  grotesque  and  startling.  Lifeless  forms 
lean  propped  in  wild  disorder  against  the  living,  and 
from  every  rugged  stem  and  lank,  outstretched  limb 
hangs  the  dark  drapery  of  the  Spanish  moss.  The 
swamp  is  veiled  in  mourning  ;  no  breath,  no  voice  ; 
a  deathly  stillness,  till  the  plunge  of  the  alligator,  lash- 
ing the  waters  of  the  black  lagoon,  resounds  with  hol- 
low echo  through  the  tomb-like  solitude. 

D 

Next  came  the  broad  sunlight  and  the  wide  savanna. 
Wading  breast-deep  in  grass,  they  view  the  wavy  sea 
of  verdure ;  headland  and  cape  and  far-reaching  prom- 
ontory ;  distant  coasts,  hazy  and  dim ;  havens  and 
shadowed  coves  ;  islands  of  the  magnolia  and  the  palm; 


58  LAUDONNlfcRE.  [15C4. 

high,  impending  shores  of  the  mulberry  and  elm,  ash, 
hickory,  and  maple.  Here  the  rich  gordonia,  never 
out  of  bloom,  sends  down  its  thirsty  roots  to  drink 
at  the  stealing  brook.  Here  the  halesia  hangs  out  its 
silvery  bells,  the  purple  clusters  of  the  wistaria  droop 
from  the  supporting  bough,  and  the  coral  blossoriis 
of  the  erythrina  glow  in  the  shade  beneath.  From 
tufted  masses  of  sword-like  leaves  shoot  up  the  tall 
spires  of  the  yucca,  heavy  with  pendent  flowers  of  pal- 
lid hue,  like  the  moon,  and  from  the  grass  gleams  the 
blue  eye  of  the  starry  ixia.1 

Through  forest,  savanna,  and  swamp,  the  valiant 
Frenchmen  held  their  way.  At  first.  Outina's  Indi- 
ans kept  always  in  advance  ;  but,  when  they  reached 
the  hostile  district,  the  modest  warriors  fell  to  the  rear, 
resigning  the  post  of  honor  to  their  French  allies. 

An  open  country  lay  before  them  ;  a  rude  cultiva- 
tion ;  the  tall  palisades  of  an  Indian  town.  Their  ap- 
proach was  seen,  and  the  warriors  of  Potanou,  no- 
wise daunted,  swarmed  forth  to  meet  them.  But  the 
sight  of  the  bearded  strangers,  the  flash  and  report  of 
the  fire  -  arms,  the  fall  of  their  foremost  chief,  shot 
through  the  brain  by  Arlac,  filled  them  with  conster- 
nation, and  they  fled  headlong  within  their  defences. 
The  men  of  Thimagoa  ran  screeching  in  pursuit.  All 
entered  the  town  together,  pell-mell.  Then  followed 
slaughter,  pillage,  flame.  The  work  was  done,  and 
the  band  returned  triumphant. 

1  Species  of  all  the  above  are  frequent  in  the  district  alluded  to,  but 
perhaps  the  license  of  narrative  is  exceeded  in  supposing  them  all  in 
bloom  at  once.  The  Floridian  ixia  is,  as  above  indicated,  blue,  unlike 
others  of  the  genus. 


CHAPTER  V. 

1564, 1565. 
CONSPIRACY. 

DISCONTENT.  —  Pixrr  OF  ROQUETTE.  —  PIRATICAL  EXCURSION.  —  SEDITIOH.  — 
ILLNESS  OF  LAUDONNIEHB.  —  OUTBREAK  OF  THE  MUTINY.  —  BUCCANEERS. 
—  ORDER  RESTORED. 

IN  the  little  world  of  Fort  Caroline,  a  miniature 
France,  cliques  and  parties,  conspiracy  and  sedition, 
were  fast  stirring  into  life.  Hopes  had  been  dashed  ; 
wild  expectations  had  come  to  nought.  The  adventur- 
ers had  found,  not  conquest  and  gold,  but  a  dull  exile 
in  a  petty  fort  by  a  hot  and  sickly  river,  with  hard  la- 
bor, bad  fare,  prospective  famine,  and  nothing  to  break 
the  weary  sameness  but  some  passing  canoe  or  floating 
alligator.  Gathered  in  knots,  they  nursed  each  other's 
wrath,  and  inveighed  against  the  commandant.  Why 
are  we  put  on  half -rations,  when  he  told  us  that 
provision  should  be  made  for  a  full  year  ?  Where 
are  the  reinforcements  and  supplies  that  he  said  should 
follow  us  from  France  1  Why  is  he  always  closeted 
with  Ottigny,  Arlac,  and  this  and  that  favorite,  when 
we,  men  of  blood  as  good  as  theirs,  cannot  gain  his  ear 
for  a  moment  ?  And  why  has  he  sent  La  Roche  Fer- 
riere  to  make  his  fortune  among  the  Indians,  while  we 
are  kept  here,  digging  at  the  works?1 

1  Compare  Le  Moyne,  Brevls  Nturatio,  9 


60  CONSPIRACY.  11564. 

Of  La  Roche  Ferriere  and  his  adventures,  more 
hereafter.  The  young  nohles,  of  whom  there  were 
many,  were  volunteers,  who  had  paid  their  own  ex- 
penses, in  expectation  of  a  golden  harvest,  and  they 
chafed  in  impatience  and  disgust.  The  religious  ele- 
ment in  the  colony  —  unlike  the  former  Huguenot  emi- 
gration to  Brazil  —  was  evidently  subordinate.  The 
adventurers  thought  more  of  their  fortunes  than  of 
their  faith;  yet  there  were  not  a  few  earnest  enough  in 
the  doctrine  of  Geneva  to  complain  loudly  and  bitterly 
that  no  ministers  had  been  sent  with  them.  The  bur- 
den of  all  grievances  was  thrown  upon  Laudonniere, 
whose  greatest  errors  seem  to  have  arisen  from  weak- 
ness and  a  lack  of  judgment,  —  fatal  defects  in  his 
position. 

The  growing  discontent  was  brought  to  a  partial  head 
by  one  Roquette,  who  gave  out  that  high  up  the  river 
he  had  discovered  by  magic  a  mine  of  gold  and  silver, 
which  would  give  each  of  them  a  share  of  ten  thousand 
crowns,  besides  fifteen  hundred  thousand  for  the  king. 
But  for  Laudonniere,  he  said,  their  fortunes  would  all 
be  made.  He  found  an  ally  in  a  gentleman  named 
Genre,  one  of  Laudonniere's  confidants,  who,  still  pro- 
fessing fast  adherence  to  his  interests,  is  charged  by 
him  with  plotting  against  his  life.  Many  of  the  sol- 
diers were  in  the  conspiracy.  They  made  a  flag  of 
an  old  shirt,  which  they  carried  with  them  to  the  ram- 
part when  they  went  to  their  work,  at  the  same  time 
wearing  their  arms,  and  watching  an  opportunity  to 
kill  the  commandant.  About  this  time,  overheating 


1664-1  jeiRATICAL  EXCURSION.  -j 

himself,  he  fell  ill,  and  was  confined  to  his  quarters. 
On  this,  Genre  made  advances  to  the  apothecary,  ui  <*- 
ing  him  to  put  arsenic  into  his  medicines;  hut  the 
apothecary  shrugged  his  shoulders.  They  next  devised 
a  scheme  to  blow  him  up  by  hiding  a  keg  of  gunpow- 
der under  his  bed  ;  but  here,  too,  they  failed.  Hints 
of  Genre's  machinations  reaching  the  ears  of  Laudon- 
niere,  the  culprit  fled  to  the  woods,  whence  he  wrote  re 
pentant  letters,  with  full  confession,  to  his  commander. 

Two  of  the  ships  meanwhile  returned  to  France,  — 
the  third,  the  Breton,  remaining  at  anchor  opposite  the 
fort.  The  malecontents  took  the  opportunity  to  send 
home  charges  against  Laudonniere  of  peculation,  favor- 
itism, and  tyranny.1 

Early  in  September,  Captain  Bourdet,  apparently  a 
private  adventurer,  had  arrived  from  France  with  a 
small  vessel.  When  he  returned,  about  the  tenth  of 
November,  Laudonniere  persuaded  him  to  carry  home 
seven  or  eight  of  the  malecontent  soldiers.  Bourdet 
left  some  of  his  sailors  in  their  place.  The  exchange 
proved  most  disastrous.  These  pirates  joined  with 
others  whom  they  had  won  over,  stole  Laudonniere's 
two  pinnaces,  and  set  forth  on  a  plundering  excursion 
to  the  West  Indies.  They  took  a  small  Spanish  vessel 
off  the  coast  of  Cuba,  but  were  soon  compelled  by 
famine  to  put  into  Havana  and  give  themselves  up. 
Here,  to  make  their  peace  with  the  authorities,  they 
told  all  they  knew  of  the  position  and  purposes  of  their 

JBarcia,  Ensayo  Cronologico,  63;   Laudonnifcre  in  Hakluyt,  III.  400- 
Basanier,  61 

6 


62  CONSPIRACY.  [1564. 

countrymen  at  Fort  Caroline,  and  thus  was  forged  the 
thunderbolt  soon  to  be  hurled  against  the  wretched  little 
colony; 

On  a  Sunday  morning,  Frangois  de  la  Caille1  came  to 
Laudonniere's  quarters,  and,  in  the  name  of  the  whole 
company,  requested  him  to  come  to  the  parade-ground. 
He  complied,  and,  issuing  forth,  his  inseparable  Ottigny 
at  his  side,  he  saw  some  thirty  of  his  officers,  soldiers, 
and  gentlemen-volunteers  waiting  before  the  building 
with  fixed  and  sombre  countenances.  La  Caille,  advanc- 
ing, begged  leave  to  read,  in  behalf  of  the  rest,  a  paper 
which  he  held  in  his  hand.  It  opened  with  protestations 
of  duty  and  obedience  ;  next  came  complaints  of  hard 
work,  starvation,  and  broken  promises,  and  a  request 
that  the  petitioners  should  be  allowed  to  embark  in  the 
vessel  lying  in  the  rivtfr,  and  cruise  along  the  Spanish 
main  in  order  to  procure  provisions  by  purchase  "  or 
otherwise."  In  short,  the  flower  of  the  company  wished 
to  turn  buccaneers. 

Laudonniere  refused,  but  assured  them,  that,  as  soon 
as  the  defences  of  the  fort  should  be  completed,  a  search 
should  be  begun  in  earnest  for  the  Appalachian  gold- 
mine, and  that  meanwhile  two  small  vessels  then  build- 
ing on  the  river  should  be  sent  along  the  coast  to  barter 
for  provisions  with  the  Indians.  With  this  answer  they 
were  forced  to  content  themselves ;  but  the  fermentation 
continued,  and  the  plot  thickened.  Their  spokesman, 

1  La  Caille,  as  before  mentioned,  was  Laudonniere's  sergeant.  The 
feudal  rank  of  sergeant,,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  widely  different 
from  the  modern  grade  so  named,  and  was  held  by  men  of  noble  birth. 


1564.J  MUTINY.  ££ 

La  Caille,  however,  seeing  whither  the  affair  tended, 
broke  with  them,  and,  except  Ottigny,  Vasseur,  and  the 
brave  Swiss,  Arlac,  was  the  only  officer  who  held  to  his 
duty. 

A  severe  illness  again  seized  Laudonniere  and  con- 
fined him  to  his  bed.  Improving  their  advantage,  the 
malecontents  gained  over  nearly  all  the  best  soldiers  in 
the  fort.  The  ringleader  was  one  Fourneaux,  a  man 
of  good  birth,  but  whom  Le  Moyne  calls  an  avaricious 
hypocrite.  He  drew  up  a  paper  to  which  sixty-six  names 
were  signed.  La  Caille  boldly  opposed  the  conspirators, 
and  they  resolved  to  kill  him.  His  room-mate,  Le 
Moyne,  who  had  also  refused  to  sign,  received  a  hint 
from  a  friend  that  he  had  better  change  his  quarters ; 
upon  which  he  warned  La  Caille,  who  escaped  to  the 
woods.  It  was  late  in  the  night.  Fourneaux,  with 
twenty  men  armed  to  the  teeth,  knocked  fiercely  at  the 
commandant's  door.  Forcing  an  entrance,  they  woumled 
a  gentleman  who  opposed  them,  and  crowded  around 
the  sick  man's  bed.  Fourneaux,  armed  with  steel  cap 
and  cuirass,  held  his  arquebuse  to  Laudonniere's  breast, 
and  demanded  leave  to  go  on  a  cruise  among  the  Span- 
ish islands.  The  latter  kept  his  presence  of  mind,  and 
remonstrated  with  some  firmness ;  on  which,  with  oaths 
and  menaces,  they  dragged  him  from  his  bed,  put  him 
in  fetters,  carried  him  out  to  the  gate  of  the  fort,  placed 
him  in  a  boat,  and  rowed  him  to  the  ship  anchored  iu 
the  river. 

Two  other  gangs  at  the  same  time  visited  Ottigny 
and  Arlac.  whom  they  disarmed,  and  ordered  to  keep 


64,  CONSPIRACY.  [1564. 

their  rooms  till  the  night  following,  on  pain  of  death. 
Smaller  parties  were  busied,  meanwhile,  in  disarming 
all  the  loyal  soldiers.  The  fort  was  completely  in  the 
hands  of  the  conspirators.  Fourneaux  drew  up  a  com- 
mission for  his  meditated  West-India  cruise,  which  he 
required  Laudonniere  to  sign.  The  sick  commandant, 
imprisoned  in  the  ship,  with  one  attendant,  at  first  re- 
fused ;  hut,  receiving  a  message  from  the  mutineers, 
that,  if  he  did  not  comply,  they  would  come  on  board 
and  cut  his  throat,  he  at  length  yielded. 

The  buccaneers  now  bestirred  themselves  to  finish  the 
two  small  vessels  on  which  the  carpenters  had  been  for 
some  time  at  work.  In  a  fortnight  they  were  ready  for 
sea,  armed  and  provided  with  the  king's  cannon,  muni- 
tions, and  stores.  Trenchant,  an  excellent  pilot,  was 
forced  to  join  the  party.  Their  favorite  object  was  the 
plunder  of  a  certain  church,  on  one  of  the  Spanish 
islands,  which  they  proposed  to  assail  during  the  mid- 
night mass  of  Christmas,  whereby  a  triple  end  would 
be  achieved :  first,  a  rich  booty ;  secondly,  the  punish- 
ment of  idolatry ;  thirdly,  vengeance  on  the  arch-enemies 
of  their  party  and  their  faith.  They  set  sail  on  the 
eighth  of  December,  taunting  those  who  remained,  call- 
ing them  greenhorns,  and  threatening  condign  punish- 
ment, if,  on  their  triumphant  return,  they  should  be 
refused  free  entrance  to  the  fort. 

They  were  no  sooner  gone  than  the  unfortunate  Lau- 
donniere was  gladdened  in  his  solitude  by  the  approach 
of  his  fast  friends,  Ottigny  and  Arlac,  who  conveyed 
him  to  the  fort,  and  reinstated  him.  The  entire  com- 


1565.]  BUCCANEERS.  55 

mand  was  reorganized,  and  new  officers  appointed.  The 
colony  was  wofully  depleted  ;  but  the  bad  blood  had  been 
drawn  off,  and  thenceforth  all  internal  danger  was  at 
an  end.  In  finishing1  the  fort,  in  building  two  new  ves- 
sels to  replace  those  of  which  they  had  been  robbed, 
and  in  various  intercourse  with  the  tribes  far  and  near, 
the  weeks  passed  until  the  twenty-fifth  of  March,  when 
an  Indian  came  in  with  the  tidings  that  a  vessel  was 
hovering:  off  the  coast.  Laudonniere  sent  to  reconnoitre. 

c? 

The  stranger  lay  anchored  at  the  mouth  of  the  river. 
She  was  a  Spanish  brigantine,  manned  by  the  return- 
ing mutineers,  starving,  downcast,  and  anxious  to  make 
terms.  Yet,  as  their  posture  seemed  not  wholly  pacific, 
Laudonniere  sent  down  La  Caille  with  thirty  soldiers, 
concealed  at  the  bottom  of  his  little  vessel.  Seeing 
only  two  or  three  on  deck,  the  pirates  allowed  her  to 
come  along-side  ;  when,  to  their  amazement,  they  were 
boarded  and  taken  before  they  could  snatch  their  arms. 
Discomfited,  woe-begone,  and  drunk,  they  were  landed 
under  a  guard.  Their  story  was  soon  told.  Fortune 
had  flattered  them  at  the  outset.  On  the  coast  of  Cuba, 
they  took  a  brigantine  laden  with  wine  and  stores.  Em- 
barking in  her,  they  next  fell  in  with  a  caravel,  which 
also  they  captured.  Landing  at  a  village  in  Jamaica, 
they  plundered  and  caroused  for  a  week,  and  had  hardly 
rtvmharked  when  they  fell  in  with  a  small  vessel  having 
nu  board  the  governor  of  the  island.  She  made  des- 

B    _ 

perate  fight,  but  was  taken  at  last,  and  with  her  a  rich 
booty.  They  thought  to  put  the  governor  to  ransom  ; 
but  the  astute  official  deceived  them,  and,  on  pretence 

6* 


66  CONSPIRACY.  [1565. 

of  negotiating  for  the  sum  demanded,  together  with 
certain  apes  and  parrots,  for  which  his  captors  had  also 
hargained,  contrived  to  send  instructions  to  his  wife. 
Hence  it  happened  that  at  daybreak  three  armed  ves- 
sels fell  upon  them,  retook  the  prize,  and  captured  or 
killed  all  the  pirates  but  twenty-six,  who,  cutting  the 
moorings  of  their  brigantine,  fled  out  to  sea.  Among 
these  was  the  ringleader,  Fourneaux,  and,  happily,  the 
pilot,  Trenchant.  The  latter,  eager  to  return  to  Fort 
Caroline,  whence  he  had  been  forcibly  taken,  succeeded 
during  the  night  in  bringing  the  vessel  to  the  coast 
of  Florida.  Great  were  the  wrath  and  consternation 
of  the  pirates,  when  they  saw  their  dilemma ;  for, 
having  no  provision,  they  must  either  starve  or  seek 
succor  at  the  fort.  ,They  chose  the  latter,  and  bore 
away  for  the  St.  John's.  A  few  casks  of  Spanish 
wine  yet  remained,  and  nobles  and  soldiers,  frater- 
nized by  the  common  peril  of  a  halter,  joined  in  a 
last  carouse.  As  the  wine  mounted  to  their  heads,  in 
the  mirth  of  drink  and  desperation,  they  enacted  their 
own  trial.  One  personated  the  judge,  another  the  com- 
mandant ;  witnesses  were  called,  with  arguments  and 
speeches  on  either  side. 

"  Say  what  you  like,"  said  one  of  them,  after  hearing 
the  counsel  for  the  defence ;  "  but  if  Laudonniere  does 
not  hang  us  all,  I  will  never  call  him  an  honest  man." 

They  had  some  hope  of  getting  provisions  from  the 
Indians  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  then  putting  to 
sea  again ;  but  this  was  frustrated  by  La  Caille's  sud- 
den attack.  A  court-martial  was  called  near  Fort  Car,o- 


1565.J  ORDER  RESTORED.  QJ 

line,  and  all  were  found  guilty.  Fourneaux  and  three 
others  were  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 

"  Comrades,"  said  one  of  the  condemned,  appealing 
to  the  soldiers,  "  will  you  stand  by  and  see  us  butch- 
ered 1 " 

"  These,"  retorted  Laudonniere,  "  are  no  comrades 
of  mutineers  and  rebels." 

At  the  request  of  his  followers,  however,  he  com- 
muted the  sentence  to  shooting. 

A  file  of  men,  a  rattling  volley,  and  the  debt  of 
justice  was  paid.  The  bodies  were  hanged  on  gibbets 
at  the  river's  mouth,  and  order  reigned  at  Fort  Caro- 
line.1 

1  The  above  is  from  Le  Moyne  and  Laudonniere,  who  agree  in  essential 
points,  but  differ  in  a  few  details.  The  artist  criticises  the  commandant 
freely.  Compare  Hawkins  in  Hakluyt,  III.  614. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

1564, 1565. 
FAMINE. WAR. SUCCOR. 

LA  ROCHK  FERRIERE.  —  PIERRE  GAMBIE.  —  THE  KING  OF  CALOS.  —  OT- 
TIGNY'S  EXPEDITION.  —  STARVATION.  —  EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE  FKOM  FLOR- 
IDA.—  INDIANS  UNFRIENDLY.- — SEIZURE  OF  OUTINA.  —  ATTEMPTS  TO  EX- 
TORT RANSOM. —  AMBUSCADE.  —  BATTLE.  —  DESPERATION  OF  THE  FRENCH. 
—  SIR  JOHN  HAWKINS  RELIEVES  THEM.  —  RIBAUT  BRINGS  REINFORCE- 
MENTS. —  ADVENT  OF  THE  SPANIARDS. 

WHILE  the  mutiny  was  brewing,  one  La  Roche  Fer- 
riere  had  been  sent  out  as  an  agent  or  emissary  among 
the  more  distant  tribes.  Sagacious,  bold,  and  restless, 
he  pushed  his  way  from  town  to  town,  and  pretended  to 
have  reached  the  mysterious  mountains  of  Appalache. 
He  sent  to  the  fort  mantles  woven  with  feathers,  quiv- 
ers covered  with  choice  furs,  arrows  tipped  with  gold, 
wedges  of  a  green  stone  like  beryl  or  emerald,  and 
other  trophies  of  his  wanderings.  A  gentleman  named 
Grotaut  took  up  the  quest,  and  penetrated  to  the  domin- 
ions of  Hostaqua,  who  could  muster  three  or  four  thou- 
sand warriors,  and  who  promised  with  the  aid  of  a 
hundred  arquebusiers  to  conquer  all  the  kings  of  the 
adjacent  mountains,  and  subject  them  and  their  gold- 
mines to  the  rule  of  the  French.  A  humbler  adven- 
turer was  Pierre  Gambie,  a  robust  and  daring  youth, 
who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  household  of  Coligny, 
and  was  now  a  soldier  under  Laudonniere.  The  latter 


1664.]  THE  KING  OF  CALOS.  gg 

gave  him  leave  to  trade  with  the  Indians,  a  privilege 
which  he  used  so  well  that  he  grew  rich  with  his  traffic, 
became  prime  favorite  with  the  chief  of  the  island  of 
Edelano,  married  his  daughter,  and,  in  his  absence, 
reigned  in  his  stead.  But,  as  his  sway  verged  towards 
despotism,  his  subjects  took  offence,  and  beat  out  his 
brains  with  a  hatchet. 

During  the  winter,  Indians  from  the  neighborhood 
of  Cape  Canaveral  brought  to  the  fort  two  Spaniards, 
wrecked  fifteen  years  before  on  the  southwestern  ex- 
tremity of  the  peninsula.  They  were  clothed  like  the 
Indians,  —  in  other  words,  were  not  clothed  at  all,  — 
and  their  uncut  hair  streamed  wildly  down  their  backs. 
They  brought  strange  tales  of  those  among  whom  they 
had  dwelt.  They  told  of  the  King  of  Calos,  on  whose 
domains  they  had  been  wrecked,  a  chief  mighty  in 
stature  and  in  power.  In  one  of  his  villages  was  a  pit, 
six  feet  deep  and  as  wide  as  a  hogshead,  filled  with 
treasure  gathered  from  Spanish  wrecks  on  adjacent 
reefs  and  keys.  The  monarch  was  a  priest  too,  and  a 
magician,  with  power  over  the  elements.  Each  year 
he  withdrew  from  the  public  gaze  to  hold  converse  in 
secret  with  supernal  or  infernal  powers  ;  and  each  year 
he  sacrificed  to  his  gods  one  of  the  Spaniards  whom  the 
fortune  of  the  sea  had  cast  upon  his  shores.  The  name 
of  the  tribe  is  preserved  in  that  of  the  River  Caloosa. 
In  close  league  with  him  was  the  mighty  Oathcaqua, 
dwelling  near  Cape  Canaveral,  who  gave  his  daughter, 
a  maiden  of  wondrous  beauty,  in  marriage  to  his  great 
ally.  But,  as  the  bride,  with  her  bridesmaids,  was 


70  FAMINE.  —  WAR  -  SUCCOR.  [1565. 

journeying  towards  Calos,  escorted  by  a  chosen  band, 
they  were  assailed  by  a  wild  and  warlike  race,  inhabi- 
tants of  an  island  called  Sarrope,  in  the  midst  of  a  great 
lake,  who  put  the  warriors  to  flight,  bore  the  maidens 
captive  to  their  watery  fastness,  espoused  them  all,  and 
we  are  assured,  "  loved  them  above  all  measure." l 

Outina,  taught  by  Arlac  the  efficacy  of  the  French 
fire-arms,  begged  for  ten  arquebusiers  to  aid  him  on  a 
new  raid  among  the  villages  of  Potanou,  again  alluring 
his  greedy  allies  by  the  assurance,  that,  thus  reinforced, 
he  would  conquer  for  them  a  free  access  to  the  phan- 
tom gold  -  mines  of  Appalache.  Ottigny  set  forth  on 
this  fool's-errand  with  thrice  the  force  demanded.  Three 
hundred  Thimagoa  and  thirty  Frenchmen  took  up  their 
march  through  the  pine  -  barrens.  Outina's  conjurer 
was  of  the  number,  and  had  wellnigh  ruined  the  enter- 
prise. Kneeling  on  Ottigny 's  shield,  that  he  might  not 
touch  the  earth,  with  hideous  grimaces,  bowlings,  and 
contortions,  he  wrought  himself  into  a  prophetic  frenzy, 
and  proclaimed  to  the  astounded  warriors  that  to  ad- 
vance farther  would  be  destruction.  Outina  was  for 
instant  retreat,  but  Ottigny's  sarcasms  shamed  him  into 
a  show  of  courage.  Again  they  moved  forward,  and 
soon  encountered  Potanou  with  all  his  host.2  The 

1  Laudonniere  in   Hakluyt,  III.  406.      Brinton,   Floridian  Peninsula, 
thinks  there  is  truth  in  the  story,  and  that  Lake  Ware,  in  Marion  County, 
is  the  Lake  of  Sarrope.     I  give  these  romantic  tales  as  I  find  them. 

2  Le  Moyne  drew  a  picture  of  the  fight.     In  the  foreground  Ottigny 
is  engaged  in  single  combat  with  a  gigantic  savage,  who,  with  club  up- 
heaved, aims  a  deadly  stroke  at  the  plumed  helmet  of  his  foe;  but  the 
latter,  with  target  raised  to  guard  his  head,  darts  under  the  arms  of  the 
naked  Goliath,  and  tranfixes  him  with  his  sword.    De  Brv,  Part  II. 


1565.]  STARVATION.  y| 

arquebuse  did  its  work ;  panic,  slaughter,  and  a  plen- 
tiful harvest  of  scalps.  But  no  persuasion  could  in- 
duce Outina  to  follow  up  his  victory.  He  went  home 
to  dance  around  his  trophies,  and  the  French  returned 
disgusted  to  Fort  Caroline. 

And  now,  in  ample  measure,  the  French  began  to 
reap  the  harvest  of  their  folly.  Conquest,  gold,  mili- 
tary occupation,  —  such  had  been  their  aims.  Not  a 
rood  of  ground  had  been  stirred  with  the  spade.  Their 
stores  were  consumed ;  the  expected  supplies  had  not 
come.  The  Indians,  too,  were  hostile.  Satouriona 
hated  them  as  allies  of  his  enemies ;  and  his  tribesmen, 
robbed  and  maltreated  by  the  lawless  soldiers,  exulted 
in  their  miseries.  Yet  in  these,  their  dark  and  subtle 
neighbors,  was  their  only  hope. 

May-day  came,  the  third  anniversary  of  the  day 
when  Ribaut  and  his  companions,  full  of  delighted  an- 
ticipations, had  explored  the  flowery  borders  of  the  St. 
John's.  The  contrast  was  dire  ;  for,  within  the  precinct 
of  Fort  Caroline,  a  homesick,  squalid  band,  dejected 
and  worn,  dragged  their  shrunken  limbs  about  the  sun- 
scorched  area,  or  lay  stretched  in  listless  wretchedness 
under  the  shade  of  the  barracks.  Some  were  digging 
roots  in  the  forest,  or  gathering  a  kind  of  sorrel  upon 
the  meadows.  One  collected  refuse  fish-bones,  and 
pounded  them  into  meal.  Yet,  giddy  with  weakness, 
their  skin  clinging  to  their  bones,  they  dragged  them- 
selves in  turn  to  the  top  of  St.  John's  Bluff,  straining 
their  eyes  across  the  sea  to  descry  the  anxiously  ex- 
pected sail. 


yg  FAMINE.  —  WAR.  —  SUCCOR.  [1565. 

Had  Coligny  left  them  to  perish  1  or  had  some  new 
tempest  of  calamity,  let  loose  upon  France,  drowned 
the  memory  of  their  exile  1  In  vain  the  watchman  on 
the  hill  surveyed  the  solitude  of  waters.  A  deep  de- 
jection fell  upon  them,  a  dejection  that  would  have  sunk 
to  despair,  could  their  eyes  have  pierced  the  future. 

The  Indians  had  left  the  neighborhood,  but,  from 
time  to  time,  brought  in  meagre  supplies  of  fish,  which 
they  sold  to  the  famished  soldiers  at  exorbitant  prices. 
Lest  they  should  pay  the  penalty  of  their  extortion, 
they  would  not  enter  the  fort,  but  lay  in  their  canoes  in 
the  river,  beyond  gunshot,  waiting  for  their  customers 
to  come  out  to  them.  "  Oftentimes,"  says  Laudonniere, 
'"  our  poor  soldiers  were  constrained  to  give  away  the 
very  shirts  from  their  backs  to  get  one  fish.  If  at  any 
time  they  shewed  unto  the  savages  the  excessive  price 
which  they  tooke,  these  villaines  would  answere  them 
roughly  and  churlishly :  If  thou  make  so  great  account 
of  thy  marchandise,  eat  it,  and  we  will  eat  our  fish : 
then  fell  they  out  a  laughing  and  mocked  us  with  open 
throat." 

The  spring  wore  away,  and  no  relief  appeared.  One 
thought  now  engrossed  the  colonists,  the  thought  of 
return  to  France.  Vasseur's  ship,  the  Breton,  still 
remained  in  the  river,  and  they  had  also  the  Spanish 
brigantine  brought  by  the  mutineers.  But  these  ves- 
sels were  insufficient,  and  they  prepared  to  build  a  ne\v 
one.  The  energy  of  reviving  hope  lent  new  life  to 
their  exhausted  frames.  Some  gathered  pitch  in  the 
pine  forests  ;  some  made  charcoal ;  some  cut  and  sawed 


1666.J  SEIZURE  OF  OUTINA  73 

timber.  The  maize  began  to  ripen,  and  this  brought 
some  relief;  but  the  Indians,  exasperated  and  greedy, 
sold  it  with  reluctance,  and  murdered  two  half-famished 
Frenchmen  who  gathered  a  handful  in  the  fields. 

The  colonists  applied  to  Outina,  who  owed  them  two 
victories.  The  result  was  a  churlish  message  and  a 
niggardly  supply  of  corn,  coupled  with  an  invitation  to 
aid  him  against  an  insurgent  chief,  the  plunder  of 
whose  villages  would  yield  an  ample  supply.  The  offer 
was  accepted.  Ottigny  and  Vasseur  set  forth,  but 
were  grossly  deceived,  led  against  a  different  enemy, 
and  sent  back  empty-handed  and  half-starved. 

A  crowd  of  soldiers,  pale  with  famine  and  with  rage, 
beset  Laudonniere,  and  fiercely  demanded  to  be  led 
against  Outina  to  take  him  prisoner  and  extort  from  his 
fears  the  supplies  which  could  not  be  looked  for  from 
his  gratitude.  The  commandant  was  forced  to  comply. 
Those  who  could  bear  the  weight  of  their  armor  put  it 
on,  embarked,  to  the  number  of  fifty,  in  two  barges, 
and  sailed  up  the  river  under  the  commandant  himself. 
Having  reached  Outina's  landing,  they  marched  inland, 
entered  his  village,  surrounded  his  mud-plastered  palace, 
seized  him  amid  the  yells  and  bowlings  of  his  subjects, 
and  led  him  prisoner  to  their  boats.  Here,  anchored 
in  mid  -  stream,  they  demanded  a  supply  of  corn  and 
beans  as  the  price  of  his  ransom. 

The  alarm  spread.  Excited  warriors,  bedaubed  with 
red,  came  thronging  from  all  his  villages.  The  forest 
along  the  shore  was  full  of  them  ;  and  troops  of  women 
gathered  at  the  water's  edge  with  moans,  outcries,  and 

7 


f4  FAMINE.  -  WAR  —  SUCCOR.  [1565. 

gestures  of  despair.  Yet  no  ransom  was  offered,  since, 
reasoning  from  their  own  instincts,  they  never  doubted, 
that,  after  the  price  was  paid,  the  captive  would  be  put 
to  death. 

Laudonniere  waited  two  days,  and  then  descended 
the  river.  In  a  rude  chamber  of  Fort  Caroline,  the 
sentinel  stood  his  guard,  pike  in  hand,  while  before  him 
crouched  the  captive  chief,  mute,  impassive,  and  brood- 
ing on  his  woes.  His  old  enemy,  Satouriona,  keen  as 
a  hound  on  the  scent  of  prey,  tried,  by  great  offers,  to 
bribe  Laudonniere  to  give  the  prisoner  into  his  hands. 
Outina,'  however,  was  kindly  treated,  and  assured  of 
immediate  freedom  on  payment  of  the  ransom. 

Meanwhile  his  captivity  was  entailing  grievous  afflic- 
tion on  his  tribesmen  ;  for,  despairing  of  his  return,  they 
mustered  for  the  election  of  a  new  chief.  Party-strife 
ran  high.  Some  were  for  a  boy,  his  son,  and  some  for 
an  ambitious  kinsman  who  coveted  the  vacant  throne. 
Outina  chafed  in  his  prison  on  learning  these  dissen- 
sions ;  and,  eager  to  convince  his  over  -  hasty  subjects 
that  their  king  still  lived,  he  was  so  profuse  of  prom- 
ises, that  he  was  again  embarked  and  carried  up  the 
river. 

At  no  great  distance  below  Lake  George,  a  small 
affluent  of  the  St.  John's  gave  access  by  water  to  a 
point  within  eighteen  miles  of  Outina's  principal  town. 
The  two  barges,  crowded  with  soldiers,  and  bearing 
also  the  royal  captive,  rowed  up  this  little  stream.  In- 
dians awaited  them  at  the  landing,  with  gifts  of  bread, 
beans,  and  fish,  and  piteous  prayers  for  their  chief,  upon 


1665-1  PERIL  OF  THE  FRENCH.  75 

whose  liberation  they  promised  an  ample  supply  of  corn. 
As  they  were  deaf  to  all  other  terms,  Laudonniere 
yielded,  released  the  chief,  and  received  in  his  place 
t\vo  hostages,  who  were  fast  bound  in  the  boats.  Ot- 
tigny  and  Arlac,  with  a  strong  detachment  of  arque- 
bnsiers,  set  forth  to  receive  the  promised  supplies,  for 
which,  from  the  first,  full  payment  in  merchandise  had 
been  offered.  On  their  arrival  at  the  village,  they  filed 
into  the  great  central  lodge,  within  whose  dusky  pre- 
cincts were  gathered  the  magnates  of  the  tribe.  Coun- 
cil-chamber, forum,  banquet-hall,  dancing-hall,  palace, 
all  in  one,  the  royal  dwelling  could  hold  half  the  popu- 
lation in  its  capacious  confines.  Here  the  French  made 
their  abode.  Their  armor  buckled,  their  arquebuse- 
matches  lighted,  they  stood,  or  sat,  or  reclined  on  the 
earthen  floor,  with  anxious  eyes  watching  the  strange, 
dim  scene,  half  lighted  by  the  daylight  that  streamed 
down  through  the  hole  at  the  apex  of  the  roof.  Tall, 
dark  forms  stalked  to  and  fro,  with  quivers,  at  their 
backs,  and  bows  and  arrows  in  their  hands,  while 
groups,  crouched  in  the  shadow  beyond,  eyed  the  hated 
guests  with  inscrutable  visages,  and  malignant,  sidelong 
eyes.  Corn  came  in  slowly,  but  warriors  mustered 
fast.  The  village  without  was  full  of  them.  The 
French  officers  grew  anxious,  and  urged  the  chiefs  to 
greater  alacrity  in  collecting  the  promised  ransom. 
The  answer  boded  no  good.  "  Our  women  are  afraid, 
when  they  see  the  matches  of  your  guns  burning.  Put 
them  out,  and  they  will  bring  the  corn  faster." 

Outina  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.     At   length  they 


76  FAMINE.  —  WAR.  —  SUCCOR.  [1565 

learned  that  he  was  in  one  of  the  small  huts  adjacent. 
Several  of  the  officers  went  to  him,  complaining-  of  the 
slow  payment  of  his  ransom.  The  kindness  of  his 
captors  at  Fort  Caroline  seemed  to  have  won  his  heart. 
He  replied,  that  such  was  the  rage  of  his  subjects  that 
he  could  no  longer  control  them,  —  that  the  French 
were  in  danger,  —  and  that  he  had  seen  arrows  stuck 
in  the  ground  by  the  side  of  the  path,  in  token  that  war 
was  declared.  Their  peril  was  thickening-  hourly,  and 
Ottigny  resolved  to  regain  the  boats  while  there  was 
yet  time. 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  July,  at  nine  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  set  his  men  in  order.  Each  shouldering  a  sack 
of  corn,  they  marched  through  the  rows  of  squalid  huts 
that  surrounded  the  great  lodge,  and  out  betwixt  the 
overlapping  extremities  of  the  palisade  that  encircled  the 
town.  Before  them  stretched  a  wide  avenue,  three  or 
four  hundred  paces  long,  flanked  by  a  natural  growth 
of  trees,  —  one  of  those  curious  monuments  of  native 
industry  to  which  an  allusion  has  been  already  made.1 
Here  Ottigny  halted  and  formed  his  line  of  march. 
Arlac  with  eight  matchlock-men  was  sent  in  advance, 
and  flanking  parties  were  thrown  into  the  woods  on 
either  side.  Ottigny  "told  his  soldiers,  that,  if  the 
Indians  meant  to  attack  them,  they  were  probably  in 
ambush  at  the  other  end  of  the  avenue.  He  was  right. 
As  Arlac's  party  reached  the  spot,  the  whole  pack 
gave  tongue  at  once.  The  war  -  whoop  rose,  and  a 
tempest  of  stone  -  headed  arrows  clattered  against  the 

1  See  ante,  p.  50. 


1566.]  AMBUSCADE.  — BATTLE.  77 

breastplates  of  the  French,  or,  scorching  like  fire,  tore 
through  their  unprotected  limbs.  They  stood  firm,  and 
sent  back  their  shot  so  steadily  that  several  of  the  as- 
sailants were  laid  dead,  and  the  rest,  two  or  three  hun- 
dred in  number,  gave  way  as  Ottigny  came  up  with 
Jiis  men. 

They  moved  on  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  through  a 
country,  as  it  seems,  comparatively  open  ;  when  again 
the  war  -  cry  pealed  in  front,  and  three  hundred  sav- 
ages bounded  to  the  assault.  Their  whoops  were 
echoed  from  the  rear.  It  was  the  party  whom  Arlac 
had  just  repulsed,  who,  leaping  and  showering  their 
arrows,  were  rushing  on.  with  a  ferocity  restrained  only 
by  their  lack  of  courage.  There  was  no  panic  among 
the  French.  The  men  threw  down  their  bugs  of  corn, 

o  * 

and  took  to  their  weapons.  They  blew  their  matches, 
and,  under  two  excellent  officers,  stood  well  to  their 
work.  The  Indians,  on  their  part,  showed  a  good  dis- 
cipline after  their  fashion,  and  were  perfectly  under  the 
control  of  their  chiefs.  With  cries  that  imitated  the 
yell  of  owls,  the  scream  of  cougars,  and  the  howl  of 
wolves,1  they  ran  up  in  successive  bands,  let  fly.  their 
arrows,  and  instantly  fell  back,  giving  place  to  others. 
At  the  sight  of  the  levelled  arquebuse,  they  dropped  flat 
on  the  earth.  Whenever  the  French  charged  upon 
them,  sword  in  hand,  they  fled  thrqugh  the  woods  like 
foxes :  and,  whenever  the  march  was  resumed,  the  ar- 

1  Indian  war  -  cries  are  to  a  great  degree  imitations  of  the  cries  of 
beasts  and  birds  of  prey,  above  all,  of  those  of  the  great  horned  owl, 
than  which  the  forest  has  no  sound  more  startling  and  discordant. 


yg  FAMINE.  -  WAR.  —  SUCCOR.  [1565 

rows  were  showering  again  upon  the  flanks  and  rear 
of  the  retiring  band.  As  they  fell,  the  soldiers  coolly 
picked  them  up  and  broke  them.  Thus,  beset  with 
swarming  savages,  the  handful  of  Frenchmen  pushed 
their  march  till  nightfall,  fighting  as  they  went. 

The  Indians  gradually  drew  off,  and  the  forest  was 
silent  again.  Two  of  the  French  had  been  killed  and 
twenty-two  wounded,  several  so  severely  that  they  were 
supported  to  the  boats  with  the  utmost  difficulty.  Of 
the  corn,  two  bags  only  had  been  brought  off. 

Famine  and  desperation  now  reigned  at  Fort  Caro- 
line. The  Indians  had  killed  two  of  the  carpenters ; 
hence  long  delay  in  the  finishing  of  the  new  ship.  They 
would  not  wait,  but  resolved  to  put  to  sea  in  the  Breton 
and  the  brigantine.  The  problem  was  to  find  food  for 
the  voyage ;  for  now,  in  their  extremity,  they  roasted 
and  ate  snakes,  a  delicacy  in  which  the  neighborhood 
abounded. 

On  the  third  of  August,  Laudonniere,  perturbed  and 
oppressed,  was  walking  on  the  hill,  when,  looking  sea- 
ward, he  saw  a  sight  that  sent  a  thrill  through  his  ex- 
hausted frame.  A  great  ship  was  standing  towards  the 
river's  mouth.  Then  another  came  in  sight,  and  an- 
other, and  another.  He  despatched  a  messenger  with 
the  tidings  to  the  fort  below.  The  languid  forms  of 
his  sick  and  despairing  men  rose  and  danced  for  joy, 
and  voices,  shrill  with  weakness,  joined  in  wild  laughter 
and  acclamation. 

A  doubt  soon  mingled  with  their  joy.  Who  were 
the  strangers "?  Were  they  the  friends  so  long  hoped 


1566.]  SIR  JOHN  HAWKINS.  JQ 

for  in  vain  \  or  were  they  Spaniards,  their  dreaded 
enemie$  \  They  were  neither.  The  foremost  ship  was 
a  stately  one,  of  seven  hundred  tons,  a  mighty  burden 
at  that  day.  She  was  named  the  Jesus;  and  with  her 
were  three  smaller  vessels,  the  Solomon,  the  Tiger,  and 
the  Swallow.  Their  commander  was  "  a  right  worship- 
ful and  valiant  knight,"  —  for  so  the  record  styles  him, 
—  a  pious  man  and  a  prudent,  to  judge  him  by  the 
orders  he  gave  his  crew,  when,  ten  months  before,  he 
sailed  out  of  Plymouth :  —  "  Serve  God  daily,  love  one 
another,  preserve  your  victuals,  beware  of  fire,  and 
keepe  good  companie."  Nor  were  the  crew  unworthy 
of  the  graces  of  their  chief;  for  the  devout  chronicler  of 
the  voyage  ascribes  their  deliverance  from  the  perils  of 
the  sea  to  "  the  Almightie  God,  who  never  suff'ereth 
his  Elect  to  perish." 

Who,  then,  were  they,  this  chosen  band,  serenely 
conscious  of  a  special  Providential  care  ?  Apostles  of 
the  cross,  bearing  the  word  of  peace  to  benighted 
heathendom "?  They  were  the  pioneers  of  that  detested 
traffic  destined  to  inoculate  with  its  infection  nations 
yet  unborn,  the  parent  of  discord  and  death,  filling  half 
a  continent  with  the  tramp  of  armies  and  the  clash  of 
fratricidal  swords.  Their  chief  was  Sir  John  Hawkins, 
father  of  the  English  slave-trade. 

He  had  been  to  the  coast  of  Guinea,  where  he  bought 
and  kidnapped  a  cargo  of  slaves.  These  he  had  sold 
to  the  jealous  Spaniards  of  Hispaniola^  forcing  them, 
with  sword,  matchlock,  and  culverin,  to  grant  him  free 
trade,  and  then  to  sign  testimonials  that  lie  had  borne 


80  FAMINE.  —  WAR.  —  SUCCOR.  [1565. 

himself  as  became  a  peaceful  merchant.  Prospering 
greatly  by  this  summary  commerce,  but  distressed  by 
the  want  of  water,  he  had  put  into  the  River  of  May 
to  obtain  a  supply. 

Among  the  rugged  heroes  of  the  British  marine,  Sir 
John  stood  in  the  front  rank,  and  along  with  Drake, 
his  relative,  is  extolled  as  "  a  man  borne  for  the  honour 

of  the  English  name Neither  did  the  West  of 

England  yeeld  such  an  Indian  Neptunian  paire  as  were 
these  two  Ocean  peeres,  Hawkins  and  Drake."  So 
writes  the  old  chronicler,  Purchas,  and  all  England  was 
of  his  thinking.  A  hardy  seaman,  a  bold  fighter,  over- 
bearing towards  equals,  but  kind,  in  his  bluff  way,  to 
those  beneath  him,  rude  in  speech,  somewhat  crafty 
withal,  and  avaricious,  he  buffeted  his  way  to  riches  and 
fame,  and  died  at  last  full  of  years  and  honor.  As  for 
the  abject  humanity  stowed  between  the  reeking  decks 
of  the  ship  Jesus,  they  were  merely  in  his  eyes  so  many 
black  cattle  tethered  for  the  market.1 

1  For  Hawkins,  see  the  three  narratives  in  Hakluyt,  III.  694 ;  Pur- 
chas, IV.  1177;  Stow,  Citron.  807;  Biog.  Britan.  Art.  Hawkins;  Ander- 
son, History  of  Commerce,  I.  400. 

He  was  not  knighted  until  after  the  voyage  of  1564-5 ;  hence  there  is 
an  anachronism  in  the  text.  As  he  was  held  "  to  have  opened  a  new 
trade,"  lie  was  entitled  to  bear  as  his  crest  a  "  Moor  "  or  negro,  bound 
with  a  cord.  In  Fairbairn's  Crests  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  where  it  is 
figured,  it  is  described,  not  as  a  negro,  but  as  a  "  naked  man."  In  Burke's 
Landed  Gentry,  it  is  said  that  Sir  John  obtained  it  in  honor  of  a  great  vic- 
tory over  the  Moors  !  His  only  African  victories  were  in  kidnapping 
raids  on  negro  villages.  In  Letters  on  Certain  Passages  in  the  Life  of  Sir 
Mm  Hawkins,  the  coat  is  enguaved  in  detail.  The  "  demi-Moor  "  has  the 
thick  lips,  the  flat  nose,  and  the  wool  of  the  unequivocal  negro. 

Sir  John  became  Treasurer  of  the  Royal  Navy  and  Rear- Admiral, 
and  founded  a  marint  hospital  at  Chatham. 


1566. j  GENEROSITY  OF  HAWKINS.  gj 

Hawkins  came  up  the  river  in  a  pinnace,  and  landed 
at  Fort  Caroline,  "  accompanied,"  says  Laudonniere, 
"  with  gentlemen  honorably  apparelled,  yet  unarmed." 
Between  the  Huguenots  and  the  English  there  was  a 
double  tie  of  sympathy.  Both  hated  priests,  and  both 
hated  Spaniards.  Wakening  from  their  apathetic  mis- 
ery, the  starveling  garrison  hailed  him  as  a  deliverer. 
Vet  Hawkins  secretly  rejoiced  when  he  learned  their 
purpose  to  abandon  Florida  ;  for,  though,  not  to  tempt 
his  cupidity,  they  hid  from  him  the  secret  of  their  Ap- 
palachian gold-mine,  he  coveted  for  his  royal  mistress 
the  possession  of  this  rich  domain.  He  shook  his  head, 
however,  when  he  saw  the  vessels  in  which  they  pro- 
posed to  embark,  and  offered  them  all  a  free  passage  to 
France  in  his  own  ships.  This,  from  obvious  motives 
of  honor  and  prudence,  Laudonniere  declined,  upon 
which  Hawkins  offered  to  lend  or  sell  to  him  one  of  his 
smaller  vessels. 

Laudonniere  hesitated,  and  hereupon  arose  a  great 
clamor.  A  mob  of  soldiers  and  artisans  beset  his 
chamber,  threatening  loudly  to  desert  him,  and  take 
passage  with  Hawkins,  unless  the  offer  of  the  latter 
were  accepted.  The  commandant  accordingly  resolved 
to  buy  the  vessel.  The  generous  slaver,  whose  reputed 
avarice  nowise  appears  in  the  transaction,  desired  him 
to  set  his  own  price ;  and,  in  place  of  money,  took  the 
cannon  of  the  fort,  with  other  articles  now  useless  to 
their  late  owners.  He  sent  them,  too,  a  gift  of  wine 
and  biscuit,  and  supplied  them  with  provisions  for  the 
voyage,  receiving  in  payment  Laudonniere 's  note,  — 


g£  FAMINE.  —  WAR.  —  SUCCOR.  [1666. 

"  for  which,"  adds  the  latter,  "  I  am  until  this  present 
indebted  to  him."  With  a  friendly  leave  -  taking  he 
returned  to  his  ships  and  stood  out  to  sea,  leaving 
golden  opinions  among  the  grateful  inmates  of  Fort 
Caroline. 

Before  the  English  top-sails  had  sunk  beneath  the 
horizon,  the  colonists  bestirred  themselves  to  depart. 
In  a  few  days  their  preparations  were,  made.  They 
waited  only  for  a  fair  wind.  It  was  long  in  coming, 
and  meanwhile  their  troubled  fortunes  assumed  a  new 
phase. 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  August,  the  two  captains, 
Vasseur  and  Verdier,  came  in  with  tidings  of  an  ap- 
proaching squadron.  Again  the  fort  was  wild  with  ex- 
citement. Friends  or  foes,  French  or  Spaniards,  succor 
or  deatli ;  —  betwixt  these  were  their  hopes  and  fears 
divided.  With  the  following  morning,  they  saw  seven 
barges  rowing  up  the  river,  bristling  with  weapons  and 
crowded  with  men  in  armor.  The  sentries  on  the  bluff 
challenged,  and  received  no  answer.  One  of  them  fired 
at  the  advancing  boats.  Still  there  was  no  response. 
Laudonniere  was  almost  defenceless.  He  had  given  his 
heavier  cannon  to  Hawkins,  and  only  two  field-pieces 
were  left.  They  were  levelled  at  the  foremost  bo;its, 
and  the  word  to  fire  was  about  to  be  given,  when  a 
voice  from  among  the  strangers  called  out  that  they 
were  French,  commanded  by  Jean  Ribaut. 

At  the  eleventh  hour,  the  long-looked-for  succors 
were  come.  Ribaut  had  been  commissioned  to  sail 
with  seven  ships  for  Florida.  A  disorderly  concourse 


1565.]  REMOVAL  OF  LAUDONNIERE.  ftg 

of  disbanded  soldiers,  mixed  with  artisans  and  their 
families,  and  young  nobles  weary  of  a  two-years'  peace, 
were  mustered  at  the  port  of  Dieppe,  and  embarked,  to 
the  number  of  three  hundred  men,  bearing  with  them 
all  things  thought  necessary  to  a  prosperous  colony. 

No  longer  in  dread  of  the  Spaniards,  the  colonists 
saluted  the  new-comers  with  the  cannon  by  which  a 
moment  before  they  had  hoped  to  blow  them  out  of 
the  water.  Laudonniere  issued  from  his  stronghold  to 
welcome  them,  and  regaled  them  with  what  cheer  he 
could.  Ribaut  was  present,  conspicuous  by  his  long 
beard,  an  astonishment  to  the  Indians;  and  here,  too, 
were  officers,  old  friends  of  Laudonniere.  Why,  then, 
had  they  approached  in  the  attitude  of  enemies "?  The 
mystery  was  soon  explained  ;  for  they  expressed  to  the 
commandant  their  pleasure  at  finding  that  the  charges 
made  against  him  had  proved  false.  He  beggetl  to  know 
more;  on  which  Ribaut,  taking  him  aside,  told  him  that 
the  returning  ships  had  brought  home  letters  filled  with 
accusations  of  arrogance,  tyranny,  cruelty,  and  a  pur- 
pose of  establishing  an  independent  command  :  accusa- 
tions which  he  now  saw  to  be  unfounded,  but  which  had 
been  the  occasion  of  his  unusual  and  startling  precau- 
tion. He  gave  him,  too,  a  letter  from  the  Admiral 
Coligny.  In  brief  but  courteous  terms,  it  required  him 
to  resign  his  command,  and  requested  his  return  to 
France  to  clear  his  name  from  the  imputations  cast 
upon  it.1  Ribaut  warmly  urged  him  to  remain ;  but 
Laudonniere  declined  his  friendly  proposals. 

1  See  the  letter  in  Basanier,  102. 


34.  FAMINE. —  WAR.  — SUCCOR.  [1565. 

Worn  in  body  and  mind,  mortified  and  wounded,  he 
soon  fell  ill  again.  A  peasant-woman  attended  him, 
who  was  brought  over,  he  says,  to  nurse  the  sick  and 
take  charge  of  the  poultry,  and  of  whom  Le  Moyne 
also  speaks  as  a  servant,  but  who  had  been  made  the 
occasion  of  additional  charges  against  him,  most  offen- 
sive to  the  austere  Admiral. 

Stores  were  landed,  tents  were  pitched,  women  and 
children  were  sent  on  shore,  feathered  Indians  mingled 
in  the  throng,  and  the  borders  of  the  River  of  May 
swarmed  with  busy  life.  "But,  lo,  how  oftentimes 
misfortune  doth  search  and  pursue  us,  even  then  when 
we  thinke  to  be  at  rest !  "  exclaims  the  unhappy  Lau- 
donniere.  Amidst  the  light  and  cheer  of  renovated 
hope,  a  cloud  of  blackest  omen  was  gathering  in  the 
east. 

At  half-past  eleven  on  the  night  of  Tuesday,  the 
fourth  of  September,  the  crew  of  Ribaut's  flag-ship, 
anchored  on  the  still  sea  outside  the  bar,  saw  a  huge 
hulk,  grim  with  the  throats  of  cannon,  drifting  towards 
them  through  the  gloom  ;  and  from  its  stern  rolled  on 
the  sluggish  air  the  portentous  banner  of  Spain. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

1565. 
MENENDEZ. 

SPAIN.  —  PEDRO  MENENDEZ  DE  AVILES.  —  His  BOYHOOD.  —  His  EARLY  CA- 
P.EER.  —  His  PETITION  TO  THE  KING.  —  COMMISSIONED  TO  CONQUER  FLOR- 
IDA. —  His  POWERS.  —  His  DESIGNS.  —  A  NEW  CRUSADE.  —  SAILING  OF  TUB 
SPANISH  FLEET.  —  A  STORM.  —  PORTO  Rico.  —  ENEKG Y  OF  MK.NENDEZ.  — 
HE  REACHES  FLORIDA — ATTACKS  RIBAUT'S  SHIPS.  — FOUNDS  ST.  AUGUS- 
TINE.—ALARM  OF  THE  FRENCH.  —  BOLD  DECISION  OF  RIHAUT.  —  DE- 
FENCELESS CONDITION  OF  FORT  CAROLINE.  —  RIBAUT  THWARTED.  —  TEM- 
PEST. —  MENENDEZ  MARCHES  ON  THE  FRENCH  FORT. —  His  DKSPKRATE 
POSITION.  —  THE  FORT  TAKEN.  —  THE  MASSACRE.  —  THE  FUGITIVES. 

THE  monk,  the  inquisitor,  the  Jesuit,  these  were  the 
lords  of  Spain,  —  sovereigns  of  her  sovereign,  for  they 
had  formed  the  dark  and  narrow  mind  of  that  tyranni- 
cal recluse.  They  had  formed  the  minds  of  her  people, 
quenched  in  blood  every  spark  of  rising  heresy,  and 
given  over  a  noble  nation  to  a  bigotry  blind  and  inex- 
orable as  the  doom  of  fate.  Linked  with  pride,  am- 
bition, avarice,  every  passion  of  a  rich,  strong  nature, 
potent  for  good  and  ill,  it  made  the  Spaniard  of  that 
day  a  scourge  as  dire  as  ever  fell  on  man. 

Day  was  breaking  on  the  world.  Light,  hope,  free- 
dom, pierced  with  vitalizing  ray  the  clouds  and  the  mi- 
asma that  hung  so  thick  over  the  prostrate  Middle  Age, 
once  noble  and  mighty,  now  a  foul  image  of  decay  and 
death.  Kindled  with  new  life,  the  nations  gave  birth  to 
a  progeny  of  heroes,  and  the  stormy  glories  of  the  six- 
8 


86  MENENDEZ.  [1565. 

teenth  century  rose  on  awakened  Europe.  But  Spain 
was  the  citadel  of  darkness,  —  a  monastic  cell,  an  in- 
quisitorial dungeon,  where  no  ray  could  pierce.  She 
was  the  hulvvark  of  the  Church,  against  whose  adaman- 
tine wall  the  waves  of  innovation  beat  in  vain.1  In 
every  country  of  Europe  the  party  of  freedom  and  re- 
form was  the  national  party,  the  party  of  reaction  and 
absolutism  was  the  Spanish  party,  leaning  on  Spain, 
looking  to  her  for  help.  Above  all,  it  was  so  in  France; 
and,  while  within  her  bounds  there  was  a  semblance  of 
peace,  the  national  and  religious  rage  burst  forth  on  a 
wilder  theatre.  Thither  it  is  for  us  to  follow  it,  where, 
on  the  shores  of  Florida,  the  Spaniard  and  the  French- 
man, the  bigot  and  the  Huguenot,  met  in  the  grapple 
of  death. 

In  a  corridor  of  his  palace,  Philip  the  Second  was 
met  by  a  man  who  had  long  stood  waiting  his  approach, 
and  who  with  proud  reverence  placed  a  petition  in  the 
hand  of  the  pale  and  sombre  King.  The  petitioner  was 
Pedro  Menendez  de  Aviles,  one  of  the  ablest  and  most 
distinguished  officers  of  the  Spanish  marine.  He  was 
born  of  an  ancient  Asturian  family.  His  boyhood  had 
been  wayward,  ungovernable,  and  fierce.  He  ran  off 
at  eight  years  of  age,  and  when,  after  a  search  of  six 
months,  he  was  found  and  brought  back,  he  ran  off 

1  "  Better  a  ruined  kingdom,  true  to  itself  and  its  king,  than  one  left 
unharmed  to  the  profit  of  the  devil  and  the  heretics."  —  Correspondance  de 
PhtiipiK  If.,  cited  by  Prcscott,  Philip  II.,  Bk.  III.  c.  II.  note  36. 

"  A  prince  can  do  nothing  more  shameful  or  more  hurtful  to  himself, 
than  to  permit  his  people  to  live  according  to  their  conscience."  —  The 
Duke  of  Alca,  in  Davila,  1.  III.  p.  341. 


1565.]  HIS  EARLY  CAREER.  §7 

again.  This  time  he  was  more  successful,  escaping  on 
hoard  a  fleet  bound  against  the  Barbary  corsairs,  when 
his  precocious  appetite  for  blood  and  blows  had  reason- 
able contentment.  A  few  years  later,  he  found  means 
to  build  a  small  vessel,  in  which  he  cruised  against  the 
corsairs  and  the  French,  and,  though  still  hardly  more 
than  a  boy,  displayed  a  singular  address  and  daring. 
The  wonders  of  the  New  World  now  seized  his  imagi- 

o 

nation.  He  made  a  voyage  thither,  and  the  ships  un- 
der his  charge  came  back  freighted  with  wealth.  The 
war  with  France  was  then  at  its  height.  As  captain- 
general  of  the  fleet,  he  was  sent  with  troops  to  Flan- 
ders; and  to  their  prompt  arrival  was  due,  it  is  said,  the 
victory  of  St.  Quentin.  Two  years  later,  he  com- 
manded the  luckless  armada  which  bore  back  Philip  to 
his  native  shore.  On  the  way,  the  King  narrowly 
escaped  drowning  in  a  storm  off'  the  port  of  Laredo. 
This  mischance,  or  his  own  violence  and  insubordina- 
tion, wrought  to  the  prejudice  of  Menendez.  He  com- 
plained that  his  services  were  ill  repaid.  Phijip  lent 
him  a  favoring  ear,  and  despatched  him  to  the  Indies  as 
general  of  the  fleet  and  army.  Here  he  found  means 
to  amass  vast  riches;  and,  in  1561,  on  his  return  to 
Spain,  charges  were  brought  against  him  of  a  nature 
which  his  too  friendly  biographer  does  not  explain.  The 
Council  of  the  Indies  arrested  him.  He  was  imprisoned 
and  sentenced  to  a  heavy  fine,  but,  gaining  his  release, 
hastened  to  court  to  throw  himself  on  the  royal  clem- 
ency.1 

1  Barcia,  (Cardenas  y  Cano,)  Ensayo  Cronoloyico,  67-44. 


88  MENENDEZ.  [1565. 

His  petition  was  most  graciously  received.  Philip 
restored  his  command,  but  remitted  only  half  his  fine,  a 
strong  presumption  of  his  guilt. 

Menendez  kissed  the  royal  hand;  he  had  still  a  peti- 
tion in  reserve.  His  son  had  been  wrecked  near  the 
Bermudas,  and  he  would  fain  go  thither  to  find  tidings  of 
his  fate.  The  pious  King  bade  him  trust  in  God,  and 
promised  that  he  should  be  despatched  without  delay  to 
the  Bermudas  and  to  Florida  with  a  commission  to 
njake  an  exact  survey  of  those  perilous  seas  for  the 
profit  of  future  voyagers  ;  but  Menendez  was  ill  con- 
tent with  such  an  errand.  He  knew,  he  said,  nothing 
of  greater  moment  to  His  Majesty  than  the  conquest 
and  settlement  of  Florida.  The  climate  was  healthful, 
the  soil  fertile  ;  and,  worldly  advantages  aside,  it  was 
peopled  by  a  race  sunk  in  the  thickest  shades  of  infi- 
delity. "  Such  grief,"  he  pursued,  "  seizes  me,  when  I 
behold  this  multitude  of  wretched  Indians,  that  I  should 
choose  the  conquest  and  settling  of  Florida  above  all 
commands,  offices,  and  dignities  which  your  Majesty 
might  bestow."  *  Those  who  think  this  to  be  hypoc- 
risy do  not  know  the  Spaniard  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  King  was  edified  by  his  zeal.  An  enterprise 
of  such  spiritual  and  temporal  promise  was  not  to  be 
slighted,  and  Menendez  was  empowered  to  conquer  and 
convert  Florida  at  his  own  cost.  The  conquest  was  to 
be  effected  within  three  years.  Menendez  was  to  take 
with  him  five  hundred  men,  and  supply  them  with  five 
hundred  slaves,  besides  horses,  cattle,  sheep,  and  hogs. 

1  Barcia,  (Cardenas  y  Cano,)  Ensayo  Crondogico,  65. 


1666.]  HIS  COMMISSION.  gg 

Villages  were  to  be  built,  with  torts  to  defend  them ; 
and  sixteen  ecclesiastics,  of  whom  four  should  be  Jesu- 
its, were  to  form  the  nucleus  of  a  Floridian  church. 
The  King,  on  his  part,  granted  Menendez  free  trade 
with  Hispaniola,  Porto  Rico,  Cuba,  and  Spain,  the  of- 
fice of  Adelantado  of  Florida  for  life  with  the  right  of 

o 

naming  his  successor,  and  large  emoluments  to  be 
drawn  from  the  expected  conquest.1 

The  compact  struck,  Menendez  hastened  to  his  native 
Asturias  to  raise  money  among  his  relatives.  Scarcely 
was  he  gone,  when  tidings  reached  Madrid  that  Florida 
was  already  occupied  by  a  colony  of  French  Protes- 
tants, and  that  a  reinforcement,  under  Ribaut,  was  on 
the  point  of  sailing  thither.  A  French  historian  of 
high  authority  declares,  that  these  advices  came  from 
the  Catholic  party  at  the  French  court,  in  whom  every 
instinct  of  patriotism  was  lost  in  their  hatred  of  Coligny 
and  the  Huguenots.  Of  this  there  can  be  little  doubt, 
though  information  also  came  about  this  time  from  the 
buccaneer  Frenchmen  captured  in  the  AVest  Indies. 

Foreigners  had  invaded  the  territory  of  Spain.  The 
trespassers,  too,  were  heretics,  foes  of  God  and  liege- 
men of  the  Devil.  Their  doom  was  fixed.  But  how 
would  France  endure  an  assault,  in  time  of  peace,  on 
subjects  who  had  gone  forth  on  an  enterprise  sanc- 
tioned by  the  crown,  and  undertaken  in  its  name  and 
under  its  commission  ? 

The  above  is  from  Barcia,  as  the  original  compact  has  not  been  founu. 
For  the  patent  conferring  the  title  of  Adelantado,  see  Coleccion  d*  l'<via* 
Documentos,  I.  13. 

8* 


90  MENENDEZ.  [156S. 

The  throne  of  France,  where  the  corruption  of  the 
nation  seemed  gathered  to  a  head,  was  trembling  be- 
tween the  two  parties  of  the  Catholics  and  the  Hugue- 
nots, whose  chiefs  aimed  at  royalty.  Flattering  both, 
caressing  both,  playing  one  against  the  other,  and  be- 
traying both,  Catherine  de  Medicis,  by  a  thousand 
crafty  arts  and  expedients  of  the  moment,  sought  to 
retain  the  crown  on  the  head  of  her  weak  and  vicious 
son.  Of  late  her  crooked  policy  had  led  her  towards 
the  Catholic  party,  in  other  words,  the  party  of  Spain  ; 
and  already  she  had  given  ear  to  the  savage  Duke  of 
Alva.  urging  her  to.  the  course  which,  seven  years  later, 
led  to  the  carnage  of  St.  Bartholomew.  In  short,  the 
Spanish  policy  was  in  the  ascendant,  and  no  thought  of 
the  national  interest  or  honor  could  restrain  that  basest 
of  courts  from  consigning  by  hundreds  to  the  national 
enemy  those  whom  it  was  itself  meditating  to  immolate 
by  thousands.1 

Menendez  was  summoned  back  in  haste  to  the  Span- 
i>h  court.  There  was  counsel,  deep  and  ominous,  in 
the  palace  of  Madrid.  His  force  must  be  strength- 
ened. Three  hundred  and  ninety-four  men  were  added 
at  the  royal  charge,  and  a  corresponding  number  of 
transport  and  supply  ships.  It  was  a  holy  war,  a  crusade, 
and  as  such  was  preached  by  priest  and  monk  along  the 
western  coasts  of  Spain.  All  the  Biscayan  ports  flamed 
with  zeal,  and  adventurers  crowded  to  enroll  themselves ; 

1  The  French  Jesuit,  Charlevoix,  says:  —  "On  avoit  donne  k  cette 
expedition  tout  1'air  d'une  guerre  sainte,  entreprise  contre  les  Heretiques 
de  concert  avec  le  Roy  de  France."  Nor  does  Charlevoix  seem  to  doubt 
this  complicity  of  Charles  the  Ninth  iu  an  attacji  on  his  own  subjects. 


«865.J  THE  NEW  CRUSADE.  QJ 

since  to  plunder  heretics  is  good  for  the  soul  as  well  as 
the  purse,  and  broil  and  massacre  have  double  attrac- 
tion, when  promoted  into  a  means  of  salvation :  a  fer- 
vor,  deep  and  hot,  but  not  of  celestial  kindling-;  nor  yet 
that  buoyant  and  inspiring-  zeal,  which,  when  the  Mid- 
dle Age  was  in  its  youth  and  prime,  glowed  in  the  soul 
of  Tancred,  Godfrey,  and  St.  Louis,  and  which,  when 
its  day  was  long  since  past,  could  still  find  its  home  in 
the  great  heart  of  Columbus.  A  darker  spirit  urged 
the  new  crusade,  —  born,  not  of  hope,  but  of  fear,  slav- 
ish in  its,  nature,  the  creature  and  the  tool  of  despotism. 
For  the  typical  Spaniard  of  the  sixteenth  century  was 
not  in  strictness  a  fanatic  ;  he  was  bigotry  incarnate. 

Heresy  was  a  plague-spot,,  an  ulcer  to  be  eradicated 
with  fire  and  the  knife,  and  this  foul  abomination  was 
infecting  the  shores  which  the  Vicegerent  of  Christ  had 
given  to  the  King  of  Spain,  and  which  the  Most  Catho- 
lic King  had  given  to  the  Adelantado.  Thus  would 
countless  heathen  tribes  be  doomed  to  an  eternity  of 
flame,  and  the  Prince  of  Darkness  hold  his  ancient 
sway  unbroken.  And,  for  the  Adelantudo  himself, 
should  the  vast  outlays,  the  vast  debts,  of  his  bold 
Floridian  venture  be  all  in  vain  ?  Should  his  fortunes 
be  wrecked  past  redemption  through  these  tools  of 
Satan  ?  As  a  Catholic,  as  a  Spaniard,  as  an  adven- 
turer, his  course  was  clear. 

But  what  was  the  scope  of  this  enterprise,  and  what 
were  the  limits  of  the  Adelantado's  authority  V  He  was 
invested  with  power  almost  absolute,  not  merely  over 
the  peninsula  which  now  retains  the  name  of  Florida, 


Q2  MENENDEZ.  [1565. 

but  over  all  North  America,  from  Labrador  to  Mexico, 
—  for  this  was  the  Florida  of  the  old  Spanish  geog- 
raphers, and  the  Florida  designated  in  the  commission 
of  Menendez.  It  was  a  continent  which  he  was  to  con- 
quer and  occupy  out  of  his  own  purse.  The  impover- 
ished King  contracted  with  his  daring  and  ambitious 
subject  to  win  and  hold  for  him  the  territory  of  the 
future  United  States  and  British  Provinces.  His  plan, 
as  subsequently  exposed  at  length  in  his  unpublished 
letters  to  Philip  the  Second,  was,  first,  to  plant  a  gar- 
rison at  Port  Royal,  and  next  to  fortify  strongly  on 
Chesapeake  Bay,  called  by  him  St.  Mary's.  He  be- 
lieved that  this  bay  was  an  arm  of  the  sea,  running 
northward  and  eastward,  and  communicating  with  the 
Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  thus  making  New  England, 
with  adjacent  districts,  an  island.  His  proposed  fort  on 
the  Chesapeake,  securing  access,  by  this  imaginary  pas- 
sage, to  the  seas  of  Newfoundland,  would  enable  the 
Spaniards  to  command  the  fisheries,  on  which  both  the 
French  and  the  English  had  long  encroached,  to  the 
great  prejudice  of  Spanish  rights.  Doubtless,  too,  these 
inland  waters  gave  access  to  the  South  Sea,  and  their 
occupation  was  necessary  to  prevent  the  French  from 
penetrating  thither;  for  that  ambitious -people,  since  the 
time  of  Carrier,  had  never  abandoned  their  schemes  of 
seizing  this  portion  of  the  dominions  of  the  King  of 
Spain.  Five  hundred  soldiers  and  one  hundred  sailors 
must,  he  urges,  take  possession,  without  delay,  of  Port 
Royal  and  the  Chesapeake.1 

1  Cartas  escritas  al  Rey  par  el  General  Pero  Menendez  de  Avil&,  MSS 


lb66.J  HIS  ARMAMENT.  Q<J 

Preparation  for  his  enterprise  was  pushed  with  a  fu- 
rious energy.  His  whole  force  amounted  to  two  thou- 
sand six  hundred  and  forty-six  persons,  in  thirty-four 
vessels,  one  of  which,  the  San  Pelayo,  hearing  Menen- 
dez  himself,  was  of  nine  hundred  and  ninety -six  tons' 
hurden,  and  is  described  as  one  of  the  finest  ships  afloat.1 
There  were  twelve  Franciscans  and  eight  Jesuits,  he- 

,          O 

sides  other  ecclesiastics  ;  and  many  knights  of  Galicia, 
Biscay,  and  the  Asturias  took  part  in  the  expedition. 
With  a  slight  exception,  the  whole  was  at  the  Adelanta- 
do's  charge.  Within  the  first  fourteen  months,  accord- 
ing to  his  admirer,  Barcia,  the  adventure  cost  him  a 
million  ducats.2 

Before  the  close  of  the  year,  Sancho  de  Arciniega 

These  are  the  official  despatches  of  Menendez,  of  which  the  originals  are 
preserved  in  the  archives  of  Seville.  They  are  very  voluminous  and 
minute  in  detail.  Copies  of  them  were  obtained  by  the  aid  of  Bucking- 
ham Smith,  Esq.,  to  whom  the  writer  is  also  indebted  for  various  other 
documents  from  the  same  source,  throwing  new  light  on  the  events 
described.  Menendez  calls  Port  Royal,  St.  Elena,  a  name  afterwards 
applied  to  the  sound  which  still  retains  it.  Compare  Historical  Maya- 
zine,  IV.  320. 

1  This  was  not  so  remarkable  as  it  may  appear.  Charnock,  History  of 
Marine  Architerture,  gives  the  tonnage  of  the  ships  of  the  Invincible  Ar- 
mada. The  flag  -  ship  of  the  Andalusian  squadron  was  of  fifteen  hun- 
dred and  fifty  tons.  Several  were  above  twelve  hundred. 

a  Barcia,  69.  The  following  passage  in  one  of  the  unpublished  letters 
of  Menendez  seems  to  indicate  that  the  above  is  exaggerated  :  —  "  Your 
Majesty  may  be  assured  by  me,  that,  had  I  a  million,  more  or  less,  I 
would  employ  and  spend  the  whole  in  this  undertaking,  it  Doing  so  great- 
ly to  [the  glory  of]  God  our  Lord,  and  the  increase  of  our  Holy  Catholic 
Faith,  and  the  service  and  authority  of  your  Majesty  ;  and  thus  I  have 
offered  to  our  Lord  whatever  He  shall  give  me  in  this  world,  [and  what- 
ever] I  shall  possess,  gain,  or  acquire,  shall  be  devoted  to  the  planting  of 
the  gospel  in  this  land,  and  the  enlightenment  of  the  natives  thereof,  and 
this  I  do  promise  to  your  Majesty."  This  letter  is  dated  11  September, 
1565. 


94.  MENENDEZ.  [156ft. 

was  commissioned  to  join  Menendez  with  an  additional 
force  of  fifteen  hundred  men.1' 

Red-hot  with  a  determined  purpose,  the  Adelantado 
would  hrook  no  delay.  To  him,  says  the  chronicler, 
every  day  seemed  a  year.  He  was  eager  to  anticipate 
Ribaut,  of  whose  designs  and  whose  force  he  seems  to 
have  been  informed  to  the  minutest  particular,  but  whom 
he  hoped  to  thwart  and  ruin  by  gaining  Fort  Caroline 
before  him.  With  eleven  ships,  therefore,  he  sailed  from 
Cadiz  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  June,  1565,  leaving  the 
smaller  vessels  of  his  fleet  to  follow  with  what  speed 
they  might.  He  touched  first  at  the  Canaries,  and-  on 
the  eighth  of  July  left  them,  steering  for  Dominica. 
A  minute  account  of  the  voyage  has  come  down  to  us, 
written  by  Mendoza,  chaplain  of  the  expedition,  a  some- 
what dull  and  illiterate  person,  who  busily  jots  down 
the  incidents  of  each  passing  day,  and  is  constantly 
betraying,  with  a  certain  awkward  simplicity,  ho\v  the 
cares  of  this  world  and  of  the  next  jostle  each  other 
in  his  thoughts. 

On  Friday,  the  twentieth  of  July,  a  storm  fell  upon 
them  with  appalling  fury.  The  pilots  lost  their  wits,  the 
sailors  gave  themselves  up  to  their  terrors.  Through- 
out the  night,  they  beset  Mendoza  for  confession  and 
absolution,  a  boon  not  easily  granted,  for  the  seas  swept 
the  crowded  decks  with  cataracts  of  foam,  and  the 
shriekings  of  the  gale  in  the  rigging  overpowered  the 
exhortations  of  the  half -drowned  priest.  Cannon, 

1  Anc  de  1565.  Nombmmiento  de  Capitan-Genrrnl  de  In  Armada  desthiada 
para  yrala.  Provincia  de  la  Florida  al  socorro  del  General  Pero  Menendez  de 
Aviles,  hecho  por  Su  Magestad  al  Capitan  Sancho  de  Arciniega.  MS. 


1665.1  REACHES  PORTO  RICO.  g$ 

cables,  spars,  water-casks,  were  thrown  overboard  and 
the  chests  of  the  sailors  would  have  followed,  had  not 
the  latter,  in  spite  of  their  fright,  raised  such  a  howl  of 
remonstrance  that  the  order  was  revoked.  At  length 
day  dawned.  Plunging,  reeling,  half  submerged,  quiv- 
ering under  the  shock  of  the  seas,  whose  mountain 
ridges  rolled  down  upon  her  before  the  gale,  the  ship 
lay  in  deadly  peril  from  Friday  till  Monday  noon. 
Then  the  storm  abated ;  the  sun  broke  forth ;  and 
affain  she  held  her  course.1 

O 

They  reached  Dominica  on  Sunday,  the  fifth  of 
August.  The  chaplain  tells  us  how  lie  went  on  shore 
to  refresh  himself,  —  how,  while  his  Italian  servant 
washed  his  linen  at  a  brook,  he  strolled  along  the 
beach  and  picked  up  shells, — and  how  he  was  scared, 
first,  by  a  prodigious  turtle,  and  next  by  a  vision  of 
the  cannibal  natives,  which  caused  his  prompt  retreat  to 
the  boats. 

On  the  tenth,  they  anchored  in  the  harbor  of  Porto 
Rico,  where  they  found  two  ships  of  their  squadron, 
from  which  they  had  parted  in  the  storm.  One  of 
them  was  the  San  Pelayo,  with  Menendez  on  board. 
Mendoza  informs  us,  that  in  the  evening  the  officers 
came  on  board  the  ship  to  which  he  was  attached,  when 
he,  the  chaplain,  regaled  them  with  sweetmeats,  and  that 
Menendez  invited  him  not  only  to  supper  that  night, 
but  to  dinner  the  next  day,  "  for  the  which  I  thanked 
him,  as  reason  was,"  says  the  gratified  churchman. 

1  Mendoza  in  Ternaux-Compans,  Floride,  168 ;  Letter  of  Menendez  to 
the  King,  13  August,  1565,  MS. 


0g  MENENDEZ.  11665. 

Here  thirty  men  deserted,  and  three  priests  also  ran 
off,  of  which  Mendoza  hitterly  complains,  as  increasing 
his  own  work.  The  motives  of  the  clerical  truants 
may  perhaps  be  inferred  from  a  worldly  temptation  to 
which  the  chaplain  himself  was  subjected.  "  I  was 
offered  the  service  of  a  chapel  where  I  should  have  got 
a  peso  for  every  mass  I  said,  the  whole  year  round  ; 
but  I  did  not  accept  it,  for  fear  that  what  I  hear  said 
of  the  other  three  would  be  said  of  me.  Besides,  it  is 
not  a  place  where  one  can  hope  for  any  great  advance- 
ment, and  I  wished  to  try  whether,  in  refusing  a  bene- 
fice for  the  love  of  the  Lord,  He  will  not  repay  me  with 
some  other  stroke  of  fortune  before  the  end  of  the  voy- 
age ;  for  it  is  my  aim  to  serve  God  and  His  blessed 
Mother."  l 

The  original  design  had  been  to  rendezvous  at  Ha- 
vana, but,  with  the  Adelantado,  the  advantages  of 
despatch  outweighed  every  other  consideration.  He 
resolved  to  push  directly  for  Florida.  Five  of  his 
scattered  ships  had  by  this  time  rejoined  company,  com- 
prising, exclusive  of  officers,  a  force  of  about  five  hun- 
dred soldiers,  two  hundred  sailors,  and  one  hundred 
colonists.2  Bearing  northward,  he  advanced  by  an  un- 
known and  dangerous  course  along  the  coast  of  Hayti 
and  through  the  intricate  passes  of  the  Bahamas.  On 
the  night  of  the  twenty-sixth,  the  San  Pelayo  struck 
three  times  on  the  shoals ;  "  but,"  says  the  chaplain, 
"  inasmuch  as  our  enterprise  was  undertaken  for  the 

1  Mendoza  in  Ternaux-Compans,  Floride,  177, —  a  close  translation. 

2  Letter  of  Menendez  to  the  King,  11  September,  1565,  MS. 


iOfio.J  HIS  ENERGY.  — A  MIRACLE.  Qfi 

sake  of  Christ  and  His  blessed  Mother,  two  heavy  seas 
struck  her  abaft,  and  set  her  afloat  again." 

At  length  the  ships  lay  becalmed  in  the  Bahama 
Channel,  slumbering  on  the  glassy  sea,  torpid  with  the 
heats  of  a  West-Indian  August.  Menendez  called  a 
council  of  the  commanders.  There  was  doubt  and  in- 
decision. Perhaps  Ribaut  had  already  reached  the 
French  fort,  and  then  to  attack  the  united  force  would 
be  an  act  of  desperation.  Far  better  to  await  their 
lagging  comrades.  But  the  Adelantado  was  of  an- 
other mind;  and,  even  had  his  enemy  arrived,  he  was 
resolved  that  he  should  have  no  time  to  fortify  him- 
self. 

"  It  is  God's  will,"  he  said,  "  that  our  victory  should 
be  due,  not  to  our  numbers,  but  to  His  all-powerful 
aid.  Therefore  has  He  stricken  us  with  tempests  and 
scattered  our  ships." l  And  he  gave  his  voice  for  in- 
stant advance. 

There  was  much  dispute;  even  the  chaplain  remon- 
strated ;  but  nothing  could  bend  the  iron  will  of  Me- 
nendez. Nor  was  a  sign  of  celestial  approval  wanting. 
At  nine  in  the  evening,  a  great  meteor  burst  forth  in 
mid-heaven,  and,  blazing  like  the  sun,  rolled  westward 
towards  the  coast  of  Florida.2  The  fainting  spirits  of 
the  crusaders  were  revived.  Diligent  preparation  was 
begun.  Prayers  and  masses  were  said  ;  and,  that  the 
temporal  arm  might  not  fail,  the  men  were  daily 
practised  on  deck  in  shooting  at  marks,  in  order,  says 

i  Barcia,  70. 

3  Memloza,  192 :  "  Le  Seigneur  nous  Jit  voir  tin  miracle  dan*  le  del,"  etc. 
9 


98  MENENDEZ.  [1566. 

the  chronicle,  that  the  recruits  might  learn  not  to  be 
afraid  of  their  guns. 

The  dead  calm  continued.  "  We  were  all  very 
tired,"  says  the  chaplain,  "  and  I  above  all,  with  praying 
to  God  for  a  fair  wind.  To-day,  at  about  two  in  the 
afternoon,  He  took  pity  on  us,  and  sent  us  a  breeze."3 
Before  night  they  saw  land,  —  the  faint  line  of  forest, 
traced  along  the  watery  horizon,  that  marked  the  coast 
of  Florida.  But  where,  in  all  this  vast  monotony,  was 
the  lurking-place  of  the  French  ?  Menendez  anchored, 
and  sent  fifty  men  ashore,  who  presently  found  a  band 
of  Indians  in  the  woods,  and  gained  from  them  the 
needed  information.  He  stood  northward,  till,  on  the 
afternoon  of  Tuesday,  the  fourth  of  September,  he 
descried  four  ships  anchored  near  the  mouth  of  ,a  river. 
It  was  the  River  St.  John's,  and  the  ships  were  four  of 
Ribaut's  squadron.  The  prey  was  in  sight.  The 
Spaniards  prepared  for  battle,  and  bore  down  upon  the 
Lutherans ;  for,  with  them,  all  Protestants  alike  were 
branded  with  the  name  of  the  arch-heretic.  Slowly, 
before  the  faint  breeze,  the  ships  glided  on  their  way  ; 
but  while,  excited  and  impatient,  the  fierce  crews 
watched  the  decreasing  space,  and  when  they  were  still 
three  leagues  from  their  prize,  the  air  ceased  to  stir,  the 
sails  flapped  against  the  mast,  a  black  cloud  with  thun- 
der rose  above  the  coast,  and  the  warm  rain  of  the 
South  descended  on  the  breathless  sea.  It  was  dark 
before  the  wind  moved  again  and  the  ships  resumed 
their  course.  At  half -past  eleven  they  reached  the 

1  Mendoza,  193. 


1666.]  ATTACKS  THE  FRENCH.  gg 

French.  The  San  Pelayo  slowly  moved  to  windward 
of  Ribaut's  flag-ship,  the  Trinity,  and  anchored  very 
near  her.  The  other  ships  took  similar  stations.  While 
these  preparations  were  making,  a  work  of  two  hours, 
the  men  labored  in  silence,  and  the  French,  thronging 
their  gangways,  looked  on  in  equal  silence.  "  Never, 
since  I  came  into  the  world,"  writes  the  chaplain,  "  did 
I  know  such  a  stillness." 

It  was  broken,  at  length,  by  a  trumpet  from  the  deck 
of  the  San  Pelayo.  A  French  trumpet  answered. 
Then  Menendez,  "  with  much  courtesy,"  says  his  Span- 
ish eulogist,  inquired,  "  Gentlemen,  whence  does  this 
fleet  come  ?  " 

"  From  France,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  1  "  pursued  the  Adelan- 
tado. 

"  Bringing  soldiers  and  supplies  for  a  fort  which  the 
King  of  France  has  in  this  country,  and  for  many 
others  which  he  soon  will  have." 

"  Are  you  Catholics  or  Lutherans  ]  " 

Many  voices  cried  out  together,  "  Lutherans,  of  the 
new  religion ;  "  then,  in  their  turn,  they  demanded  who 
Menendez  was,  and  whence  he  came.  He  answered, — 

"  I  am  Pedro  Menendez,  General  of  the  fleet  of  the 
King  of  Spain,  Don  Philip  the  Second,  who  have  come 
to  this  country  to  hang  and  behead  all  Lutherans  whom 
I  shall  find  by  land  or  sea,  according  to  instructions 
from  my  King,  so  precise  that  I  have  power  to  pardon 
none;  and  these  commands  I  shall  fulfil,  as  you  will 
see.  At  daybreak  I  shall  board  your  ships,  and  if  I 


100  MENENDEZ  (1566 

find  there  any  Catholic,  he  shall  be  well  treated ;  but 
every  heretic  shall  die."  * 

.  The   French  with   one  voice  raised  a  cry  of  wrath 
and  defiance. 

"  If  you' are  a  brave  man,  don't  wait  till  day.  Come 
on  now,  and  see  what  you  will  get ! " 

And  they  assailed  the  Adelantado  with  a  shower  of 
scoffs  and  insults. 

Menendez  broke  into  a  rage,  and  gave  the  order  to 
board.  The  men  slipped  the  cables,  and  the  sullen 
black  hulk  of  the  San  Pelayo  drifted  down  upon  the 
Trinity.  The  French  by  no  means  made  good  their 
defiance.  Indeed, » they  were  incapable  of  resistance, 
Ribaut  with  his  soldiers  being  ashore  at  Fort  Caroline. 
They  cut  their  cables,  left  their  anchors,  made  sail,  and 
fled.  The  Spaniards  fired,  the  French  replied.  The 
other  Spanish  ships  had  imitated  the  movement  of  the 
San  Pelayo ;  "  but,"  writes  the  chaplain,  Mendoza, 
"  these  devils  run  mad  are  such  adroit  sailors,  and  ma- 

1  "  Pedro  Menendez  os  lo  pregunta,  General  de  esta  Armada  del  Rei 
de  Espana  Don  Felipe  Segundo,  qui  viene  a  esta  Tierra  a  ahorcar,  y 
degollar  todos  los  Luteranos,  que  hallare  en  ella,  y  en  el  Mar,  segun  la 
Instruction,  que  trae  de  mi  Rei,  que  es  tan  precisa,  que  me  priva  dc  la 
facultad  de  perdonarlos,  y  la  cumplire  en  todo,  como  lo  vereis  luego  que 
amanezca,  que  entrare  en  vuestros  Navios,  y  si  hallare  algun  Catolico, 
le  hare  buen  tratamiento  ;  pero  el  que  fuere  Herege,  morira." — Burcia,  75. 
The  following  is  the  version,  literally  given,'of  Menendez  himself:  — 
"I  answered  them  :  '  Pedro  Menendez,  who  was  going  by  your  Majes- 
ty's command  to  this  coast  and  country  in  order  to  burn  and  destroy  the 
Lutheran  French  who  should  be  found  there,  and  that  in  the  morning  I 
would  board  their  ships  to  find  out  whether  they  belonged  to  that  people, 
because,  in  case  they  did,  I  could  not  do  otherwise  than  execute  upon 
them  that  justice  which  your  Majesty  had  ordained.'  "  —  Letter  of  Menen- 
dez to  the  Kina,  11  September,  1565,  MS. 


1566.J  FOUNDS  ST.  AUGUSTINE. 

nceuvred  so  well,  that  we  did  not  catch  one  of  them."  * 
Pursuers  and  pursued  ran  out  to  sea,  firing  useless  vol- 
leys at  each  other. 

In  the  morning  Menendez  gave  over  the  chase, 
turned,  and,  with  the  San  Pelayo  alone,  ran  hack  for 
the  St.  John's.  But  here  a  welcome  was  prepared  for 
him.  He  saw  bauds  of  armed  men  drawn  up  on  the 
beach,  and  the  smaller  vessels  of  Rihaut's  squadron, 
which  had  crossed  the  bar  several  days  before,  anchored 
behind  it  to  oppose  his  landing.  He  would  not  ven- 
ture an  attack,  but,  steering  southward,  sailed  along 
the  coast  till  he  came  to  an  inlet  which  he  named  San 
Agustin. 

Here  he  found  three  of  his  ships,  already  debarking 
their  troops,  guns,  and  stores.  Two  officers,  Patino 
and  Vicente,  had  taken  possession  of  the  dwelling  of 
the  Indian  chief  Seloy,  a  huge  barn -like  structure, 
strongly  framed  of  entire  trunks  of  trees,  and  thatched 

1  "  Mais,  comme  ces  diables  enrages  sont  tres-habiles  sur  mer,"  etc.  — 
Mendoza,  200. 

The  above  account  is  that  of  Barcia,  the  admirer  and  advocate  of  Me- 
nendez. A  few  points  have  been  added  from  Mi-ndoza,  as  indicated  by  the 
citations.  One  statement  of  Barcia  is  omitted,  because  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  it  is  false.  He  says,  that,  when  the  Spanish  fleet  approached, 
the  French  opened  a  heavy  fire  on  them.  Neither  the  fanatical  Mendoza, 
who  was  present,  nor  the  French  writers,  Laudonniere,  Le  Moyne,  and 
Challeux,  mention  this  circumstance,  which,  besides,  can  scarcely  be 
reconciled  with  the  subsequent  conduct  of  either  party.  Mendozu  differs 
from  Barcia  also  in  respect  to  the  time  of  the.  attack,  which  he  places 
"  deux  heures  apres  le  coucher  du  soleil."  In  other  points  his  story  tallies  as 
nearly  as  could  be  expected  with  that  of  Barcia.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  Challeux  and  Laudonniere.  The  latter  saj-s,  that  the  Spaniards, 
before  attacking,  asked  after  the  French  officers  by  name,  whence  he  in- 
fers that  they  had  received  very  minute  information  from  Fr 
9« 


102  MENENDEZ.  [1565. 

with  palmetto-leaves.1  Around  it  they  wore  throwing 
up  intrenchments  of  fascines  and  sand.  Gangs  of 
negroes,  with  pick,  shovel,  and  spade,  were  toiling  at 
the  work.  Such  was  the  birth  of  St.  Augustine,  the 
oldest  town  of  the  United  States,  and  such  the  intro- 
duction of  slave-lahor  upon  their  soil. 

On  the  eighth,  Menendez  took  formal  possession  of 
his  domain.  Cannon  were  fired,  trumpets  sounded,  and 
banners  displayed,  as,  at  the  head  of  his  officers  and 
nobles,  he  landed  in  state.  Mendoza,  crucifix  in  hand, 
came  to  meet  him,  chanting,  "  Te  Deum  laudamus" 
while  the  Adelaixtado  and  all  his  company,  kneeling, 
kissed  the  crucifix,  and  the  assembled  Indians  gazed  in 
silent  wonder.2 

Meanwhile  the  tenants  of  Fort  Caroline  were  not 
idle.  Two  or  three  soldiers,  strolling  along  the  beach 
in  the  afternoon,  had  first  seen  the  Spanish  ships  and 
hastily  summoned  Ribaut.  He  came  down  to  the  mouth 
of  the  river,  followed  by  an  anxious  and  excited  crowd ; 
but,  as  they  strained  their  eyes  through  the  darkness, 
they  could  see  nothing  but  the  flashes  of  the  distant 
guns.  At  length,  the  returning  light  showed,  far  out 
at  sea,  the  Adelantado  in  hot  chase  of  their  flying 
comrades.  Pursuers  and  pursued  were  soon  out  of 
sight.  The  drums  beat  to  arms.  After  many  hours 
of  suspense,  the  San  Pelayo  reappeared,  hovering  about 
the  mouth  of  the  river,  then  bearing  away  towards  the 

1  Compare  Hawkins,  Second  Voyage.    He  visited  this  or  some  similar 
structure,  and  his  journalist  minutely  describes  it. 
8  Mendoza.  204. 


1565-]  DECISION  OF  RIBAUT.  JQ3 

south.  More  anxious  hours  ensued,  when  three  other 
sail  came  in  sight,  and  they  recognized  three  of  their 
own  returning  ships.  Communication  was  opened,  a 
boat's  crew  landed,  and  they  learned  from  Cosette,  one 
of  the  French  captains,  that,  confiding  in  the  speed  of 
his  ship,  he  had  followed  the  Spaniards  to  St.  Augus- 
tine, reconnoitred  their  position,  and  seen  them  land 
their  negroes  and  intrench  themselves.1 

In  his  chamber  at  Fort  Caroline,  Laudonniere  lay 
sick  in  bed,  when  Ribaut  entered,  and  with  him  La 
Grange,  Sainte  Marie,  Ottigny,  Yonville,  and  other 
officers.  At  the  bedside  of  the  displaced  commandant, 
they  held  their  council  of  war.  Three  plans  were  pro- 
posed: first,  to  remain  where  they  were  and  fortify; 
next,  to  push  overland  for  St.  Augustine,  and  attack 
the  invaders  in  their  intrenchments ;  and,  finally,  to 
embark,  and  assail  them  by  sea.  The  first  plan  would 
leave  their  ships  a  prey  to  the  Spaniards  ;  and  so  too, 
in  all  likelihood,  would  the  second,  besides  the  uncer- 
tainties of  an  overland  march  through  an  unknown 

~ 

wilderness.  By  sea,  the  distance  was  short  and  the 
route  explored.  By  a  sudden  blow  they  could  capture 
or  destroy  the  Spanish  ships,  and  master  the  troops 
on  shore  before  reinforcements  could  arrive,  and  before 
they  had  time  to  complete  their  defences.2 

1  Laudonniere  in  Basanier,  105.    Le  Moyne  differs  in  a  few  trifling  de- 
tails. 

2  Ribaut  showed  Laudonniere  a  letter  from  Colipny,  appended  to  winch 
were  these  words,  — "  Capitaine  Jean  Ribaut:   En  fermant  ccste  lettre 
i'liy  eu  certain  aduis,  comme  dom  Petro  Mflandes  se  part  d'Fspnpie,  pour 
aller  a  la  coste  de  la  Nouvelle  Frace :  Vous  regarderez  de  n'endurer  qu'il 


IQ4,  MENENDEZ.  f!565. 

Such  were  the  views  of  Ribaut,  with  which,  not 
unnaturally,  Laudonniere  finds  fault,  and  Le  Moyne 
echoes  the  censures  of  his  chief.  And  yet  the  plan 
seems  as  well  conceived  as  it  was  hold,  lacking  noth- 
ing1 hut  success.  The  Spaniards,  stricken  with  ter- 
ror, owed  their  safety  to  the  elements,  or,  as  they 
affirm,  to  the  special  interposition  of  the  Holy  Virgin. 
Let  us  he  just  to  Menendez.  He  was  a  leader  fit  to 
stand  with  Cortes  and  Pizarro  ;  but  he  was  matched 
with  a  man  as  cool,  skilful,  prompt,  and  daring  as  him- 
self. The  traces  that  have  come  down  to  us  indicate, 
in  Ribaut,  one  far  above  the  common  stamp  :  "  a  dis- 
tinguished man,  of  many  high  qualities,"  as  even  the 
fault-finding  Le  Moyne  calls  him  ;  devout  after  the  best 
spirit  of  the  Reform ;  and  with  a  human  heart  under 
his  steel  breastplate. 

La  Grange  and  other  officers  took  part  with  Laudon- 
niere and  opposed  the  plan  of  an  attack  by  sea;  but 
Ribaut's  conviction  was  unshaken,  and  the  order  was 
given.  All  his  own  soldiers  fit  for  duty  embarked  in 
haste,  and  with  them  went  La  Caille,  Arlac,  and,  as  it 
seems,  Ottigny,  with  the  best  of  Laudonniere's  men. 
Even  Le  Moyne,  though  wounded  in  the  fight  with 
Outina's  warriors,  went  on  board  to  bear  his  part  in 
the  fray,  and  would  have  sailed  with  the  rest,  had  not 
Ottigny,  seeing  his  disabled  condition,  ordered  him 
hack  to  the  fort. 

n'entrepreine  sur  nous,  non  plus  qu  il  veut  que  nous  n'entreprenions  sur 
eux."  Ribaut  interpreted  this  into  a  command  to  attack  the  Spaniards. 
Laudonniere,  106. 


1565.]  FORT  CAROLINE  DEFENCELESS. 

On  the  tenth,  the  ships,  crowded  with  troops,  set 
sail.  Ribaut  was  gone,  and  with  him  the  bone  and 
sinew  of  the  colony.  The  miserable  remnant  watched 
his  receding  sails  with  dreary  foreboding,  a  foreboding 
which  seemed  but  too  just,  when,  on  the  next  day,  a 
storm,  more  violent  than  the  Indians  had  ever  known,1 
howled  through  the  forest  and  lashed  the  ocean  into 
fury.  Most  forlorn  was  the  plight  of  these  exiles,  left, 
it  might  he,  the  prey  of  a  band  of  ferocious  bigots 
more  terrible  than  the  fiercest  hordes  of  the  wilderness. 
And.  when  night  closed  on  the  stormy  river  and  the 
gloomy  waste  of  pines,  what  dreams  of  terror  may  not 
have  haunted  the  helpless  women  who  crouched  under 
the  hovels  of  Fort  Caroline ! 

The  fort  was  in  a  ruinous  state,  with  the  palisade  on 
the  water  side  broken  down,  and  three  breaches  in  the 
rampart.  In  the  driving  rain,  urged  by  the  sick  Lau- 
donniere,  the  men,  bedrenched  and  disheartened,  labored 
as  they  might  to  strengthen  their  defences.  Their  mus- 
ter -  roll  shows  but  a  beggarly  array.  "  Now,"  says 
Laudonniere,  "let  them  which  have  bene  bold  to  say 
that  I  had  men  ynough  left  me,  so  that  I  had  meaues 
to  defend  my  selfe,  give  eare  a  little  now  vnto  mee,  and 
if  they  have  eyes  in  their  heads,  let  them  see  what  men 
I  had."  Of  Ribaut's  followers  left  at  the  fort,  only 
nine  or  ten  had  weapons,  while  only  two  or  three  knew 
how  to  use  them.  Four  of  them  were  boys,  who  kept 
Ribaut's  dogs,  and  another  was  his  cook.  Besides 

~     * 

these,  he  had  left  a  brewer,  an  old  cross-bow-maker, 

1  Laudonnifcre,  107. 


106  MENENDEZ.  [1566. 

two  shoemakers,  a  player  on  the  spinet,  four  valets,  a 
carpenter  of  threescore,  —  Challeux,  no  doubt,  who 
has  left  us  the  story  of  his  woes,  —  with  a  crowd  of 
women,  children,  and  eighty-six  camp-followers.1  To 
these  were  added  the  remnant  of  Laudonniere's  men, 
of  whom  seventeen  could  bear  arms,  the  rest  being 
sick  or  disabled  by  wounds  received  in  the  fight  with 
Outina. 

Laudonniere  divided  his  force,  such  as  it  was,  into 
two  watches,  over  which  he  placed  two  officers,  Saint 
Cler  and  La  Vigne,  gave  them  lanterns  for  going  the 
rounds,  and  an  hour-glass  for  setting  the  time  ;  while 
he  himself,  giddy  with  weakness  and  fever,  was  every 
night  at  the  guard-room. 

It  was  the  night  of  the  nineteenth  of  September ; 
floods  of  rain  drenched  the  sentries  on  the  rampart, 
and,  as  day  dawned  on  the  dripping  barracks  and 
deluged  parade,  the  storm  increased  in  violence.  What 
enemy  could  venture  forth  on  such  a  night"?  La 
Vigne,  who  had  the  watch,  took  pity  on  the  sentries 
and  on  himself,  dismissed  them,  and  went  to  his  quar- 
ters. He  little  knew  what  human  energies,  urged  by 
ambition,  avarice,  bigotry,  and  desperation,  will  dare 
and  do. 

To  return  to  the  Spaniards  at  St.  Augustine.  On 
the  morning  of  the  eleventh,  the  crew  of  one  of  their 
smaller  vessels,  lying  outside  the  bar,  saw  through  the 
twilight  of  early  dawn  two  of  Ribaut's  ships  close  upon 

1  The  muster-roll  is  from  Laudonniere.  Hakluyt's  translation  is  incor- 
rect. 


1565.]  HIS  DESPERATE  RESOLUTION. 

them.  Not  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring.  There  was 
no  escape,  and  the  Spaniards  fell  on  their  knees  in  sup- 
plication to  Our  Lady  of  Utrera,  explaining  to  her  that 
the  heretics  were  upon  them,  and  begging  her  to  send 
them  a  little  wind.  "  Forthwith,"  says  Mendoza,  "  one 
would  have  said  that  Our  Lady  herself  came  down 
upon  the  vessel."  A  wind  sprang  up,  ami  the  Span- 
iards found  refuge  behind  the  bar.  The  returning  day 
showed  to  their  astonished  eyes  all  the  ships  of  Ribaut, 
their  decks  black  with  men,  hovering  off'  the  entrance 
of  the  port ;  but  Heaven  had  them  in  its  charge,  and 
again  they  experienced  its  protecting  care.  The  breeze 
sent  by  Our  Lady  of  Utrera  rose  to  a  gale,  then  to  a 
furious  tempest;  and  the  grateful  Adelantado  saw 
through  rack  and  mist  the  ships  of  his  enemy  tossed 
wildly  among  the  raging  waters  as  they  struggled  to 
gain  an  offing.  With  exultation  in  his  heart  the  skil- 
ful seaman  read  their  danger,  and  saw  them  in  his 
mind's  eye  dashed  to  utter  wreck  among  the  sand-bars 
and  breakers  of  the  lee-shore. 

A  bold  thought  seized  him.  He  would  march  over- 
land with  five  hundred  men,  and  attack  Fort  Caroline 
while  its  defenders  were  absent.  First  he  ordered  a 
mass ;  then  he  called  a  council.  Doubtless  it  was  in 
that  great  Indian  lodge  of  Seloy,  where  he  had  made 
his  head-quarters;  and  here,  in  this  dim  and  smoky 
abode,  nobles,  officers,  and  priests  gathered  at  his  sum- 

1  Mendoza,  208.  Menendez,  too,  imputes  the  escape  to  divine  interpo- 
sition. "  Our  Lord  permitted  by  a  miracle  that  we  should  be  saved." 
Letter  of  Menendez  to  the  King,  15  October,  1565,  MS. 


108  MENENDEZ.  11565. 

mons.     There  were  fears  and  doubts  and  murmuring^, 

™     * 

but  Menendez  was  desperate ;  not  with  the  mad  despera- 
tion that  strikes  wildly  and  at  random,  but  the  still  white 
heat  that  melts  and  burns  and  seethes  with  a  steady, 
unquenchable  fierceness.  "  Comrades,"  he  said,  "  the 
time  has  come  to  show  our  courage  and  our  zeal.  This 
is  God's  war,  and  we  must  not  flinch.  It  is  a  war  with 
Lutherans,  and  we  must  wage  it  with  blood  and  fire." 

But  his  hearers  would  not  respond.  They  had  not 
a  million  of  ducats  at  stake,  and  were  nowise  ready  for 
a  cast  so  desperate.  A  clamor  of  remonstrance  rose 
from  the  circle.  Many  voices,  that  of  Mendoza  among 
the  rest,  urged  waiting  till  their  main  forces  should 
arrive.  The  excitement  spread  to  the  men  without, 
and  the  swarthy,  black  -  bearded  crowd  broke  into 
tumults  mounting  almost  to  mutiny,  while  an  officer 
was  heard  to  say  that  he  would  not  go  on  such  a  hare- 
brained errand  to  be  butchered  like  a  beast.  But  noth- 
ing could  move  the  Adelantado.  His  appeals  or  his 
threats  did  their  work  at  last ;  the  confusion  was 
quelled,  and  preparation  was  made  for  the  march. 

On  the  morning  of  the  seventeenth,  five  hundred  ar- 
quebusiers  and  pikemen  were  drawn  up  before  the  camp. 
To  each  was  given  a  sack  of  bread  and  a  flask  of  wine. 
Two  Indians  and  a  renegade  Frenchman,  called  Fran- 
cjois  Jean,  were  to  guide  them,  and  twenty  Biscayan 
axe-men  moved  to  the  front  to  clear  the  way.  Through 
floods  of  driving  rain,  a  hoarse  voice  shouted  the  word 
of  command,  and  the  sullen  march  began. 

*  "A  sangre  y  fuego."  —  Bartia,  78,  where  the  speech  is  given  at  length. 


1565.]  MARCHES  ON  FORT  CAROLINE.  JQQ 

With  dismal  misgiving,  Mendoza  watched  the  last 
files  as  they  vanished  in  the  tempestuous  forest.  Two 
days  of  suspense  ensued,  when  a  messenger  came  back 
with  a  letter  from  the  Adelantado,  announcing  that  he 
had  nearly  reached  the  French  fort,  find  that  on  the 
morrow,  September  the  twentieth,  at  sunrise,  he  hoped 
to  assault  it.  "  May  the  Divine  Majesty  deign  to  pro- 
tect us,  for  He  knows  that  we  have  need  of  it,"  writes 
the  scared  chaplain  ;  "  the  Adelantado's  great  zeal  and 
courage  make  us  hope  he  will  succeed,  hut,  for  the  good 
of  His  Majesty's  service,  he  ought  to  be  a  little  less 
ardent  in  .pursuing  his  schemes." 

Meanwhile  the  five  hundred  had  pushed  their  march 
through  forest  and  quagmire,  through  swollen  streams 
and  inundated 'savannas,  toiling  knee-deep  through  mud, 
rushes,  and  the  rank,  tangled  grass,  —  hacking  their 
way  through  thickets  of  the  yucca,  or  Spanish  bayonet, 
with  its  clumps  of  dagger -like  leaves,  or  defiling  in 
gloomy  procession  through  the  drenched  forest,  to  the 
moan  and  roar  of  the  storm-racked  pines.  As  they 
bent  before  the  tempest,  the  water  trickling  from  the 
rusty  head-piece  crept  clammy  and  cold  betwixt  the  ar- 
mor and  the  skin  ;  and  when  they  made  their  wretched 
bivouac,  their  bed  was  the  spongy  soil,  and  the  exhaust- 
less  clouds  their  tent. 

The  night  of  Wednesday,  the  nineteenth,  found  their 
vanguard  in  a  deep  forest  of  pines,  less  than  a  mile  from 
Fort  Caroline,  and  near  the  low  hills  which  extended 
in  its  rear,  and  formed  a  continuation  of  St.  John's 
Bluff.  All  around  was  one  great  morass.  In  pitchy 
10 


MENENDEZ.  [1565. 

darkness,  knee-deep  in  weeds  and  water,  half  starved, 
worn  with  toil  and  lack  of  sleep,  drenched  to  the 
skin,  their  provision  spoiled,  their  ammunition  wet, 
and  their  spirit  chilled  out  of  them,  they  stood  in 
shivering  groups,  cursing  the  enterprise  and  the  au- 
thor of  it.  Menendez  heard  an  ensign  say  aloud  to 
his  comrades, — 

"  This  Asturian  corito,  who  knows  no  more  of  war 

on  shore  than  an  ass,  has  betrayed  us  all.  By , 

if  my  advice  had  been  followed,  he  would  have  had  his 
deserts  the  day  he  set  out  on  this  cursed  journey ! " 

The  Adelantado  pretended  not  to  hear. 

Two  hours  before  dawn  he  called  his  officers  about 
him.  All  night,  he  said,  he  had  been  praying  to  God 
and  the  Virgin. 

"  Sefiores,  what  shall  we  resolve  on  1  Our  ammu- 
nition and  provisions  are  gone.  Our  case  is  desper- 
ate."5 And  he  urged  a  bold  rush  on  the  fort. 

But  men  and  officers  alike  were  disheartened  and 
disgusted.  They  listened  coldly  and  sullenly;  many 
were  for  returning  at  every  risk ;  none  were  in  the 
mood  for  fight.  Menendez  put  forth  all  his  eloquence, 
till  at  length  the  dashed  spirits  of  his  followers  were 
so  far  revived  that  they  consented  to  follow  him. 

All  fell  on  their  knees  in  the  marsh  ;  then,  rising, 
they  formed  their  ranks  and  began  to  advance,  guided 

1  "  Cqmo  nos  trae  vendidos  este  Asturiano  Corito,  que  no  sabe  de , 
Guerra  de  Tierra,  mas  que  un  Jumento  !  "  etc.  —  Barcia,  79.  Corito  is  a 
nickname  given  to  the  inhabitants  of  Biscay  and  the  Asturias. 

a  "  yecj  aoraj  Senores,  que  detenninacion  tomaremos,  hallandonos  can- 
sados,  perdidos,  sin  Municiones  ni  Comida,  ni  esperaiifa  de  remediar- 
nos  ?  "  —  Barcia,  79. 


1565.]  THE  FRENCH  FORT  TAKEN. 

by  the  renegade  Frenchman,  whose  hands,  to  make 
sure  of  him,  were  tied  behind  his  back.  Groping  and 
stumbling  in  the  dark  among  trees,  roots,  and  under- 
brush, buffeted  by  wind  and  rain,  and  lashed  in  the 
face  by  the  recoiling  boughs  which  they  could  not  see, 
they  soon  lost  their  way,  fell  into  confusion,  and  came 
to  a  stand,  in  a  mood  more  savagely  desponding  than 
before.  But  soon  a  glimmer  of  returning  day  came  to 
their  aid,  and  showed  them  the  dusky  sky,  and  the  dark 
columns  of  the  surrounding  pines.  Menendez  ordered 
the  men  forward  on  pain  of  death.  They  obeyed,  and 
presently,  emerging  from  the  forest,  could  dimly  dis- 
cern the  ridge  of  a  low  hill,  behind  which,  the  French- 
man told  them,  was  the  fort.  Menendez,  with  a  few 
officers  and  men,  cautiously  mounted  to  the  top.  Be- 
neath lay  Fort  Caroline,  three  bowshots  distant;  but 
the  rain,  the  imperfect  light,  and  a  cluster  of  interven- 
ing houses  prevented  his  seeing  clearly,  and  he  sent 
two  officers  to  reconnoitre.  As  they  descended,  they 
met  a  solitary  Frenchman.  They  knocked  him  down 
with  a  sheathed  sword,  wounded  him,  took  him  pris- 
oner, kept  him  for  a  time,  then  stabbed  him  as  they 
returned  towards  the  top  of  the  hill.  Here,  clutching 
their  weapons,  all  the  gang  stood,  in  fierce  expectancy. 
"  Santiago  !  "  cried  Menendez.  "  At  them  !  God 

o 

is  with  us  !     Victory  !  " 

And,  shouting  their  hoarse  war-cries,  the  Spaniards 
rushed  down  the  slope  like  starved  wolves. 

Not  a  sentry  was  on  the  rampart.     La  Vigne,  the 

*  Barcia,  80. 


MENENDEZ.  [1565. 

officer  of  the  guard,  had  just  gone  to  his  quarters  ; 
but  a  trumpeter,  who  chanced  to  remain,  saw,  through 
sheets  of  rain,  the  swarm  of  assailants  sweeping  down 
the  hill.  He  blew  the  alarm,  and  at  the  summons  a 
few  half-naked  soldiers  ran  wildly  out  of  the  barracks. 
It  was  too  late.  Through  the  breaches,  and  over  the 
ramparts,  the  Spaniards  came  pouring  in. 

"  Santiago !     Santiago  !  " 

Sick  men  leaped  from  their  beds.  Women  and  chil- 
dren, blind  with  fright,  darted  shrieking  from  the 
houses.  A  fierce,  gaunt  visage,  the  thrust  of  a  pike, 
or  blow  of  a  rusty  halberd,  —  such  was  the  greeting 
that  met  all  alike.  Laudonniere  snatched  his  sword  and 
target,  and  ran  towards  the  principal  breach,  calling  to 
his  soldiers.  A  rush  of  Spaniards  met  him  ;  his  men 
were  cut  down  around  him  ;  and  he,  with  a  soldier 
named  Bartholomew,  was  forced  back  into  the  court- 
yard of  his  house.  Here  stood  a  tent,  and  as  the 
pursuers  stumbled  among  the  cords,  he  escaped  be- 
hind Ottigny's  house,  sprang  through  the  breach  in  the 
western  rampart,  and  fled  for  the  woods.1 

Le  Moyne  had  been  one  of  the  guard.  Scarcely 
had  he  thrown  himself  into  a  hammock  which  was 
slung  in  his  room,  when  a  savage  shout,  and  a  wild 
uproar  of  shrieks,  outcries,  and  the  clash  of  weapons, 
brought  him  to  his  feet.  He  rushed  by  two  Spaniards 
in  the  door-way,  ran  behind  the  guard-house,  leaped 
through  an  embrasure  into  the  ditch,  and  escaped  to 
the  forest.2 

1  Laudonniere,  110;  Le  Moyne,  24.  2  Le  Moyne,  25 


13G6.J  THE  MASSACRE. 


113 


Challeux,  the  carpenter,  was  going  betimes  to  his 
work,  a  chisel  in  his  hand.  He  was  old,  but  pike  and 
partisan  brandished  at  his  back  gave  wings  to  his 
flight.  In  the  ecstasy  of  his  terror,  he  leaped  upward, 
clutched  the  top  of  the  palisade,  and  threw  himself 
over  with  the  agility  of  a  boy.  He  ran  up  the  hill, 
no  one  pursuing,  and,  as  he  neared  the  edge  of  the  for- 
est, turned  and  looked  hack.  From  the  high  ground 
where  he  stood  he  could  see  the  butchery,  the  fury  of 
the  conquerors,  the  agonizing  gestures  of  the  victims. 
He  turned  again  in  horror,  and  plunged  into  the  woods.1 
As  he  tore  his  way  through  the '  briers  and  thickets,  he 
met  several  fugitives,  escaped  like  himself.  Others 
presently  came  up,  haggard  and  wild,  like  men  broke 
loose  from  the  jaws  of  death.  They  gathered  together 
and  consulted.  One  of  them,  in  great  repute  for  his 
knowledge  of  the  Bible,  was  for  returning  and  sur- 
rendering to  the  Spaniards.  "  They  are  men,"  he 
said  ;  "  perhaps,  when  their  fury  is  over,  they  will  spare 
our  lives ;  and,  even  if  they  kill  us,  it  will  only  be  a  few 
moments'  pain.  Better  so,  than  to  starve  here  in  the 
woods,  or  be  torn  to  pieces  by  wild  beasts." 

The  greater  part  of  the  naked  and  despairing  com- 
pany assented,  but  Challeux  was  of  a  different  mind. 
The  old  Huguenot  quoted  Scripture,  and  called  the 
names  of  prophets  and  apostles  to  witness,  that,  in  the 
direst  extremity,  God  would  not  abandon  those  who 
rested  their  faith  in  Him.  Six  of  the  fugitives,  how- 
ever, still  held  to  their  desperate  purpose.  Issuing 

1  Challeux  in  Ternaux-Compans,  272.  3  Ibid.  276. 

10  » 


MENENDEZ.  [15G3 

from  the  woods,  they  descended  towards  the  fort,  and, 
as  with  beating  hearts  their  comrades  watched  the  re- 
sult, a  troop  of  Spaniards  rushed  forth,  hewed  them 
down  with  swords  and  halberds,  and  dragged  their 
bodies  to  the  brink  of  the  river,  where  the  victims  of 
the  massacre  were  already  flung  in  heaps. 

Le  Moyne,  with  a  soldier  named  Grandchemin, 
whom  he  had  met  in  his  flight,  toiled  all  day  through 
the  woods,  in  the  hope  of  reaching  the  small  vessels 
anchored  behind  the  bar.  Night  found  them  in  a 
morass.  -  No  vessel  could  be  seen,  and  the  soldier,  in 
despair,  broke  into  angry  upbraidings  against  his  com- 
panion, —  saying  that  he  would  go  back  and  give  him- 
self up.  Le  Moyne  at  first  opposed  him,  then  yielded. 
But  when  they  drew  near  the  fort,  and  heard  the  uproar 
of  savage  revelry  that  rose  from  within,  the  artist's 
heart  failed  him.  He  embraced  his  companion,  and 
the  soldier  advanced  alone.  A  party  of  Spaniards 
came  out  to  meet  him.  He  kneeled,  and  begged  for 
his  life.  He  was  answered  by  a  death-blow  ;  and  the 
horrified  Le  Moyne,  from  his  hiding  -  place  in  the 
thicket,  saw  his  limbs  hacked  apart,  stuck  on  pikes, 
and  borne  off'  in  triumph.1 

Meanwhile,  Menendez,  mustering  his  followers,  had 
offered  thanks  to  God  for  their  victory ;  and  this  pious 
butcher  wept  with  emotion  as  he  recounted  the  favors 
which  Heaven  had  showered  upon  their  enterprise. 
His  admiring  historian  gives  it  in  proof  of  his  human- 
ity, that,  after  the  rage  of  the  assault  was  spent,  he 

i  Le  Moyne,  26. 


1565.]  FEROCITY   OF   THE   SPANIARDS. 

ordered  that  women,  infants,  and  boys  under  fifteen 
should  thenceforth  be  spared.  Of  these,  by  his  own 
account,  there  were  about  fifty.  Writing  in  October 
to  the  King-,  he  says,  that  they  cause  him  great  anx- 
iety, since  he  fears  the  anger  of  God,  should  he  now 
put  them  to  death,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  in 
dread  lest  the  venom  of  their  heresy  should  infect  his 
men. 

A  hundred  and  forty-two  persons  were  slain  in  and 
around  the  fort,  and  their  bodies  lay  heaped  together 
on  the  bank  of  the  river.  Nearly  opposite  was  an- 
chored a  small  vessel,  called  the  Pearl,  commanded  by 
Jacques  Ribaut,  son  of  the  Admiral.  The  ferocious 
soldiery,  maddened  with  victory  and  drunk  with  blood, 
crowded  to  the  water's  edge,  shouting  insults  to  those 
on  board,  mangling  the  corpses,  tearing  out  their  eyes, 
and  throwing  them  towards  the  vessel  from  the  points 
of  their  daggers.1  Thus  did  the  Most  Catholic  Philip 
champion  the  cause  of  Heaven  in  the  New  World. 

It  was  currently  believed  in  France,  and,  though  no 
eye-witness  attests  it,  there  is  reason  to  think  it  true, 
that  among-  those  murdered  at  Fort  Caroline  there  were 

D 

some  who  died  a  death  of  peculiar  ignominy.  Menen- 
dez,  it  is  affirmed,  hanged  his  prisoners  on  trees,  and 

1  "  ...  car,  arrachans  lea  yeux  des  morts,  lea  fichoyent  au  bout 
des  dagues,  et  puis  auec  cris,  heurlemens  &  toute  gaudisserie,  lea  ietto- 
yent  contre  nos  Francois  vers  I'eau."  —  Ckalleiur,  (1566,)  34. 

"  Us  arracherent  les  yeulx  qu'ils  avoient  meurtris,  et  k-8  aiant  fiche* 
a  la  poincte  de  leurs  dagues  faisoient  cntre  eiilx  a  qui  plus  loing  les  jette- 
roit."  —  Provost,  Rffiriiise  de  la  Floride.  This  is  a  contemporary  MS.  in 
the  Bibliotheque  Imperiale,  inserted  by  Ternaux-Conipanu  in  hu  lieamL 
It  will  be  often  cited  hereafter. 


1 1 Q  MENENDEZ.  [1565. 

placed  over  them  the  inscription,  "  I  do  this,  not  as  to 
Frenchmen,  but  as  to  Lutherans."  * 

The  Spaniards  gained  a  great  booty ;  armor,  cloth- 
ing, and  provisions.  "  Nevertheless,"  says  the  devout 
Mendoza,  after  closing  his  inventory  of  the  plunder, 
"  the  greatest  profit  of  this  victory  is  the  triumph  which 
our  Lord  has  granted  us,  whereby  His  holy  Gospel  will 
be  introduced  into  this  country,  a  thing  so  needful  for 
saving  so  many  souls  from  perdition."  Again,  he 
writes  in  his  journal,  — "  We  owe  to  God  and  His 
Mother,"  more  than  to  human  strength,  this  victory 
over  the  adversaries  of  the  holy  Catholic  religion."2 

To  whatever  influence,  celestial  or  other,  the  exploit 
may  best  be  ascribed,  the  victors  were  not  yet  quite 
content  with  their  success.  Two  small  French  vessels, 
besides  that  of  Jacques  Ribaut,  still  lay  within  range 
of  the  fort.  When  the  storm  had  a  little  abated,  the 
cannon  were  turned  on  them.  One  of  them  was  sunk, 
but  Ribaut,  with  the  others,  escaped  down  the  river,  at 
the  mouth  of  which  several  light  craft,  including  that 
bought  from  the  English,  had  been  anchored  since  the 
arrival  of  his  father's  squadron. 

1  Prevost  in  Ternaux-Compans,  357  ;  Lescarbot,  (1612,)  I.  127;  Charle- 
voix,  Nouvdle  France,  (1744,)  I.  81 ;  and  nearly  all  the  French  secondary 
writers.     Barcia  denies  the  story.     How  deep  the  indignation  it  kindled 
in  France  will  appear  hereafter. 

2  "  Mais  le  plus  grand  avantage  de  cette  victoire  c'est  certainement  le 
triomphe  que  Notre-Seigneur  nous  a  accorde',  et  qui  fera  que  son  Saint- 
fiviingile  sera  introduit  dans  cette  eontree,  chose  si  ne'cessaire  pour  em- 
pecher  tant  d'&mes  d'etre  perdues."  —  Mendoza,  222. 

"  On  est  redevable  a  Dieu  et  sa  Mere  de  la  victoire  que  Ton  a  rem- 
portee  centre  les  adversaires  de  la  sainte  religion  Catholique,  plutot  qu'is 
la  force  des  hommes."  —  Ibid.  219. 


15(53]  THE   FUGITIVES. 

While  this  was  passing1,  the  wretched  fugitives  were 
flying-  from  the  scene  of  massacre  through  a  tempest, 
of  whose  persistent  violence  all  the  narratives  speak 
with  wonder.  Exhausted,  starved,  half  clothed,  —  for 
most  of  them  had  escaped  in  their  shirts,  —  they 
pushed  their  toilsome  way  amid  the  ceaseless  wrath  of 
the  elements.  A  few  sought  refuge  in  Indian  villages; 
but  these,  it  is  said,  were  afterwards  killed  hy  the 
Spaniards.  The  greater  number  attempted  to  reach 
the  vessels  at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  Among  the  lat- 
ter was  Le  Moyne,  who,  despite  his  former  failure,  was 
toiling  through  the  mazes  of  tangled  forests,  when  he 
met  a  Belgian  soldier  with  the  woman  described  as 

O 

Laudonniere's  maid-servant,  the  latter  wounded  in  the 
breast;  and,  urging  their  flight  towards  the  vessels, 
they  fell  in  with  other  fugitives,  and  among  them  with 
Laudonniere  himself.  As  they  struggled  through  the 
salt-marsh,  the  rank  sedge  cut  their  naked  limbs,  and 
the  tide  rose  to  their  waists.  Presently  they  descried 
others,  toiling  like  themselves  through  the  matted 
vegetation,  and  recognized  Challeux  and  his  compan- 
ions, also  in  quest  of  the  vessels.  The  old  man  still, 
as  he  tells  us,  held  fast  to  his  chisel,  which  had  done 
good  service  in  cutting  poles  to  aid  the  party  to  cross 
the  deep  creeks  that  channelled  the  morass.  The 
united  band,  twenty-six  in  all,  were  cheered  at  length 
by  the  sight  of  a  moving1  sail.  It  was  the  vessel  of 
Captain  Mallard,  who,  informed  of  the  massacre,  was 
standing  along-shore  in  the  hope  of  picking  up  some 
.of  the  fugitives.  He  saw  their  signals,  and  sent  boats 


MENENDEZ.  [1565 

to  their  rescue ;  but  such  was  their  exhaustion,  that, 
had  not  the  sailors,  wading-  to  their  armpits  among  the 
rushes,  borne  them  out  on  their  shoulders,  few  could 
have  escaped.  Laudonniere  was  so  feeble  that  nothing 
but  the  support  of  a  soldier,  who  held  him  upright  in 
his  arms,  had  saved  him  from  drowning  in  the  marsh. 

On  gaining  the  friendly  decks,  the  fugitives  coun- 
selled together.  One  and  all,  they  sickened  for  the 
sight  of  France. 

After  waiting  a  few  days,  and  saving  a  few  more 
stragglers  from  the  marsh,  they  prepared  to  sail. 
Young  Ribaut,  though  ignorant  of  his  father's  fate, 
assented  with  something  more  than  willingness ;  in- 
deed, his  behavior  throughout  had  been  stamped  with 
weakness  and  poltroonery.  On  the  twenty-fifth  of  Sep- 
tember they  put  to  sea  in  two  vessels  ;  and,  after  a 
voyage  whose  privations  were  fatal  to  many  of  them, 
they  arrived,  one  party  at  Rochelle,  the  other  at  Swan- 
sea, in  Wales. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

1565. 
MASSACRE    OF    THE    HERETICS. 

MENENDEZ  RETURNS  TO  ST.   AUGUSTINE.  —  TIDINGS   OF  THE  FRENCH. 

RlBAUT    SHIPWRECKED.  —  TllE    MARCH  OF  MEXENDEZ.  —  HE    DISCOVER* 

THE  FRENCH.  —  INTERVIEWS.  —  HOPES  OF  MERCY.  —  SURRENDER  OK  THK 
FRENCH.  —  MASSACRE.  —  RETURN  TO  ST.  AUGUSTINE.  —  TIDINGS  OF 
RIBAUT'S  PARTY. —  His  INTERVIEW  WITH  MENENDEZ.  —  DKCEIVKD  AND 
BETRAYED.  —  MURDERED.  — ANOTHER  MASSACRE.  —  FRENCH  ACCOUNTS. 
—  SCHEMES  OF  THE  SPANIARDS.  —  SURVIVORS  OF  THE  CARNAGE.  —  IN- 
DIFFERENCE OF  THE  FRENCH  COURT. 

IN  suspense  and  fear,  hourly  looking  seaward  for 
the  dreaded  fleet  of  Jean  Ribaut,  the  chaplain  Mendoza 
and  his  brother -priests  held  watch  and  ward  at  St. 
Augustine  in  the  Adelantado's  absence.  Besides  the 

<? 

celestial  guardians  whom  they  ceased  not  to  invoke, 
they  had  as  protectors  Bartholomew  Menendez,  the 
brother  of  the  Adelantado,  and  about  a  hundred  sol- 
diers. Day  and  night,  they  toiled  to  throw  up  earth- 
works and  strengthen  their  position. 

A  week  elapsed,  when  they  saw  a  man  running  to- 
wards their  fort,  shouting  as  he  ran. 

Mendoza  went  out  to  meet  him. 

"  Victory  !  Victory  !  "  gasped  the  breathless  mes- 
senger. "  The  French  fort  is  ours !  "  And  he  flung 
his  arms  about  the  chaplain's  neck.1 

"  To-day,"  writes  the  priest  in  his  journal,  "  Mon- 

1  Mendoza,  217. 


120  MASSACRE   OF   THE   HERETICS.  [1565. 

day,  the  twenty-fourth,  came  our  good  general  himself, 
with  fifty  soldiers,  very  tired,  like  all  those  who  were 
with  him.  As  soon  as  they  told  me  he  was  coming,  I 
ran  to  my  lodging,  took  a  new  cassock,  the  best  I  had, 
put  on  my  surplice,  and  went  out  to  meet  him  with  a 
crucifix  in  my  hand ;  whereupon  he,  like  a  gentleman 
and  a  good  Christian,  kneeled  down  with  all  his  fol- 
lowers, and  gave  the  Lord  a  thousand  thanks  for  the 
great  favors  he  had  received  from  Him." 

In  solemn  procession,  with  four  priests  in  front  chant- 
ing the  ~Te  Deum^  the  victors  entered  St.  Augustine  in 
triumph. 

On  the  twenty-eighth,  when  the  weary  Adelantado 
was  taking  his  siesta  under  the  sylvan  roof  of  Seloy,  a 
troop  of  Indians  came  in  with  news  that  quickly  roused 
him  from  his  slumbers.  They  had  seen  a  French  ves- 
sel wrecked  on  the  coast  towards  the  south.  Those 
who  escaped  from  her  were  some  four  leagues  off,  on 
the  banks  of  a  river  or  arm  of  the  sea,  which  they 
could  not  cross.1 

Menendez  instantly  sent  forty  or  fifty  men  in  boats 
to  reconnoitre.  Next,  he  called  the  chaplain, —  for  he 
would  fain  have  him  at  his  elbow  to  countenance  the 
deeds  he  meditated,  —  and,  with  him,  twelve  soldiers, 
and  two  Indian  guides,  embarked  in  another  boat.  They 
rowed  along  the  channel  between  Anastasia  Island  and 
the  main  shore ;  then  they  landed,  struck  across  the 
island  on  foot,  traversed  plains  and  marshes,  reached 

1  Mendoza,  227  ;  Solis  in  Barcia,  85;  Letter  of  Meneadez  to  the  King, 
18  October,  1565,  MS. 


1665.]  WRECK   OF   THE   FRENCH. 

the  sea  towards  night,  and  searched  along-shore  till  tea 
o'clock  to  find  their  comrades  who  had  gone  before. 
At  length,  with  mutual  joy,  the  two  parties  met,  and 
bivouacked  together  on  the  sands.  Not  far  distant  they 
could  see  lights.  These  were  the  camp-fires  of  the 
shipwrecked  French. 

And  now,  to  relate  the  fortunes  of  these  unhappy 
men.  To  do  so  with  precision  is  impossible ;  for  hence- 
forward the  French  narratives  are  no  longer  the  narra- 
tives of  eye-witnesses. 

It  has  been  seen  how,  when  on  the  point  of  assail- 
ing the  Spaniards  of  St.  Augustine,  Jean  Ribaut  was 
thwarted  by  a  gale  which  they  hailed  as  a  divine  in- 
terposition. The  gale  rose  to  a  tempest  of  strange 
fury.  Within  a  few  days,  all  the  French  ships  were 
cast  on  shore,  the  greater  number  near  Cape  Canaveral. 
According  to  a  letter  of  Menendez,  many  of  those 
on  board  were  lost,  but  others  affirm  that  all  escaped 
but  a  captain,  La  Grange,  an  officer  of  high  merit, 
who  was  washed  from  a  floating  mast.1  One  of  the 
ships  was  wrecked  at  a  point  farther  northward  than 
the  rest,  and  it  was  her  company  whose  camp-fires 
were  seen  by  the  Spaniards  at  their  bivouac  among 
the  sands  of  Anastasia  Island.  They  were  endeavor- 
ing to  reach  Fort  Caroline,  of  whose  fate  they  knew 
nothing,  while  Ribaut  with  the  remainder  was  farther 

&  ' 

southward,  struggling  through  the  wilderness  towards 
the  same  goal.  What  befell  the  latter  will  nppear 
hereafter.  Of  the  fate  of  the  former  party  there  i» 

i  Clmlleux,  (1566,)  46. 
11 


MASSACRE  OF  THE  HERETICS. 

no  French  record.  What  we  know  of  it  is  due  to 
three  Spanish  eye-witnesses,  Mendoza,  Doctor  Soils  de 
las  Meras,  and  Menendez  himself.  Soils  was  a  priest, 
and  brother-in-law  to  Menendez.  Like  Mendoza,  he 
minutely  describes  what  he  saw,  and,  like  him,  was  a 
red-hot  zealot,  lavishing  applause  on  the  darkest  deeds 
of  his  chief.  But  the  principal  witness  is  Menendez 
himself,  in  his  long  despatches  sent  from  Florida  to 
the  King,  and  now  first  brought  to  light  from  the 
archives  of  Seville,  —  a  cool  record  of  unsurpassed 
atrocities,  inscribed  on  the  back  with  the  royal  in- 
dorsement, "  Say  to  him  that  he  has  done  well." 

When  the  Adelantado  saw  the  French  fires  in  the 
distance,  he  lay  close  in  his  bivouac,  and  sent  two  sol- 
diers to  reconnoitre.  At  t\vo  o'clock  in  the  morning 
they  came  back  and  reported  that  it  was  impossible  to 
get  at  the  enemy,  since  they  were  on  the  farther  side  of 
an  arm  of  the  sea  (probably  Matanzas  Inlet).  Menen- 
dez, however,  gave  orders  to  march,  and  before  day- 
break reached  the  hither  bank,  where  he  hid  his  men  in 
a  bushy  hollow.  Thence,  as  it  grew  light,  they  could 
discern  the  enemy,  many  of  whom  were  searching 
along  the  sands  and  shallows  for  shell-fish,  for  they 
were  famishing.  A  thought  struck  Menendez,  an  in- 
spiration, says  Mendoza,  of  the  Holy  Spirit.1  He  put 
on  the  clothes  of  a  sailor,  entered  a  boat  which  had 
been  brought  to  the  spot,  and  rowed  towards  the  ship- 
wrecked men,  the  better  to  learn  their  condition.  A 

1  "  Notre  general,  eclaire  par  1'Esprit  Saint,  nous  dit :  J'ai  1'intention 
de  quitter  ces  habits,  d'en  mettre  un  de  marin,"  etc.  —  Mendoza,  230. 


1565.J  INTERVIEWS. 

Frenchman  swam  out  to  meet  him.  Menendez  de- 
manded what  men  they  were. 

"  Followers  of  Ribaut,  Viceroy  of  the  King  of 
France,"  answered  the  swimmer. 

"  Are  you  Catholics  or  Lutherans  1  " 

"  All  Lutherans." 

A  brief  dialogue  ensued,  during  which  the  Adelan- 
tado  declared  his  name  and  character.  The  French- 
man swam  back  to  his  companions,  but  soon  returned, 
and  asked  safe  conduct  for  his  captain  and  four  other 
gentlemen  who  wished  to  hold  conference  with  the 
Spanish  general.  Menendez  gave  his  word  for  their 
safety,  and,  returning  to  the  shore,  sent  his  boat  to 
bring  them  over.  On  their  landing,  he  met  them 
very  courteously.  His  followers  were  kept  at  a  dis- 
tance, so  disposed  behind  hills  and  clumps  of  bushes 
as  to  give  an  exaggerated  idea  of  their  force,  —  a  pre- 
caution the  more  needful  as  they  were  only  about  sixty 
in  number,  while  the  French,  says  Soils,  were  above  two 
hundred.  Menendez,  however,  declares  that  they  did 
not  exceed  a'  hundred  and  forty.  The  French  officer 
told  him  the  story  of  their  shipwreck,  and  begged  him 
to  lend  them  a  boat  to  aid  them  in  crossing  the  rivers 
which  lay  between  them  and  a  fort  of  their  King, 
whither  they  were  making  their  way. 

Then  came  again  the  ominous  question,  — 

"  Are  you  Catholics  or  Lutherans  ^  " 

"  We  are  Lutherans." 

"Gentlemen,"  pursued  Menendez,  "your  fort  is 
taken,  and  all  in  it  are  put  to  the  sword."  And,  in 


MASSACRE  OF  THE  HERETICS. 

proof  of  his  declaration,  he  caused  articles  plundered 
from  Fort  Caroline  to  be  shown  to  the  unhappy  peti- 
tioners. He  then  left  them,  and  went  to  breakfast 
witli  his  officers,  first  ordering  food  to  be  placed  before 
them.  Having  breakfasted,  he  returned  to  them. 

"  Are  you  convinced  now,"  he  asked,  "  that  what  I 
have  told  you  is  true  1  " 

The  French  captain  assented,  and  implored  him  to 
lend  them  ships  in  which  to  return  home.  Menendez 
answered,  that  he  would  do  so  willingly,  if  they  were 
Catholics,  and  if  he  had  ships  to  spare,  but  he  had 
none.  The  supplicants  then  expressed  the  hope,  that, 
at  least,  they  and  their  followers  would  be  allowed  to 
remain  with  the  Spaniards  till  ships  could  be  sent  to 
their  relief,  since  there  was  peace  between  the  two 
nations,  whose  kings  were  friends  and  brothers. 

"  All  Catholics,"  retorted  the  Spaniard,  "  I  will  be 
friend ;  but  as  you  are  of  the  New  Sect,  I  hold  you  as 
enemies,  and  wage  deadly  war  against  you  ;  and  this  I 
will  do  with  all  cruelty  \crueldad~\  in  this  country, 
where  I  command  as  Viceroy  and  Captain-General  for 
my  King.  I  am  here  to  plant  the  Holy  Gospel,  that  the 
Indians  may  be  enlightened  and  come  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  holy  Catholic  faith  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as 
the  Roman  Church  teaches  it.  If  you  will  give  up  your 
arms  and  banners,  and  place  yourselves  at  my  mercy, 
you  may  do  so,  and  I  will  act  towards  you  as  God  shall 
give  me  grace.  Do  as  you  will,  for  other  than  this 
you  can  have  neither  truce  nor  friendship  with  me." 
1 " .  .  .  .  mas,  que  por  ser  ellos  de  la  Xueva  Secta,  los  tenia  por  Enemi- 


1565.J  INTERVIEWS   WITH  THE   FRENCH. 


125 


Such  were  the  Adelantado's  words,  as  reported  by  a 
bystander,  his  admiring  brother-in-law ;  and  that  they 
contain  an  implied  assurance  of  mercy  has  been  held, 
not  only  by  Protestants,  but  by  Catholics  and  Span- 
iards.1 The  report  of  Menendez  himself  is  more  brief, 
and  sufficiently  equivocal:  — 

tk  I  answered,  that  they  could  give  up  their  arms  and 
place  themselves  under  my  mercy,  —  that  I  should  do 
with  them  what  our  Lord  should  order;  and  from  that 
I  did  not  depart,  nor  would  I,  unless  God  our  Lord 
should  otherwise  inspire."2 

One  of  the  Frenchmen  recrossed  to  consult  with  his 
companions.  In  two  hours  he  returned,  and  offered 
fifty  thousand  ducats  to  secure  their  lives ;  but  Menen- 
dez, says  his  brother-in-law,  would  give  no  pledges.  On 
the  other  hand,  expressions  in  his  own  despatches  point 

gos,  c  tenia  con  ellos  Guerra,  a  sangre,  c  fuego ;  e  quo  csta  la  liaria  con 
toda  crueldad  a  los  que  hallasc  en  nquella  Mar,  b  Tierra,  donde  era  Virrei, 
e  Capitan  General  por  su  Rei ;  e  que  iba  a  plantar  el  Santo  Erangclio  en 
aquella  Tiorra,  para  que  fuesen  alumbrados  los  Indios,  c  viniescn  al  cono- 
cimiento  de  la  Santa  Fe  Catolica  de  Jfsu  Christo  N.  S.  como  lo  dice,  & 
oanta  la  Iglesia  Romana ;  e  que  si  ellos  quieren  entregarle  las  Vanderas, 
fc  las  Armas,  c  ponerse  en  su  Misericordia,  lo  pueduu  hacer,  pnni  quu  el 
haga  de  ellos  lo  que  Dios  le  diere  dc  gracia,  6  que  hagan  lo  que  quisieren, 
que  otras  Treguas,  ni  Amistades  no  avian  de  hacer  con  el."  —  Solis,  80. 

1  Salazar,  Crisis  del  Ensnyo,  23 ;  Padre  Felipe  Briet,  Anules. 

2  "  Respondfles,  que  las  armas  me  podia  rendir  y  ponerse  dcbaxo  de  mi 
gracia  para  que  Yo  hiciese  dellos  aquello  que  Nuestro  Sefior  me  orde- 
nase,  y  de  aqui  no  me  saco,  ni  sacara  si  Dios  Nuestro  Senor  no  espiriira 
en  mi  otra  cosa.     Y  ansi  se  fiie"  con  esta  respuesta,  y  sc  vinieron  y  me 
entregaron  las  armas,  y  hiceles   amarrar  las  tnanos  atrns  y  pasarlos  & 
cucliillo 

"  Parecidme  que  castigar  los  desta  mancra  se  servia  Dios  Nuestro  SerSor, 
v  V.  Mag1',  para  que  adelante  nos  dexen  mas  libres  esta  mala  seta  par» 
plantar  el  evangelio  en  estas  partes."  —  Carta  de  Pedro  MentnJt:  a  su  J/o> 
qestad,  Fuerte  de  6""  Agustin,  15  Octubre,  15C5,  MS. 
11 « 


1£(J  MASSACRE   OF  THE  HERETICS.  [156& 

to  the  inference  that  a  virtual  pledge  was  given,  at  least 
to  certain  individuals. 

The  starving  French  saw  no  resource  but  to  yield 
themselves  to  his  mercy.  The  boat  was  again  sent 
across  the  river.  It  returned,  laden  with  banners,  ar- 
quebuses, swords,  targets,  and  helmets.  The  Adelan- 
tado  ordered  twenty  soldiers  to  bring  over  the  prison- 
ers, ten  at  a  time.  He  then  took  the  French  officers 
aside  behind  a  ridge  of  sand,  two  gunshots  from  the 
bank.  Here,  with  courtesy  on  his  lips  and  murder 
at  his  heart,  he  said, — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  have  but  few  men,  and  you  are  so 
many,  that,  if  you  were  free,  it  would  be  easy  for  you 
to  take  your  satisfaction  on  us  for  the  people  we  killed 
when  we  took  your  fort.  Therefore  it  is  necessary 
that  you  should  go  to  my  camp,  four  leagues  from  this 
place,  with  your  hands  tied." 1 

Accordingly,  as  each  party  landed,  they  were  led  out 
of  sight  behind  the  sand-hill,  and  their  hands  tied  be- 
hind their  backs  with  the  match-cords  of  the  arquebuses, 
—  though  not  before  each  had  been  supplied  with  food. 
The  whole  day  passed  before  all  were  brought  together, 
bound  and  helpless,  under  the  eye  of  the  inexorable 
Adelantado.  But  now  Mendoza  interposed.  "  I  was 
a  priest,"  he  says,  "  and  had  the  bowels  of  a  man." 
He  asked,  that,  if  there  were  Christians,  that  is  to  say 

1  "  Senores,  yo  tengo  poca  Gente,  fc  no  miii  conocida,  fc  Vosotros  sois 
muchos,  e  andanclo  sueltps,  facil  cosa  os  seria  satisfaceros  de  Nosotros, 
por  la  Gente,  que  os  degollamos,  quando  ganamos  el  Fuerte ;  fc  ansi  es 
menester,  que  con  las  manos  atras,  amarradas,  marcheis  de  a<jui  a  qua- 
tro  Leguas,  donde  yo  tengo  mi  Real."  —  Solisy  87. 


156G.]  BUTCHERY. 

Catholics,  among  the  prisoners,  they  should  be  set 
apart.  Twelve  Breton  sailors  professed  themselves  to 
be  such ;  and  these,  together  with  four  carpenters  and 
calkers,  "  of  whom,"  writes  Menendez,  "  I  was  in  great 
need,"  were  put  on  board  the  boat  and  sent  to  St.  Au- 
gustine. The  rest  were  ordered  to  march  thither  by 
land. 

The  Adelantado  walked  in  advance  till  he  came  to  a 
lonely  spot,  not  far  distant,  deep  among  the  bush-cov- 
ered hills.  Here  he  stopped,  and  with  his  cane  drew 
a  line  in  the  sand.  The  sun  was  set  when  the  captive 
Huguenots,  with  their  escort,  reached  the  fatal  goal  thus 
marked  out.  And  now  let  the  curtain  drop ;  for  here, 
in  the  name  of  Heaven,  the  hounds  of  hell  were  turned 
loose,  and  the  savage  soldiery,  like  wolves  in  a  sheep- 
fold,  rioted  in  slaughter.  Of  all  that  wretched  com- 

'  O 

pany,  not  one  was  left  alive. 

"  I  had  their  hands  tied  behind  their  backs,"  writes 
the  chief  criminal,  "  and  themselves  put  to  the  sword. 
It  appeared  to  me,  that,  by  thus  chastising  them,  God 
our  Lord  and  your  Majesty  were  served;  whereby  in 
future  this  evil  sect  will  leave  us  more  free  to  plant 
the  gospel  in  these  parts."1 

Again  Menendez  returned  triumphant  to  St.  Augus- 
tine, and  behind  him  marched  his  band  of  butchers, 
steeped  in  blood  to  the  elbows,  but  still  unsated.  Great 
as  had  been  his  success,  he  still  had  cause  for  anxiety. 
There  was  ill  news  of  his  fleet.  Some  of  the  ships 
were  lost,  others  scattered,  or  lagging  tardily  on  their 

i  For  the  original,  see  ante,  note  2,  p.  125. 


123  MASSACEE   OF   THE   HERETICS.  [1505. 

way.  Of  his  whole  force,  but  a  fraction  had  reached 
Florida,  and  of  this  a  large  part  was  still  at  Fort  Car- 
oline. Ribaut  could  not  be  far  off;  and,  whatever 
might  be  the  condition  of  his  shipwrecked  company, 
their  numbers  would  make  them  formidable,  unless 
taken  at  advantage.  Urged  by  fear  and  fortified  by 
fanaticism,  Menendez  had  well  begun  his  work  of 
slaughter ;  but  rest  for  him  there  was  none ;  a  darker 
deed  was  behind. 

On  the  next  day,  Indians  came  with  the  tidings,  that 
at  the  spot  where  the  first  party  of  the  shipwrecked 
French  had  been  found  was  now  another  party  still 
larger.  This  murder- loving  race  looked  with  great 
respect  on  Menendez  for  his  wholesale  butchery  of 
the  night  before,  —  an  exploit  rarely  equalled  in  their 
own  annals  of  massacre.  On  his  part,  he  doubted  not 
that  Ribaut  was  at  hand.  Marching  with  a  hundred 
and  fifty  men,  he  reached  the  inlet  at  midnight,  and 
again,  like  a  savage,  ambushed  himself  on  the  bank. 
Day  broke,  and  he  could  plainly  see  the  French  on  the 
farther  side.  They  had  made  a  raft,  which  lay  in 
the  water,  ready  for  crossing.  Menendez  and  his 
men  showed  themselves,  when,  forthwith,  the  French 
displayed  their  banners,  sounded  drums  and  trumpets, 
and  set  their  sick  and  starving  ranks  in  array  of  battle. 
But  the  Adelantado,  regardless  of  this  warlike  show, 
ordered  his  men  to  seat  themselves  at  breakfast,  while 
he  with  three  officers  walked  unconcernedly  along  the 
shore.  His  coolness  had  its  effect.  The  French  blew 
a  trumpet  of  parley,  and  showed  a  white  flag.  The 


1565.]  RIBAUT   AND   MENENDEZ.  jjn 

Spaniards  replied.  A  Frenchman  came  out  upon  the 
raft,  and,  shouting  'across  the  water,  asked  that  a  Span- 
ish envoy  should  be  sent  over. 

"  You  have  a  raft,"  was  the  reply ;  "  come  your- 
selves." 

An  Indian  canoe  lay  under  the  bank  on  the  Spanish 
side.  A  French  sailor  swam  to  it,  paddled  back  un- 
molested, and  presently  returned,  bringing-  with  him 
La  Caille,  Ribaut's  sergeant-major.  He  told  Menen- 
dez  that  the  French  were  three  hundred  and  fifty  in  all, 
and  were  on  their  way  to  Fort  Caroline ;  and,  like  the 
officers  of  the  former  party,  he  begged  for  boats  to  aid 
them  in  crossing  the  river. 

"  My  brother,"  said  Menendez,  "  go  and  tell  your 
general,  that,  if  he  wishes  to  speak  with  me,  he  may 
come  with  four  or  six  companions,  and  that  I  pledge 
my  word  he  shall  go  back  safe." 

La  Caille  returned ;  and  Ribaut,  with  eight  gentle- 
men, soon  came  over  in  the  canoe.  Menendez  met 
them  courteously,  caused  wine  and  preserved  fruits  to 
be  placed  before  them,  —  he  had  come  well  provisioned 
on  his  errand  of  blood, —  and  next  led  Ribaut  to  the 
reeking  Golgotha,  where,  in  heaps  upon  the  sand, 
lay  the  corpses  of  his  slaughtered  followers.  Ribaut 
was  prepared  for  the  spectacle  ;  La  Caille  had  already 
seen  it;  but  he  would  not  believe  that  Fort  Caroline  was 
taken  till  a  part  of  the  plunder  was  shown  him.  Then, 
mastering  his  despair,  he  turned  to  the  conqueror. 

"  What  has  befallen  us,"  he  said,  "  may  one  day 
i  Soli,  88. 


130  MASSACRE  OF  THE   HERETICS.  11565. 

befall  you."  And,  urging  that  the  kings  of  France  and 
Spain  were  brothers  and  close  friends,  he  begged,  in 
the  name  of  that  friendship,  that  the  Spaniard  would 
aid  him  in  conveying  his  followers  home.  Menendez 
gave  him  the  same  equivocal  answer  that  he  had  given 
the  former  party,  and  Ribaut  returned  to  consult  with 
his  officers.  After  three  hours  of  absence,  he  came 
back  in  the  canoe,  and  told  the  Adelantado  that  some 
of  his  people  were  ready  to  surrender  at  discretion,  but 
that  many  refused. 

"  They  can  do  as  they  please,"  was  the  reply. 

In  behalf  of  those  who  surrendered  Ribaut  offered 
a  ransom  of  a  hundred  thousand  ducats. 

"  It  would  much  grieve  me,"  said  Menendez,  "  not 
to  accept  it ;   for  I  have  great  need  of  it." 

Ribaut  was  much  encouraged.  Menendez  could 
scarcely  forego  such  a  prize,  and  he  thought,  says  the 
Spanish  narrator,  that  the  lives  of  his  followers  would 
now  be  safe.  He  asked  to  be  allowed  the  night  for 
deliberation,  and  at  sunset  recrossed  the  river.  In  the 
morning  he  reappeared  among  the  Spaniards,  and  re- 
ported that  two  hundred  of  his  men  had  retreated  from  • 
the  spot,  but  that  the  remaining  one  hundred  and  fifty 
would  surrender.1  At  the  same  time  he  gave  into  the 
hands  of  Menendez  the  royal  standard  and  other  flags, 
with  his  sword,  dagger,  helmet,  buckler,  and  the  official 
seal  given  him  by  Coligny.  Menendez  directed  an 
officer  to  enter  the  boat  and  bring  over  the  French  by 
tens.  He  next  led  Ribaut  among  the  bushes  behind 

1  Solis,  89.    Menendez  speaks  only  of  seventy. 


1665.]  ANOTHER  BUTCHERY. 


131 


the  neighboring  sand-hill,  and  ordered  his  hands  to  be 
bound  fast.  Then  the  scales  fell  from  the  prisoner's 
eyes.  Face  to  face  his  fate  rose  up  before  him.  He 
saw  his  followers  and  himself  entrapped,  —  the  dupe 
of  words  artfully  framed  to  lure  them  to  their  ruin. 
The  day  wore  on;  and,  as  band  after  band  of  prison- 
ers was  brought  over,  they  were  led  behind  the  sand- 
hill out  of  sight  from  the  farther  shore,  and  bound  like 
their  general.  At  length  the  transit  was  finished.  With 
bloodshot  eyes  and  weapons  bared,  the  fierce  Spaniards 
closed  around  their  victims. 

"  Are  you  Catholics  or  Lutherans  \  and  is  there  any 
one  among  you  who  will  go  to  confession  I  " 

Ribaut  answered,  — 

"  I  and  all  here  are  of  the  Reformed  Faith." 

And  he  recited  the  Psalm,  "  Domine,  memento  mei"1 

"  We  are  of  earth,"  he  continued,  "  and  to  earth  we 
must  return  ;  twenty  years  more  or  less  can  matter 
little  ;  "  2  and,  turning  to  the  Adelantado,  he  bade  him 
do  his  will. 

The  stony-hearted  bigot  gave  the  signal ;  and  those 
who  will  may  paint  to  themselves  the  horrors  of  the 
scene. 

A  few,  however,  were  spared.  "  I  saved,"  writes 
Menendez,  "  the  lives  of  two  young  gentlemen  of 
about  eighteen  years  of  age,  as  well  as  of  three  others, 

1  "  L'auteur  a  voulu  dire  apparemment,  Memento  Domine  David.  D'ail- 
leurs  Ribaut  la  re'cita  sans  doute  en  Fran^ais,  a  la  maniere  des  Protet- 
tans."  —  Hist.  Gen.  des  Voyages,  XIV.  446. 

a  "Dijo;  que  de  Tierra  eran,  y  que  en  Tierra  se  aviande  bohrer ;  ft 
Teintc  Afios  mas,  6  inenos,  todo  eran  una  Cuenta."  —  Solia.  89. 


MASSACEE   OF   THE   HERETICS.  11566 

the  fifer,  the  drummer,  and  the  trumpeter ;  and  I 
caused  Juan  Ribao  [Ribaut]  with  all  the  rest  to  be  put 
to  the  sword,  judging  this  to  be  expedient  for  the  ser- 
vice of  God  our  Lord,  and  of  your  Majesty.  And  I 
consider  it  great  good  fortune  that  he  [Juan  Ribao] 
should  be  dead,  for  the  King  of  France  could  effect 
more  with  him  and  five  hundred  ducats  than  with 
other  men  and  five  thousand,  and  he  would  do  more 
in  one  year  than  another  in  ten,  for  he  was  the  most 
experienced  sailor  and  naval  commander  known,  and 
of  great  skill  in  this  navigation  of  the  Indies  and 
the  coast  of  Florida.  He  was,  besides,  greatly  liked 
in  England,  in  which  kingdom  his  reputation  was  such, 
that  he  was  appointed  Captain-General  of  all  the  .Eng- 
lish fleet  against  the  French  Catholics  in  the  war  be- 
tween England  and  France  some  years  ago."1 

Such  is  the  sum  of  the  Spanish  accounts,  —  the 
self-damning  testimony  of  the  author  and  abettors  of 
the  crime.  A  picture  of  lurid  and  awful  coloring ;  and 
yet  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  truth  was  darker 

1  "  Salve"  la  vida  a  dos  mozos  Caballeros  de  hasta  18  anos,  y  a  otros  tres, 
que  eran  Pifano,  Atambor  y  Trompeta,  y  a  Juan  Rivao  con  todos  los 
demas  hice  pasar  a  cuchillo,  entendiendo  que  ansi  convenia  al  servieio  de 
Dios  Nuestro  Senor,  y  de  V.  Mag.  y  tengo  por  muy  principal  suerte  que 
este  sea  muerto,  porque  mas  hiciera  el  Key  de  Francia  con  el  con  500 
ducados,  que  con  otros  con  5000,  y  mas  hiciera  el  en  un  ano  que  otro  en 
diez,  porque  era  el  mas  pratico  marinero  y  cosario  que  se  sabia,  y  muy 
diestro  en  esta  Navegacion  de  Indias  y  costa  de  Florida,  y  tan  amigo  en 
Inglaterra  que  tenia  en  aquel  Reyno  tanta  reputacion  que  fue'  nombrado 
por  Capitan  General  de  toda  el  Armada  Inglesa  contra  los  Catolicos  de 
Francia  estos  anos  pasados  habiendo  guerra  entre  Inglaterra  y  Francia." 
—  Curia  de  Pedro  Menendez  a  su  Magestad,  Fuerte  de  Sn  Agustin,  15  de  Octu- 
bre,  1665,  MS. 


1K5-1  FRENCH  ACCOUNTS. 

still.     Among  those  who  were  spared  was  one  Chris- 
tophe  le  Breton,  who  was  carried  to  Spain,  escaped  to 
France,  and  told  his  story  to  Challeux.     Among  those 
struck  down  in  the  butchery  was  a  sailor  of  Dieppe, 
stunned  and  left  for  dead  under  a  heap  of  corpses.     In 
the    night    he    revived,   contrived   to    draw    his  knife, 
cut  the  cords  that  bound  his  hands,  and  made  his  way 
to  an  Indian  village.     The  Indians,  though  not  with- 
out reluctance,  abandoned  him  to  the  Spaniards.     The 
latter  sold  him  as  a  slave ;  but,  on  his  way  in  fetters  to 
Portugal,  the  ship  was  taken  by  the  Huguenots,  the 
sailor  set    free,  and   his    story  published    in    the    nar- 
rative of  Le  Moyne.      When  the  massacre  was  known 
in  France,  the  friends  and  relatives  of  the  victims  sent 
to  the  King,  Charles  the  Ninth,  a   vehement  petition 
for  redress;    and  their  memorial  recounts  many  inci- 
dents of  the  tragedy.     From  these  three  sources  is  to 
be  drawn  the  French  version  of  the  story.     The  fol- 
lowing is  its  substance :  — 

Famished  and  desperate,  the  followers  of  Ribaut 
were  toiling  northward  to  seek  refuge  at  Fort  Caroline, 
when  they  found  the  Spaniards  in  their  path.  Some 
were  filled  with  dismay ;  others,  in  their  misery,  almost 
hailed  them  as  deliverers.  La  Caille,  the  sergeant- 
major,  crossed  the  river.  Menendez  met  him  with  a 
face  of  friendship,  and  protested  that  he  would  spare 
the  lives  of  the  shipwrecked  men,  sealing  the  promise 
with  an  oath,  a  kiss,  and  many  signs  of  the  cross.  He 
even  gave  it  in  writing,  under  seal.  Still,  there  were 
tnany  among  the  French  who  would  not  place  them- 


12 


MASSACRE  OF  THE  HERETICS.  [1565 

selves  in  his  power.  The  most  credulous  crossed  the 
river  in  a  boat.  As  each  successive  party  landed,  their 
hands  were  bound  fast  at  their  backs;  and  thus,  except 
a  few  who  were  set  apart,  they  were  all  driven  towards 
the  fort,  like  cattle  to  the  shambles,  with  curses  and 
scurrilous  abuse.  Then,  at  sound  of  drums  and  trum- 
pets, the  Spaniards  fell  upon  them,  striking1  them  down 
with  swords,  pikes,  and  halberds.1  Ribaut  vainly 
called  on  the  Adelantado  to  remember  his  oath.  By 
his  order,  a  soldier  plunged  a  dagger  into  the  French 
commander's  heart ;  and  Ottigny,  who  stood  near,  met  a 
similar  fate.  Ribaut's  beard  was  cut  off,  and  portions 
of  it  sent  in  a  letter  to  Philip  the  Second.  His  head 
was  hewn  into  four  parts,  one  of  which  was  displayed 
on  the  point  of  a  lance  at  each  corner  of  Fort  St.  Au- 
gustine. Great  fires  were  kindled,  and  the  bodies  of 
the  murdered  burned  to  ashes.2 

1  Here  the  French  accounts  differ.  Le  Moyne  says  that  only  a  drum- 
mer and  a  fifer  were  spared ;  Clialleux,  that  carpenters,  artillerymen,  and 
others  who  might  be  of  use,  were  also  saved,  —  thirty  in  all.  Le  Moyne 
speaks  of  the  massacre  as  taking  place,  not  at  St.  Augustine,  but  at  Fort 
Caroline,  a  blunder  into  which,  under  the  circumstances,  he  might  very 
naturally  fall. 

" .  .  .  .  ainsi  comme  on  feroit  vn  trouppeau  de  bestes  lequel  on  chnsse- 
roit  a  la  boucherie,  lors  a  son  de  phiffres,  labouring  et  trompes,  la  hardiesse 
de  ces  furieux  Espagnols  se  besbedessur  [sic]  ces  poures  Francois  les- 
quels  estoyent  liez  et  garottez  :  la  c'estoit  a  qur  donneroit  le  plus  beau 
cousp  de  picque,  de  halleb'arde  et  d'espe'e,"  etc.  —  Clialleux,  from  Christo- 
phe  le  Breton. 

a  Une.  Requete  au  Roy,  faite  en  forme  de  Complainte  par  les  Femmes  veil/ties, 
petils  En  fanit  orphtlins,  et  autres  lews  Amis,  Parents,  et  A/lt'ez  de  i-eux  qni  out 
€(e"  cruellement  envalris  par  les  Espagtiols  e.n  la  France  Antharctique  dite  la 
Floride.  This  is  the  petition  to  Charles  the  Ninth.  There  ar.e  Latin 
translations  in  De  Bry  and  Chauveton.  Christophe  le  Breton  told  Clial- 
leux the  same  story  of  the  outrages  on  Ribaut's  body.  The  Requete  au 
Boil  affirms  that  the  total  number  of  French  killed  by  the  Spaniards  iu 


1565.]  RETURN  TO  ST.  AUGUSTINE.  135 

Such  is  the  sum  of  the  French  accounts.   The  charge 

C* 

of  breach  of  faith  contained  in  them  was  believed  by 
Catholics  as  well  as  Protestants,  and  it  was  as  a  defence 
against  this  charge  that  the  narrative  of  the  Adelanta- 
do's  brother-in-law  was  published.  That  Ribaut,  a  man 
whose  good  sense  and  courage  were  both  reputed  high, 
should  have  submitted  himself  and  his  men  to  Menen- 
clez  without  positive  assurance  of  safety,  is  scarcely 
credible ;  nor  is  it  lack  of  charity  to  believe  that  a 
miscreant  so  savage  in  heart  and  so  perverted  in  con- 
science would  act  on  the  maxim,  current  among  the 
bigots  of  the  day,  that  faith  ought  not  to  be  kept  with 
heretics. 

It  was  nirrht  when  the  Adelantado  again  entered  St. 

~ 

Augustine.     There  were  some  who  blamed  his  cruelty ; 

C5  * 

but  many  applauded.  "Even  if  the  French  had  been 
Catholics,"  —  such  was  their  language,  — ':  he  would 
have  done  right,  for,  with  the  little  provision  we  have, 
they  would  all  have  starved  ;  besides,  there  were  so 
many  of  them  that  they  would  have  cut  our  throats." 

And  now  Menendez  again  addressed  himself  to  the 
despatch,  already  begun,  in  which  he  recounts  to  the 
King  his  labors  and  his  triumphs,  a  deliberate  and  busi- 
ness-like document,  mingling  narratives  of  butchery 
with  recommendations  for  promotions,  commissary  de- 
tails, and  petitions  for  supplies;  enlarging,  too,  on  the 

Florida  in  1565  was  more  than  nine  hundred.  This  ia  no  doubt  an  exag- 
geration. . 

Provost^  a  contemporary,  Lescarbot,  and  others,  affirm  tl 
body  was  flayed,  and  the  skin  sent  to  Spain  as  a  trophy.    This  U  denied 
by  Barda. 


MASSACRE  OF  THE  HERETICS.  [1565. 

vast  schemes  of  encroachment  which  his  successful 
generalship  had  brought  to  nought.  The  French,  he 
says,  had  planned  a  military  and  naval  depot  at  Los 
Martires,  whence  they  would  make  a  descent  upon  Ha- 
vana, and  another  at  the  Bay  of  Ponce  de  Leon, 
whence  they  could  threaten  Vera  Cruz.  They  had 
long  been  encroaching  on  Spanish  rights  at  Newfound- 
land, from  which  a  great  arm  of  the  sea  — the  St. 
Lawrence  —  would  give  them  access  to  the  Moluccas 
and -other  parts  of  the  East  Indies.1  He  adds,  in  a 
later  despatch,  that  by  this  passage  they  may  reach 
the  mines  of  Zacatecas  and  St.  Martin,  as  well  as  every 
part  of  the  South  Sea.  And,  as  already  mentioned, 
he  urges  immediate  occupation  of  Chesapeake  Bay, 
which,  by  its  supposed  water-communication  with  the 
St.  La\vrence,  would  enable  Spain  to  vindicate  her 
rights,  control  the  fisheries  of  Newfoundland,  and 
thwart  her  rival  in  vast  designs  of  commercial  and  ter- 
ritorial aggrandizement.  Thus  did  France  and  Spain 
dispute  the  possession  of  North  America  long  before 
England  became  a  party  to  the  strife. 

Some  twenty  days  after  Menendez  returned  to  St. 
Augustine,  the  Indians,  enamored  of  carnage,  and 
exulting  to  see  their  invaders  mowed  down,  came  to 
tell  him  that  on  the  coast  southward,  near  Cape  Cana- 
veral, a  great  number  of  Frenchmen  were  .intrenching 
themselves.  They  were  those  of  Ribaut's  party  who 

1  These  geographical  blunders  are  no  matter  of  surprise.  It  was  more 
than  a  century  before  the  hope  of  reaching  the  East  Indies  by  way  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  was  wholly  abandoned. 


1505.1  SURVIVORS  OF  THE  CARNAGE. 

had  refused  to  surrender.  Having  retreated  to  the  spot 
where  their  ships  had  been  cast  ashore,  they  were  en- 
deavoring to  build  a  vessel  from  the  fragments  of  the 
wrecks. 

In  all  haste  Menendez  despatched  messengers  to 
Fort  Caroline, —  named  by  him  San  Mateo,  —  order- 
ing a  reinforcement  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  men.  In 
a  few  days  they  came.  He  added  some  of  his  own 
soldiers,  and,  with  a  united  force  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty,  set  forth,  as  he  tells  us,  on  the  second  of  Novem- 
ber, pushing  southward  along  the  shore  with  such 
merciless  energy  that  some  of  his  men  dropped  dead 
with  wading  night  and  day  through  the  loose  sands. 
When,  from  behind  their  frail  defences,  the  French  saw 
the  Spanish  pikes  and  partisans  "littering  into  view, 
they  fled  in  a  panic  and  took  refuge  among  the  hills. 
Menendez  sent  a  trumpet  to  summon  them,  pledging 
his  honor  for  their  safety.  The  commander  and  sev- 
eral others  told  the  messenger  that  they  would  sooner 
be  eaten  by  the  savages  than  trust  themselves  to  Span- 
iards ;  and,  escaping,  they  fled  to  the  Indian  towns. 
The  rest  surrendered  ;  and  Menendez  kept  his  word. 
The  comparative  number  of  his  own  men  made  his 
prisoners  no  longer  dangerous.  They  were  led  back  to 
St.  Augustine,  where,  as  the  Spanish  writer  affirms, 
they  were  well  treated.  Those  of  good  birth  sat  at 
the  Adelantado's  table,  eating  the  bread  of  a  homicide 
crimsoned  with  the  slaughter  of  their  comrades.  The 
priests  essayed  their  pious  efforts,  and,  under  the 
gloomy  menace  of  the  Inquisition,  some  of  the  here- 

12* 


138  MASSACRE   OF  THE  HERETICS.  [1565. 

tics  renounced  their  errors.  The  fate  of  the  captives 
may  be  gathered  from  the  indorsement,  in  the  hand- 
writing of  the  King,  on  one  of  the  despatches  of  Me- 
nendez. 

"  Say  to  him,"  writes  Philip  the  Second,  "  that, 
as  to  those  he  has  killed,  he  has  done  well,  and  as 
to  those  he  has  saved,  they  shall  be  sent  to  the  gal- 
leys." 1 

Thus  did  Spain  make  good  her  claim  to  North 
America,  and  crush  the  upas  of  heresy  in  its  germ. 
Within  her  bounds,  the  tidings  were  hailed  with  accla- 
mation, while  in  France  a  cry  of  horror  and  execra- 
tion rose  from  the  Huguenots,  and  found  an  echo  even 
among  the  Catholics.  But  the  weak  and  ferocious 
son  of  Catherine  de  Medicis  gave  no  response.  The 
victims  were  Huguenots,  disturbers  of  the  realm,  fol- 
lowers of  Coligny,  the  man  above  all  others  a  thorn  in 
his  side.  True,  the  enterprise  was  a  national  enter- 
prise, undertaken  at  the  national  charge,  with  the  royal 
commission,  and  under  the  royal  standard.  True,  it 
had  been  assailed  in  time  of  peace  by  a  power  profess- 
ing the  closest  amity.  Yet  Huguenot  influence  had 
prompted  and  Huguenot  hands  executed  it.  That  in- 
fluence had  now  ebbed  low ;  Coligny's  power  had 
waned ;  and  the  Spanish  party  was  in  the  ascendant. 

1  There  is  an  indorsement  to  this  effect  on  the  despatch  of  Menendez 
of  12  December,  15(55.  A  marginal  note  by  the  copyist  states  that  it  is  in 
the  well-known  handwriting  of  Philip  the  Second.  Compare  the  King's 
letter  to  Menendez,  in  Barcin,  116.  This  letter  seems  to  have  been  writ- 
ten by  a  secretary  in  pursuance  of  a  direction  contained  in  the  indprse- 
ment,  —  "  Esto  sera  lien  escribir  luego  a  Pero  Menendez,"  —  and  highly 
commends  hfra  for  the  "justice  he  has  done  upon  the  Lutheran  corsairs." 


1565.]        INDIFFERENCE  OF  THE  FRENCH  COURT. 

Charles  the  Ninth,  long  vacillating-,  was  fast  subsiding 
into  the  deathly  embrace  of  Spain,  for  whom,  at  last, 
on  the  bloody  eve  of  St.  Bartholomew,  he  was  to  be- 
come the  assassin  of  his  own  best  subjects. 

In  vain  the  relatives  of  the  slain  petitioned  him  for 
redress ;  and  had  the  honor  of  the  nation  rested  in  the 
keeping  of  its  King,  the  blood  of  hundreds  of  mur- 
dered Frenchmen  would  have  cried  from  the  ground  iu 
vain.  But  it  was  not  to  be  so.  Injured  humanity 
found  an  avenger,  and  outraged  France  a  champion. 
Her  chivalrous  annals  may  be  searched  in  vain  for  a 
deed  of  more  romantic  daring  than  the  vengeance  of 
Dominique  de  Gourgues. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

1567  —  1574. 
DOMINIQUE    DE    GOURGUES. 

Hrs  PAST  LIFE.  —  His  HATRED  OP  SPANIARDS.  —  RESOLVES  ON  VEH- 
OEANCE.  —  His  BAND  OF  ADVENTURERS.  —  His  PLAN  DIVULGED.  —  Hig 
SPEECH.  —  ENTHUSIASM  OF  HIS  FOLLOWERS.  —  CONDITION  OF  THB 
SPANIARDS. — ARRIVAL  OF  GOURGUES.  —  INTERVIEWS  WITH  INDIANS. — 
THE  SPANIARDS  ATTACKED.  —  THE  FIRST  FORT  CARRIED. —  ANOTHER 
VICTORY. — THE  FINAL  TRIUMPH.  —  PRISONERS  HANGED. — THE  FORTS 
DESTROYED.  —  SEQUEL  OK  GOUKGUES'S  CAREER.  —  MENENDEZ.  —  Hl8 
DEATH. 

THERE  was  a  gentleman  of  Mont-de-Marsan,  Domi- 
nique de  Gourgues,  a  soldier  of  ancient  birth  and  high 
renown.  That  he  was  a  Huguenot  is  not  certain.  The 
Spanish  annalist  calls  him  a  "  terrible  heretic  ;  "  1  but 
the  French  Jesuit,  Charlevoix,  anxious  that  the  faithful 
should  share  the  glory  of  his  exploits,  affirms,  that,  like 
his  ancestors  before  him,  he  was  a  good  Catholic.2  If 
so,  his  faith  sat  lightly  upon  him  ;  and,  Catholic  or  her- 
etic, he  hated  the  Spaniards  with  a  mortal  hate.  Fight- 
ing in  the  Italian  wars,  —  for  from  boyhood,  he  was 
wedded  to  the  sword,  —  he  had  been  taken  prisoner  by 
them  near  Siena,  where  he  had  signalized  himself  by  a 
fiery  and  determined  bravery.  With  brutal  insult,  they 
chained  him  to  the  oar  as  a  galley-slave.3  After  he  had 

1  Barcia,  133. 

*  Charlevoix,  Nouv.  France,  I.  95.     Compare  Guerin,  Navigateurs  Fran 
fais,  200. 
8  Lescarbot,  Nouv.  France,  I.  141 ;  Barcia,  133. 


1667.]  RESOLVES   ON  VENGEANCE. 

long  endured  this  ignominy,  the  -Turks  had  captured 
the  vessel  and  carried  her  to  Constantinople.  It  was 
but  a  change  of  tyrants  ;  but,  soon  after,  while  she  was 
on  a  cruise,  Gourgues  still  at  the  oar,  a  galley  of  the 
Maltese  knights  hove  in  sight,  bore  down  on  her,  recap- 
tured her,  and  set  the  prisoner  free.  For  several  years 
after,  his  restless  spirit-  found  employment  in  voyages  to 
Africa,  Brazil,  and  regions  yet  more  remote.  His  naval 
repute  rose  high,  but  his  grudge  against  the  Spaniards 
still  rankled  within  him  ;  and  when,  returned  from  his 
rovings,  he  learned  the  tidings  from  Florida,  his  hot 
Gascon  blood  boiled  with  fury. 

The  honor  of  France  had  been  foully  stained,  and 
there  was  none  to  wipe  away  the  shame.  The  faction- 
ridden  Kinff  was  dumb.  The  nobles  who  surrounded 

o 

him  were  in  the  Spanish  interest.1  Then,  since  they 
proved  recreant,  he,  Dominique  de  Gourgues,  a  simple 
gentleman,  would  take  upon  him  to  avenge  the  wrong, 
and  restore  the  dimmed  lustre  of  the  French  name.* 
He  sold  his  inheritance,  borrowed  money  from  his 
brother,  who  held  a  high  post  in  Guienne,8and  equipped 
three  small  vessels,  navigable  by  sail  or  oar.  On 

1  It  was  at  this  time  that  the  Due  de  Montpensicr  was  heard  to  say, 
that,  if  his  heart  was  opened,  the  name  of  Philip  would  be  found  written 
in  it.     Ranke,  Civil  Wars,  I.  337. 

2  "El,  enccndido  en  el  Celo  de  la  Honrade  su  Patria,  aviadeterminado 
gastar  su  Hacienda  en  aquella  Kmpresa,  de  quo  no  esperaba  mas  fruto, 
que  vengarse,  para  eternicar  su  Fama."  —  Uarcia,  134.   This  is  the  state- 
ment of  an  enemy.     A  contemporary  MS.  preserved  in  the  Gourgues 
family  makes  a  similar  statement. 

»"....  era  Presidente  de  la  Generalidad  de  Guiena,"  —  Bareia,  IS 
Compare  Mezeray,  Hist.  r.f  France,  701.    There  ia  repeated  mention  of 
him  in  the  Memoirs  of  Montluc. 


DOMINIQUE  DE  GOURGUES.  [1567. 

board  he  placed  a  hundred  arquebusiers  and  eighty  sail- 
ors, prepared  to  fight  on  land,  if  need  were.1  The 
noted  Blaise  de  Montluc,  tfren  lieutenant  for  the  King 
in  Guienne,  gave  him  a  commission  to  make  war  on  the 
negroes  of  Benin,  that  is,  to  kidnap  them  as  slaves,  an 
adventure  then  held  honorable.2 

His  true  design  was  locked  within  his  own  breast. 
He  mustered  his  followers,  feasted  them,  —  not  a  few 
were  of  rank  equal  to  his  own, — and,  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  August,  1567,  sailed  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Charente.  Off'  Cape  Finisterre,  so  violent  a  storm 
buffeted  his  ships  that  his  men  clamored  to  return  ;  but 
Gourgues's  spirit  prevailed.  He  bore  away  for  Africa, 
and,  landing  at  the  Rio  del  Oro,  refreshed  and  cheered 
them  as  he  best  might.  Thence  he  sailed  to  Cape 
Blanco,  where  the  jealous  ^Portuguese,  who  had  a  fort 
in  the  neighborhood,  set  upon  him  three  negro  chiefs. 
Gourgues  beat  them  off',  and  remained  master  of  the 
harbor  ;  whence,  however,  lie  soon  voyaged  onward-  to 
Cape  Verd,  and,  steering  westward,  made  for  the  West 
Indies.  Here,  advancing  from  island  to  island,  he  came 

1  De  Gourgues  MS.    Barcia  says  two  hundred ;  Basanier  and  Lescar- 
bot,  a  hundred  and  fifty. 

2  De  Gourgues  MS.     This  is  a  copy,  made  in  1831,  by  the  Vicomte  de 
Gourgnes,  from  the  original  preserved  in  the  Gourgues  fatnilj',  and  writ- 
ten either  by  Dominique  de  Gourgues  himself  or  by  some  person  to  whom 
he  was  intimately  known.     It  is,  witli  but  trifling  variations,  identical 
with  the  two  narratives  entitled  La  Reprlnse  de  la  Floride,  preserved  in 
the  Bibliotheque  Imperiale.     One  of  these  bears  the  name  of  Robert 
Prevost,  but  whether  as  author  or  copyist  is  not  clear.    M.  Gaillard, 
who  carefully  compared  them,  lias  written  a  notice  of  their  contents,  with 
remarks.     The  Prevost  narrative  lias  been  printed  entire  by  Ternaux- 
Compans  in  his  "collection.    I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Bancroft  for  the  use  of 
the  Vicomte  de  Gourgues's  copy,  and  Gaillard's  notice. 


1568.1  HIS    SPEECH. 

to  Hispaniola,  where,  between  the  fury  of  a  'hurricane 
at  sea  and  the  jealousy  of  the  Spaniards  on  shore,  he 
was  in  no  small  jeopardy,  —  "  the  Spaniards,"  exclaims 
the  indignant  journalist,  "  who  think  that  this  New 
World  was  made  for  nobody  but  them,  and  that  no 
other  man  living  has  a  right  to  move  or  breathe  here '.  " 
Gourgues  landed,  however,  obtained  the  water  of  which 
he  was  in  need,  and  steered  for  Cape  San  Antonio,  in 
Cuba.  There  he  gathered  his  followers  about  him,  and 
addressed  them  with  his  fiery  Gascon  eloquence.  For 
the  first  time,  he  told  them  his  true  purpose.  He  in- 
veighed against  Spanish  cruelty.  He  painted,  with 
angry  rhetoric,  the  butcheries  of  Fort  Caroline  and  St. 
Augustine. 

"  What  disgrace,"  he  cried,  "  if  such  an  insult  should 

o  '  ' 

pass  unpunished!  What  glory  to  us,  if  we  avenge  it! 
To  this  I  have  devoted  my  fortune.  I  relied  on  you. 
I  thought  you  jealous  enough  of  your  country's  glory 
to  sacrifice  life  itself  in  a  cause  like  this.  Was  I  de- 
ceived] I  will  show  you  the  way;  I -will  be  always  at 
your  head ;  I  will  bear  the  brunt  of  the  danger.  Wil 
you  refuse  to  follow  me  1  " 

At  first  his  startled  hearers  listened  in  silence  ;  but 
soon  the  passions  of  that  adventurous  age  rose  respon- 
sive to  his  words.  The  sparks  fell  among  gunpowder. 
The  combustible  French  nature  burst  into  flame.  The 

1  The  De  Gourgues  MS.,  with  Prdvost  and  Gaillard,  give  the  speech  in 
substance.  Charlevoix  professes  to  give  a  part  in  the  words  of  the 
speaker,  —  "J'ai  compt<?  sur  vous,  je  vous  ai  cru  assez  jnloux  de  la  gloire 
de  votre  Patrie,  pour  lui  sacriflu-r  jusqu'k  votre  vie  en  une  occasion  de  cetto 
importance ;  me  suis-je  trompe'  ?  "  etc. 


144  DOMINIQUE  DE   GOURGUES.  [1568. 

enthusiasm  of  the  soldiers  rose  to  such  a  pitch,  that 
Gourgues  had  much  ado  to  make  them  wait  till  the 
moon  was  full  before  tempting-  the  perils  of  the  Bahama 
Channel.  His  time  came  at  length.  The  moon  rode 
high  above  the  lonely  sea,  and,  silvered  in  its  light,  the 
ships  of  the  avenger  held  their  course. 

But  how,  meanwhile,  had  it  fared  with  the  Spaniards 
in  Florida1?  The  good-will  of  the  Indians  had  vanished. 
The  French  had  been  obtrusive  and  vexatious  guests  ; 
but  tjieir  worst  trespasses  had  been  mercy  and  tender- 
ness, to  the  daily  outrage  of  the  new-comers.  Friend- 
ship had  changed  to  aversion,  aversion  to  hatred,  hatred 
to  open  war.  The  forest-paths  were  beset ;  stragglers 
were  cut  off;  and  woe  to  the  Spaniard  who  should 
venture  after  nightfall  beyond  call  of  the  outposts.1 

Menendez,  however,  had  strengthened  himself  in  his 
new  conquest.  St.  Augustine  was  well  fortified  ;  Fort 
Caroline,  now  Fort  San  Mateo,  was  repaired ;  and  two 
redoubts  were  thrown  up  to  guard  the  mouth  of  the 
River  of  May.  Thence,  on  an  afternoon  in  early 
spring,  the  Spaniards  saw  three  sail  steering  northward. 
They  suspected  no  enemy,  and  their  batteries  boomed  a 
salute.  Gourgues's  ships  replied,  then  stood  out  to  sea, 
and  were  lost  in  the  shades  of  evening. 

They  kept  their  course  all  night,  and,  as  day  broke, 
anchored  at  the  mouth  of  a  river,  the  St.  Mary's  or  the 
Santilla,  by  their 'reckoning  fifteen  leagues  north  of  the 
River  of  May.  Here,  as  it  grew  light,  Gourgues  saw 
the  borders  of  the  sea  thronged  with  savages,  armed 

1  Barcia,  100-130. 


1BC8.1  MEETING  WITH  INDIANS. 

and  plumed  fur  war.  They,  too,  had  mistaken  the 
strangers  for  Spaniards,  and  mustered  to  meet  their 
tyrants  at  the  landing.  But  in  the  French  ships  there 
was  a  trumpeter  who  had  been  long  in  Florida,  and 
knew  the  Indians  well.  He  went  towards  them  in  a 
boat,  with  many  gestures  of  friendship;  and  no  sooner 
was  he  recognized,  than  the  naked  crowd,  with  yelps 
of  delight,  danced  for  joy  along  the  sands.  Why  had 
he  ever  left  them  ?  they  asked ;  and  why  had  he  not 
returned  before  1  The  intercourse  thus  auspiciously 
begun  was  actively  kept  up.  Gourgues  told  the  prin- 
cipal chief — who  was  no  other  than  Satouriona,  of  old 
the  ally  of  the  French  —  that  he  had  come  to  visit 
them,  make  friendship  with  them,  and  bring  them  pres- 
ents. At  this  last  announcement,  so  grateful  to  Indian 
ears,  the  dancing  was  renewed  with  double  zeal.  The 
next  morning  was  named  for  a  grand  council.  Satou- 
riona sent  runners  to  summon  all  Indians  within  call  ; 
while  Gourgues,  for  safety,  brought  his  vessels  within 
the  mouth  of  the  river. 

Morning  came,  and  the  woods  were  thronged  with 
congregated  warriors.  Gourgues  and  his  soldiers 
landed  with  martial  pomp.  In  token  of  mutual  con- 
fidence, the  French  laid  aside  their  arquebuses,  the 
Indians  their  bows  and  arrows.  Satouriona  came  to 
meet  the  strangers,  and  seated  their  commander  at  his 

O 

side,  on  a  wooden  stool,  draped  and  cushioned  with 
the  gray  Spanish  moss.  Two  old  Indians  cleared  the 
spot  of  brambles,  weeds,  and  grass ;  and,  their  task 
finished,  the  tribesmen  took  their  places,  ring  within 

13 


14,6  DOMINIQUE  DE   GOUttGUES  [13G8 

ring,  standing,  sitting,  and  crouching  on  the  ground,  a 
dusky  concourse,  plumed  in  festal  array,  waiting  with 
grave  visages  and  eyes  intent.  Gourgues  was  ahout  to 
speak,  when  the  chief,  who,  says  the  narrator,  had  not 
learned  French  manners,  rose  and  anticipated  him.  He 
broke  into  a  vehement  harangue  ;  and  the  cruelty  of 
the  Spaniards  was  the  hurden  of  his  words. 

Since  the  French  fort  was  taken,  he  said,  the  Indians 
had  not  had  one  happy  day.  The  Spaniards  drove 
them  from  their  cabins,  stole  their  corn,  ravished  their 
wives  and  daughters,  and  killed  their  children ;  and  all 
this  they  had  endured  because  they  loved  the  French. 
There  was  a  French  boy  who  had  escaped  from  the 
massacre  at  the  fort.  They  had  found  him  in  the 
woods ;  and,  though  the  Spaniards,  who  wished  to  kill 
him,  demanded  that  they  should  give  him  up,  they  had 
kept  him  for  his  friends. 

"  Look  !  "  pursued  the  chief,  "  here  he  is !  "  —  and 
he  brought  forward  a  youth  of  sixteen,  named  Pierre 
Debre,  who  became  at  once  of  the  greatest  service  to 
the  French,  his  knowledge  of  the  Indian  language  mak- 
ing him  an  excellent  interpreter.1 

Delighted  as  he  was  at  this  outburst  against  the 
Spaniards,  Gourgues  by  no  means  saw  fit  to  display  the 
full  extent  of  his  satisfaction.  He  thanked  the  Indians 
for  their  good-will,  exhorted  them  to  continue  in  it,  and 
pronounced  an  ill-merited  eulogy  on  the  greatness  and 
goodness  of  his  King.  As  for  the  Spaniards,  he  said, 
their  day  of  reckoning  was  at  hand  ;  and,  if  the  Indians 

1  De  Gourgues  MS. ;  Gaillard  MS.;  Basanicr,  116 ;  Barcia,  134 


1568.1  EAGERNESS  OF  THE  INDIANS.  14.7 

had  been  abused  for  their  love  of  the  French,  the 
French  would  be  their  avengers.  Here  Satonriona 
forgot  his  dignity,  and  leaped  up  for  joy. 

"  What!"  he  cried,  "will  you  fight  the  Spaniards?"1 

"  I  came  here,"  replied  Gourgues,  "  only  to  recon- 
noitre the  country  and  make  friends-  with  you,  then  to 
go  back  and  bring  more  soldiers  ;  but,  when  I  hear 
what  you  are  suffering  from  them,  I  wish  to  fall  upon 
them  this  very  day,  and  rescue  you  from  their  tyranny." 
And,  all  around  the  ring,  a  clamor  of  applauding  voices 
greeted  his  words. 

"  But  you  will  do  your  part,"  pursued  the  French- 
man ;  "  you  will  not  leave  us  all  the  honor." 

"  We  will  go,"  replied  Satouriona,  "  and  die  with 
you,  if  need  be." 

"  Then,  if  we  fight,  we  ought  to  fight  at  once. 
How  soon  can  you  have  your  warriors  ready  to 
inarch  ^ 

The  chief  asked  three  days  for  preparation.  Gour- 
gues cautioned  him  to  secrecy,  lest  the  Spaniards  should 
take  alarm. 

"  Never  fear,"  was  the  answer ;  u  we  hate  them 
more  than  you  do."! 

1  " .  .  .  .  si  les  rois  et  Icurs  sujects  avoiont  estd  mnltraictez  en  lmin« 
des  Francois  que  aussi  seroient-ils  vengez  par  les  Francois  •  mesmes. 
Comment  ?  clist  Satirona  (Satouriona],  tressaillant  d'aise,  vouldrii-z-vous 
bien  faire  la  gucm-  aux  F.spaijrnols  "  —  De  (,'onrynes  .I/^'. 

2  The  above  is  a  condensation  from  the  original  narrative,  of  the  style 
of  which  the  following  may  serve  as  an  example :— "  Le  capjiiuine 
Gourgue  qui  avoit  trouvc'  ce  qu'il  chcrcheoit,  les  louij  et  n-mercic  g 
dement,  et  pour  battre  le  fer  pendant  qu'il  estoit  chault  leur  '.list :    Volte- 
mais  si  nous  voullons  leur  faire  la  guerre,  il  fauldroit  que  .-e  fust  incon- 


DOMINIQUE  DE   GOURGUES.  [1568. 

Then  came  a  distribution  of  gifts,  —  knives,  hatch- 
ets, mirrors,  bells,  and  beads,  —  while  the  warrior-rab- 
ble crowded  to  receive  them,  with  eager  faces,  and 
tawny  outstretched  arms.  The  distribution  over,  Gour- 
gues  asked  the  chiefs  if  there  was  any  other  matter  in 
which  he  could  serve  them.  On  this,  pointing  to  his 
shirt,  they  expressed  a  peculiar  admiration  for  that  gar- 
ment, and  begged  each  to  have  one,  to  be  worn  at 
feasts  and  councils  during  life,  and  in  their  graves 
after  death.  Gourgues  complied ;  and  his  grateful 
confederates  were  soon  stalking  about  him,  fluttering 
in  the  spoils  of  his.  wardrobe. 

To  learn  the  strength  and  position  of  the  Spaniards, 
Gourgues  now  sent  out  three  scouts  ;  and  with  them 
went  Olotoraca,  Satouriona's  nephew,  a  young  brave 
of  great  renown. 

The  chief,  eager  to  prove  his  good  faith,  gave  as 
hostages  his  only  son  and  his  favorite  wife.  They 
were  sent  on  board  the  ships,  while  the  savage  con- 
course dispersed  to  their  encampments,  with  leaping, 
stamping,  dancing,  and  whoops  of  jubilation. 

The  day  appointed  came,  and  with  it  the  savage 
army,  hideous  in  war-paint  and  plumed  for  battle. 
Their  ceremonies  began.  The  woods  rang  back  their 
songs  and  yells,  as  with  frantic  gesticulations  they 

tinant.  Dans  combien  de  temps  pourriez-vous  bien  avoir  assemble*  voz 
gens  prets  a  marcher?  Dans  trois  jours  dist  Satirona  [Satouriona], 
nous  et  nos  subjects  pourrons  nous  rendre  icy,  pour  partir  avec  vous.  Et 
ce  pendant,  (dist  le  cappitaine  Gourgue)  vous  donnerez  bon  ordre  quo  !• 
tout  soit  tenu  secrect :  affin  que  les  Espaignols  n'en  puissent  sentir  le 
vent,  Ne  vous  soulciez,  dirent  les  rois,  nous  leur  voullons  plus  de  mal 
que  vous,"  etc.  etc. 


PREPARES  FOR   THE   ATTACK. 

brandished  their  war-clubs  and  vaurtted  their  deeds  of 
prowess.  Then  they  drank  the  black  drink,  endowed 
with  mystic  virtues  against  hardship  and  danger;  and 
Gourgues  himself  pretended  to  swallow  the  nauseous 
decoction.1 

These  ceremonies  consumed  the  day.  It  was  even- 
ing before  the  allies  tiled  off  into  their  forests,  and 
took  the  path  for  the  Spanish  forts.  The  French,  on 
their  part,  were  to  repair  by  sea  to  the  rendezvous. 
Gourgues  mustered  and  addressed  his  men.  It  was 
needless  :  their  ardor  was  at  fever-height.  They  broke 
in  upon  his  words,  and  demanded  to  be  led  at  once 
against  the  enemy.  Francois  Bourdelais,  with  twenty 
sailors,  was  left  with  the  ships.  Gourgues  affection- 
ately bade  him  farewell. 

"  If  I  am  slain  in  this  most  just  enterprise,"  he  said, 
"  I  leave  all  in  your  charge,  and  pray  you  to  carry  back 
my  soldiers  to  France." 

There  were  many  embracings  among  the  excited 
Frenchmen,  —  many  sympathetic  tears  from  those  who 
were  to  stay  behind,  —  many  messages  left  with  them 
for  wives,  children,  friends,  and  mistresses  ;  and  then 


1  The  "  black  drink  "  was,  till  a  recent  period,  in  use  among  the  Creeks. 
It  Is  a  strong  decoction  of  the  plant  popularly  called  eassina,  or  uupon- 
tea.  Major  Swan,  deputy-agent  for  the  Creeks  in  1791,  thus  describes 
their  belief  in  its  properties  :  —  "  that  it  purifies  them  from  all  sin,  and 
leaves  them  in  a  state  of  perfect  innocence ;  that  it  inspires  them  with  an 
invincible  prowess  in  war  ;  and  that  it  is  the  only  solid  cement  of  friend- 
ship, benevolence,  and  hospitality."  Swan's  account  of  their  mode  of 
drinking  and  ejecting  it  corresponds  perfectly  witli  Le  Moyne's  picture 
in  De  Bry.  See  the  Government  publication,  History,  Condition,  and 
Pmspects  of  Indian  Ttilms,  V.  266. 
13* 


15(3  DOMINIQUE   DE   GOURGUES.  [1568. 

this  valiant  band  pushed  their  boats  from  shore.1  It 
was  a  hare-brained  venture,  for,  as  young  Debre  had 
assured  them,  the  Spaniards  on  the  River  of  May  were 
four  hundred  in  number,  secure  behind  their  ramparts.2 
Hour  after  hour  the  sailors  pulled  at  the  oar.  They 
glided  slowly  by  the  sombre  shores  in  the  shimmering 
moonlight,  to  the  sound  of  the  murmuring  surf  and 
the  moaning  pine-trees.  In  the  gray  of  the  morning, 
they  came  to  the  mouth  of  a  river,  probably  the  Nas- 
sau ;  and  here  a  northeast  wind  set  in  with  a  violence 
that  almost  wrecked  their  boats.  Their  Indian  allies 
were  waiting  on  the  bank,  but  for  a  while  the  gale  de- 
layed their  crossing.  The  bolder  French  would  lose 
no  time,  rowed  through  the  tossing  waves,  and,  landing 
safely,  left  their  boats,  and  pushed  into  the  forest. 
Gourgues  took  the  lead,  in  breastplate  and  back-piece. 
At  his  side  marched  the  young  chief  Olotoraca,  a 
French  pike  in  his  hand  ;  and  the  files  of  arquebuse- 
men  and  armed  sailors  followed  close  behind.  They 
plunged  through  swamps,  hewed  their  way  through 
brambly  thickets  and  the  matted  intricacies  of  the  for- 
ests, and,  at  five  in  the  afternoon,  wellnigh  spent  with 
fatigue  and  hunger,  came  to  a  river  or  inlet  of  the  sea,8 

1  "  Cecy  attendrist  fort  le  cueur  de  tous,  et  mesmeraent  des  mariniers 
qui  demeuroient  pour  la  garde  des  navires,  lesquels  ne  peurent  contenir 
leurs  larmes,  ct   fut  ceste   departie   plaine   de   compassion   d'ou'ir   tanl 
d'adieux  d'une  part  et  d'aultre,  et  tant  de  charges  et  recommendations 
de  la  part  de  ceulx  qui  s'en  alloient  a  leurs  parents  et  amis,  et  a  leurs 
femmes  et  alliez  au  cas  qu'ils  ne  retournassent."  —  Pr€t:ost,  337. 

2  De  Gourgues  MS  ;  Basanier,  117  ;  Charlevoix,  I.  99. 

8  Talbot  Inlet?     Compare  Sparks,  American  Biography,  2d  Ser.  VH 
128. 


1538.]  HIS   CRITICAL  POSITION. 

not  far  from  the  first  Spanish  fort.  Here  they  found 
three  hundred  Indians  waiting  for  them. 

Tired  as  he  was,  Gourgues  would  not  rest.  He 
would  fain  attack  at  daybreak,  and  with  ten  arquebus- 
iers  and  his  Indian  guide  he  set  forth  to  reconnoitre. 
Night  closed  upon  him.  It  was  a  vain  task  to  struggle 
on,  in  pitchy  darkness,  among  trunks  of  trees,  fallen 
logs,  tangled  vines,  and  swollen  streams.  Gourgues 
returned,  anxious  and  gloomy.  An  Indian  chief  ap- 
proached him,  read  through  the  darkness  his  perturbed 
look,  and  offered  to  lead  him  by  a  better  path  along  the 
margin  of  the  sea.  Gourgues  joyfully  assented,  and 
ordered  all  his  men  to  march.  The  Indians,  better 
skilled  in  woodcraft,  chose  the  shorter  course  through 
the  forest. 

The  French  forgot  their  weariness,  and  pressed  on 
with  speed.  At  dawn  they  and  their  allies  met  on  the 
bank  of  a  stream,  beyond  which,  and  very  near,  was 
the  fort.  But  the  tide  was  in.  They  essayed  to  cross 
in  vain.  Greatly  vexed,  —  for  he  had  hoped  to  take 
-lie  enemy  asleep,  —  Gourgues  withdrew  his  soldiers 
into  the  forest,  where  they  were  no  sooner  ensconced 
than  a  drenching  rain  fell,  and  they  had  much  ado 
to  keep  their  gun-matches  burning.  The  light  grew 
fast.  Gourgues  plainly  saw  the  fort,  whose  defences 
seemed  slight  and  unfinished.  He  even  saw  the  Span- 
iards at  work  within.  A  feverish  interval  elapsed. 
At  length  the  tide  was  out,  —  so  far,  at  least,  that  the 
stream  was  fordable.  A  little  higher  up,  a  clump  of 
trees  lay  between  it  and  the  fort.  Behind  this  friendly 


DOMINIQUE  DE  GOURGUES.  [1568 

screen  the  passage  was  begun.  Each  man  tied  his 
powder-flask  to  his  steel  cap,  held  his  arquebuse  above 
his  head  with  one  hand,  and  grasped  his  sword  with  the 
other.  The  channel  was  a  bed  of  oysters.  The  sharp 
shells  cut  their  feet  as  they  waded  through.  But  the 
farther  bank  was  gained.  They  emerged  from  the 
water,  drenched,  lacerated,  bleeding,  but  with  unabated 
mettle.  Under  cover  of  the  trees  Gourgues  set  them 
in  array.  They  stood  with  kindling  eyes,  and  hearts 
throbbing,  but  not  with  fear.  Gourgues  pointed  to 
the  Spanish  fort,  seen  by  glimpses  through  the  trees. 
"  Look !  "  he  said,  "  there  are  the  robbers  who  have 
stolen  this  land  from  our  King  ;  there  are  the  mur- 
derers who  have  butchered  our  countrymen  !  "  With 
voices  eager,  fierce,  but  half  suppressed,  they  demanded 
to  be  led  on. 

Gourgues  gave  the  word.  Cazenove,  his  lieutenant, 
with  thirty  men,  pushed  for  the  fort-gate ;  he  himself, 
with  the  main  body,  for  the  glacis.  It  was  near  noon ; 
the  Spaniards  had  just  finished  their  meal,  and,  says  the 
narrative,  "  were  still  picking  their  teeth,"  when  a 
startled  cry  rang  in  their  ears,  — 

"  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  The  French  are  coming ! 
the  French  are  coming!" 

It  was  the  voice  ol  a  cannoneer  who  had  that  mo- 
ment mounted  the  rampart  and  seen  the  assailants 


1  " .  .  .  .  et,  leur  monstrant  le  fort  qu'ils  pouvoient  entreveoir  & 
travers  les  arbres,  voila  (dist  il)  les  volleurs  qui  ont  voile  ceste  terre  a 
nostre  Roy,  voila  les  meurtriers  qui  ont  massacre  nos  frai^ois."  —  De 
Gourgnes  MS. ;  Gaillard  MS.  Compare  Charlevoix,  I.  100. 


1668.]  THE   FORTS   CARRIED. 

advancing  in  unbroken  ranks,  with  heads  lowered  and 
weapons  at  the  charge.  He  fired  his  cannon  among 
them.  He  even  had  time  to  load  and  fire  again,  when 
the  light-limbed  Olotoraca  bounded  forward,  ran  up  the 
glacis,  leaped  the  unfinished  ditch,  and  drove  his  pike 
through  the  Spaniard  from  breast  to  back.  Gourgues 
was  now  on  the  glacis,  when  he  heard  Cazenove  shout- 
ing from  the  gate  that  the  Spaniards  were  escaping  on 
that  side.  He  turned  and  led  his  men  thither  at  a  run. 
In  a  moment,  the  fugitives,  sixty  in  all,  were  enclosed 
between  his  party  and  that  of  his  lieutenant.  The  In- 
dians, too,  came  leaping  to  the  spot.  Not  a  Spaniard 
escaped.  All  were  cut  down  but  a  few,  reserved  by 
Gourgues  for  a  more  inglorious  end.1 

Meanwhile  the  Spaniards  in  the  other  fort,  on  the 
opposite  shore,  cannonaded  the  victors  without  ceasing. 
The  latter  turned  four  captured  guns  against  them. 
One  of  Gourgues's  boats,  a  very  large  one,  had  been 
brought  along-shore.  He  entered  it,  with  eighty  sol- 
diers, and  pushed  for  the  farther  bank.  With  loud 
yells,  the  Indians  leaped  into  the  water.  From  shore 
to  shore,  the  St.  John's  was  alive  with  them.  Each 
held  his  bow  and  arrows  aloft  in  one  hand,  while  he 
swam  with  the  other.  A  panic  seized  the  garrison  as 
they  saw  the  savage  multitude.  They  broke  out  of  the 
fort  and  fled  into  the  forest.  But  the  French  had 
already  landed ;  and,  throwing  themselves  in  the  path 

1  Bareia's  Spanish  account  agrees  with  the  De  Gourgues  MS.,  except 
in  a  statement  of  the  former  that  the  Indians  had  formed  an  ambuscade 
into  which  the  Spaniards  fell. 


DOMINIQUE  DE   GOURGUES.  [1568. 

of  the  fugitives,-they  greeted  them  with  a  storm  of  lead. 
The  terrified  wretches  recoiled  ;  but  flight  was  vain. 
The  Indian  whoop  rang  behind  them  ;  war-clubs  and 
arrows  finished  the  work.  Gourgues's  utmost  efforts 
saved  but  fifteen,  —  saved  them,  not  out  of  rnercy,  but 
from  a  refinement  of  vengeance.1 

The  next  day  was  Quasimodo  Sunday,  or  the  Sun- 
day after  Easter.  Gourgues  and  his  men  remained 
quiet,  making  ladders  for  the  assault  on  Fort  San 
Mateo.  Meanwhile  the  whole  forest  vas  in  arms,  and, 
far  and  near,  the  Indians  were  wild  v\  !th  excitement. 
They  beset  the  Spanish  fort  till  not  a  soldier  could 
venture  out.  The  garrison,  aware  of  their  danger, 
though  ignorant  of  its  extent,  devised  an  expedient  to 
gain  information ;  and  one  of  them,  painted  and  feathered 
like  an  Indian,  ventured  within  Gourgues's  outposts/ 
He  himself  chanced  to  be  at  hand,  and  by  his  side 
walked  his  constant  attendant,  Olotoraca.  The  keen- 
eyed  young  savage  pierced  the  cheat  at  a  glance.  The 
spy  was  seized,  and,  being  examined,  declared  that 
there  were  two  hundred  and  sixty  Spaniards  in  San 
Mateo,  and  that  they  believed  the  French  to  be  two 
thousand,  and  were  so  frightened  that  they  did  not 
know  what  they  were  doing.  , 

Gourgues,  well  pleased,  pushed  on  to  attack  them. 
On  Monday  evening  he  sent  forward  the  Indians  to 
ambush  themselves  on  both  sides  of  the  fort.  In  the 

1  It  must  be  admitted  that  there  is  a  savor  of  romance  in  the  French 
narrative.  The  admissions  of  the  Spanish  annalist  prove,  however,  that 
it  has  a  broad  basis  of  truth. 


1568.]  THE  FINAL  TRIUMPH.  155 

morning  he  followed  with  his  Frenchmen  ;  and,  as  the 
glittering  ranks  came  into  view,  defiling  between  die 
forest  and  the  river,  the  Spaniards  opened  on  them 
with  culverins  from  a  projecting  bastion.  The  French 
took  cover  in  the  forest  with  which  the  hills  below  and 
behind  the  fort  were  densely  overgrown.  Here,  en- 
sconced in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  where,  himself  unseen, 
he  could  survey  the  whole  extent  of  the  defences,  Gour- 
gues  presently  descried  a  strong  party  of  Spaniards 
issuing  from  their  works,  crossing  the  ditch,  and  ad- 
vancing to  reconnoitre.  On  this,  returning  to  his  men, 
he  sent  Cazenove,  with  a  detachment,  to  station  him- 
self at  a  point  well  hidden  by  trees  on  the  flank  of  the 
Spaniards.  The  latter,  with  strange  infatuation,  con- 
tinued their  advance.  Gourgues  and  his  followers 
pushed  on  through  the  thickets  to  meet  them.  As  the 
Spaniards  reached  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  a  deadly 
fire  blazed  in  their  faces,  and,  before  the  smoke  cleared, 
the  French  were  among  them,  sword  in  hand.  The 
survivors  would  have  fled  ;  but  Cazenove's  detachment 
fell  upon  their  rear,  and  all  were  killed  or  taken. 

When  their  comrades  in  the  fort  beheld  their  fate, 
a  panic  seized  them.  Conscious  of  their  own  deeds, 
perpetrated  on  this  very  spot,  they  could  hope  no  mercy. 
Their  terror  multiplied  immeasurably  the  numbers  of 
their  enemy.  They  deserted  the  fort  in  a  body,  and 
fled  into  the  woods  most  remote  from  the  French.  But 
here  a  deadlier  foe  awaited  them ;  for  a  host  of  Indians 
leaped  up  from  ambush.  Then  rose  those  hideous  war- 
cries  which  have  curdled  the  boldest  blood  and  blanched 


156  DOMINIQUE  DE   GOURGUES.  11568. 

the  manliest  cheek.  Then  the  forest  -  warriors,  with 
savage  ecstasy,  wreaked  their  long  arrears  of  vengeance. 
Tfie  French,  too,  hastened  to  the  spot,  and  lent  their 
swords  to  the  slaughter.  A  few  prisoners  were  saved 
alive  ;  the  rest  were  slain  ;  and  thus  did  the  Spaniards 
make  bloody  atonement  for  the  butchery  of  Fort  Caro- 
line.1 

But  Gourgues's  vengeance  was  not  yet  appeased. 
Hard  by  the  fort,  the  trees  were  pointed  out  to  him  on 
which  Menendez  had  hanged  his  captives,  and  placed 
over  them  the  inscription,  —  "Not  as  to  Frenchmen, 
but  as  to  Lutherans." 

Gourgues  ordered  the  Spanish  prisoners  to  be  led 
thither. 

"  Did  you  think,"  he  sternly  said,  as  the  pallid 
wretches  stood  ranged  before  him,  "  that  so  vile  a 
treachery,  so  detestable  a  cruelty,  against  a  King  so 
potent  and  a  nation  so  generous,  would  go  unpunished  ? 
I,  one  of  the  humblest  gentlemen  among  my  King's 
subjects,  have  charged  myself  with  avenging  it.  Even 
if  the  Most  Christian  and  the  Most  Catholic  Kings  had 
been  enemies,  at  deadly  war,  such  perfidy  and  extreme 
cruelty  would  still  have  been  unpardonable.  Now  that 
they  are  friends  and  close  allies,  there  is  no  name  vile 
enough  to  brand  your  deeds,  no  punishment  sharp 
enough  to  requite  them.  But  though  you  cannot  suffer 

1  This  is  the  French  account.  The  Spaniard,  Barcia,  with  greater 
probability,  says  that  some  of  the  Spaniards  escaped  to  the  hills.  With 
this  exception,  the  French  and  Spanish  accounts  agree.  Barcia  ascribes 
the  defeat  of  his  countrymen  to  an  exaggerated  idea  of  the  enemy's  force. 
The  governor,  Gonzalo  de  Villaroel,  was,  he  says,  among  those  who  es- 
caped 


1568.]  THE  FORTS  DESTROYED. 

as  you  deserve,  you  shall  suffer  all  that  an  enemy  can 
honorably  inflict,  that  your  example  may  teach  others 
to  observe  the  peace  and  alliance  which  you  have  so 
perfidiously  violated." l 

They  were  hanged  where  the  French  had  hung 
before  them  ;  and  over  them  was  nailed  the  inscription, 
burned  with  a  hot  iron  on  a  tablet  of  pine,  —  "  Not  as 
to  Spaniards,  but  as  to  Traitors,  Robbers,  and  Mur- 
derers." 2 

Gourgues's  mission  was  fulfilled.  To  occupy  the 
country  had  never  been  his  intention  ;  nor  was  it  possi- 
ble, for  the  Spaniards  were  still  in  force  at  St.  Augus- 
tine. His  was  a  whirlwind  visitation,  —  to  ravage, 
ruin,  and  vanish.  He  harangued  the  Indians,  and 
exhorted  them  to  demolish  the  fort.  They  fell  to  the 
work  with  keen  alacrity,  and  in  less  than  a  day  not 
one  stone  was  left  on  another.8 

Gourgues  returned  to  the  forts  at  the  mouth  of  the 

1  ".  .  .  .  Mais  encores  que  vous  nc  puissicz  cnduror  la  peine  que  vous 
avez  mc'ritc'e,  il  est  besoin  que  vous  emluriez  celle  qne  1'enncmy  vous 
peult  dormer  honnestement :  affin  que  par  vostre  cxemplc  les  nutres  np- 
preignent  a,  garder  la  paix  ct  alliance  que  si  meschammtnt  et  malheu- 
reusement  vous  avez  violee.      Cola  dit,  ils  sont   branchez  aux  mosmes 
arbres  ou  ils  avoicnt  penduz  les  Francois."  — De  Gourgues  MS. 

2  "  Je  ne  faicts  cecy  cominc  a  Espaignolz,  n'y  comme  a  Marannes ; 
mais  comme  a  traistres,  volleurs,  et  meurtricrg."  —  De  Gounjues  MS. 

Maranne,  or  Marane,  was  a  word  of  reproach  applied  to  Spaniards.  It 
seems  originally  to  have  meant  a  Moor.  Michelet  calls  Ferdinand  of 
Spain,  "ce  vienx  Marane  avnre."  The  Spanish  Pope,  Alexander  the  Sixth 
was  always  nicknamed  IK  Marane.  by  his  enemy  and  successor,  Rovere. 

On  returning  to  the  forts  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  Gourgues  hanged 
all  the  prisoners  he  had  left  there.  One  of  them,  snys  the  narrative,  con- 
fessed that  he  had  aided  in  hanging  the  French. 

8  "  Ilz  feirent  telle  diligence  qu'en  moings  d'ung  jour  ilz  nc  laissferent 
picrro  sur  pierre."  —  De  Gonrgucs  MS. 
14 


158  DOMINIQUE  DE   GOURGUES.  11568. 

river,  destroyed  them  also,  and  took  up  his  march  for 
his  ships.  It  was  a  triumphal  procession.  The  Indian? 
thronged  around  the  victors  with  gifts  of  fish  and 
game  ;  and  an  old  woman  declared  that  she  was  now 
ready  to  die,  since  she  had  seen  the  French  once  more. 
The  ships  were  ready  for  sea.  Gourgues  bade  his 
disconsolate  allies  farewell,  and  nothing  would  content 

3  C> 

them  hut  a  promise  to  return  soon.  Before  emharking, 
ho  addressed  his  own  men  :  — 

"  My  friends,  let  us  give  thanks  to  God  for  the  suc- 
cess He  has  granted  us.  It  is  He  who  saved  us  from 
tempests  ;  it  is  He  who  inclined  the  hearts  of  the  In- 
dians towards  us  ;  it  is  He  who  blinded  the  understand- 
ing of  the  Spaniards.  They  were  four  to  one  in  forts 
well  armed  and  provisioned.  Our  right  was  our  only 
strength ;  and  yet  \ve  have  conquered.  Not  to  our  own 
swords,  but  to  God  only,  we  owe  our  victory.  Then 
let  us  thank  Him,  my  friends;  let  us  never  forget  His 
favors ;  and  let  us  pray  that  He  may  continue  them, 
saving  us  from  dangers,  and  guiding  us  safely  home. 
Let  us  pray,  too,  that  He  may  so  dispose  the  hearts  of 
men  that  our  perils  and  toils  may  find  favor  in  the  eyes 
of  our  King  and  of  all  France,  since  all  we  have  done 
was  done  for  the  King's  service  and  for  the  honor  of 
our  country." 

Thus  Spaniards  and  Frenchmen  alike  laid  their  reek- 
ing swords  on  God's  altar. 

Gourgues  sailed  on  the  third  of  May,  and,  gazing 

1  De  Gourgues  MS.  The  speech  is  a  little  condensed  in  the  trans- 
lation. 


1568.1  ARRIVAL  IN  FRANCE. -HIS  DEATH. 

back  along  their  foaming  wake,  tlie  adventurers  looked 
their  last  on  the  scene  of  their  exploits.  Their  success 
had  cost  its  price.  A  few  of  their  number  had  fallen, 
and  hardships  still  awaited  the  survivors.  Gourgues, 
however,  reached  Rochelle  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  and 
the  Huguenot  citizens  greeted  him  with  all  honor.  At 
court  it  fared  worse  with  him.  The  King,  still  obse- 
quious to  Spain,  looked  on  him  coldly  and  askance. 
The  Spanish  minister  demanded  his  head.  It  was 
hinted  to  him  that  he  was  not  safe,  and  he  withdrew  to 
Rouen,  where  he  found  asylum  among  his  friends.  His 
fortune  was  gone  ;  debts  contracted  for  his  expedition 
weighed  heavily  on  him  ;  and  for  years  he  lived  in 
obscurity,  almost  in  misery.  At  length  his  prospects 
brightened.  Elizabeth  of  England  learned  his  merits 
and  his  misfortunes,  and  invited  him  to  enter  her  ser- 
vice. The  King,  who,  says  the  Jesuit  historian,  had 
always  at  heart  been  delighted  with  his  achievement,1 
openly  restored  him  to  favor  ;  while,  some  years  later, 
Don  Antonio  tendered  him  command  of  his  fleet,  to 
defend  his  right  to  the  crown  of  Portugal  against 
Philip  the  Second.  Gourgues,  happy  once  more  to 
cross  swords  with  the  Spaniards,  gladly  embraced  this 
offer  ;  but,  on  his  way  to  join  the  Portuguese  prince, 
he  died  at  Tours  of  a  sudden  illness.2  The  French 
mourned  the  loss  of  the  man  who  had  wiped  a  blot 
from  the  national  scutcheon,  and  respected  his  memory 

1  Cliarlevoix,  Nouvellf  France,  I.  105. 

8  Basanier,  123;   Lescnrbot.  141:   Barcia,   137;   Gaillard,    Kbtica  dt» 
Manuscritx  de  la  Bibliotheque  du  RoL  MS. 


150  DOMINIQUE  DE   GOURGUES.  [1568. 

as  that  of  one  of  the  best  captains  of  his  time.  And, 
in  truth,  if  a  zealous  patriotism,  a  fiery  valor,  and  skil- 
ful leadership  are  worthy  of  honor,  then  is  such  a  trib- 
ute due  to  Dominique  de  Gourgues,  despite  the  shadow- 
ing vices  which  even  the  spirit  of  that  wild  age  can  only 
palliate,  the  personal  hate  that  aided  the  impulse  of  his 
patriotism,  and  the  implacable  cruelty  that  sullied  his 
courage. 

Romantic  as  his  exploit  was,  it  lacked  the  fulness  of 
poetic  justice,  since  the  chief  offender  escaped  him. 
While  Gourgues  was  sailing  towards  Florida,  Menen- 
dez  was  in  Spain,  high  in  favor  at  court,  where  he  told 
to  approving  ears  how  he  had  butchered  the  heretics. 
Borgia,  the  sainted  General  of  the  Jesuits,  was  his  fast 
friend ;  and  two  years  later,  when  he  returned  to  Amer- 
ica, the  Pope,  Paul  the  Fifth,  regarding  him  as  an 
instrument  for  the  conversion  of  the  Indians,  wrote  him 
a  letter  with  his  benediction.1  He  reestablished  his 
power  in  Florida,  rebuilt  Fort  San  Mateo,  and  taught 
the  Indians  that  in  death  or  flight  was  the  only  refuge 
from  Spanish  tyranny.  They  murdered  his  mission- 
aries and  spurned  their  doctrine.  "  The  Devil  is  the 
best  thing  in  the  world,"  they  cried ;  "  we  adore  him  ; 
he  makes  men  brave."  Even  the  Jesuits  despaired, 
and  abandoned  Florida  in  disgust. 

Menendez  was  summoned  home,  where  fresh  honors 
awaited  him  from  the  crown,  though,  according  to  the 
somewhat  doubtful  assertion  of  the  heretical  Grotius, 
his  deeds  had  left  a  stain  upon  his  name  among  the 

1  "  Carta  de  San  Pio .  V.  a  Pedro  Menendez,"  Barcia,  139. 


1574.]  DEATH  OF  MENENDEZ. 

people.1  He  was  given  command  of  the  armada  of 
three  hundred  sail  and  twenty  thousand  men,  which,  in 
1574,  was  gathered  at  Santander  against  England  and 
Flanders.  But  now,  at  the  height  of  his  fortunes,  his 
career  was  abruptly  closed.  He  died  suddenly,  at  the 
age  of  fifty-five.  What  caused  his  death  1  Grotius 
affirms  that  he  killed  himself;  but,  in  his  eagerness  to 
point  the  moral  of  his  story,  he  seems  to  have  over- 
stepped the  bounds  of  historic  truth.  The  Spanish 
bigot  was  rarely  a  suicide ;  for  the  rites  of  Christian 
burial  and  repose  in  consecrated  ground  were  denied 
to  the  remains  of  the  self-murderer.  There  is  positive 
evidence,  too,  in  a  codicil  to  the  will  of  Menendez, 
dated  at  Santander  on  the  fifteenth  of  September,  1574«, 
that  he  was  on  that  day  seriously  ill,  though,  as  the 
instrument  declares,  "  of  sound  mind."  There  is  rea- 
son, then,  to  believe  that  this  pious  cut-throat  died  a 
natural  death,  crowned  with  honors,  and  soothed  by 
the  consolations  of  his  religion.2 

It  was  he  who  crushed  French  Protestantism  in 
America.  To  plant  religious  freedom  on  this  Western 
soil  was  not  the  mission  of  France.  It  was  for  her  to 
rear  in  Northern  forests  the  banner  of  Absolutism  and 

1  Grotius,  Annales,  63. 

2  For  a  copy  of  portions  of  the  will,  and  other  interesting  papers  con- 
cerning Menendez,  I  am  indebted  to  Buckingham  Smith,  Esq.,  whose 
patient  and  zealous  research  in  the  archives  of  Spain  has  thrown  new 
light  on  Spanish  North  American  history. 

There  is  a  brief  notice  of  Menendez  in  De  la  Mota's  History  of  the  Order 
of  Santiago,  (1599,)  and  also  another  of  later  date  written  to  accompany 
his  engraved  portrait.  Neither  of  them  conveys  any  hint  of  suicide. 

Menendez  was  a  Commander  of  the  Order  of  Santiago. 
14* 


162  DOMINIQUE  DE  GOURGUES.  [1568. 

of  Rome  ;  while,  among  the  rocks  of  Massachusetts, 
England  and  Calvin  fronted  her  in  dogged  opposition. 
Long  before  the  ice-crusted  pines  of  Plymouth  had 
listened  to  the  rugged  psalmody  of  the  Puritan,  the 
solitudes  of  Western  New  York  and  the  shadowy 
wilderness  of  Lake  Huron  were  trodden  by  the  iron 
heel  of  the  soldier  and  the  sandalled  foot  of  the  Fran- 
ciscan friar.  France  was  the  true  pioneer  of  the  Great 
West.  They  who  bore  the  fleur-de-lis  were  always  in 
the  van,  patient,  daring,  indomitable.  And  foremost 
on  this  bright  roll  of  forest -chivalry  stands  the  half- 
forgotten  name  of  Samuel  de  Champlain. 


SAMUEL  DE  CHAMPLAIN 

AND 

HIS   ASSOCIATES; 

WITH   A 

VIEW  OF  EARLIER  FRENCH  ADVENTURE   IN  AMERICA, 

AND    THE 

LEGENDS  OF  THE  NORTHERN  COASTS. 


CHAMPLAIN  AND  HIS  ASSOCIATES. 


SAMUEL  DE  CHAMPLAIN  has  been  fitly  called  the 
Father  of  New  France.  In  him  were  embodied  her 
religious  zeal  and  romantic  spirit  of  adventure.  Be- 
fore the  close  of  his  career,  purged  of  heresy,  she 
took  the  posture  which  she  held  to  the  day  of  her 
death,  —  in  one  hand  the  crucifix,  in  the  other  the 
sword.  His  life,  full  of  significance,  is  the  true  be- 
ginning of  her  eventful  history. 

In  respect  to  Champlain,  the  most  satisfactory 
authorities  are  his  own  writings.  These  consist  of 
the  unpublished  journal  of  his  voyage  to  the  West 
Indies  and  Mexico,  of  which  the  original  is  pre- 
served at  Dieppe;  the  account  of  his  first  voyage  to 
the  St.  Lawrence,  published  at  Paris  in  1604<  under 
the  title  Des  Sauvages  ;  a  narrative  of  subsequent  ad- 
ventures and  explorations,  published  at  Paris  in  1613, 
1615,  and  1617,  under  the  title  of  Voyage  de  la  Nou- 
velle  France;  a  narrative  of  still  later  discoveries, 
published  at  Paris  in  1620  and  1627;  an(l,  finally, 
a  compendium  of  all  his  previous  publications,  with 
much  additional  matter,  published  in  quarto  at  Paris 


166  CHAMPLAIN  AND   HIS  ASSOCIATES. 

in  1632,  and  illustrated  by  a  very  curious  and  interest- 
ing map. 

Next  in  value  to  the  writings  of  Cham  plain  are 
those  of  his  associate,  Lescarbot.  whose  Histoire  de  la 
Nouvelle  France  is  of  great  interest  and  authority  as 
far  as  it  relates  the  author's  personal  experience.  The 
editions  here  consulted  are  those  of  16 12  and  1618. 
The  Muses  de  la  Nouvelle  France,  and  other  minor 
works  of  Lescarbot,  have  also  been  examined. 

The  Etallissement  de  la  Foy  of  Le  Clerc  is  of 
great  value  in  connection  with  the  present  subject, 
containing  documents  and  extracts  of  documents  not 
elsewhere  to  be  found.  It  is  of  extreme  rarity,  having 
been  suppressed  by  the  French  government  soon  after 
its  appearance  in  1691. 

The  Hisloire  du  Canada  of  Sagard,  the  curious 
Relation  of  the  Jesuit  Biard,  and  those  of  the  Jesuits 
Charles  Lalemant,  Le  Jeune,  and  Brebeuf,  together 
with  two  narratives  —  one  of  them  perhaps  written  by 
Champlain  —  in  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  volumes 
of  the  Mercure  Fran^ais^  may  also  be  mentioned  as 
among  the  leading  authorities  of  the  body  of  this  work. 
Those  of  the  introductory  portion  need  not  be  speci- 
fied at  present. 

Of  manuscripts  used,  the  principal  are  die  Bref 
Discours  of  Champlain,  or  the  journal  of  his  voyage 
to  the  West  Indies  and  Mexico ;  the  Grand  Insu- 
laire  et  Pilotage  .d"  Andre  Thevet,  an  ancient  and  very 
curious  document,  in  which  the  superstitions  of  Bre- 
ton and  Norman  fishermen  are  recounted  by  one  who 


CHAMPLAIN  AND   HIS   ASSOCIATES. 

firmly  believed  them  ;  and  a  variety  of  official  papers, 
obtained  for  the  writer,  through  the  agency  of  Mr. 
B.  P.  Poore,  from  the  archives  of  France. 

The  writer  is  indebted  to  G.  B.  Faribault,  Esq.,  of 
Quebec,  and  to  the  late  Jacques  Viger,  Esq.,  of  Mon- 
treal, for  the  use  of  valuable  papers  and  memoranda ; 
to  the  Rev.  John  Cordner,  of  Montreal,  for  various 
kind  acts  of  cooperation  ;  to  Jared  Sparks,  LL.  D.,  for 
the  use  of  a  copy  of  Le  Clerc's  Etablissement  de  la 
Foy ;  to  Dr.  E.  B.  O'Callaghan,  for  assistance  in 
examining  rare  books  in  the  State  Library  of  New 
York ;  to  John  Carter  Brown,  Esq.,  and  Colonel 
Thomas  Aspinwall,  for  the  use  of  books  from  their 
admirable  collections  ;  while  to  the  libraries  of  Har- 
vard College  and  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum  he  owes  a 
standing  debt  of  gratitude. 

For  the  basis  of  descriptive  passages  he  is  indebted 
to  early  tastes  and  habits  which  long  since  made  him 
familiar  with  most  of  the  localities  of  the  narrative. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

1488  —  1543. 
EARLY    FRENCH    ADVENTURE    IN    NORTH   AMERICA. 

TRADITIONS  OF  FRENCH  DISCOVERY.  —  NORMANS,  BRETONS,  BASQUES.  — 
LEGENDS  AND  SUPERSTITIONS.  —  VERRAZZANO.  —  JACQUES  CAKTIKR.  — 
QUEBEC.  —  HOCHELAGA.  —  WINTER  MISERIES.  —  ROBERVAL.  —  THE  ISLK 
OP  DEMONS.  —  THE  COLONISTS  OK  CAP  ROUGE. 

WHEN  America  was  first  made  known  to  Europe, 
the  part  assumed  by  France  on  the  borders  of  that 
new  world  was  peculiar  and  is  little  recognized.  While 
the  Spaniard  roamed  sea  and  land,  burning  for  achieve- 
ment, red-hot  with  bigotry  and  avarice,  and  while  Eng- 
land, with  soberer  steps  and  a  less  dazzling  result,  fol- 
lowed in  the  path  of  discovery  and  gold-hunting,  it  was 
from  France  that  those  barbarous  shores  first  learned 
to  serve  the  ends  of  peaceful  commercial  industry. 

A  French  writer,  however,  advances  a  more  am- 
bitious claim.  In  the  year  1488,  four  years  before 
the  first  voyage  of  Columbus,  America,  he  maintains, 
was  found  by  Frenchmen.  Cousin,  a  navigator  of 
Dieppe,  being  at  sea  off'  the  African  coast,  was  forced 
westward,  it  is  said,  by  winds  and  currents  to  within 
sight  of  an  unknown  shore,  where  he  presently  descried 
the  mouth  of  a  great  river.  On  board  his  ship  was 
one  Pinzon,  whose  conduct  became  so  mutinous,  that, 

15 


170  EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1497. 

on  his  return  to  Dieppe,  Cousin  made  complaint  to 
the  magistracy,  who  thereupon  dismissed  the  offender 
from  the  maritime  service  of  the  town.  Pinzon  went 
to  Spain,  hecame  known  to  Columbus,  told  him  the 
discovery,  and  joined  him  on  his  voyage  of  1492.1 

To  leave  this  cloudland  of  tradition,  and  approach  the 
confines  of  recorded  history.  The  Normans,  offspring  of 
an  ancestry  of  conquerors,  — the  Bretons,  that  stubborn, 
hardy,  unchanging  race,  who,  among  Druid  monu- 
ments, changeless  as  themselves,  still  cling  with  Celtic 
obstinacy  to  the  thoughts  and  habits  of  the  past,  —  the 
Basques,  that  primeval  people,  older  than  history,  — 
all  frequented  from  a  very  early  date  the  cod-banks  of 
Newfoundland.  There  is  some  reason  to  believe  that 
this  fishery  existed  before  the  voyage  of  Cabot  in 
14*97  i2  there  is  strong  evidence  that  it  began  as  early 

1  Me'moires  pour  servir  a  THistoire  de  Dieppe ;  Guerin,  Navicjateurs  Fran- 
fais,  47;  Estancelin,  Navigateurs  Normands,  832.  This  last  writer's  re 
search  to  verify  the  tradition  was  vain.  The  bombardment  of  1694  nearly 
destroyed  the  archives  of  Dieppe,  and  nothing  could  be  learned  from 
the  Pinzons  of  Palos.  Yet  the  story  may  not  be  quite  void  of  founda- 
tion. In  1500,  Cabral  was  blown  within  sight  of  Brazil  in  a  similar  man- 
ner. Herrera  (Hist.fleneral,  d.  1. 1. 1.  c.  III.)  gives  several  parallel  instances 
as  having  reached  the  ears  of  Columbus  before  his  first  voyage.  Com- 
pare the  introduction  to  Lok's  translation  of  Peter  Martyr,  and  Eden  and 
Willes,  History  of  'Iraray/es,  fol.  1 ;  also  a  story  in  the  Journal  de  I'Amerique, 
(Troyes,  1709,)  and  Gomara,  Hist.  Gen.  des  Indes  OccideWates,  1.  I.  c.  XIII. 
These  last,  however,  are  probably  inventions. 

In  the  Description  des  Costes  de  la  Mer  Oce'ane.  a  MS.  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  it  is  said  that  a  French  pilot  of  St.  Jean  de  Lnz  first  discovered 
America:  —  "II  fut  le  premier  jete*  en  la  coste  de  I'Amerique  par  une 
violente  tempeste,  laissa  son  papier  journal,  communiqua  la  route  qu'il 
avoit  faite  k  Coulon,  chez  qui  il  mourut."  See  Monteil,  Traitg  de  J/a- 
ifriaux  Manuscrits,  I.  340.  The  story  is  scarcely  worth  the  mention. 

2  "  Terra  haec  ob  lucrosissimam  piscationis  utilitatem  summalitterarum 


1517.]  NEWFOUNDLAND. 

as  the  year  1504*;1  and  it  is   well  established  that  in 
1517    fifty  Castilian.  French,  and   Portuguese   vessels 

memoria  a  Gallis  adiri  solita,  &  ante  mille  sexcentos  annos  frequentari 
solita  est."  —  Pastel,  cited  by  Lescarbot,  I.  237,  and  by  Hornot,  260. 

"  De  toute  rnemoire,  &  des  plusieurs  sieeles  noz  Diepois,  Maloins, 
Rochelois,  &  autres  mariniers  du  Havre  de  Grace,  de  Honfleur  &  autres 
lieux,  font  les  voyages  ordinaires  en  ces  pais-la  pour  la  pe'cherie  des 
Morues."  — Lescarbot,  I.  236. 

Compare  the  following  extracts  :  — 

"  Les  Basques  etles  Bretons  sont  depuis  plusieurs  siecles  les  seuls  qul 
se  soient  employe's  a  la  peche  de  balaines  et  des  molues  ;  et  il  est  fort  re- 
marquable  que  S.  Cabot,  decouvrant  la  cote  de  Labrador,  y  trouva  le 
nom  de  Bacallos,  qui  signifie  des  Molues  en  langue  des  Basques."  —  MS. 
in  the  Royal  Library  of  Versailles. 

"  Quant  an  nom  de  Bacalox,  il  est  de  I'imposition  de  nos  Basques,  les- 
quels  appellent  une  Morue,  Bacaillos,  &  a  leur  imitation  nos  peuples  de  la 
Nouvelle  France  ont  appris  a  nominer  aussi  la  Morue  Bacaillos,  quoy- 
qu'en  leur  langage  le  nom  propre  de  la  morue  soit  Aptg€."  —  Lescarbot, 
I.  237. 

De  Laet  also  says  incidentally,  (p.  39.)  that  "  Bacalaos  "  is  Basque  for 
a  codfish. 

"  Sebastian  Cabot  himself  named  those  lands  Baccalaos,  because  that  in 
the  seas  thereabout  he  found  so  great  multitudes  of  certain  bigge  fishes, 
much  like  unto  Tunies,  (which  the  inhabitants  call  Baccalaos)  that  they 
sometimes  stayed  his  shippes/' —  Peter  Martyr  in  Hakluyt,  III.  30  ;  Eden 
and  Wtlles,  125. 

If,  in  the  original  Basque,  Baccalaos  is  the  word  for  a  codfish,  and  if 
Cabot  found  it  in  use  among  the  inhabitants  of  Newfoundland,  it  is  hard 
to  escape  the  conclusion  that  Basques  had  been  there  before  him. 

This  name,  Buccalaos,  is  variously  used  by  the  old  writers.  Cabot 
gave  it  to  the  continent,  as  far  as  he  coasted  it.  The  earliest  Spanish 
writers  give  it  an  application  almost  as  comprehensive.  On  Wytfleit's 
map  (1597)  it  is  confined  to  Newfoundland  and  Labrador;  on  Ramusio's, 
(1556,)  to  the  southern  parts  of  Newfoundland;  on  Lescarbot's,  (1612,) 
to  the  Island  of  Cape  Breton;  on  De  Laet's,  (1640,)  to  a  small  island 
east  of  Newfoundland. 

1  Discorso  a'un  gran  capitano  di  mare  f'rancese,  Ramusio,  III.  423.  Rn 
musio  does  not  know  the  name  of  the  "gran  cajiituno,"  but  Estancelin 
proves  him  to  have  been  Jean  Parrnentier,  of  Dieppe.  From  internal 
evidence,  his  memoir  was  written  in  1539,  and  he  says  that  Newfound- 
land was  visited  by  Bretons  and  Normans  thirty-five  years  before. 
"  Britones  et  Normani  anno  a  Christo  nato  M.CCCCC.IIII  has  terra* 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1527. 

were  engaged  in  it  at  once;  while  in  1527,  on  the 
third  of  August,  eleven  sail  of  Norman,  one  of  Bre- 
ton, and  two  of  Portuguese  fishermen,  were  to  be 
found  in  the  Bay  of  St.  John.1 

From  this  time  forth,  the  Newfoundland  fishery  was 
never  abandoned.  French,  English,  Spanish,  and  Portu- 
guese made  resort  to  the  Banks,  always  jealous,  often 
quarrelling,  but  still  drawing  up  treasure  from  those 
exhaustless  mines,  and  bearing  home  bountiful  provis 
ion  against  the  season  of  Lent. 

On  this  dim  verge  of  the  known  world,  there  were 
other  perils  than  those  of  the  waves.  The  rocks  and 
shores  of  those  sequestered  seas  had,  so  thought  the  voy- 
agers, other  tenants  than  the  walrus  and  the  scream- 
ing sea-fowl,  the  bears  who  stole  away  their  fish  before 
their  eyes,2  and  the  wild  natives  dressed  in  seal-skins. 
Griffins  —  so  ran  the  story  —  infested  the  mountains 
of  Labrador.3  Two  islands,  north  of  Newfoundland, 

invenere."  —  Wytfleit,  Descriptionis  Ptolemaicce  Augmentum,  185.  The 
translation  of  Wytfleit  (Douay,  1611)  bears  also  the  name  of  Antoine 
Magin.  It  is  cited  by  Champlain  as  "  Niflet  &  Antoine  Magin."  See 
also  Ogilby,  America,  128;  Forster,  Voyages,  431;  Baumgartens,  I.  516; 
Biard,  Relation,  2;  Bergeron,  Tralle'de  la  Navigation,  c.  XIV. 

1  Herrera,  d.  II.  1.  V.  c.  III. ;  Letter  of  John  Rut,  dated  St.  John's, 
8  August,  1527,  in  Purchas,  III.  809. 

The  name  of  Cape  Breton,  found  on  the  oldest  maps,  is  a  memorial  of 
these  early  French  voyages.  Carder,  in  1534,  found  the  capes  and  bays 
of  Newfoundland  already  named  by  his  countrymen  who  had  preceded 
him. 

Navarrete's  position,  that  the  fisheries  date  no  farther  back  than  1540,  ia 
wholly  untenable. 

2  "  The  Beares  also  be  as  bold,  which  will  not  spare  at  midday  to  take 
your  fish  before  your  face."  — Letter  of  Anthonie  Parkhurst,  1578,  in  Hak- 
luyt,  III.  170. 

«  Wytfleit.  190 ;  Gomara,  1. 1.  c.  H. 


.530.J  THE   ISLE   OF  DEMONS. 

were  given  over  to  the  fiends  from  whom  they  derived 
their  name,  the  Isles  of  Demons.  An  old  map  pic- 
tures their  occupants  at  length,  devils  rampant,  with 
wings,  horns,  and  tail.1  The  passing  voyager  heard 
the  din  of  their  infernal  orgies,  and  woe  to  the  sailor 
or  the  fisherman  who  ventured  alone  into  the  haunted 
woods.2  "  True  it  is,"  writes  the  old  cosmographer 
Thevet,  "  and  I  myself  have  heard  it,  not  from  one, 
but  from  a  great  number  of  the  sailors  and  pilots  with 
whom  I  have  made  many  voyages,  that,  when  they 
passed  this  way,  they  heard  in  the  air,  on  the  tops  and 
about  the  masts,  a  great  clamor  of  men's  voices,  con- 
fused and  inarticulate,  such  as  you  may  hear  from  the 
crowd  at  a  fair  or  market  -  place ;  whereupon  they 
well  knew  that  the  Isle  of  Demons  was  not  far  off'." 
And  he  adds,  that  he  himself,  when  among  the  Indians, 
had  seen  them  so  tormented  by  these  infernal  perse- 
cutors, that  they  would  fall  into  his  arms  for  relief, 
on  which,  repeating  a  passage  of  the  Gospel  of  St. 
John,  he  had  driven  the  imps  of  darkness  to  a  speedy 
exodus.  They  are  comely  to  look  upon,  he  further 
tells  us,  yet,  by  reason  of  their  malice,  that  island  is 

1  See  Ramusio,  III.     Compare  La  Popeliniere,  Les  Trois  Mondes,  II.  26. 

2  Le   Grand  Insuluire  et  Pilotage  d'Andre"  Thevet,  Cosmographe  du   Roy, 
(1586,)  MS.    I  am   indebted  to  G.  B.  Faribault,  Esq.,  of  Quebec,  for 
a  copy  of  this  curious  paper.     The  islands  are   perhaps  those  of  Belle 
Isle  and  Quirpon.     More  probably,  however,  that  most  held  in  dread, 
" pour  autant  que  les  Demons  y  font  terrible  tintamarre,"  is  a  small  island 
near   the  northeast   extremity  of  Newfoundland,  variously  called,  by 
Thevet,   Isle  de  Fiche,   Isle  de  Roberval,   and  Isle  des   Demons.      It 
is  the  same  with  the  Isle  Fichet  of  Sanson,  and  the  Fishot  Island  of 
some  modern  naps.    A  curious  legend  connected  with  it  will  be  given 
hereafter. 

15* 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1506. 

of  late  abandoned,  and  all  who  dwelt  there  have  fled 
for  refuge  to  the  main.1 

While  French  fishermen  plied  their  trade  along  these 
gloomy  coasts,  the  French  government  spent  its  ener- 
gies on  a  different  field;  The  vitality  of  the  kingdom 
was  wasted  in  Italian  wars.  Milan  and  Naples  offered 
a  more  tempting  prize  than  the  wilds  of  Baccalaos.2 
Eager  for  glory  and  for  plunder,  a  swarm  of  restless 
nobles  followed  their  knight-errant  king,  the  would-be 
paladin,  who,  misshapen  in  body  and  fantastic  in  mind, 
had  yet  the  power  to  raise  a  storm  which  the  lapse  of 
generations  could  not  quell.  Under  Charles  the  Eighth 
and  his  successor,  war  and  intrigue  ruled  the  day ;  and 
in  the  whirl  of  Italian  politics  there  was  no  leisure  to 
think  of  a  new  world. 

Yet  private  enterprise  was  not  quite  benumbed.  In 
1506,  one  Denis  of  Honfleur  explored  the  Gulf  of 
St.  Lawrence;8  two  years  later,  Aubert  of  Dieppe 
followed  on  his  track;4  and  in  1518,  the  Baron  de 
Lery  made  an  abortive  attempt  at  settlement  on  Sable 
Island,  where  the  cattle  left  by  him  remained  and  mul- 
tiplied.6 

The  crown  passed  at  length  to  Francis  of  Angou- 

1  Thevet,  Cosmographie,  (1576,)  II.  c.  V.    A  very  rare  book.    I  am 
indebted  to  Dr.  E.  B.  O'Callaghan  for  copies  of  the  passages  in  it  relat- 
ing to  subjects  within  the  scope  of  the  present  work.     Thevet  here  con- 
tradicts himself  in  regard  to  the  position  of  the  haunted  island,  which  he 
places  at  60°  North  Latitude. 

2  See  ante,  p.  170,  note  2. 

8  Parmentier  in  Ramusio,  in.  423;  Estancelin,  42-222. 

*  Ibid. 

•  Lescarbot,  I.  22  ;  De  Laet,  Novus  Orbis,  39  ;  Bergeron,  c.  XV. 


1523.]  VERRAZZANO. 

leme.  There  were  in  his  nature  seeds  of  nobleness,  — 
seeds  destined  to  bear  little  fruit.  Chivalry  and  honor 
were  always  on  his  lips ;  but  Francis  the  First,  a  for- 
sworn gentleman,  a  despotic  king,  vainglorious,  selfish, 
sunk  in  debaucheries,  was  but  the  type  of  an  era  which 
retained  the  forms  of  the  Middle  Age  without  its  soul, 
and  added  to  a  still  prevailing  barbarism  the  pestilen- 
tial vices  which  hung  fog-like  around  the  dawn  of 
civilization.  Yet  he  esteemed  arts  and  letters,  and, 
still  more,  coveted  the  eclat  which  they  could  give. 
The  light  which  was  beginning  to  pierce  the  feudal 
darkness  gathered  its  rays  around  his  throne.  Italy 
was  rewarding  the  robbers  who  preyed  on  her  with 
the  treasures  of  her  knowledge  and  her  culture  ;  and 
Italian  genius,  of  whatever  stamp,  found  ready  patron- 
age at  the  hands  of  Francis.  Among  artists,  philos- 
ophers, and  men  of  letters,  enrolled  in  his  service, 
stands  the  humbler  name  of  a  Florentine  navigator, 
John  Verrazzano. 

The  wealth  of  the  Indies  was  pouring  into  the  cof- 
fers of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  the  exploits  of  Cortes 
had  given  new  lustre  to  his  crown.  Francis  the  First 
begrudged  his  hated  rival  the  glories  and  profits  of  the 
New  World.  He  would  fain  have  his  share  of  the 
prize ;  and  Verrazzano,  with  four  ships,  was  despatched 
to  seek  out  a  passage  westward  to  the  rich  kingdom  of 
Cathay.1 

1  //  Capitano  Giovanni  da  Verrazzano  alia  Serenissima  Corona  di  Francia, 
Dlepa,  8  Luylio,  1524.  This  is  the  original  of  Vcrrazzano's  letter  to 
Francis  the  First,  of  which  Raniusio  gives  an  abridged  copy.  The  copy 


176  EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1524. 

He  was  born  of  an  ancient  family,  which  could 
boast  names  eminent  in  Florentine  history,1  and  of 
which  the  last  survivor  died  in  1S19«2  He  had  seen 
service  by  sea  and  land,  and  his  account  of  his  Amer- 
ican voyage  approves  him  a  man  of  thought  and 
observation.  Towards  the  end  of  the  year  15.23,  his 
four  ships  sailed  from  Dieppe  ;  but  a  storm  fell  upon 
him,  and,  with  two  of  the  vessels,  he  ran  back  in  dis- 
tress to  a  port  of  Brittany.  What  became  of  the 
other  two  does  not  appear.  Neither  is  it  clear  why, 
after  a  preliminary  cruise  against  the  Spaniards,  he 
pursued  his  voyage  with  one  vessel  alone,  a  caravel 
called  the  Dolphin.  With  her  he  made  for  Madeira, 
and,  on  the  seventeenth  of  January,  1.524,  set  sail 
from  a  barren  islet  in  its  neighborhood,  and  bore 
away  for  the  unknown  world.  In  forty-nine  days  they 
neared  a  low  shore,  not  far  from  the  site  of  Wilming- 
ton in  North  Carolina,  "  a  newe  land,"  exclaims  the 
voyager,  Cl>  never  before  seen  of  any  man,  either  aun- 
cient  or  moderne."  8  Yet  fires  were  blazing  along  the 
coast;  and  the  inhabitants,  in  human  likeness,  presently 
appeared,  crowding  to  the  water's  edge,  in  wonder  and 
admiration,  pointing  out  a  landing-place,  and  making 

before  me  is  a  MS.  transcript  from  that  in  the  Magliabecchian,  formerly 
in  the  Strozzi,  library  at  Florence,  the  document  alluded  to  by  Tira- 
boschi,  in  his  notice  of  Verrazzano.  See  also  another  letter,  —  Fernandt 
Curli  a  suo  Padre  a  Firenze,  —  obtained  at  Florence  by  Mr.  G.  W. 
Greene.  I  am  indebted  for  a  copy  of  it  to  the  Historical  Society  oi 
Rhode  Island. 

1  Elogi  degli  Illustri  Toscani,  cited  by  Tiraboschi,  toui.  VII.  882. 

2  Greene  in  North  American  Review,  No.  97,  p.  298. 

8  Hakluyt's  translation  from  Ramusio,  in  Divers  Voyages,  (15821 


I524.J  VERRAZZANO. 

profuse  gestures  of  welcome.  A  sandy  beach,  thronged 
with  astonished  Indians ;  tall  forests  behind,  of  pine, 
laurel,  cypress,  and  fragrant  shrubs,  "  which  yeeld  most 
sweete  savours,  farre  from  the  shore,"  —  this  was  the 
sight  which  greeted  the  eyes  of  the  voyagers. 

But  what  manner  of  men  were  the  naked,  swarthy, 
befeathered  crew,  running  like  deer  along  the  border  of 
the  sea,  or  screeching  welcome  from  the  strand  ?  The 
French  rowed  towards  the  shore  for  a  supply  of  wa- 
ter. The  surf  ran  high  ;  they  could  not  land  ;  but  an 
adventurous  young  sailor  leaped  overboard,  and  swam 
towards  the  crowd  with  a  gift  of  beads  and  trinkets. 
His  heart  failed  him  as  he  drew  near  ;  he  flung  his 
gift  among  them,  turned,  and  struck  out  for  the  boat. 
The  surf  dashed  him  back,  flinging  him  with  violence 
on  the  beach  among  the  recipients  of  his  bounty,  who 
seized  him  by  the  arms  and  legs,  and,  while  he  called 
lustily  for  aid,  answered  him  with  hideous  outcries  de- 
signed to  allay  his  terrors.  Next  they  kindled  a  great 
fire, —  doubtless  to  roast  and  devour  him  before  the  eyes 
of  his  comrades,  gazing  in  horror  from  their  boat.  On 
the  contrary,  they  carefully  warmed  him,  and  were  try- 
ing to  dry  his  clothes,  when,  recovering  from  his  be- 
wilderment, he  betrayed  a  strong  desire  to  escape  to  his 
friends;  whereupon,  "  with  great  love,  clapping  him  fast 
about,  with  many  embracings,"  they  led  him  to  the 
shore,  and  stood  watching  till  he  had  reached  the  boat. 

It  only  remained  to  requite  this  kindness,  and  an 
opportunity  soon  occurred ;  for,  coasting  the  shores  of 
Virginia  or  Maryland,  a  party  went  on  shore  and 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1524 

found  an  old  woman,  a  young  one,  and  several  chil- 
dren, hiding  with  great  terror  in  the  grass.  Having, 
by  various  blandishments,  gained  their  confidence,  they 
carried  off' one  of  the  children  as  a  curiosity,  and,  since 
the  mother  was  comely,  would  fain  have  taken  her  also, 
but  desisted  by  reason  of  her  continual  screaming. 

Verrazzano's  next  resting-place  was  the  Bay  of  New 
York.  Rowing  up  in  his  boat  through  the  Narrows, 
under  the  steep  heights  of  Staten  Island,  he  saw  the 
harbor  within  dotted  with  canoes  of  the  feathered 
natives,  coming  from  the  shore  to  welcome  him.  But 
what  most  engaged  the  eyes  of  the  white  men  was  the 
fancied  signs  of  mineral  wealth  in  the  neighboring  hills. 

Following  the  shores  of  Long  Island,  they  came  to 
Block  Island,  and  thence  to  the  harbor  of  Newport. 
Here  they  stayed  fifteen  days,  most  courteously  re- 
ceived by  the  inhabitants.  Among  others,  appeared 
txvo  chiefs,  gorgeously  arrayed  in  painted  deer-skins, 
—  kings,  as  Verrazzano  calls  them,  with  attendant 
gentlemen  ;  while  a  party  of  squaws  in  a  canoe,  kept 
by  their  jealous  lords  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  cara- 
vel, figure  in  the  narrative  as  the  queen  and  her  maids. 
The  Indian  wardrobe  had  been  taxed  to  its  utmost  to 
do  the  strangers  honor;  —  copper  bracelets  and  wampum 
collars,  lynx-skins,  raccoon-skins,  and  faces  bedaubed 
with  gaudy  colors. 

Again  they  spread  their  sails,  and  on  the  fifth  of 
May  bade  farewell  to  the  primitive  hospitalities  of 
Newport,  steered  along  the  rugged  coasts  of  New 
England,  and  surveyed,  ill-pleased,  the  surf- beaten 


1524.]  VERRAZZANO.  ]>rg 

rocks,  tlie  pine-tree  and  the  fir,  the  shadows  and  the 
gloom  of  mighty  forests.  Here,  man  and  Nature  alike 
were  savage  and  repellent.  Perhaps  some  plundering 
straggler  from  the  fishing-banks,  some  man-stealer  like 
the  Portuguese  Cortereal,  or  some  kidnapper  of  chil- 
dren and  ravisher  of  squaws  like  themselves,  had 
warned  the  children  of  the  woods  to  beware  of  the 
worshippers  of  Christ.  Their  only  intercourse  was  in 
the  way  of  trade.  From  the  brink  of  the  rocks  which 
overhung  the  sea  the  Indians  would  let  down  a  cord  to 
the  boat  below,  demand  fish-hooks,  knives,  and  steel, 
in  barter  for  their  furs,  and,  their  bargain  made,  salute 
the  voyagers  with  unseemly  gestures  of  derision  and 
scorn.  The  latter  once  ventured  ashore ;  but  a  war- 
whoop  and  a  shower  of  arrows  sent  them  back  in 
haste  to  their  boats. 

Verrazzano  coasted  the  seaboard  of  Maine,  and 
sailed  northward  as  far  as  Newfoundland,  whence, 
provisions  failing,  he  steered  for  France.  He  had  not 
found  a  passage  to  Cathay,  but  he  had  explored  the 
American  coast  from  the  thirty-fourth  degree  to  the 
fiftieth,  and  at  various  points  had  penetrated  several 
leagues  into  the  country.  On  the  eighth  of  July  he 
wrote  from  Dieppe  to  the  King  the  earliest  description 
known  to  exist  of  the  shores  of  the  United  States. 

Great  was  the  joy  that  hailed  his  arrival,  and  great 
the  hopes  of  emolument  and  wealth  from  the  new- 
found shores.1  The  merchants  of  Lyons  were  in  a 
flush  of  expectation.  For  himself,  he  was  earnest  to 

1  Fernando  Carli,  MS. 


180  EARLY   FRENCH   ADVENTURE.  |1537. 

return,  plant  a  colony,  and  bring  the  heathen  tribes 
within  the  pale  of  the  Church.  But  the  time  was  in- 
auspicious. The  year  of  his  voyage  was  to  France  a 
year  of  disasters,  —  defeat  in  Italy,  the  loss  of  Milan, 
the  death  of  the  heroic  Bayard  ;  and,  while  Verraz- 
zano  was  writing  his  narrative  at  Dieppe,  the  traitor 
Bourbon  was  invading  Provence.  Preparation,  too^ 
was  soon  on  foot  for  the  expedition  which,  a  few 
months  later,  ended  in  the  captivity  of  Francis  on  the 
field  of  Pavia.  Without  a  king,  without  an  army, 
without  money,  convulsed  within,  threatened  from  with- 
out, France,  after  that  humiliation,  was  in  no  condition 
to  renew  her  Transatlantic  enterprise. 

Henceforth  the  fortunes  of  Verrazzano  are  lost  from 
view.  Ramusio  affirms,  that,  on  another  yoyage,  he 
was  killed  and  eaten  by  savages,  in  sight  of  his  follow- 
ers ; *  and  there  is  some  color  for  the  conjecture  that 
this  voyage,  if  made  at  all,  was  made  in  the  service  of 
Henry  the  Eighth  of  England.2  Again,  a  Spanish 
writer  affirms  that  he  was  hanged  at  Puerto  del  Pico  as 
a  pirate.8  On  the  other  hand,  from  expressions  of  a 
contemporary  Italian  writer,  there  is  reason  to  think  that 
he  was  living  at  Rome  in  1537-4 

The  fickle-minded  King,  always  ardent  at  the  outspt 

1  Ramusio,  III.  417 ;  Wytfleit,  185.     Compare  Le  Clerc,  fctaUissemcnt 
de  la  Foy,  I.  6. 

2  Memoir  of  Cabot,  275. 

8  Barcia,  Ensuyo  Cronologico,  8. 

*  Annibal  Caro,  I.  6,  (Milano,  1807).  The  allusion  in  question  is  prob- 
ably to  Verrazzano's  brother.  In  the  Propaganda  at  Rome  is  a  map 
made  in  1529  by  this  brother,  and  inscribed  Hieronymus  de  Vcratzuno 
faciebat.  On  it  are  these  words,  "  Verazzana,  sive  nova  Gallia,  quale 
iliscopri,  5  anni  la,  Giovanni  da  Verazzano,  Fiorentino."  This  answers 
the  recent  doubts  as  to  the  reality  of  his  voyage. 


1634.1  JACQUES   CAUTIER. 

of  an  enterprise,  and  always  flagging  before  its  close, 
divided,  moreover,  between  the  smiles  of  his  mistresses 
and  the  assaults  of  his  enemies,  might  probably  have 
dismissed  the  New  World  from  his  thoughts.  But 
among  the  favorites  of  his  youth  was  a  high-spirited 
young  noble,  Philippe  de  Briou  -  Chabot,  the  partner 
of  his  joustings  and  tennis-playing,  his  gaming  and 
gallantries.1  He  still  stood  high  in  the  royal  favor, 
and,  after  the  treacherous  escape  of  Francis  from  cap- 
tivity, held  the  office  of  Admiral  of  France.  When 
the  kingdom  had  rallied  in  some  measure  from  its 
calamities,  he  conceived  the  purpose  of  following  up 
the  path  which  Verrazzano  had  opened. 

The  ancient  town  of  St.  Malo,  thrust  out  like  a  but- 
tress into  the  sea,  strange  and  grim  of  aspect,  breathing 
war  from  its  wall  and  battlements  of  ragged  stone, — 
a  stronghold  of  privateers,  the  home  of  a  race  whose 
intractable  and  defiant  independence  neither  time  nor 
change  has  subdued,  —  has  been  for  centuries  a  nurs- 
ery of  hardy  mariners.  Among  the  earliest  and  most 
eminent  on  its  list  stands  the  name  of  Jacques  Cartier. 
St.  Malo  still  preserves  his  portrait,  —  bold,  keen  feat- 
ures, bespeaking  a  spirit  not  apt  to  quail  before  the 
wrath  of  man  or  of  the  elements.  In  him  Chabot 
found  a  fit  agent  of  his  design,  if,  indeed,  its  sugges- 
tion is  not  due  to  the  Breton  navigator.2 

Sailing  from  St.  Malo  on  the  twentieth  of  April,  153-i, 

1  Brantome,  II.  277 ;  Biographic  Universelte,  Art.  Chabot. 

2  Cartier  was  at  this  time  forty  years  of  age,  having  been  born  In 
December,  1494. 

16 


EARLY  FRENCH   ADVENTURE.  [1534. 

Cartier  steered  for  Newfoundland,  passed  through  the 
Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  crossed  to  the  main,  entered  the 
Gulf  of  Chaleurs,  planted  a  cross  at  Gaspe,  and,  never 
doubting  that  he  \vas  on  the  high  road  to  Cathay, 
advanced  up  the  St.  Lawrence  till  he  saw  the  shores 
of  Anticosti.  But  autumnal  storms  were  gathering. 
The  voyagers  took  counsel  together,  turned  their 
prows  eastward,  and  bore  away  for  France,  carrying 
thither,  as  a  sample  of  the  natural  products  of  the  New 
World,  two  young  Indians,  lured  into  their  clutches  by 
an  act  of  villanous  treachery.  The  voyage  was  a  mere 


reconnaissance.1 


The  spirit  of  discovery  was  awakened.  A  passage 
to  India  could  be  found,  and  a  new  France  built  up 
beyond  the  Atlantic.  Mingled  with  such  views  of  in- 
terest and  ambition  was  another  motive  scarcely  less 
potent.2  The  heresy  of  Luther  was  convulsing  Ger- 
many, and  the  deeper  heresy  of  Calvin  infecting 
France.  Devout  Catholics,  kindling  with  redoubled 
zeal,  would  fain  requite  the  Church  for  her  losses  in 
the  Old  World  by  winning  to  her  fold  the  infidels  of 
the  New.  But,  in  pursuing  an  end  at  once  so  pious 
and  so  politic,  Francis  the  First  was  setting  at  nought 
the  supreme  Pontiff'  himself,  since,  by  the  preposterous 
bull  of  Alexander  the  Sixth,  all  America  had  been 
given  to  the  Spaniards. 

1  Lcscarbot,  I.  232,  (1612) ;  Cartier,  Dlscours  du  Voyage,'  reprinted  by 
the  Literary  and  Historical  Society  of  Quebec.  Compare  translations 
in  Ilakluyt  and  Ramusio  ;  MS.  Map  of  Cartier's  route  in  Depdt  des  Cartes, 
Carton  V. 

'  Lethe  de  Cartier  au  Roy  tres  Chretien. 


1535.  SECOND   VOYAGE   OF   CARTIER. 

Cartier  was  commissioned  afresh.  Three  vessels, 
the  largest  not  above  a  hundred  and  twenty  tons,  were 
placed  at  his  disposal,  and  Claude  de  Ponthriand, 
Charles  de  la  Pommeraye,  and  other  gentlemen  of 
birth  enrolled  themselves  for  the  voyage.  On  the  six- 
teenth of  May^  1535,  officers  and  sailors  assembled  in 
the  Cathedral  of  St.  Malo,  where,  after  confession  and 
hearing  mass,  they  received  the  parting  blessing  of  the. 
bishop.  Three  days  later  they  set  sail.  The  dingy  walls ' 
of  the  rude  old  seaport,  and  the  white  rocks  that  line 
the  neighboring  shores  of  Brittany,  faded  from  their 
sight,  and  soon  they  were  tossing  in  a  furious  tempest. 
But  the  scattered  ships  escaped  the  danger,  and,  reunit- 
ing at  the  Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  steered  westward  along 
the  coast  of  Labrador,  till  they  reached  a  small  bay  op- 
posite the  Island  of  Anticosti.  Cartier  called  it  the 
Bay  of  St.  Lawrence,  a  name  afterwards  extended  to 
the  entire  gulf,  and  to  the  great  river  above.1 

1  Cartier  calls  tiie  St.  Lawrence  the  "  River  of  Hoclielaga,1'  or  "  the 
great  river  of  Canada."  He  confines  the  name  of  Canada  to  a  district 
extending  from  the  Isle  des  Ooudres  in  the  St.  Lawrence  to  a  point  at 
some  distance  above  the  site  of  Quebec.  The  country  below,  he  adds, 
was  called  by  the  Indians  Sayvenay,  and  that  above,  Hochrlaya,  Los- 
carbot,  a  later  writer,  insists  that  the  country  on  both  sides  of  the  St. 
Lawrence,  from  Hoclielaga  to  its  mouth,  bore  the  name  of  Camilla. 

In  tin-  second  map  of  Ortelius,  published  about  the  year  1572,  New 
France,  Nova  Francia,  is  thus  divided :  —  Canada,  a  district  on  the  St. 
Lawrence  above  the  River  Saguenay ;  Chilaijn,  (Hoclielaga,)  the  angle 
between  the  Ottawa  and  the  St.  Lawrence ;  .^ni/ni-n  ii,  a  district  below 
the  river  of  that  name  ;  A/b.«ra«a,  south  of  the  St.  Lawrence  anil  east  of 
the  River  Richelieu;  Amcal,  west  ami  south  of  Moseosa;  NonutAeyat, 
Maino  and  New  Brunswick;  A/Ki/ar/tfn,  Virginia,  Pennsylvania,  etc.; 
Term  Corterea/is,  Labrador;  Florida,  Mississippi,  Alabama,  Florida. 

In  one  of  the  earliest  maps,  New  France  comprises  both  North  and 
South  America.  So  also  in  the  Speculum  Orbls  Terrarum  of  Corne- 


JS4.  EARLY   FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1535, 

To  ascend  this  great  river,  to  tempt  the  hazards  of 
its  intricate  navigation,  with  no  better  pilots  than  the 
two  young  Indians  kidnapped  the  year  before,  was  a 
venture  of  no  light  risk.  But  skill  or  fortune  pre- 
vailed ;  and,  on  the  first  of  September,  the  voyagers 
reached  in  safety  the  gorge  of  the  gloomy  Saguenay, 
with  its  towering  cliffs  and  sullen  depth  of  waters. 
Passing  the  Isle  des  Coudres,  and  the  lofty  promon- 
tory of  Cape  Tourmente,  they  came  to  anchor  in  a 
quiet  channel  between  the  northern  shore  and  the  mar- 
gin of  a  richly  wooded  island,  where  the  trees  were  so 
thickly  hung  with  grapes  that  Cartier  named  it  the 
Island  of  Bacchus.1 

Indians  came  swarming  from  the  shores,  paddled- 
their  birch  canoes  about  the  ships,  and  clambered  to  the 
decks  to  gaze  in  bewilderment  at  the  novel  scene,  and 
listen  to  the  story  of  their  travelled  countrymen,  mar- 
vellous in  their  ears  as  a  visit  to  another  planet.2  Car- 

lius,  1593.  The  application  of  this  name  dates  back  to  a  period  imme- 
diately after  the  voyage  of  Verrazzano,  and  the  Dutch  geographers  are 
especially  free  in  their  use  of  it,  out  of  spite  to  the  Spaniards. 

The  derivation  of  the  name  of  Canada  has  been  a  point  of  discussion. 
It  is,  without  doubt,  not  Spanish,  but  Indian.  In  the  vocabulary  of  the 
language  of  Hochelaga,  appended  to  the  journal  of  C'artier's  second  voy- 
age. Canada  is  set  down  as  the  word  for  a  town  or  village.  "  Us  a/tpel- 
lent  une  ville,  Canada."  It  bears  the  same  meaning  in  the  Mohawk 
tongue.  Both  languages  are  dialects  of  the  Iroquois.  Lescarbot  af- 
firms that  Canada  is  simply  an  Indian  proper  name,  of  which  it  is  vain 
to  seek  a  meaning.  Bellefbrest  also  calls  it  an  Indian  word,  but  trans- 
lates it  "  Terre,"  as  does  also  Thevet. 

1  Now  the  Island  of  Orleans. 

2  Doubt  has  been  thrown  on  this  part  of  Cartier's  narrative,  on  the 
ground  that  these  two  young  Indians,  who  were  captured  at  Gaspe,  could 
not  have  been  so  intimately  acquainted,  as  the  journal  represents,  witlt  the 
•avages  at  the  site  of  Quebec.    From  a  subsequent  part  of  the  journal, 


i536.]  CARTIER  AT   QUEBEC.  185 

tier  received  them  kindly,  listened  to  the  long  harangue 
of  the  great  chief  Donnacona,  regaled  him  with  bread 
and  wine  ;  and,  when  relieved  at  length  of  his  guests, 
set  forth  in  a  boat  to  explore  the  river  above. 

As  he  drew  near  the  opening  of  the  channel,  the 
Hochelaga  again  spread  before  him  the  broad  expanse 
of  its  waters.  A  mighty  promontory,  rugged  and 
bare,  thrust  its  scarped  front  into  the  surging  cur- 
rent. Here,  clothed  in  the  nmjesty  of  solitude,  breath- 
ing the  stern  poetry  of  the  wilderness,  rose  the  cliffs 
now  rich  with  heroic  memories,  where  the  fiery  Count 
Frontenac  cast  defiance  at  his  foes,  where  Wolfe, 
Montcalm,  and  Montgomery  fell.  As  yet,  all  was  a 
nameless  barbarism,  and  a  cluster  of  wigwams  held 
the  site  of  the  rock-built  city  of  Quebec.1  Its  name 
was  Stadacone,  and  it  owned  the  sway  of  the  royal 
Donnacona. 

Carder  set  forth  to  visit  this  greasy  potentate,  as- 
cended the  River  St.  Charles,  by  him  called  the  St. 
Croix,2  landed,  crossed  the  meadows,  climbed  the  rocks, 

however,  it  appears  tliat  they  were  natives  of  this  place,  —  "  et  la  est  la 
ville  et  demcnrance  tin  Seigneur  Donnaconu,  et  tie  nos  deux  homines 
qu'nviuns  pris  le  premier  voyage."  This  is  curiously  confirmed  by 
Tlievet,  who  personally  knew  Cartier,  and  who,  in  his  Singttlarit4l  <(e  la 
.France  A>ilai-cti</'ie,  (p.  147,)  says  that  the  party  ti>  which  the  two  Indians 
captured  at  Gaspe  belonged,  spoke  a  language  different  from  that  of  the 
other  Indians  seen  in  those  parts,  and  that  they  had  come  on  a  war-ex- 
pedition from  the  River  Chelogua  (Hochelaga).  Compare  Xeio  Found 
Woihle,  (London,  1508,)  1'24.  This  will  also  account  for  Lescarbot's  re- 
mark, that  the  Indians  of  Gaspe  had  changed  their  language  since  Car- 
tier's  time.  The  language  of  Stadacone,  or  Quebec,  when  Cartier  visited 
it,  was  apparently  a  dialect  of  the  Iroquois. 

1  On  ground  now  covered  by  the  suburbs  of  St.  Roque  and  St.  John. 

2  Churlevoix  denies  that  the  St.  Croix  and  the  St.  Charles  are  the 

10* 


186  EARLY   FRENCH   ADVENTURE.  [1555. 

threaded  the  forest,  and  emerged  upon  a  squalid  hamlet 
of  bark  cabins.  When,  their  curiosity  satisfied,  he  and 
his  party  were  rowing  for  the  ships,  a  friendly  interrup- 
tion met  them  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Charles.  An  old 
chief  harangued  them  from  the  bank,  men,  boys,  and 
children  screeched  welcome  from  the  meadow,  and  a 
troop  of  hilarious  squaws  danced  knee-deep  in  the  wa- 
ter. The  gift  of  a  few  strings  of  beads  completed  their 
delight  and  redoubled  their  agility ;  and,  from  the  dis- 
tance of  a  mile,  their  shrill  songs  of  jubilation  still 
reached  tbe  ears  of  the  receding  Frenchmen. 

The  hamlet  of  Stadacone,  with  its  king,  Donnacona, 
and  its  naked  lords  and  princes,  was  not  the  metropolis 
of  this  forest  State,  since  a  town  far  greater  —  so  the  In- 
dians averred  —  stood  by  the  brink  of  the  river,  many 
days'  journey  above.  It  was  called  Hochelaga,  and 
the  great  river  itself,  with  a  wide  reach  of  adjacent 
country,  had  borrowed  its  name.  Thither,  with  his 
two  young  Indians  as  guides,  Carder  resolved  to  go  ; 
but  misgivings  seized  the  guides,  as  the  time  drew  near, 
while  Donnacona  and  his  tribesmen,  jealous  of  the  plan, 
set  themselves  to  thwart  it.  The  Breton  captain 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their  dissuasions  ;  whereat,  failing 
to  touch  his  reason,  they  appealed  to  his  fears. 

same  ;  but  he  supports  his  denial  by  an  argument  which  proves  nothing 
but  his  own  gross  carelessness.  Champlain,  than  whom  no  one  wns  bet- 
ter qualified  to  form  an  opinion,  distinctly  affirms  the  identity  of  the  two 
rivers.  See  his  Map  of  Quebec,  and  the  accompanying  key,  in  the  edi- 
tion of  1613.  Potherie  is  of  the  same  opinion  ;  as  also,  amonjj  modern 
writers,  Faribault  and  Fisher.  In  truth,  the  description  of  localities  in 
Cartier's  journal  cannot,  when  closely  examined,  admit  a  doubt  on  tho 
subject.  See  also  Berthelot,  Dissertation  sur  le  Canon  de  Bronze. 


1635.]  CARTIER   AT   QUEBEC. 

One  morning,  as  the  ships  still  lay  at  anchor,  the 
French  beheld  three  Indian  devils  descending  in  a  canoe 
towards  them,  dressed  in  black  and  white  dog-skins, 
with  faces  black  as  ink,  and  horns  long  as  a  man's  arm. 
Thus  arrayed,  they  drifted  by,  while  the  principal 
fiend,  with  fixed  eyes -as  of  one  piercing  the  secrets  of 
futurity,  uttered  in  a  loud  voice  a  long  harangue.  Then 
they  paddled  for  the  shore;  and  no  sooner  ditl  they 
reach  it,  than  each  fell  flat  like  a  dead  man  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  canoe.  Aid,  however,  was  at  hand  ;  for 
Donnacona  and  his  tribesmen,  rushing  pell-mell  from 
the  adjacent  woods,  raised  the  swooning  masqueraders, 
and,  with  shrill  clamors,  bore  them  in  their  arms  with- 
in the  sheltering  thickets.  Here,  for  a  full  half-hour,  the 
French  could  hear  them  haranguing  in  solemn  conclave. 
Then  the  two  young  Indians  issued  forth,  enacting  a 
pantomime  of  amazement  and  terror,  clasping  their 
hands,  and  calling  on  Christ  and  the  Virgin  ;  where- 
upon Cartier,  shouting  from  the  vessel,  asked  what  was 
the  matter.  They  replied,  that  the  god  Coudouagny 
had  sent  to  warn  the  French  against  all  attempts  to 
ascend  the  great  river,  since,  should  they  persist,  snows, 
tempests,  and  drifting  ice  would  requite  their  rashness 
with  inevitable  ruin.  The  French  replied  that  Coudou- 
agny was  a  fool ;  that  he  could  not  hurt  those  who  be- 
lieved in  Christ ;  and  that  they  might  tell  this  to  his 
three  messengers.  The  assembled  Indians,  with  little 
reverence  for  their  deity,  pretended  great  contentment 
at  this  assurance,  and  danced  for  joy  along  the  beach.1 

1  M.  Berthelot,  in  his  Dissertation  sur  le  Canon  de  Bronze,  discovers  in 


188  EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1535. 

Cartier  now  made  ready  to  depart.  And  first,  he 
caused  the  two  larger  vessels  to  he  towed  for  safe  har- 

<_> 

borage  within  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Charles.  With 
the  smallest,  a  galleon  of  forty  tons,  and  two  open 
boats,  carrying  in  all  fifty  sailors,  besides  Pontbriand, 
La  Pommeraye,  and  other  gentlemen,  he  set  forth  for 
Hochelaga. 

Slowly  gliding  on  their  way,  by  walls  of  verdure, 
brightened  in  the  autumnal  sun,  they  saw  forests  fes- 
tooned with  grape  -  vines,  and  waters  alive  with  wild- 
fowl ;  they  heard  the  song  of  the  blackbird,  the  thrush, 
and,  as  they  fondly  thought,  the  nightingale.  The 
galleon  grounded  ;  they  left  her,  and,  advancing  with 
the  boats  alone,  on  the  second  of  October  neared  the 
goal  of  their  hopes,  the  mysterious  Hochelaga. 

Where  now  are  seen  the  quays  and  storehouses  of 
Montreal,  a  thousand  Indians  thronged  the  shore,  wild 
with  delight,  dancing,  singing,  crowding  about  the 
strangers,  and  showering  into  the  boats  their  gifts  of 
fish  and  maize  ;  and,  as  it  grew  dark,  fires  lighted  up 
the  night,  while,  far  and  near,  the  French  could  see 
the  excited  savages  leaping  and  rejoicing  by  the  blaze. 

At  dawn  of  day,  marshalled  and  accoutred,  they  set 
forth  for  Hochelaga.  An  Indian  path  led  them  through 
the  forest  which  covered  the  site  of  Montreal.  The 
morning  air  was  chill  and  sharp,  the  leaves  were  chang- 
ing hue,  and  beneath  the  oaks  the  ground  was  thickly 

this  Indian  pantomime  a  typical  representation  of  the  supposed  ship- 
wreck of  Verrazzano  in  the  St.  Lawrence.  This  shipwreck,  it  is  need- 
less to  say,  is  a  mere  imagination  of  this  ingenious  writer. 


1535.|  HOCHELAGA. 

strewn  with  acorns.  They  soon  met  an  Indian  chief 
with  a  party  of  tribesmen,  or,  as  the  old  narrative  has 
it,  "  one  of  the  principal  lords  of  the  said  city,"  at- 
tended with  a  numerous  retinue.1  Greeting  them  after 
the  concise  courtesy  of  the  forest,  he  led  them  to  a  fire 
kindled  by  the  side  of  the  path  for  their  comfort  and 
refreshment,  seated  them  on  the  earth,  and  made  them 
a  long-  harangue,  receiving  in  requital  of  his  eloquence 
two  hatchets,  two  knives,  and  a  crucifix,  the  last  of 
which  he  was  invited  to  kiss.  This  done,  they  re- 
sumed their  march,  and  presently  issued  forth  upon 
open  fields,  covered  far  and  near  with  the  ripened 
maize,  its  leaves  rustling,  its  yellow  grains  gleaming 
between  the  parting  husks.  Before  them,  wrapped  in 
forests  painted  by  the  early  frosts,  rose  the  ridgy  back 
of  the  Mountain,  of  Montreal,  and  below,  encompassed 
with  its  cornfields,  lay  the  Indian  town.  Nothing  was 
visible  but  its  encircling  palisades.  They  were  of 
trunks  of  trees,  set  in  a  triple  row.  The  outer  and 

inner  ranges  inclined  till  they  met  and  crossed  near  the 

j 

summit,  while  the  upright  row  between  them,  aided 
by  transverse  braces,  gave  to  the  whole  an  abundant 
strength.  Within  were  galleries  for  the  defenders, 
rude  ladders  to  mount  them,  and  magazines  of  stones 
to  throw  down  on  the  heads  of  assailants.  It  was  a 
mode  of  fortification  practised  by  all  the  tribes  speaking 
dialects  of  the  Iroquois.2 

1  "  ....  1'un  des  principaulx  seigneurs  de  la  dicte  ville,  accompajgne 
de  plusieurs  personnes." —  Curlier,  23,  (1545). 

2  That  the   Indians   of   Hochelagn   belonged   to  tlie   Huron-Iroquois 
family  of  tribes  is  evident  from  the  affinities  of  their  language,  (compare 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  llf>35. 

The  voyagers  entered  the  narrow  portal.  Within, 
thev  saw  some  fifty  of  those  large  oblong  dwellings  so 
familiar  in  after-years  to  the  eyes  of  the  Jesuit  apostles 

Gallatin,  Synopsis  of  Indian  Tribes,)  and  from  the  construction  of  their 
houses  and  defensive  works.  The  latter  was  identical  with  the  construc- 
tion universal,  or  nearly  so,  among  the  Huron-Iroquois  tribes,  but  not  piao- 
tised  by  any  of  the  very  numerous  tribes  of  Algonquin  lineage.  In  Ramu- 
sio,  III.  446,  there  is  a  plan  of  Hochelaga  and  its  defences,  which,  though 
by  no  means  without  the  glaring  errors  from  which,  at  the  time,  such 
engravings  were  seldom  free,  adds  much  to  the  value  of  the  descrip- 
tion. Whence  the  sketch  was  derived  does  not  appear,  as  the  original 
edition  of  Carder  does  not  contain  it.  In  1860,  a  quantity  of  Indian 
remains  were  dug  up  at  Montreal,  immediately  below  Sherbrooke  Street, 
between  Mansfield  and  Metcalfe  Streets.  (See  a  paper  by  Dr.  Dawson,  in 
Canadian  Naturalist  and  Geo/oyist,  V.  430.)  They  may  perhaps  indicate 
the  site  of  Hochelaga.  A  few,  which  have  a  distinctive  character,  belong 
not  to  the  Algonquin,  but  to  the  Huron-Iroquois  type.  The  stem  less 
pipe  of  terra-cotta  is  the  exact  counterpart  of  those  found  in  the  great 
Huron  deposits  of  the  dead  in  Canada  West  and  in  Iroquois  burial-places 
of  Western  New  York.  So  also  of  the  fragments  of  pottery  and  the  in 
etruments  of  bone  used  in  ornamenting  it. 

The  assertion  of  certain  Algonquins,  who,  in  1642,  told  the  missiona- 
ries that  their  ancestors  once  lived  at  Montreal,  is  far  from  conclusive 
evidence.  It  may  have  referred  to  an  occupancy  subsequent  to  Car- 
tier's  visit,  or,  which  is  more  probable,  the  Indians,  after  their  favor- 
ite practice,  may  have  amused  themselves  with  "  hoaxing  "  their  inter- 
locutors. 

Cartier  calls  his  vocabulary,  "  Le  lanqage  des  pays  et  Royaulmes  de  Hoche- 
laga et  Canada,  aultrement  appellee  par  nous  la  nouuelle  /-Vance,"  (ed.  1545).  For 
this  and  other  reasons  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  Indians  of  Quebec 
or  Stadacone  were  also  of  the  Huron-Iroquois  race,  since  by  Canada  he 
means  the  country  about  Quebec.  Seventy  years  later,  the  whole  re- 
gion was  occupied  by  Algonquins,  and  no  trace  remained  of  Hochelaga 
or  Stadacone. 

There  was  a  tradition  among  the  Agnids  (Mohawks),  one  of  the  five 
tribes  of  the  Iroquois,  that  their  ancestors  were  once  settled  at  Quebec ; 
see  Lafitau,  I.  101.  Canada,  as  already  mentioned,  is  a  Mohawk  word. 
The  tradition  recorded  by  Colden,  in  his  History  of  the  Five  Nations  (Iro- 
quois), that  they  were  formerly  settled  near  Montreal,  is  of  interest  here. 
The  tradition  declares,  that  they  were  driven  thence  by  the  Adirondacks 
(Algonquins). 


1535.]  HOCHELAGA. 

in  Iroquois  and  Huron  forests.  They  were  fifty  yards 
or  more  in  length,  and  twelve  or  fifteen  wide,  framed 
of  sapling  poles  closely  covered  with  sheets  of  bark, 
and  each  containing  many  fires  and  many  families.  In 
the  midst  of  the  town  was  an  open  area,  or  public 
square,  a  stone's  -  throw  in  width.  Here  Cartier  and 
his  followers  stopped,  while  the  surrounding  houses  of 
bark  disgorged  their  inmates, — swarms  of  children, 
and  young  women  and  old,  their  infants  in  their  arms. 
They  crowded  about  the  visitors,  crying  for  delight, 
touching  their  beards,  feeling  their  faces,  and  holding 
up  the  screeching  infants  to  be  touched  in  turn.  Strange 
in  hue,  strange  in  attire,  with  rnoustached  lip  and  bearded 
chin,  with  arquebuse  .and  glittering  halberd,  helmet,  and 
cuirass,  —  were  the  marvellous  strangers  demigods  or 
men  1  . 

Due  time  allowed  for  this  exuberance  of  feminine 
rapture,  the  warriors  interposed,  banished  the  women 
and  children  to  a  distance,  and  squatted  on  the  ground 
around  the  French,  row  within  row  of  swarthy  forms 
and  eager  faces,  "  as  if,"  says  Cartier,  "  we  were 
going  to  act  a  play."1  Then  appeared  a  troop  of 
women,  each  bringing  a  mat,  with  which  they  car- 
peted the  bare  earth  for  the  behoof  of  their  guests. 
The  latter  being  seated,  the  -chief  of  the  nation  was 
borne  before  them  on  a  deer -skin  by  a  number  of 
his  tribesmen,  a  bedridden  old  savage,  paralyzed  and 
helpless,  squalid  as  the  rest  in  his  attire,  and  distin 

1  "  ....  cornme  ay  cussions  voulu  iouer  vng  mystere."  —  Cartier,  25, 
(1545). 


192  EARLY  FRENCH   ADVENTURE.  [1585. 

guished  only  by  a  red  fillet,  inwrought  with  the  dyed 
quills  of  the  Canada  porcupine,  encircling  his  lank, 
black  hair.  They  placed  him  on  the  ground  at  Car- 
tier's  feet  and  made  signs  of  welcome  for  him,  while  he 
pointed  feebly  to  his  powerless  limbs,  and  implored 
the  healing  touch  from  the  hand  of  the  French  chief. 
Cartier  complied,  and  received  in  acknowledgment  the 
red  fillet  of  his  grateful  patient.  And  now  from  sur- 
rounding dwellings  appeared  a  woful  throng,  the  sick, 
the  lame,  the  blind,  the  maimed,  the  decrepit,  brought 
or  led  forth  and  placed  on  the  earth  before  the  perplexed 
commander,  "  as  if,"  he  says,  "  a  God  had  come  down 
to  cure  them."  His  skill  in  medicine  being  far  behind 
the  emergency,  he  pronounced  over  his  petitioners  a~ 
portion  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  of  infallible  efficacy 
on  such  occasions,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  ut- 
tered a  prayer,  not  for  their  bodies  only,  but  for  their 
miserable  souls.  Next  he  read  the  passion  of  the  Sav- 
iour, to  which,  though  comprehending  not  a  word,  his 
audience  listened  with  grave  attention.  Then  came  a 
distribution  of  presents.  The  squaws  and  children  were 
recalled,  and,  with  the  warriors,  placed  in  separate 
groups.  Knives  and  hatchets  were  given  to  the  men, 
beads  to  the  women,  and  pewter  rings  and  images  of  the 
Agnus  Dei  flung  among  the  troop  of  children,  whence 
ensued  a  vigorous  scramble  in  the  square  of  Hochelaga. 
Now  the  French  trumpeters  pressed  their  trumpets  to 
their  lips,  and  blew  a  blast  that  filled  the  air  with  war- 
like din  and  the  hearts  of  the  hearers  with  amazement 
and  delight.  Bidding  their  hosts  farewell,  the  visitors 


1535.]  HOCHELAGA. 

formed  their  ranks  and  defiled  through  the  gate  once 
more,  despite  the  efforts  of  a  crowd  of  women,  who, 
with  clamorous  hospitality,  beset  them  with  gifts  of  fish, 
heans,  corn,  and  other  viands  of  strangely  uninviting 
aspect,  which  the  Frenchmen  courteously  declined. 

A  troop  of  Indians  followed,  and  guided  them  to  the 
top  of  the  neighboring  mountain.  Cartier  called  it 
Mont  Royal,  Montreal ;  and  hence  the  name  of  the 
busy  city  which  now  holds  the  site  of  the  vanished 
Hochelaga.  Stadacone  and  Hochelaga,  Quebec  and 
Montreal,  in  the  sixteenth  century  as  in  the  nineteenth, 
were  the  centres  of  Canadian  population. 

From  the  summit,  that  noble  prospect  met  his  eye 
which  at  this  day  is  the  delight  of  tourists,  but  strangely 
changed,  since,  first  of  white  men,  the  Breton  voyager 
gazed  upon  it.  Tower  and  dome  and  spire,  congre- 
gated roofs,  white  sail  and  gliding  steamer,  animate  its 
vast  expanse  with  varied  life.  Cartier  saw  a  different 
scene.  East,  west,  and  south,  the  mantling  forest  was 
over  all,  and  the  broad  blue  ribbon  of  the  great  river 
glistened  amid  a  realm  of  verdure.  Beyond,  to  the 
bounds  of  Mexico,  stretched  a  leafy  desert,  and  the  vast 
hive  of  industry,  the  mighty  battle-ground  of  later 
centuries,  lay  sunk  in  savage  torpor,  wrapped  in  illim- 
itable woods. 

The  French  reembarked,  bade  farewell  to  Hochelaija, 
retraced  their  lonely  course  down  the  St.  Lawrence, 
and  reached  Stadacone  in  safety.  On  the  bank  of  the 
St.  Charles,  their  companions  had  built  in  their  absence 
a  fort  of  palisades,  and  the  ships,  hauled  up  the  little 

17 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  psar,. 

stream,  lay  moored  before  it.1  Here  the  self- exiled 
company  were  soon  besieged  by  the  rigors  of  the  Cana- 
dian winter.  The  rocks,  the  shores,  the  pine-trees,  the 
solid  floor  of  the  frozen  river,  all  alike  were  blanketed  in 
snow,  beneath  the  keen  cold  rays  of  the  dazzling  sun. 
The  drifts  rose  above  the  sides  of  their  ships ;  masts, 
.spars,  cordage,  were  thick  with  glittering  incrustations 
and  sparkling  rows  of  icicles ;  a  frosty  armor,  four 
inches  thick,  encased  the  bulwarks.  Yet,  in  the  bitter- 
est weather,  the  neighboring  Indians,  "  hardy,"  says  the 
journal,  "  as  so  many  beasts,"  came  daily  to  the  fort, 
wading,  half  naked,  waist-deep  through  the  snow.  At 
length,  their  friendship  began  to  abate;  their  visits  grew 
less  frequent,  and,  during  December,  had  wholly  ceased, 
when  an  appalling  calamity  fell  upon  the  French. 

A  malignant  scurvy  broke  out  among  them.  Man 
after  man  went  down  before  the  hideous  disease,  till 
twenty-five  were  dead,  and  only  three  or  four  were  left 
in  health.  The  sound  were  too  few  to  attend  the  sick, 
and  the  wretched  sufferers  lay  in  helpless  despair, 
dreaming  of  the  sun  and  the  vines  of  France.  The 
ground,  hard  as  flint,  defied  their  feeble  efforts,  and, 
unable  to  bury  their  dead,  they  hid  them  in  snow-drifts. 
Cartier  appealed  to  the  Saints ;  but  they  turned  a  deaf 
ear.  Then  he  nailed  against  a  tree  an  image  of  the 
Virgin,  and  on  a  Sunday  summoned  forth  his  woe- 

1  In  1608,  Champlain  found  the  remains  of  Carder's  fort.  See  Cham- 
plain,  (1613,)  184-191.  Charlevoix  is  clearly  wrong  as  to  the  locality. 
M.  Faribault,  who  has  collected  the  evidence,  (see  Voyages  de  Decourerte 
au  Canada,  109-119,)  thinks  the  fort  was  near  the  junction  of  the  little 
Biver  Lairet  with  the  St.  Charles. 


1636.]      WINTER  MISERIES.- MARVELLOUS  CURES.       195 

begone  followers,  who,  haggard,  reeling,  bloated  with 
their  maladies,  moved  in  procession  to  the  spot,  and, 
kneeling  in  the  snow,  sang  litanies  and  psalms  of 
David.  That  day  died  Philippe  Rougemont,  of  Am- 
boise,  aged  twenty-two  years.  The  Holy  Virgin  deigned 
no  other  response. 

There  was  fear  that  the  Indians,  learnino-  their  mis- 

~ 

ery,  might  finish  the  work  the  scurvy  had  begun.  None 
of  them,  therefore,  was  allowed  to  approach  the  fort ; 
and  when,  perchance,  a  party  of  savages  lingered  within 
hearing,  Carder  forced  his  invalid  garrison  to  beat  with 
sticks  and  stones  against  the  walls,  that  their  dangerous 
neighbors,  deluded  by  the  clatter,  might  think  them 
vigorously  engaged  in  hard  labor.  These  objects  of 
their  fear  proved,  however,  the  instruments  of  their 
salvation.  Cartier,  walking  one  day  near  the  river, 
met  an  Indian,  who  not  long  before  had  been  prostrate 
like  many  of  his  fellows  with  the  scurvy,  but  who 
now,  to  all  appearance,  was  in  high  health  and  spirits. 
What  agency  had  wrought  this  marvellous  recovery t 
According  to  the  Indian,  it  was  a.  certain  evergreen, 
called  by  him  amcda?  of  which  a  decoction  of  the 
leaves  was  sovereign  against  the  disease.  The  experi- 
ment was  tried.  The  sick  men  drank  copiously  of  the 
healing  draught,  —  so  copiously  indeed  that  in  six  days 
they  drank  a  tree  as  large  as  a  French  oak.  Thus 
vigorously  assailed,  the  distemper  relaxed  its  hold,  and 
health  and  hope  began  to  revisit  the  hapless  company. 

1  "Ameda,"  in,  the  edition  of  1545;  "annedda,"  in  Lcscarbot,  Ternaux- 
Compans,  and  Faribault.  The  wonderful  tree  seems  to  have  been  a 
•pruce. 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1536. 

When  this  winter  of  misery  had  worn  away,  when 
spring  appeared,  and  the  ships  were  thawed  from  their 
icy  fetters,  Cartier  prepared  to  return.  He  had  made 
notable  discoveries,  but  these  were  as  nothing  to  the 
tales  of  wonder  that  had  reached  his  ear, — of  a  land 
of  gold  and  rubies,  of  a  nation  white  like  the  French, 
of  men  who  lived  without  food,  and  of  others  to  whom 
Nature  had  granted  but  one  leg.  Should  he  stake  his 
credit  on  these  marvels  ?  Far  better  that  they  who 
had  recounted  them  to  him  should,  with  their  own 
lips,  recount  them  also  to  the  King.  To  this  end,  he 
resolved  that  Donnacona  and  his  chiefs  should  go  with 
him  to  court.  He  lured  them  therefore  to  the  fort,  and 
led  them  into  an  ambuscade  of  sailors,  who,  seizing  the 
astonished  guests,  hurried  them  on  board  the  ships.  This 
treachery  accomplished,  the  voyagers  proceeded  to  plant 
the  emblem  of  Christianity.  The  cross  was  raised, 
the  fleur-de-lis  hung  upon  it,  and,  spreading  their 
sails,  they  steered  for  home.  It  was  the  sixteenth  of 
July,  1536,  when  Cartier  again  cast  anchor  under  the 
walls  of  St.  Malo.1 

A  rigorous  climate,  a  savage  people,  a  fatal  disease, 
a  soil  barren  of  gold,  —  these  were  the  allurements  of 
New  France.  Nor  were  the  times  auspicious  for  a 
renewal  of  the  enterprise.  Charles  the  Fifth,  flushed 

1  Of  the  original  edition  of  the  narrative  of  this  voyage,  that  of  1545, 
only  one  copy  is  known,  —  that  in  the  British  Museum.  It  is  styled 
Brief  Reeit,  $•  succincte  narration,  de  la  nauigation  faicte  es  ysles  de  Canada, 
Hochelage  8f  SaguenaySf  autres,  auec  particulieres  incurs,  langaige,  $•  ceremonies 
des  habitans  d'icelles ;  fort  delectable  a  veoir.  As  may  be  gathered  from  the 
title,  the  style  and  orthography  are  those  of  the  days  of  Rabelais.  It 
has  been  reprinted  (1863)  with  valuable  notes  by  M.  d'Avezac. 


'541.J  ROBERVAL.  ]  m 

with  his  African  triumphs,  challenged  the  Most  Chris- 
tian King  to  single  combat.  The  war  flamed  forth  with 
renewed  fury,  and  ten  years  elapsed  before  a  hollow 
truce  varnished  the  hate  of  the  royal  rivals  with  a 
thin  pretence  of  courtesy.  Peace  returned;  but  Fran- 
cis, under  the  scourge  of  his  favorite  goddess,  was 
sinking  to  his  ignominious  grave,  and  Chabot,  patron 
of  the  former  voyages,  was  in  disgrace.1 

Meanwhile,  .the  ominous  adventure  of  New  France 
had  found  a  champion  in  the  person  of  Jean  Francois 
de  la  Roque,  Sieur  de  Roberval,  a  nobleman  of  Picardy. 
Though  a  man  of  high  account  in  his  own  province, 
his  past 'honors  paled  before  the  splendor  of  the  titles 
said  to  have  been  now  conferred  on  him,  —  Lord  of 
Norembega,  Viceroy  and  Lieutenant  -  General  in  Can- 
ada, Hochelaga,  Saguenay,  Newfoundland,  Belle  Isle, 
Carpunt,  Labrador,2  the  Great  Bay,  and  Baccalaos.  To 

1  Brantome,  II.  283  ;  Anquctil,  V.  397 ;  Sismondi,  XVII.  62. 

2  Labrador — Laboratoris   Tirra  —  is  so  called  from  the  circumstance 
that  Cortereal  in  the  year  1500  stole  thence  a  cargo  of  Indians  for  slaves. 
Belle  Isle  and  Carpunt, — the  strait  and  islands  between  Labrador  and 
Newfoundland.     The  Great  Bay,  —  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.     Norem- 
bega, or  Norumbega.  more  properly  called  Arambec,  (Hakluyt,  III.  167,f 
was,  in  Kamusio's  map,  the  country  embraced  within  Nova  Scotia,  south- 
ern New  Brunswick,  and  a  part  of  Maine.     De  Laet  confines  it  to  a  dis- 
trict about  the  mouth  of  the  Penobscot.     Wytfleit  and  other  early  writers 
say  that  it   had  a  capital  city,  of  the  same    name ;  and   in  several  old 
maps,  this  fabulous  metropolis  is  laid  down,  with  towers  and  churches, 
on  the  River  Penobscot.     The  word  is  of  Indian  origin. 

'Before  me  is  the  commission  of  Uoberval.  "/,<ttres  Patentcs  accorde'esa 
Jditm  FrancMjs  de  la  R^ne  Sr  de  Hobtrcal,"  copied  from  the  French  ar- 
chives. Here  he  is  simply  styled,  "  noire  Lieutenant-General,  Cliff  Ducteur 
et  Cd/'/iitdiiif  (I-  In  d.  fiiirefirinse."  The  patent  is  in  Lescarbot  (1(518).  In 
(lie  Archives  <k-  la  Bihliotheque  puhliqiie  de  Rouen,  an  edict  is  preserved 
luthorizing  Koberval  to  raise  "  une  arinc'e  ik>  volontaires  uvec  victuailles, 
ju-tillerie,  etc.  pour  aller  au  pays  de  Canada." 
17* 


1QS  EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  {i541. 

this  windy  gift  of  ink  and  parchment  was  added  a  solid 
grant  from  the  royal  treasury  with  which  five  vessels 
were  procured  and  equipped,  and  to  Cartier  was  given 
the  post  of  Captain  -  General.  His  commission  sets 
forth  the  objects  of  the  enterprise,  —  discovery,  settle- 
ment, and  the  conversion  of  the  Indians,  who  are  de- 
scribed as  "  men  without  knowledge  of  God  or  use  of 
reason,"  —  a  pious  design  held,  doubtless,  in  full  sincer- 
ity by  the  royal  profligate,  now,  in  his  decline,  a  fervent 
champion  of  the  Faith  and  a  strenuous  tormentor  of 
heretics.  The  machinery  of  conversion  was  of  a  char- 
acter somewhat  questionable,  since  Cartier  was  empow- 
ered to  ransack  the  prisons  for  thieves,  robbers,  and 
other  malefactors,  to  complete  his  crews  and  strengthen 
his  colony.1  Of  the  expected  profits  of  the  voyage  the 
adventurers  were  to  have  one  third  and  the  King  an- 
other, while  the  remainder  was  to  be  reserved  towards 
defraying  expenses. 

With  respect  to  Donnacona  and  his  tribesmen,  basely 
kidnapped  at  Stadacone,  excellent  care  had  been  taken 
of  their  souls.  In  due  time  they  had  been  baptized, 
and  soon  reaped  the  benefit  of  the  rite,  since  they  all 
died  within  a  year  or  two,  to  the  great  detriment,  as  it 
proved,  of  the  expedition.2 

1  See  the  Commission,  Lescarbot,  I.  411,  (1C12) ;  Hazard,  T.  19. 

2  M.   Charles  Cunat  a  M.  L.  Uocins,  Malre  de  St.  Malo,  MS.     This  is 
a  report  of  researches  made  by  M.  Cunat  in  1844  in  the  archives  of  St. 
Malo. 

Extrait  Baptistaire  des  Sauvages  amends  en  France  par  honneste  homme  Jacqutt 
Cartier,  MS. 

Thevet  says  that  he  knew  Donnacona  in  France,  and  found  him  "  a 
good  Christian." 


3541.]  SPANISH  JEALOUSY. 

Meanwhile,  from  beyond  the  Pyrenees,  the  Most 
Catholic  King,  with  alarmed  and  jealous  eye,  watched 
the  preparations  of  his  Most  Christian  enemy.  Amer- 
ica, in  his  eyes,  was  one  vast  province  of  Spain,  to  he 
vigilantly  guarded  agamst  the  intruding  foreigner.  To 
what  end  were  men  mustered,  and  ships  fitted  out  in  the 
Breton  seaports  ^  Was  it  for  colonization,  and,  if  so, 
where  1  In  Southern  Florida,  or  on  the  frozen  shores 
of  Baccalaos,  of  which  Breton  cod-fishers  claimed  the 
discovery  1  Or  would  the  French  build  forts  on  the 
Bahamas,  whence  they  could  waylay  the  gold  ships  in 
the  Bahama  Channel  \  Or  was  the  expedition  destined 
against  the  Spanish  settlements  of  the  islands  or  the 
Main  ?  Reinforcements  were  despatched  in  haste  ;  a 
spy  was  sent  to  France,  who,  passing  from  port  to  port, 
Quimper,  St.  Malo,  Brest,  Morlaix,  came  back  freighted 
with  strangelv  exaggerated  tales  of  mighty  preparation. 
The  Council  of  the  Indies  was  called.  "  The  French  are 
bound  for  Baccalaos,"  —  such  was  the  substance  of 
their  report ;  —  "  your  Majesty  will  do  well  to  send  two 
caravels  to  watch  their  movements,  and  a  force  to  take 
possession  of  the  said  country.  And  since  there  is  no 
other  money  to  pay  for  it,  the  gold  from  Peru,  now  at 
Panama,  might  be  used  to  that  end."  The  Cardinal 
of  Seville  thought  lightly  of  the  danger,  and  prophe- 
sied that  the  French  would  reap  nothing  from  their 
enterprise  but  disappointment  and  loss.  The  King  of 
Portugal,  sole  acknowledged  partner  with  Spain  in  the 
ownership  of  the  New  World,  was  invited  by  the 
Spanish  ambassador  to  take  part  in  an  expedition 


<200  EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1541. 

against  the  encroaching1  French.  "  They  can  do  no 
harm  at  Baccalaos,"  was  the  cold  reply;  "and  so,"  adds 
the  indignant  ambassador,  "  the  King  would  say  if  they 
should  come  and  take  him  here  at  Lisbon  ;  such  is  the 
softness  they  show  here  on  the  one  hand,  while,  on  the 
other,  they  wish  to  give  law  to  the  whole  world."  l 

/The  five  ships,  occasions  of  this  turmoil  and  alarm, 
had  lain  at  St.  Malo  awaiting  certain  cannon  and  muni- 
tions from  Normandy  and  Champagne.  They  waited 
in  vain,  and  as  the  King's  orders  were  stringent  jigainst 
delay,  it  was  resolved  that  Cartier  should  sail  at  once, 
leaving  Roberval  to  follow  with  additional  ships  when 
the  needful  supplies  arrived. 

On  the  twenty-third  of  May,  154- 1,2  the  Breton  cap- 
tain again  .spread  his  canvas  for  New  France.  The 
Atlantic  was  safely  passed,  the  fog-banks  of  Newfound- 
land, the  island  rocks  clouded  with  screaming1  sea-fowl, 

'  O  . 

the  forests  breathing  piny  odors  from  the  shore.  Again 
he  passed  in  review  the  grand  scenery  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, and  again  cast  anchor  beneath  the  cliffs  of  Que- 
bec. Canoes  came  out  from  shore  filled  with  feathered 
savages  inquiring  for  their  kidnapped  chiefs.  "  Don- 
nacona,"  replied  Cartier,  "is  dead;"  but  he  added  the 
politic  falsehood  that  the  others  had  married  in  France 
and  lived  in  state,  like  great  lords.  The  Indians  pre- 
tended to  be  satisfied;  but  it  was  soon  apparent  that 
they  looked  askance  on  the  perfidious  strangers. 

1  See  the  documents  on  tins  subject  in  the  Coleccian  de  Varios  Docu- 
mentos  of  Buckingham  Smith,  I.  107-112. 
8  Hakluyt's  date,  1540,  is  incorrect 


1541.]  CAKT1ER  AT   CAP  ROUGE. 

Cartier  pursued  his  course,  sailed  three  leagues  and 
a  half  up  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  anchored  again  off 
the  mouth  of  the  River  of  Cap  Rouge.  It  was  late  in 
August,  and  the  leafy  landscape  sweltered  in  the  sun. 
They  landed,  picked  up  quartz  crystals  on  the  shore 
and  thought  them  diamonds,  climhed  the  steep  promon- 
tory, drank  at  the  spring  near  the  top,  looked  abroad 
on  the  wooded  slopes  beyond  the  little  river,  waded 
through  the  tall  grass  of  the  meadow,  found  a  quarry 
of  slate,  and  gathered  scales  of  a  yellow  mineral  which 
glistened  like  gold,  then  took  to  their  boats,  crossed  to 
the  south  shore  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and,  languid  with 
the  heat,  rested  in  the  shade  of  forests  laced  with  an 
entanglement  of  grape-vines. 

Now  their  task  began,  and  while  some  cleared  off  the 
woods  and  sowed  turnip-seed,  others  cut  a  zigzag  road 
up  the  height,  and  others  built  two  forts,  one  at  the 
summit,  one  on  the  shore  below.  The  forts  finished, 
the  Vicomte  de  Beaupre  took  command,  while  Cartier 
went  with  two  boats  to  explore  the  rapids  above  Hoche- 
laga.  When  at  length  he  returned,  the  autumn  was 
far  advanced;  and  with  the  gloom  of  a  Canadian  No- 
vember came  distrust,  foreboding,  and  homesickness. 
Roberval  had  not  appeared ;  the  Indians  kept  jealously 
aloof;  the  motley  colony  was  sullen  as  the  dull,  raw  air 
around  it.  There  was  disgust  and  ire  at  Charlesbourg- 
Royal,  for  so  the  place  was  called.1 

1  The  original  narrative  of  this  voyage  is  fragmentary,  and  exists  only 
in  the  translation  of  Hakluyt.  Purchas,  Belknap,  Forstcr,  Chalmers, 
and  the  other  secondary  writers,  all  draw  from  this  source.  The  narrative 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1542. 

Meanwhile,  unexpected  delays  had  detained  the  impa- 
tient Roberval ;  nor  was  it  until  the  sixteenth  of  April, 
154$,  that,  with  three  ships  and  two  hundred  colonists, 
he  set  sail  from  Rochelle.  When,  on  the  eighth  of 
June,  he  entered  the  harbor  of  St.  John,  he  found 
seventeen  fishing-vessels  lying  there  at  anchor.  Soon 
after,  he  descried  three  other  sail  rounding  the  entrance 
of  the  haven,  and,  with  wrath  and  amazement,  recog- 
nized the  ships  of  Jacques  Carder.  That  voyager  had 
broken  up  his  colony  and  abandoned  New  France 
What  motives  had  prompted  a  desertion  little  consonant 
with  the  resolute  spirit  of  the  man  it  is  impossible  to 
say, — whether  sickness  within,  or  Indian  enemies  with- 
out, disgust  with  an  enterprise  whose  unripened  fruits 
had  proved  so  hard  and  bitter,  or  discontent  at  finding 
himself  reduced  to  a  post  of  subordination  in  a  country 
which  he  had  discovered  and  where  he  had  commanded. 
The  Viceroy  ordered  him  to  return;  but  Cartier  escaped 
with  his  vessels  under  cover  of  night,  and  made  sail  for 
France,  carrying  with  him  as  trophies  a  few  quartz  dia- 
monds from  Cap  Roirge,  and  grains  of  sham  gold  from 
the  neighboring  slate  ledges.  Thus  pitifully  closed  the 
active  career  of  this  notable  explorer.  His  discoveries 
had  gained  for  him  a  patent  of  nobility.  He  owned 
the  seigniorial  mansion  of  Limoilou,1  a  rude  structure 
of  stone  still  standing.  Here,  and  in  the  neighboring 


published  by  the  Literary  and  Historical  Society  of  Quebec  is  the  Eng- 
lish version  of  Ilakluyt  retranslated  into  French. 

1  Archives  de  St.  Malo,  MSS.     Extracts  were  made  for  the  writer  by 
Mr.  Poore.     See  note  at  end  of  chapter. 


1542.]  MARGUERITE. 

town  of  St.  Malo,  where  also  he  had  a  house,  he  seems 
to  have  lived  for  many  years. 

Roberval,  abandoned,  once  more  set  sail,  steering 
northward  to  the  Straits  of  Belle  Isle  and  the  dreaded 
Isle  of  Demons.  And  here  an  incident  befell  which  the 
all-believing  Thevet  records  in  manifest  good  faith,  and 
which,  stripped  of  the  adornments  of  superstition  and 
a  love  of  the  marvellous,  has  without  doubt  a  nucleus 
of  truth.  I  give  the  tale  as  I  find  it. 

The  Viceroy's  company  was  of  a  mixed  complexion. 
There  were  nobles,  officers,  soldiers,  sailors,  adventur- 
ers, with  women,  too,  and  children.  Of  the  women, 
some  were  of  birth  and  station,  and  among  them  a 
damsel  called  Marguerite,  a  niece  of  Roberval  himself. 
In  the  ship  was  a  young  gentleman  who  had  embarked 
for  love  of  her.  His  love  was  too  well  requited;  and 
the  stern  Viceroy,  scandalized  and  enraged  at  a  passion 
which  scorned  concealment  and  set  shame  at  defiance, 
cast  anchor  by  the  haunted  island,  landed  his  indiscreet 
relative,  gave  her  four  arquebuses  for  defence,  and,  with 
an  old  Norman  nurse  who  had  pandered  to  the  lovers, 
left  her  to  her  fate.  Her  gallant  threw  himself  into  the 
surf,  and  by  desperate  effort  gained  the  shore,  with  two 
more  guns  and  a  supply  of  ammunition.  The  ship 
weighed  anchor,  receded,  vanished  ;  they  were  left 
alone.  Yet  not  so,  for  the  demon-lords  of  the  island 
beset  them  day  and  night,  raging  around  their  hut  with 
a  confused  and  hungry  clamoring,  striving  to  force  the 
frail  barrier.  The  lovers  had  repented  of  their  sin, 
though  not  abandoned  it,  and  Heaven  was  on  their  side. 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1542. 

The  saints  vouchsafed  their  aid,  and  the  offended  Vir- 
gin, relenting,  held  before  them  her  protecting  shield. 
In  the  form  of  beasts  or  other  shapes  abominably  and 
unutterably  hideous,  the  brood  of  hell,  howling  in 
baffled  fury,  tore  at  the  branches  of  the  sylvan  dwell- 
ing; but  a  celestial  hand  was  ever  interposed,  and  there 
was  a  viewless  barrier  which  they  might  not  pass.  Mar- 
guerite became  pregnant.  Here  was  a  double  prize, 
two  souls  in  one,  mother  and  child.  The  fiends  grew 
frantic,  but  all  in  vain.  She  stood  undaunted  amid 
these  horrors;  but  her  lover,  dismayed  and  heart-broken, 
sickened  and  died.  Her  child  soon  followed ;  then  the 
old  Norman  nurse  found  her  unhallowed  rest  in  that 
accursed  soil,  and  Marguerite  was  left  alone.  Neither 
her  reason  nor  her  courage  failed.  When  the  demons 
assailed  her,  she  shot  at  them  with  her  gun,  but  they 
answered  with  hellish  merriment,  and  thenceforth  she 
placed  her  trust  in  Heaven  alone.  There  were  foes 
around  her  of  the  upper,  no  less  than  of  the  nether 
world.  Of  these,  the  bears  were  the  most  redoubtable, 
yet,  being  vulnerable  to  mortal  weapons,  she  killed  three 
of  them,  all,  says  the  story,  "as  white  as  an  egg." 

It  was  two  years  and  five  months  from  her  landing 
on  the  island,  when,  far  out  at  sea,  the  crew  of  a  small 
fishing- craft  saw  a  column  of  smoke  curling  upward 
from,  the  haunted  shore.  Was  it  a  device  of  the  fiends 
to  lure  them  to  their  ruin  1  They  thought  so,  and 
kept  aloof.  But  misgiving  seized  them.  They  warily 
drew  near,  and  descried  a  female  figure  in  wild  attire 
waving  signals  from  the  strand.  Thus  at  length  was 


1642.]  ROBERVAL  AT   CAP  ROUGE. 

Marguerite  rescued  and  restored  to  her  native  France, 
where,  a  few  years  later,  the  OQBinographer  Thevet  met 
her  at  Natron  in  Perigord,  and  heard  the  tale  of  won 
der  from  her  own  lips.1 

Having  left  his  offending  niece  to  the  devils  and  bears 
of  the  Isle  of  Demons,  Roberval  held  his  course  up  the 
St.  Lawrence,  and  dropped  anchor  hefore  the  heights 
of  Cap  Rouge.  His  company  landed ;  there  were 
bivouacs  along  the  strand,  a  hubbub  of  pick  and  spade, 
axe,  saw,  and  hammer ;  and  soon  in  the  wilderness  up- 
rose a  goodly  structure,  half  barrack,  half  castle,  with 
two  towers,  two  spacious  halls,  a  kitchen,  chambers, 
store-rooms,  workshops,  cellars,  garrets,  a  well,  an  oven, 
and  two  water-mills.  It  stood  on  that  bold  acclivity 
where  Cartier  had  before  intrenched  himself,  the  St. 
Lawrence  in  front,  and,  on  the  right,  the  River  of  Cap 
Rouge.  Here  all  the  colony  housed  under  the  same 
roof,  like  one  of  the  experimental  communities  of  recent 
days,  —  officers,  soldiers,  nobles,  artisans,  laborers,  and 
convicts,  with  the  women  and  children,  in  whom  lay  the 
future  hope  of  New  France. 

1  The  story  is  taken  from  the  curious  MS.  of  1580.  Compare  the 
Cosmoijraphle  of  The  vet,  (1575,)  II.  c.  VI.  Thevet  was  the  personal 
friend  botli  of  Cartier  and  of  Roberval,  the  latter  of  whom  he  calls 
"  mon  familier,"  and  the  former  "  mon  ;/rand  et  singiilier  ami/."  He  says 
that  he  lived  five  months  with  Cartier  in  his  house  at  St.  Malo.  He  was 
also  a  friend  of  Rabelais,  who  once,  in  Italy,  rescued  him  from  a  serious 
embarrassment.  See  the  Notice  Biographi(/ue  prefixed  to  the  edition  of 
Rabelais  of  Burgaud  des  Marets  and  Rathery. 

In  the  Routier  of  Jean  Alphonse,  Roberval's  pilot,  where  the  prindpal 
points  of  the  voyage  are  set  down,  repeated  mention  is  made  of  "  les  Islet 
de  la  Demoiselle,"  immediately  north  of  Newfoundland.     The  inference 
is  obvious  that  the  demoiselle  was  Marguerite. 
18 


EARLY  FRENCH  ADVENTURE.  [1W2. 

Experience  and  forecast  had  alike  been  wanting. 
There  were  storehouses,  but  no  stores  ;  mills,  but  no 
grist;  an  ample  oven,  and  a  vvoful  dearth  of  bread.  It 
was  only  when  two  of  the  ships  had  sailed  for  France 
that  they  took  account  of  their  provision  and  discovered 
its  lamentable  shortcoming.  Winter  and  famine  fol- 
'lowed.  They  bought  fish  from  the  Indians,  dug  roots, 
and  boiled  them  in  whale-oil.  Disease  broke  out,  and, 
before  spring,  killed  one  third  of  the  colony.  The  rest 
would  fain  have  quarrelled,  mutinied,  and  otherwise 
aggravated  their  inevitable  woes,  but  disorder  was  dan- 
gerous under  the  iron  rule  of  the  inexorable  Roberval. 
Michel  Gaillon  was  detected  in  a  petty  theft,  and  forth- 
with hanged.  Jean  de  Nantes,  for  a  more  venial 
offence,  was  kept  in  irons.  The  quarrels  of  men,  the 
scolding  of  women,  were  alike  requited  at  the  whip- 
ping-post, "  by  which  means,"  quaintly  says  the  narra- 
tive, "  they  lived  in  peace." 

Thevet,  while  calling  himself  the  intimate  friend  of 
the  Viceroy,  gives  to  his  story  a  darker  coloring. 
Forced  to  unceasing  labor,  and  chafed  by  arbitrary 
rules,  some  of  the  soldiers  fell  under  his  displeasure,  and 
six  of  them,  formerly  his  favorites,  were  hanged  in  one 
day.  Others  were  banished  to  an  island,  and  there  held 
in  fetters;  while  for  various  light  offences,  several,  both 
men  and  women,  were  shot.  Even  the  Indians  were 
moved  to  pity,  and  wept  at  the  sight  of  their  woes.1 

And  here,  midway,  our  guide  deserts  us ;  the  an- 
cient narrative  is  broken,  and  the  latter  part  is  lost,  leav- 
i  Thevet  MS.  1586. 


1542.]  DEATH   OF  ROBERVAL. 

ing  us  to  divine  as  we  may  the  future  of  the  ill-starred 
colony.  That  it  did  not  long  survive  is  certain.  It  is 
said  that  the  King,  in  great  need  of  *  Roberval,  sent 
Cartier  to  bring  him  home.1  It  is  said,  too,  that,  in 
after-years,  the  Viceroy  essayed  to  repossess  himself 
of  his  Transatlantic  domain,  and  lost  his  life  in  the  at- 
tempt.2 Thevet,  on  the  other  hand,  with  ample  means 
of  learning  the  truth,  affirms  that  Roberval  was  slani  at 
night,  near  the  Church  of  the  Innocents,  in  the  heart  of 
Paris.3 

With  him  closes  the  prelude  of  the  French-Amer- 
ican drama.  Tempestuous  years  were  in  store  for 
France,  and  a  reign  of  blood  and  fire.  The  Religious 
Wars  begot  the  hapless  colony  of  Florida,  but  for 
more  than  half  a  century  left  New  France  a  desert. 
Order  rose  at  length  out  of  the  sanguinary  chaos  ;  the 
zeal  of  discovery  and  the  spirit  of  commercial  enter- 
prise once  more  awoke,  while,  closely  following,  more 
potent  than  they,  moved  the  black-robed  forces  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  reaction. 

1  Lescarbot,  (1612.)  I.  416. 

2  Le  Clerc,  Eiablissement  de  la  Foy,  L  14. 


.  —  The  Manor  House  of  Cartier.  This  curious  relic,  which  in 
1865  was  still  entire,  in  the  suburbs  of  St.  Malo,  was  as  rude  in  construc- 
tion as  an  ordinary  farmhouse.  It  had  only  a  kitchen  and  a  hall  below, 
and  two  rooms  above.  At  the  side  was  a  small  stable,  and,  opposite,  a 
barn.  These  buildings,  together  with  two  heavy  stone  walls,  enclosed 
a  square  court.  Adjacent,  was  a  garden  and  an  orchard.  The  whole 
indicates  a  rough  and  simple  way  of  life.  See  Rame',  Notesur  le  Manoir 
de  Jacques  Cartier. 


CHAPTER  II. 

1542—1604. 

E  ' 

LA    ROCHE. fHAMPLAIN. DE    MONTS. 

FRENCH  FISHERMEN  AND  FUR -TRADERS.  —  LA  ROCHE.  —  THE  CONVICTS 
OF  SAHLE  ISLAND. — TADOUSSAC.  —  SAMUEL  DE  CHAMPLAIN.  —  VISITS 
THE  WEST  INDIES  AND  MEXICO.  —  EXPLORES  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE.  — 
DE  MONTS.  —  His  ACADIAN  SCHEMES. 

i 

YEARS  rolled  on.  France,  long  tossed  among  the 
surges  of  civil  commotion,  plunged  at  last  into  a  gulf 
of  fratricidal  war.  Blazing  hamlets,  sacked  cities, 
fields  steaming  with  slaughter,  profaned  altars,  rav- 
ished maidens,  a  carnival  of  steel  and  fire,  marked 
the  track  of  the  tornado.  There  was  little  room  for 
schemes  of  foreign  enterprise.  Yet,  far  aloof  from 
siege  and  hattle,  the  fishermen  of  the  Western  ports  still 
plied  their  craft  on  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland.  Hu- 
manity,  morality,  decency,  might  be  forgotten,  hut  cod- 
fish must  still  be  had  for  the  use  of  the  faithful  on  Lent 
and  fast  days.  Still  the  wandering  Esquimaux  saw  the 
Norman  and  Breton  sails  hovering  around  some  lonely 
headland,  or  anchored  in  fleets  in  the  harbor  of  St. 
John  ;  and  still,  through  salt  spray  and  driving  mist, 
.the  fisherman  dragged  up  the  .riches  of  the  sea. 

In  1578,  there  were  a  hundred  and  fifty  French  fish- 
ing-vessels at  Newfoundland,  besides  two  hundred  of 
other  nations,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  and  English.  Added 


1586.]       FRENCH  FISHERMEN  AND   FUR-TRADERS.        gQQ 

to  these  were  twenty  or  thirty  Biscayan  whalers.1  In 
1607,  there  was  an  old  French  fisherman  at  Canseau 
who  had  voyaged  to  these  seas  for  forty-two  successive 
years.2 

But  if  the  wilderness  of  ocean  had  its  treasures,  so 
too,  had  the  wilderness  of  woods.  It  needed  but  a  fe\v 
knives,  beads,  and  trinkets,  and  the  Indians  would 
throng  to  the  shore  burdened  with  the  spoils  of  their 
winter  hunting;.  Fishermen  threw  up  their  old  vocation 

O  I 

for  the  more  lucrative  trade  in  bear-skins  and  beaver- 
skins.  They  built  rude  huts  along  the  shores  of  Anti- 
costi,  where,  at  that  day,  the  bison,  it  is  said,  could  be 
seen  wallowing  in  the  sands.8  They  outraged  the  In- 
dians ;  they  quarrelled  with  each  other  ;  and  this  in- 
fancy of  the  Canadian  fur-trade  showed  rich  promise 
of  the  disorders  which  marked  its  riper  growth.  Oth- 
ers, meanwhile,  were  ranging  the  gulf  in  search  of 
walrus- tusks;  and,  the  year  after  the  battle  of  Ivry 
St.  Malo  sent  out  a  fleet  of  small  craft  in  quest  of,  this 
new  prize. 

In  all  the  western  seaports,  merchants  and  adventur- 
ers turned  their  eyes  towards  America;  not,  like  the 

1  Ilnkluyt,  III.  132.    Comp.  Pinkerton,  Voyayes,  XII.  174,  and  Theret 
MS.  (1580). 

2  Lesearbot,  II.  605.     Purchns's  date  is  wrong. 

8  Thevet  MS.  (1586).  Tlievet  says  that  he  had  himself  seen  them. 
Perhaps  lie  confounds  them  with  the  moose. 

In  15t>5,  and  for  some  years  previous,  bison-skins  were  brought  by  the 
Indians  down  the  Potomac,  and  thence  carried  along-shore  in  canoes  to 
the  French  about  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  During  two  years,  six  thou- 
sand skins  were  thus  obtained.  Letters  of  Pedro  MenenJez  to  Philip  IL 
MSS. 

Ou  tho  fur-trade,  see  Hakluyt,  III.  187,  193,  233,  292,  etc. 
18  » 


LA  ROCHE.  —  CHAMPLAIN.  —  DE  MONTS.          |1598. 

Spaniards,  seeking  treasures  of  silver  and  gold,  but  the 
more  modest  gains  of  codfish  and  train-oil,  beaver- 
skins  and  marine  ivory.  St.  Malo  was  conspicuous 
above  them  all.  The  rugged  Bretons  loved  the  perils 
of  the  sea,  and  saw  with  a  jealous  eye  every  attempt  to 
shackle  their  activity  on  this  its  favorite  field.  When 
two  nephews  of  Carder,  urging  the  great  services  of 
their  uncle,  gained  a  monopoly  of  the  American  fur» 
trade  for  twelve  years,  such  a  clamor  arose  within  the 
walls  of  St.  Malo  that  the  obnoxious  grant  was  promptly 
revoked.1 

But  soon  a  power  was  in  the  field  against  which  all 
St.  Malo  might  clamor  in  vain.  A  Catholic  nobleman 
of  Brittany,  the  Marquis  de  la  Roche,  bargained  with 
the  King  to  colonize  New  France.  On  his  part,  he  was 
to  receive*  a  monopoly  of  the_Jxade,  and  a  profusion  of 
worthless  titles  and  empty  privileges.  He  was  declared 
Lieutenant-General  of  Canada,  Hochelaga,  Newfound- 
land, Labrador,  and  the  countries  adjacent,  with_sover- 
power  within  his  vast  and  ill-defined  domain.  He 


could  levy  troops,  declare  war  and  peace,  make  laws, 
punish  or  pardon  at  will,  build  cities,  forts,  and  castles, 
and  grant  out  lands  in  fiefs,  seigniories,  counties,  vis- 
counties,  and  baronies.2  Thus  was  effete  and  cumbrous 
feudalism  to  make  a  lodgment  in  the  New  World.  It 
was  a  scheme  of  high-sounding  promise,  but,  in  per- 
formance, less  than  contemptible.  La  Roche  ransacked 

1  Lescarbot,  I.  418.  Compare  Rame",  Documents  Ine'dits,  10.  In  Hak- 
luyt  are  two  letters  of  Jacques  Noel,  one  of  Carder's  nephews. 

'>•  Lettres  Patentes  pour  le  Sieur  de  la  Roche  ;  Lescarbot,  I.  422  ;  Edits  et 
Oi'donnances,  (Quebec,  1804,)  II.  4. 


1598.]  THE   CONVICTS  OF  SABLE  ISLAND. 

the  prisons,  and,  gathering  thence  a  gang  of  thieves 
and  desperadoes,  embarked  them  in  a  small  vessel,  and 
set  sail  to  plant  Christianity  and  civilization  in  the  West. 
Suns  rose  and  set,  and  the  wretched  hark,  deep  freighted 
with  brutality  and  vice,  held  on  her  course.  She  was 
so  small,  that  the  convicts,  leaning  over  her  side,  could 
wash  their  hands  in  the  water.1  At  length,  on  the 
gray  horizon  they  descried  a  long,  gray  line  of  ridgy 
saild.  It  was  Sable  Island,  off  the  coast  of  Nova 
Scotia.  A  wreck  lay  stranded  on  the  beach,  and  the 
surges  broke  ominously  over  the  long,  submerged  arms 
of  sand,  stretched  far  out  into  the  sea  on  the  right 
hand  and  on  the  left. 

Here  La  Roche  landed  the  convicts,  forty  in  number, 
while,  with  his  more  trusty  followers,  he  sailed  to  ex- 
plore the  neighboring  coasts  and  choose  a  site  for  the 
capital  of  his  new  dominion.  Thither,  in  due  time, 
he  proposed  to  remove  the  prisoners.  But  suddenly 
a  tempest  from  the  west  assailed  him.  The  frail  vessel 
was  at  its  mercy.  She  must  run  before  the  gale,  which, 
howling  on  her  track,  drove  her  off  the  coast,  and  chased 
her  back  towards  France. 

Meanwhile  the  convicts  watched  in  suspense  for  the 
returning  sail.  Days  passed,  weeks  passed,  and  still 
they  strained  their  eyes  in  vain  across  the  waste  of 
ocean.  La  Roche  had  left  them  to  their  fate.  Rue- 
ful and  desperate,  they  wandered  among  the  sand-hills, 
through  the  stunted  whortleberry  -  bushes,  the  rank 
sand -grass,  and  the  tangled  cranberry- vines  which 

*  Lescarbot,  I.  421. 


LA  ROCHE.  —  CHAMPLAIN.  —  DE  MONTS.         [1603. 

filled  the  hollows.  Not  a  tree  was  to  be  seen  ;  but 
they  built  huts  of  the  fragments  of  the  wreck.  For 
food,  they  caught  fish  in  the  surrounding  sea,  and 
hunted  the  cattle  which  ran  wild  about  the  island, 
sprung,  perhaps,  from  those  left  here  eighty  years 
before  by  the  Baron  de  Lery.1  They  killed  seals, 
trapped  black  foxes,  and  clothed  themselves  in  their 
skins.  Their  native  instincts  clung  to  them  in  their 
exile.  As  if  not  content  with  their  inevitable  miseries, 
they  quarrelled  and  murdered  each  other.  Season  after 
season  dragged  on.  Five  years  elapsed,  and,  of  the 
forty,  only  twelve  were  left  alive.  Sand,  sea,  and  sky,  — 
there  was  little  else  around  them  ;  though,  to  break  the 
dead  monotony,  the  walrus  would  sometimes  rear  his 
half  human  face  and  glistening  sides  on  the  reefs  and 
sand-bars.  At  length,  on  the  far  verge  of  the  watery 
desert,  they  descried  a  rising  sail.  She  stood  on  towards 
the  island  ;  a  boat's  crew  landed  on  the  beach,  and  the 
excited  exiles  were  once  more  among  their  countrymen. 
When  La  Roche  returned  to  France,  the  fate  of  his 
followers  sat  heavy  on  his  mind.  But  the  day  of  his 
prosperity  was  gone  forever.  A  host  of  enemies  rose 
against  him  and  his  privileges.  The  Duke  de  Mer- 
coeur,  who  still  made  head  against  the  crown,  and 
claimed  sovereign  power  in  Brittany,  seized  him  and 
threw  him  into  prison.  In  time,  however,  he  gained 
a  hearing  of  the  King,  and  the  Norman  pilot  Chedo- 
tel  was  despatched  to  bring  the  outcasts  home.  When 

1  Lescarbot,  I.  22.  Compare  De  Laet,  1.  II.  c.  IV.  etc.  Cliarlevoix 
and  Champlain  say  that  they  escaped  from  the  wreck  of  a  Spanish  ves- 
sel; Furchas,  that  they  were  left  by  the  Portuguese. 


1699.]  PONTGRAVE   AND    CHAUVIN. 

they  arrived  in  France,  Henry  the  Fourth  summoned 
them  into  his  presence.  They  stood  before  him,  says 
an  old  writer,  like  river -gods  of  yore ; l  for,  from 
head  to  foot  they  were  clothed  in  shaggy  skins,  and 
beards  of  prodigious  length  hung  from  their  swarthy 
faces.  They  had  accumulated,  on  their  island,  a  quan- 
tity of  valuable  furs.  Of  these  Chedotel  had  robbed 
them  ;  but  the  pilot  was  forced  to  disgorge  his  prey, 
and,  with  the  aid  of  a  bounty  from  the  King,  they  were 
enabled  to  embark  on  their  own  account  in  the  Cana- 
dian trade.2  To  their  leader,  fortune  was  less  kind. 
Broken  by  disaster  and  imprisonment,  La  Roche  died 
miserably. 

Tn  the  mean  time,  on  the  ruin  of  La  Roche's  enter- 
prise, a  new  one  had  been  begun.  Pontgrave,  a  mer- 
chant of  St.  Malo,  leagued  himself  with  Chauvin,  a 
captain  of  the  marine,  who  had  influence  at  court.  A 
patent  was  granted  to  them,  with  the  condition  that  they 
should  colonize  the  country.  But  their  only  thought 
was  to  enrich  themselves. 

At  Tadoussac,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Saguenay,  under 
the  shadow  of  savage  and  inaccessible  rocks,  feathered 
with  pines,  firs,  and  birch-trees,  they  built  a  cluster  of 
wooden  huts  and  storehouses.  Here  they  left  sixteen 
men  to  gather  the  expected  harvest  of  furs.  Before 
the  winter  was  over,  several  of  them  were  dead,  and 
the  rest  scattered  through  the  woods,  living  on  the 
charity  of  the  Indians.8 

1  Charlevoix,  I.  109  ;  GueYin,  Navigateun  Franfais,  210. 

2  Turchas,  IV.  1807. 

8  Champlain,  ( 1632,)  34 ;  Charlevoix,  1. 110 ;  Estancelin,  96.    Bergeron, 
Traitt  de  la  Navigation,  places  the  voyage  of  La  Roche  in  1578 


tA  ROCHE.— CHAMPLAIN.—DE   MONTS.         |1603. 

But  a  new  era  had  dawned  on  France.  Wearied 
and  exhausted  with  thirty  years  of  conflict,  she  had 
sunk  at  last  to  a  repose,  uneasy  and  disturbed,  yet  the 
harbinger  of  recovery.  The  rugged  soldier  whom, 
for  the  weal  of  France  and  of  mankind,  Providence 
had  cast  to  the  troubled  surface  of  affairs,  was  throned 
in  the  Louvre,  composing  the  strife  of  factions  and 
the  quarrels  of  his  mistresses.  The  bear-hunting  prince 
of  the  Pyrenees  wore  the  crown  of  France  ;  and  to  this 
day,  as  one  gazes  on  the  time-worn  front  of  the  Tuile- 
ries,  above  all  other  memories  rises  the  small,  strong 
figure,  the  brow  wrinkled  with  cares  of  love  and  war, 
the  bristling  moustache,  the  grizzled  beard,  the  bold,  vig- 
orous, and  withal  somewhat  odd  features  of  the  moun- 
taineer of  Beam.  To  few  has  human  liberty  owed 
so  deep  a  gratitude  or  so  deep  a  grudge.  Little  did 
he  care  for  creeds  or  systems.  Impressible,  quick  in 
sympathy,  his  grim  lip  lighted  often  with  a  smile,  and 
his  war-worn  cheek  was  no  stranger  to  a  tear.  He 
forgave  his  enemies,  and  forgot  his  friends.  Many 
loved  him ;  none  but  fools  trusted  him.  Mingled  of 
mortal  good  and  ill,  frailty  and  force,  of  all  the  kings 
who  for  two  centuries  and  more  sat  on  the  throne  of 
France  Henry  the  Fourth  alone  was  a  man. 

Art,  industry,  commerce,  so  long  crushed  and  over- 
borne, were  stirring  into  renewed  life,  and  a  crowd  of 
adventurous  men,  nurtured  in  war  and  incapable  of 
repose,  must  seek  employment  for  their  restless  ener- 
gies in  fields  of  peaceful  enterprise. 

Two  small,  quaint  vessels,  not  larger  than  the  fishing- 


15SI8.]  SAMUEL  DE   CHAMPLAIN 

craft  of  Gloucester  and  Marblehead,  —  one  was  of 
twelve,  the  other  of  fifteen  tons,  —  held  their  way  across 
the  treacherous  Atlantic,  passed  the  tempestuous  head- 
lands of  Newfoundland  and  the  St.  Lawrence,  and,  with 
adventurous  knight-errantry,  glided  deep  into  the  heart 
of  the  Canadian  wilderness.  On  board  of  one  of  them 
was  the  Breton  merchant,  Pontgrave,  and  with  him  a 
man  of  spirit  widely  different,  a  Catholic  gentleman 
of  Saintonge,  Samuel  de  Champlain,  born  in  1567 
at  the  small  seaport  of  Brouage  on  the  Bay  of  Biscay. 
He  was  a  captain  in  the  royal  navy,  but,  during  the 
war,  he  had  fought  for  the  King  in  Brittany,  under 
the  banners  of  D'Aumont  de  St.  Luc  and  Brissac. 
His  purse  was  small,  his  merit  great ;  and  Henry  the 
Fourth  out  of  his  own  slender  revenues  had  given  him 
a  pension  to  maintain  him  near  his  person.  But  rest 
was  penance  to  him.  The  war  in  Brittany  was  over. 
'The  rebellious  Duke  de  Mercosur  was  reduced  to  obe- 
dience, and  the  royal  army  disbanded.  Champlain, 
his  occupation  gone,  conceived  a  design  consonant  with 
his  adventurous  nature.  He  would  visit  the  West 
Indies,  and  bring  back  to  the  King  a  report  of  those 
regions  of  mystery  whence  Spanish  jealousy  excluded 
foreigners,  and  where  every  intruding  Frenchman  was 
threatened  with  death.  Here  much  knowledge  was  to 
be  won,  much  peril  to  be  met.  The  joint  attraction 
was  resistless. 

The  Spaniards,  allies  of  the  vanquished  Leaguers, 
were  about  to  evacuate  Blavet,  their  last  stronghold  in 
Brittany.  Thither  Champlain  repaired;  and  here  he 


LA  ROCHE. —  CHAMPLAIN.  —  DE   MONTS.          [1600. 

found  an  uncle,  who  had  charge  of  the  French  fleet 
destined  to  take  on  board  the  Spanish  garrison.  Cham- 
plain  embarked  with  them,  and,  reaching  Cadiz,  suc- 
ceeded, with  the  aid  of  his  relative,  who  had  just  ac- 
cepted the  post  of  Pilot-General  of  the  Spanish  marine, 
in  gaining  command  of  one  of  the  ships  about  to  sail 
for  the  West  Indies  under  Don  Francisco  Colombo. 

At  Dieppe  there  is  a  curious  old  manuscript,  iu  clear, 
decisive,  and  somewhat  formal  handwriting  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  garnished  with  sixty  -  one  colored  pic- 
tures, in  a  style  of  art  which  a  child  of  ten  might  emu- 
late. Here  one  may  see  ports,  harbors,  islands,  rivers, 
adorned  with  portraitures  of  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes 
thereto  pertaining.  Here  are  Indian  feasts  and  dances ; 
Indians  flogged  by  priests  for  not  attending  mass ;  In- 
dians burned  alive  for  heresy,  six  in  one  fire ;  Indians 
working  the  silver  mines.  Here,  too,  are  descriptions 
of  natural  objects,  each  with  its  illustrative  sketch,- 
some  drawn  from  life,  some  from  memory, — as,  for 

example,  a    chameleon  with    two   legs, others  from 

hearsay,  among  which  is  the  portrait  of  the  griffin  said 
to  haunt  certain  districts  of  Mexico,  a  monster  with  the 
wings  of  a  bat,  the  head  of  an  eagle,  and  the  tail  of  an 
alligator. 

This  is  Champlain's  journal,  written  and  illustrated 
by  his  own  hand,  in  that  defiance  of  perspective  and 
absolute  independence  of  the  canons  of  Art,  which  mark 
the  earliest  efforts  of  the  pencil. 

A  true  hero,  after  the  chivalrous  mediaeval  type,  his 
character  was  dashed  largely  with  the  spirit  of  romance. 


1600.]  CHAMPLAIN  IN  THE  WEST  INDIES. 

Earnest,  sagacious,  penetrating,  he  yet  leaned  to  the 
marvellous ;  and  the  faith  which  was  the  life  of  his 
hard  career  was  somewhat  prone  to  overstep  the  bounds 
of  reason  and  invade  the  alluring  domain  of  fancy. 
Hence  the  erratic  character  of  some  of  his  exploits, 
and  hence  his  simple  faith  in  the  Mexican  griffin. 

His  West-Indian  adventure  occupied  him  two  years 
and  a  half.  He  visited  the  principal  ports  of  the  islands, 
made  plans  and  sketches  of  them  all,  after  his  fashion, 
and  then,  landing  at  Vera  Cruz,  journeyed  inland  to  the 
city  of  Mexico.  Returning,  lie  made  his  way  to  Pan- 
ama. Here,  more  than  two  centuries  and  a  half  a«o. 

*  C*      * 

his  hold  and  active  mind  conceived  the  plan  of  a  ship- 
canal  across  the  isthmus,  "  by  which,"  he  says,  "the 
voyage  to  the  South  Sea  would  be  shortened  by  more 
than  fifteen  hundred  leagues."  ] 

Returning,  he  repaired  to  court,  but  soon  wearied 
of  the  antechambers  of  the  Louvre.  Here,  however, 
his  destiny  awaited  him,  and  the  \\'ork  of  his  life  was 

1  "  ....  Ton  accourciroit  par  ainsy  le  chemin  de  plus  de  1500  licues, 
ct  depuis  Panama  jusques  au  destroit  dc  Magellan  se  seroit  unc  isle,  et 
de  Panama  jusques  aux  Terres  Neufves  une  autre  isle,"  etc.  —  Cham- 
plain,  Bref  Discours,  MS.  A  Biscayan  pilot  had  before  suggested  the 
plan  to  the  Spanish  government ;  but  Philip  the  Second,  probably  in  the 
interest  of  certain  monopolies,  forbade  the  subject  to  be  again  brought 
forward  on  pain  of  death. 

Tl»e  journal  is  entitled,  "  Bref  Discours  des  Choses  plus  Hemarquables 
que  Samuel  Chainplain  de  Brouagearecognues  aux  Indes  Occidentales." 
The  original  MS.,  in  Champlain's  handwriting,  is,  or  was,  in  the  hands  of 
M.  Feret  of  Dieppe,  a  collateral  descendant  of  the  writer's  patron,  the 
Commander  de  Chastes.  It  consists  of  a  hundred  and  fifteen  small  quarto 
pages.  I  am  indebted  to  M.  Jacques  Viger  for  the  use  of  his  copy. 

•A  translation  of  it  was  published  in  1859,  by  the  Hakluyt  Society,  with 
notes  and  a  biographical  notice  by  no  means  remarkable  for  accuracy. 


gig          LA  ROCHE.  -  CHAML'LAIN.  —  DE  MONTS.         [1G03. 

unfolded.  Aymar  de  Chastes,  Commander  of  the  Or- 
der of  St.  John  and  Governor  of  Dieppe,  a  gray-haired 
veteran  of  the  civil  wars,  would  fain  mark  his  closing1 
days  with  some  notable  achievement  for  France  and 
the  Church.  To  no  man  was  the  King  more  deeply 
beholden.  In  his  darkest  hour,  when  the  hosts  of  the 
League  were  gathering  round  him,  when  friends  were 
falling  off',  and  the  Parisians,  exulting  in  his  certain 
ruin,  were  hiring  the  windows  of  the  Rue  St.  Antoine 
to  see  him  led  to  the  Bastille,  De  Chastes,  without 
condition  or  reserve,  gave  up  to  him  the  town  and 
castle  of  Dieppe.  Thus  he  was  enabled  to  fight  be- 
neath its  walls  the  battle  of  Arques,  the  first  in  the 
series  of  successes  which  secured  his  triumph  ;  and  he 
had  be.en  heard  to  say  that  to  this  friend  in  his  adver- 
sity he  owed  his  own  salvation  and  that  of  France. 

Though  a  foe  of  the  League,  the  old  soldier  was  a 
devout  Catholic,  and  it  seemed  in  his  eyes  a  noble  con- 
summation of  his  fife  to  plant  the  cross  and  the  fleur- 
de-lis  in  the  wilderness  of  New  France.  Chauvin  was 
dead,  after  wasting  the  lives  of  a  score  or  more  of  men 
in  a  second  and  a  third  attempt  to  establish  the  fur- 
trade  at  Tadoussac.  De  Chastes  came  to  court  to  beg 
a  patent  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  "  and,"  says  his  friend 
Champlain,  "  though  his  head  was  crowned  with  gray 
hairs  as  with  years,  he  resolved  to  proceed  to  New 
France  in  person,  and  dedicate  the  rest  of  his  days  to 
the  service  of  God  and  his  King." 

The  patent,  costing  nothing,  was  readily  granted  ;  and 
De  Chastes,  to  meet  the  expenses  of  the  enterprise,  and 


1603.]  DE  CHASTES  AND   CHAMPLAIN. 

perhaps  forestall  the  jealousies  which  his  monopoly 
would  awaken  among  the  keen  merchants  of  tire  west- 
ern ports,  formed  a  company  with  the  more  prominent 
of  them.  Pontgrave,  who  had  some  knowledge  of 
the  country,  was  chosen  to  make  a  preliminary  explo- 
ration. 

This  was  the  time  when  Champlain,  fresh  from  the 
West  Indies,  appeared  at  court.  De  Chastes  knew 
him  well.  Young,  ardent,  yet  ripe  in  experience,  a 
skilful  seaman  and  a  practised  soldier,  he  above  all 
others  was  a  man  for  the  enterprise.  He  had  many  con- 
ferences with  the  veteran,  under  whom  he  had  served  in 
the  royal  fleet  off  the  coast  of  Brittany.  De  Chastes 
urged  him  to  accept  a  post  in  his  new  company  ;  and 
Champlain,  nothing  loath,  consented,  provided  always 
that  permission  should  be  had  from  the  King,  "  to 
whom,"  he  says,  "  I  was  bound  no  less  by  birth  than 
by  the  pension  with  which  His  Majesty  honored  me." 
To  the  King,  therefore,  De  Chastes  repaired.  The 
needful  consent  was  gained,  and,  armed  with  a  letter 
to  Pontgrave,  Champlain  set  forth  for  Honfleur.  Here 
he  found  his  destined  companion,  and,  embarking  with 
him  as  we  have  seen,  they  spread  their  sails  for  the 
West. 

Like  specks  on  the  broad  bosom  of  the  waters,  the 
two  pigmy  vessels  held  their  course  up  the  lonely  St. 
Lawrence.  They  passed  abandoned  Tadoussac,  the 
channel  of  Orleans,  and  the  gleaming  sheet  of  Montmo- 
renci ;  they  passed  the  tenantless  rock  of  Quebec,  the 
wide  Lake  of  St.  Peter,  and  its  crowded  archipelago, 


£00          LA  ROCHE.  — CHAMPLAIN. -DE   MONTS.         [1G03. 

till  now  the  mountain  reared  before  them  its  rounded 
shoulder  above  the  forest-plain  of  Montreal.  All  was 
solitude.  Hochelaga  had  vanished;  and  of  the  savage 
population  that  Cartier  had  found  here,  sixty  -  eight 
years  before,  no  trace  remained.  In  its  place  were  a 
few  wandering  Algonquins,  of  different  tongue  and  lin- 
eage. In  a  skiff,  with  a  few  Indians,  Cham  plain  es- 
sayed to  pass  the  rapids  of  St.  Louis.  Oars,  paddles, 
poles,  alike  proved  vain  against  the  foaming  surges, 
and  he  was  forced  to  return.  On  the  deck  of  his  ves- 
sel, the  Indians  made  rude  plans  of  the  river  above, 
with  its  chain  of  rapids,  its  lakes  and  cataracts  ;  and 
the  baffled  explorer  turned  his  prow  homeward,  the 
objects  of  his  mission  accomplished,  but  his  own  adven- 
turous curiosity  unsated.  When  the  voyagers  reached 
Havre  de  Grace,  a  grievous  blow  awaited  them.  The 
Commander  de  Chastes  was  dead.1 

His  mantle  fell  upon  Pierre  du  Guast,  Sieur  de 
Monts,  Gentleman  in  Ordinary  of  the  King's  Chamber, 
and  Governor  of  Pons.  Undaunted  by  the  fate  of  La 
Roche,  this  nobleman  petitioned  the  king  for  leave  to 
colonize  La  Cadie,  or  Acadie,2  a  region  defined  as  ex- 

1  Champlain,  Des  Saucages,   (1604).     Champlain's  Indian  informants 
gave  him  very  confused  accounts.     They  indicated  the  Falls  of  Niagara 
as  a  mere  "  rapid."     They  are  laid  down,  however,  in  Champlain's  great 
map  of  1632  with  the  following  note:  —  "  Sault  d'eau  au  bout  du  Sault 
[Lac]  Sainct  Louis  fort  hault  oil  plusieurs  sortes  de  poissons  descendans 
s'estourdissent." 

2  This  name  is  not  found  in  any  earlier  public  document.    It  was  after- 
wards restricted  to  the  peninsula  of  Nova  Scotia,  but  the  dispute  concern- 
ing the  limits  of  Acadia  was  a  proximate  cause  of  the  war  of  1755. 

The  word  is  said  to  be  derived  from  the  Indian  Aquoddiauke,  or  Ar/uod- 
die,  meaning  the  fish  called  a  pollock.  The  Bay  of  Passamaquoddy, 


1604.]  SCHEMES  OF  DE  MONTS. 

tending  from  the  fortieth  to  the  forty -sixth  degree 
of  north  latitude,  or  from  Philadelphia  to  beyond  Mon- 
treal. The  King's  minister,  Sully,  as  he  himself  tells 
us,  opposed  the  plan,  on  the  ground  that  the  coloniza- 
tion of  this  northern  wilderness  would  never  repay  the 
outlay  ;  but  De  Monts  gained  his  point.  He  was  made 
Lieutenant-General  in  Acadia  with  viceregal  powers; 
and  withered  Feudalism,  with  her  antique  forms  and 
tinselled  follies,  was  again  to  seek  a  home  among  the 
rocks  and  pine-trees  of  Nova  Scotia.  The  foundation 
of  the  enterprise  was  a  monopoly  of  the  fur -trade, 
and  in  its  favor  all  past  grants  were  unceremoniously 
annulled.  St.  Malo,  Rouen,  Dieppe,  Rochelle,  greeted 
the  announcement  with  unavailing  outcries.  Patents 
granted  and  revoked,  monopolies  decreed  and  extin- 
guished, had  involved  the  unhappy  traders  in  ceaseless 
embarrassment.  De  Monts,  however,  preserved  De 
Chastes's  old  company,  and  enlarged  it,  thus  making  ' 
the  chief  malecontents  sharers  in  his  exclusive  rights, 
and  converting  them  from  enemies  into  partners. 

A  clause  in  his  commission  empowered  him  to  im- 
press idlers  and  vagabonds  as  material  for  his  colony, 
an  ominous  provision  of  which  he  largely  availed  him- 
self. His  company  was  strangely  incongruous.  The 
best  and  the  meanest  of  France  were  crowded  together 
in  his  two  ships.  Here  were  thieves  and  ruffians 
dragged  on  board  by  force,  and  here  were  many  volun- 
teers of  condition  and  character,  the  Baron  de  Pou- 

•'  great  pollock  water,"  derives  its  name  from  the  same  origin.    Totter  in 
Historical  Magazine,  I.  84. 
19  » 


LA  ROCHE.  -  CHAMPLAIN.  —  DE  MONTS.         [1604. 

triucourt  and  the  indefatigable  Champlain.  Here,  too, 
were  Catholic  priests  and  Huguenot  ministers ;  for, 
though  De  Monts  was  a  Calvinist,  the  Church,  as  usual, 
displayed  her  banner  in  the  van  of  the  enterprise,  and 
he  was  forced  to  promise  that  he  would  cause  the 
Indians  to  be  instructed  in  the  dogmas  of  Rome.1 

1  Articles  proposes  au  Roy  par  le  Sieur  de  Monts,  MS  ;  Commissions  du  Roy 
et  de  Monseigneur  I' Admiral  au  Sieur  de  Monts  ;  Defenses  du  Roy  Premieres 
et  Secondes,  a  tons  ses  subjects,  autres  que  le  Sieur  de  Monts,  etc.,  de  trajfiquer, 
etc. ;  Declaration  du  Roy ;  Extraict  des  Registres  de  Parlement ;  Remontratuv 
faict  au  Roy  par  le  Sieur  <V  Monts,  MS. ;  etc.,  etc. 

There  is  a  portrait  of  '  »e  Monts  at  Versailles. 


CHAPTER  III. 

1604, 1605. 
ACADIA   OCCUPIED. 

CATHOLIC  AND  CALVINIST.  —  THE  LOST  PRIEST.  —  ST.  CROIX.  —  WINTER 
MISERIES.  —  CHAMPLAIM  on  THE  COAST  OF  NEW  KXGLAMJ.  —  POBT 
ROYAL. 

DE  MONTS,  with  one  of  his  vessels,  sailed  from 
Havre  de  Grace  on  the  seventh  of  April,  1604<.  Font- 
grave,  with  stores  for  the  colony,  was  to  follow  in  a 
few  days. 

Scarcely  were  they  at  sea,  when  ministers  and  priests 
fell  first  into  discussions,  then  into  quarrels,  then  to 
blows.  "  I  have  seen  our  cure  and  the  minister,"  says 
Champlain,  "  fall  to  with  their  fists  on  questions  of  faith. 
I  cannot  say  which  had  the  more  pluck,  or  which  hit 
the  harder  ;  hut  I  know  that  the  minister  sometimes 
complained  to  the  Sieur  de  Monts  that  he  had  been 
beaten.  This  was  their  way  of  settling  points  of  con- 
troversy. I  leave  you  to  judge  if  it  was  a  pleasant 
thing  to  see."  l 

Sagard,  the  Franciscan  friar,  relates  with  horror,  that, 
after  their  destination  was  reached,  a  priest  and  a  minis- 
ter happening  to  die  at  the  same  time,  the  crew  buried 
them  both  in  one  grave,  to  see  if  they  would  lie  peace* 
ably  together.2 

1  Champlain,  (1632.)  46.  a  Sagard,  Histoire  du  Canada,  9. 


ACADIA   OCCUPIED.  [1604. 

De  Monts,  who  had  been  to  the  St.  Lawrence  with 
Ctiauvin,  and  learned  to  dread  its  rigorous  winters, 
steered  for  a  more  southern,  and,  as  he  flattered  him- 
self, a  milder  region.  The  first  land  seen  was  Cape 
la  Heve,  on  the  southern  coast  of  Nova  Scotia.  Four 
days  later,  they  entered  a  small  bay,  where,  to  their 
surprise,  they  saw  a  vessel  lying1  at  anchor.  Here  was 
a  piece  of  good  luck.  The  stranger  was  a  fur-trader, 
pursuing  her  traffic  in  defiance,  or  more  probably  in 
ignorance,  of  De  Monts's  monopoly.  The  latter,  as  em- 
powered by  his  patent,  made  prize  of  ship  and  cargo, 
consoling  the  commander,  one  Rossignol,  by  giving  his 
name  to  the  scene  of  his  misfortune.  It  is  now  called 
Liverpool  Harbor. 

In  an  adjacent  harbor,  called  by  them  Port  Mouton, 
because  a  sheep  here  leaped  overboard,  they  waited 
nearly  a  month  for  Pontgrave's  store-ship.  At  length, 
to  their  great  relief,  sbe  appeared,  laden  with  the  spoils 
of  four  Basque  fur-traders,  captured  at  Canseau.  The 
supplies  delivered,  Pontgrave  sailed  for  Tadoussac  to 
trade  with  the  Indians,  while  De  Monts,  followed  by 
his  prize,  proceeded  on  bis  voyage. 

He  doubled  Cape  Sable,  and  entered  St.  Mary's 
Bay,  where  he  lay  two  weeks,  sending  boats'  crews  to 
explore  the  adjacent  coasts.  A  party  one  day  went  on 
shore  to  stroll  through  the  forest,  and  among  them  was 
Nicholas  Aubry,  a  priest  from  Paris,  who,  tiring  of  the 
scholastic  haunts  of  the  Rue  de  la  Sorbonne  and  the 
Rue  d'Enfer,  had  persisted,  despite  the  remonstrance 
of  his  friends,  in  joining  the  expedition.  Thirsty  after 


?.*»04.|  THE  LOST   PRIEST.  — ANNAPOLIS. 

a  long  walk,  under  the  sun  of  June,  through  the  tan- 
gled and  rock-encumbered  woods,  he  stopped  to  drink 
at  a  brook,  laying  his  sword  beside  him  on  the  grass. 
On  rejoining  his  companions,  he  found  that  he  had  for- 
gotten it ;  and  turning  back  in  search  of  it,  more  skilled 
in  the  devious  windings  of  the  Quartier  Latin  than  in 
the  intricacies  of  the  Acadian  forest,  he  soon  lost  his 
way.  His  comrades,  alarmed,  waited  for  a  time,  then 
ranged  the  woods,  shouting  his  name  to  the  echoing 
solitudes.  Trumpets  were  sounded,  and  cannon  tired 
from  the  ships,  but  the  priest  did  not  appear.  All  now 
looked  askance  on  a'  certain  Huguenot,  with  whom 
Aubry  had  often  quarrelled  on  questions  of  faith,  and 
who'  was  now  accused  of  having  killed  him.  In  vain 
he  denied  the  charge.  Aubry  was  given  up  for  dead, 
and  the  ships  sailed  from  St.  Mary's  Bay ;  while  the 
wretched  priest  roamed  to  and  fro,  famished  and  de- 
spairing, or,  couched  on  the  rocky  soil,  in  the  troubled 
sleep  of  exhaustion,  dreamed,  perhaps,  as  the  wind  swept 
moaning  through  the  pines,  that  he  heard  once  more 
the  organ  roll  through  the  columned  arches  of  Sainte 
Genevieve. 

The  voyagers  proceeded  to  explore  the  Bay  of  Fundy, 
called  by  De  Monts  La  Bay  Franchise.  Their  first 
notable  discovery  was  that  of  Annapolis  Harbor.  A 
small  inlet  invited  them.  They  entered,  when  sud- 
denly the  narrow  strait  dilated  into  a  broad  and  tran- 
quil basin,  compassed  with  sunny  hills,  wrapped  in 
woodland  verdure  and  alive  with  waterfalls.  Poutrin- 
court  was  delighted  with  the  scene.  He  would  fain 


ACADIA  OCCUPIED.  [1604 

remove  thither  from  France  with  his  family ;  and,  to 
this  end,  he  asked  a  grant  of  the  place  from  De  Monts, 
who  by  his  patent  had  nearly  half  the  continent  in  his 
gift.  The  grant  was  made,  and  Poutrincourt  called 
his  new  domain  Port  Royal. 

Thence  they  sailed  round  the  head  of  the  Bay  of 
Fundy,  coasted  its  northern  shore,  visited  and  named 
the  River  St.  John,  and  anchored  at  last  in  Passama- 
quoddy  Bay. 

The  untiring  Champlain,  exploring,  surveying,  sound- 
ing, had  made  charts  of  all  the  principal  roads  and  har- 
bors ; l  and  now,  pursuing  his  research,  he  entered  a 
river  which  he  calls  La  Riviere  des  Etechemins.  Near 
its  mouth  he  found  an  islet,  fenced  round  with  rocks 
and  shoals,  and  called  it  St.  Croix,  a  name  now  borne 
by  the  river  itself.  With  singular  infelicity  this  spot 
was  chosen  as  the  site  of  the  new  colony.  It  com- 
manded the  river,  and  was  well  fitted  for  defence: 
these  were  its  only  merits ;  yet  cannon  were  landed  on 
it,  a  battery  was  planted  on  a  detached  rock  at  one  end, 
and  a  fort  begun  on  a  rising  ground  at  the  other.2 

At  St.  Mary's  Bay  the  voyagers  had  found,  or 
thought  they  had  found,  traces  of  iron  and  silver;  and 
Champdore,  the  pilot,  was  now  sent  back  to  pursue  the 
search.  As  he  and  his  men  lay  at  anchor,  fishing,  not 
far  from  land,  one  of  them  heard  a  strange  sound,  like 
a  weak  human  voice ;  and,  looking  towards  the  shore, 
they  saw  a  small  black  object  in  motion,  apparently  a 

1  See  Champlain,  Voyages,  (1613,)  where  the  charts  are  published 
8  Lescarbot,  Hist,  de  la  Nouvdle  France,  (1612,)  II.  461 


1604.J  ST.   CKOIX. 

hat  waved  on  the  end  of  a  stick.  Rowing  in  haste  to 
the  spot,  they  found  the  priest  Aubry.  For  sixteen 
days  he  had  wandered  in  the  woods,  sustaining  life  on 
berries  and  wild  fruits ;  and  when,  haggard  and  ema- 
ciated, a  shadow  of  his  former  self,  Champdore  carried 
him  back  to  St.  Croix,  he  was  greeted  as  a  man  risen 
from  the  grave. 

In  1783  the  River  St.  Croix,  by  treaty,  was  made 
the  boundary  between  Maine  and  New  Brunswick. 
But  which  was  the  true  St.  Croix  ?  In  1798,  the 
point  was  settled.  De  Monts's  island  was  found ;  and, 
painfully  searching  among  the  sand,  the  sedge,  and  the 
matted  whortleberry  -  bushes,  the  commissioners  could 
trace  the  foundations  of  buildings  long  crumbled  into 
dust.1  For  the  wilderness  had  resumed  its  sway,  and 
silence  and  solitude  brooded  once  more  over  this  ancient 
resting-place  of  civilization. 

But  while  the  commissioner  bends  over  a  moss- 
grown  stone,  it  is  for  us  to  trace  back  the  dim  vista  of 

O  ' 

the  centuries  to  the  life,,  the  zeal,  the  energy,  of  which 
this  stone  is  the  poor  memorial.  The  rock-fenced  islet 
was  covered  with  cedars,  and  when  the  tide  was  out, 
the  shoals  around  were  dark  with  the  swash  of  sea- 
weed, where,  in  their  leisure  moments,  the  Frenchmen, 
we  are  told,  amused  themselves  with  detaching  the 
limpets  from  the  stones,  as  a  savory  addition  to  their 
fare.  But  there  was  little  leisure  at  St.  Croix.  Sol- 
diers, sailors,  artisans,  betook  themselves  to  their  task. 
Before  the  winter  closed  in,  the  northern  end  of  the 

1  Holmes,  Annals,  I.  122,  note  1. 


ACADIA  OCCUPIED.  [1604 

island  was  covered  with  buildings,  surrounding  a  square, 
where  a  solitary  tree  had  been  left  standing.  On  the 
right  was  a  spacious  house,  well  built,  and  surmounted 
by  one  of  those  enormous  roofs  characteristic  of  the 
time.  This  was  the  lodging  of  De  Monts.  Behind 
it,  and  near  the  water,  was  a  long,  covered  gallery,  for 
labor  or  amusement  in  foul  weather.  Champlain  and- 
the  Sieur  d'Orville,  aided  by  the  servants  of  the  latter, 
built  a  house  for  themselves  nearly  opposite  that  of 
De  Monts ;  and  the  remainder  of  the  square  was  occu- 
pied by  storehouses,  a  magazine,  workshops,  lodgings 
for  gentlemen  and  artisans,  and  a  barrack  for  the 
Swiss  soldiers,  the  whole  enclosed  with  a  palisade.  Ad- 
jacent there  was  an  attempt  at  a  garden,  under  the 
auspices  of  Champlain  ;  but  nothing  would  grow  in  the 
sandy  soil.  There  was  a  cemetery,  too,  and  a  small 
rustic  chapel  on  a  projecting  point  of  rock.  Such  was 
the  "  Habitation  of  St.  Croix,"  as  set  forth  by  Cham- 
plain  in  quaint  plans  and  drawings,  in  that  musty  little 
quarto  of  1613,  sold  by  Jean  Berjon,  at  the  sign  of  the 
Flying  Horse,  Rue  St.  Jean  de  Beauvais. 

Their  labors  over,  Poutrincourt  set  sail  for  France, 
proposing  to  return  and  take  possession  of  his  domain 
of  Port  Royal.  Seventy  -  nine  men  remained  at  St. 
Croix.  Here  was  De  Monts,  feudal  lord  of  half  a 
continent  in  virtue  of  two  potent  syllables,  "  Henri," 
scrawled  on  parchment  by  the  rugged  hand  of  the 
Bearnais.  Here  were  gentlemen  of  birth  and  breeding. 
Champlain,  D'Orville,  Beaumont,  Sourin,  La  Motte. 
Boulay,  and  Fougeray ;  here  was  the  pugnacious  cure 


1005.]  SUFFERINGS  OF  THE  FRENCH. 

and  his  fellow  -  priests,  with  the  Huguenot  ministers, 
objects  of  their  unceasing  ire.  The  rest  were  laborers, 
artisans,  and  soldiers,  all  in  the  pay  of  the  company, 
and  many  of  them  forced  into  its  service. 

Poutrincourt's  receding  sails  vanished  between  the 
water  and  the  sky.  The  exiles  were  left  to  their  solitude. 
From  the  Spanish  settlements  northward  to  the  pole,  no 
domestic  hearth,  no  lodgment  of  civilized  men  through 
all  the  borders  of  America,  save  one  weak  band  of 
Frenchmen,  clinging,  as  it  were  for  life,  to  the  fringe 
of  the  vast  and  savage  continent.  The  gray  and  sullen 
autumn  sank  upon  the  waste,  and  the  bleak  wind  howled 
down  the  St.  Croix,  and  swept  the  forest  bare.  Then 
the  whirling  snow  powdered  the  vast  sweep  of  desolate 
woodland,  and  shrouded  in  white  the  gloomy  green  of 
pine-clad  mountains.  Ice  in  sheets,  or  broken  masses, 
swept  by  their  island  with  the  ebbing  and  flowing 
tide,  often  debarring  all  access  to  the  main,  and  cutting 
off  their  supplies  of  wood  and  water.  A  belt  of 
cedars,  indeed,  hedged  the  island ;  but  De  Monts  had 
ordered  them  to  be  spared,  tha.t  the  north  wind  might 
spend  something  of  its  force  with  whistling  through 
their  shaggy  boughs.  Cider  and  wine  froze  in  the 
casks,  and  were  served  out  by  the  pound.  As  they 
crowded  round  their  half-fed  fires,  shivering  in  the  icy 
currents  that  pierced  their  rude  tenements,  many  sank 
into  a  desperate  apathy. 

Soon  the  scurvy  broke  out  and  raged  with  a  fearful 
malignity.     Of  the  seventy-nine,  thirty-five  died  before 
spring,  and  many  more  were  brought  to  the  verge  of 
20 


£30  ACADIA  OCCUPIED.  11605. 

death.  In  vain  they  sought  that  marvellous  plant 
which  had  relieved  the  followers  of  Carder.  Their 
little  cemetery  was  peopled  with  nearly  half  their  num- 
ber, and  the  rest,  bloated  and  disfigured  with  the  relent- 
less malady,  thought  more  of  escaping  from  their  woes 
than  of  building  up  a  Transatlantic  empire.  Yet 
among  them  there  was  one  at  least,  who,  amid  languor 
and  defection,  held  to  his  purpose  with  an  indomitable 
tenacity ;  and,  where  Champlain  was  present,  there  was 
no  room  for  despair. 

Spring  came  at  last,  and,  with  the  breaking -up  of 
the  ice,  the  melting  of  the  snow,  and  the  clamors  of  the 
returning  wild-fowl,  the  spirits  and  the  health  of  the 
woe-begone  company  began  to  revive.  But  to  misery 
succeeded  anxiety  and  suspense.  Where  was  the  suc- 
cor from  France  \  Were  they  abandoned  to  their  fate 
like  the  wretched'  exiles  of  La  Rochet  In  a  happy 
hour,  they  saw  an  approaching  sail.  Pontgrave,  with 
forty  men,  cast  anchor  before  their  island  on  the  six- 
teenth of  June ;  and  they  hailed  him  as  the  condemned 
hails  the  messenger  of  his  pardon. 

Weary  of  St,  Croix,  De  Monts  would  fain  seek  out 
a  more  auspicious  site,  whereon  to  rear  the  capital  of 
his  wilderness  dominion.  During  the  previous  Sep- 
tember, Champlain  had  ranged  the  westward  coast  in  a 
pinnace,  visited  and  named  the  cliffs  of  Mount  Desert, 
and  entered  the  mouth  of  the  River  Penobscot,  called 
by  him  the  Pemetigoet,  or  Pentegoet,  and  previously 
known  to  fur  -  traders  and  fishermen  as  the  Norem- 
bega,  a  name  which  it  shared  with  all  the  adjacent 


1605.]  EXPLORATIONS  OF  CHAMPLAIN. 

region.1  Now,  embarking  a  second  time  in  a  bark  of 
fifteen  tons,  with  De  Monts,  several  gentlemen,  twenty 
sailors,  and  an  Indian  with  his  squaw,  he  set  forth  on 
the  eighteenth  of  June  on  a  second  voyage  of  discov- 
ery. Along  the  strangely  indented  coasts  of  Maine, 
by  reef  and  surf  -  washed  island,  black  headland  and 
deep  -  embosomed  bay,  —  by  Mount  Desert  and  the 
Penobscot,  the  Kennebec,  the  Saco,  Portsmouth  Har- 
bor, and  the  Isles  of  Shoals, — landing  daily,  holding 
conference  with  Indians,  giving  and  receiving  gifts,  — 
the)  held  their  course,  like  some  adventurous  party  of 
pleasure,  along  those  now  familiar  shores.  Champlain, 
who,  we  are  told,  "  delighted  marvellously  in  these 
enterprises,"  busied  himself,  after  his  wont,  with  taking 
observations,  sketching,  making  charts,  and  exploring 
with  an  insatiable  avidity  the  wonders  of  the  land  and 
the  sea.  Of  the  latter,  the  horseshoe  -  crab  awakened 
his  especial  curiosity,  and  he  describes  it  at  length,  with 
an  amusing  accuracy.  With  equal  truth  he  paints  the 
Indians,  whose  round,  mat-covered  lodges  they  could 
see  at  times  thickly  strewn  along  the  shores,  and  who, 
from  bays,  inlets,  and  sheltering  islands,  came  out  to 
meet  them  in  canoes  of  bark  or  wood.  They  were  an 
agricultural  race.  Patches  of  corn,  beans,  tobacco, 
squashes,  and  esculent  roots  lay  near  all  their  wigwams. 

1  The  earliest  maps  and  narratives  indicate  a  city,  also  called  Norera- 
bega,  on  the  banks  of  the  Penobscot.  The  pilot,  Jean  Alphonse,  of  Xuin- 
tonge,  says  that  this  fabulous  city  is  fifteen  or  twenty  leagues  from  tho 
sea,  and  that  its  inhabitants  are  of  small  stature  and  dark  complexion. 
As  late  as  IfiU?  the  fable  was  repeated  in  the  Histoire  Universelle  de*  Indet 
Occideittales. 


ACADIA  OCCUPIED.  [1605 

Clearly,  they  were  in  greater  number  than  when,  fifteen 
years  afterwards,  the  Puritans  made  their  lodgment  at 
Plymouth,  since,  happily  for  the  latter,  a  pestilence  had 
then  more  than  decimated  this  fierce  population  of  the 
woods. 

Passing  the  Merrimac,  the  voyagers  named  it  La 
Riviere  du  Gas  (du  Guast),  in  honor  of  De  Monts. 
^rom  Cape  Ann,  which  they  called  St.  Louis,  they 
crossed  to  Cape  Cod,  and  named  it  Cap  Blanc.1 
Thence  they  proceeded  to  an  inlet,  apparently  Nausett 
Harbor,  which,  perplexed  by  its  shoals  and  sand-bars, 
they  called  Malabar.2  Here  their  prosperity  deserted 
them.  A  party  of  sailors  went  behind  the  sand-banks 
to  find  fresh  water  at  a  spring,  when  an  Indian  snatched 
a  kettle  from  one  of  them,  and  its  owner,  pursuing,  fell, 
pierced  with  arrows  by  the  robber's  comrades.  The 
French  in  the  vessel  opened  fire.  Champlain's  arque- 
buse  burst  and  wellnigh  killed  him,  while  the  Indians, 
swift  as  deer,  quickly  gained  the  woods.  Several  of 
the  tribe  chanced  to  be  on  board  the  vessel,  but  Hung 
themselves  with  such  alacrity  into  the  water  that  only 
one  was  caught.  He  was  bound  hand  and  foot,  but 
was  soon  after  humanely  set  at  .liberty. 

Provision  failing,  they  steered  once  more  for  St. 
Croix,  and  on  the  third  of  August  reached  that  ill- 
starred  island.  De  Monts  had  found  no  spot  to  his 

1  In  the  Cosmoyraphie  of  Thevet,  (1575,)  Cape  Cod  is  called  the  Prom- 
ontory of  Angouleme. 

2  The  cape  since  called  Malabar  is  laid  down  on  Champlain's  map  as 
Cap  Baturier.     Cape  Cod  had  been  visited  and  named  by  Gosnold  in 
1602. 


1605.]  PORT  ROYAL. 

liking.  He  bethought  him  of  that  inland  harbor  of 
Port  Royal  —  now  Annapolis  Basin — which  he  had 
granted  to  Poutrincourt,  and  thither  he  resolved  to  re- 
move. Stores,  utensils,  even  portions  of  the  buildings, 
were  placed  on  board  the  vessels,  carried  across  the  Bay 
of  Fundy,  and  landed  at  the  chosen  spot.  It  was  on 
the  north  side  of  the  basin  at  the  mouth  of  the  River 
Annapolis,  called  by  the  French  the  Equille,  and,  after- 
wards, the  Dauphin.  The  axe-men  began  their  task ; 
the  dense  forest  was  cleared  away,  and  the  buildings  of 
the  infant  colony  soon  rose  in  its  place. 

But  while  De  Monts  and  his  company  were  strug- 
gling against  despair  at  St.  Croix,  the  enemies  of  his 
monopoly  were  busy  at  Paris ;  and,  by  a  ship  from 
France,  he  was  warned  that  prompt  measures  were 
needful  to  thwart  their  machinations.  Therefore  he 
set  sail,  leaving  Pontgrave  to  command  at  Port  Royal ; 
while  Champlain,  Champdore,  and  others,  undaunted 
by  the  past,  volunteered  for  a  second  winter  in  the  wil- 
derness. And  here  we  leave  them,  to  follow  their  chief 
on  his  forlorn  errand. 
20* 


CHAPTER  IV. 

1605  —  1607. 
LESCARBOT    AND    CHAMPLAIN. 

DE  MONTS  AT  PARIS. — MAIIC  LESCARBOT.  —  DISASTER.  —  EMBARKATION. 
—  ARRIVAL.  —  DISAPPOINTMENT.  —  WINTER  LIFE  AT  PORT  HOYAL.  — 
L'ORDRE  DE  BON-TEMPS.  —  HOPES  BLIGHTED. 

EVIL  reports  of  a  churlish  wilderness,  a  pitiless  cli- 
mate, disease,  misery,  and  death,  had  heralded  the 
arrival  of  De  Monts.  The  outlay  had  been  great,  the 
returns  small ;  and  when  he  reached  Paris  he  found 
his  friends  cold,  his  enemies  active  and  keen.  Poutrin- 
court,  however,  was  still  full  of  zeal ;  and,  though  his 
private  affairs  urgently  called  for  his  presence  in  France, 
he  resolved,  at  no  small  sacrifice,  to  go  in  person  to 
Acadia.  He  had,  moreover,  a  friend  who  proved  an 
invaluable  ally.  This  was  Marc  Lescarbot,  "  avocat  en 
Parlement"  He  had  been  roughly  handled  by  for- 
tune, and  was  in  the  mood  for  such  a  venture.  Unlike 
De  Monts,  Poutrincourt,  Champlain,  and  others  of  his 
associates,  he  was  not  within  the  pale  of  the  noblesse, 
belonging  to  the  class  of  '•'•gens  de  robe"  which  stood 
at  the  head  of  the  bourgeoisie,  dnd  which,  in  its  higher 
grades,  formed  within  itself  a  virtual  nobility.  Les- 
carbot was  no  common  man.  Not  that  his  abundant 
gift  of  verse-making  was  likely  to  avail  much  in  the 
woods  of  New  France,  nor  yet  his  classic  lore,  dashed 


1605. J  MARC  LESCARBOT. 

with  a  little  harmless  pedantry,  born  not  of  the  man, 
but  of  the  times.  But  his  zeal,  his  good  sense,  the 
vigor  of  his  understanding,  and  the  breadth  of  his 
views,  were  as  conspicuous  as  his  quick  wit  and  his 
lively  fancy.  One  of  the  best,  as  well  as  earliest, 
records  of  the  early  settlement  of  North  America  is 
due  to  his  pen  ;  and  it  has  been  said  with  truth,  that  he 
was  no  less  able  to  build  up  a  colony  than  to  write  its 
historv. 

d 

De  Monts  and  Poutrincourt  bestirred  themselves  to 
find  a  priest,  inasmuch  as  the  foes  of  the  enterprise  had 
been  loud  in  lamentations  that  the  spiritual  welfare  of 
the  Indians  had  been  slighted.  But  it  was  Holy  Week. 
All  the  priests  were,  or  professed  to  be,  busy  with  exer- 
cises and  confessions,  and  not  one  could  be  found  to 
undertake  the  mission  of  Acadia.  They  were  more 
successful  in  engaging  mechanics  and  laborers  for  the 
voyage.  These  were  paid  a  portion  of  their  wages  in 
advance,  and  were  sent  in  a  body  to  Rochelle,  consigned 
to  two  merchants  of  that  port,  members  of  the  com- 
pany. De  Monts  and  Poutrincourt  went  thither  by 
post.  Lescarbot  soon  followed,  and  no  sooner  reached 
Rochelle  than  he  penned  and  printed  his  Adieu  a  la 
France,  a  poem  which  gained  for  him  some  credit. 

More  serious  matters  awaited  him,  however,  than 
this  dalliance  with  the  Muse.  Rochelle  was  the  centre 
and  citadel  of  Calvinism,  a  town  of  austere  and  grim 
aspect,  divided,  like  Cisatlantic  communities  of  later 
growth,  betwixt  trade  and  religion,  and,  in  the  interest 
of  both,  exacting  a  deportment  of  discreet  and  well 


23(5  tESCARBOT  AND   CHAMPLAIN.  |1G06. 

ordered  sobriety.  "  One  must  walk  a  strait  path  here," 
says  Lescarbot,  "  unless  he  would  hear  from  the  mayor 
or  the  ministers."  But  the  mechanics  sent  from  Paris, 
flush  of  money,  and  lodged  together  in  the  quarter  of 
St.  Nicholas,  made  day  and  night  hideous  with  riot, 
and  their  employers  found  not  a  few  of  them  in  the 
hands  of  the  police.  Their  ship,  bearing  the  inaus- 
picious name  of  the  Jonas',  lay  anchored  in  the  stream, 
her  cargo  on  board,  when  a  sudden  gale  blew  her  adrift. 
She  struck  on  a  pier,  then  grounded  on  the  flats,  bilged, 
careened,  and  settled  in  the  mud.  Her  captain,  who 
was  ashore,  with  Poutrincourt,  Lescarbot,  and  others, 
hastened  aboard,  and  the  pumps  were  set  in  motion ; 
while  all  Rochelle,  we  are  told,  came  to  gaze  from  the 
ramparts,  with  faces  of  condolence,  but  at  heart  well 
pleased  with  the  disaster.  The  ship  and  her  cargo  were 
saved,  but  she  must  be  emptied,  repaired,  and  reladen. 
Thus  a  month  was  lost ;  at  length,  on  the  thirteenth  of 
May,  1606,  the  disorderly  crew  were  all  brought  on 
board,  and  the  Jonas  put  to  sea.  Poutrincourt  and 
Lescarbot  had  charge  of  the  expedition,  De  Monts 
remaining  in  France. 

Off'  the  Azores,  they  spoke  a  supposed  pirate.  For 
the  rest,  they  beguiled  the  voyage  by  harpooning  por- 
poises, dancing  on  deck  in  calm  weather,  and  fish- 
ing for  cod  on  the  Grand  Bank.  They  were  two 
months  on  their  way,  and  when,  fevered  with  eagerness 
to  reach  land,  they  listened  hourly  for  the  welcome 
cry,  they  were  involved  in  impenetrable  fogs.  Sud- 
denly the  mists  parted,  the  sunlight  shone  forth,  and 


1606.J  PORT  ROYAL. 

streamed  fair  and  bright  over  the  fresh  hills  and  for- 
ests of  the  New  World,  in  near  view  before  them.  But 
the  black  rocks  lay  between,  lashed  by  the  snow-white 
breakers.  "  Thus,"  writes  Lescarbot,-  "  doth  a  man 
sometimes  seek  the  land  as  one  doth  his  beloved,  who 
sometimes  repulseth  her  sweetheart  very  rudely.  Fi- 
nally, upon  Saturday  the  fifteenth  of  July,  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  sky  began  to  salute  us,  as 
it  were,  with  cannon  -  shots,  shedding  tears,  as  being 
sorry  to  have  kept  us  so  long  in  pain ;  .  .  .  .  but, 
whilst  we  followed  on  our  course,  there  came  from  the 
land  odors  incomparable  for  sweetness,  brought  with  a 
warm  wind  so  abundantly  that  all  the  orient  parts  could 
not  produce  greater  abundance.  We  did  stretch  out 
our  hands  as  it  were  to  take  them,  so  palpable  were 
they,  which  I  have  admired  a  thousand  times  since."  * 

It  was  noon  on  the  twenty-seventh  when  the  Jonas 
passed  the  rocky  gate-way  of  Port  Royal  Basin,  and 
Lescarbot  gazed  with  delight  and  wonder  on  the  calm 
expanse  of  sunny  waters,  with  its  amphitheatre  of 
woody  hills,  wherein  he  saw  the  future  asylum  of  dis- 
tressed merit  and  impoverished  industry.  Slowly,  be- 
fore a  favoring  breeze,  they  held  their  course  towards 
the  head  of  the  harbor,  which  narrowed  as  they  ad- 
vanced ;  but  all  was  solitude ;  no  moving  sail,  no 
sign  of  human  presence.  At  length,  on  their  left, 
nestling  in  deep  forests,  they  saw  the  wooden  walls 
and  roofs  of  the  infant  colony.  Then  appeared  a 
birch  canoe,  cautiously  coming  towards  them,  guided  by 

1  The  translation  is  that  of  Purchas,  Nova  Francia,  c.  XII. 


£38  LESCARBOT  AND  CHAMPLAIN.  11606. 

an  old  Indian.  Then  a  Frenchman,  arquebuse  in  hand, 
came  down  to  the  shore ;  and  then,  from  the  wooden 
bastion,  sprang  the  smoke  of  a  saluting  shot.  The 
ship  replied ;  the  trumpets  lent  their  voices  to  the  din, 
and  the  forests  and  the  hills  gave  back  unwonted  echoes. 
The  voyagers  landed,  and  found  the  colony  of  Port 
Royal  dwindled  to  two  solitary  Frenchmen. 

These  soon  told  their  story.  The  preceding  winter 
had  been  one  of  much  suffering,  though  by  no  means  the 
counterpart  of  the  woful  experience  of  St.  Croix.  But 
when  the  spring  had  passed,  the  summer  far  advanced, 
and  still  no  tidings  of  De  Monts  had  come,  Pontgrave 
grew  deeply  anxious.  To  maintain  themselves  with- 
out supplies  and  succor  was  impossible.  He  caused  two 
small  vessels  to  be  built,  and  set  forth  in  search  of  some 
of  the  French  vessels  on  the  fishing-stations.  This  was 
but  twelve  days  before  the  arrival  of  the  ship  Jonas. 
Two  men  had  bravely  offered  themselves  to  stay  behind 
and  guard  the  buildings,  guns,  and  munitions;  and  an 
old  Indian  chief,  named  Membertou,  a  fast  friend  of 
the  French,  and  still,  we  are  told,  a  redoubted  warrior, 
though  reputed  to  number  more  than  a  hundred  years, 
proved  a  stanch  ally.  When  the  ship  approached, 
the  two  guardians  were  at  dinner  in  their  room  at  the 
fort.  Membertou,  always  on  the  watch,  saw  the  ad- 
vancing sail,  and,  shouting  from  the  gate,  roused  them 
from  their  repast.  In  doubt  who  the  new-comers 
might  be,  one  ran  to  the  shore  with  his  gun,  while  the 
other  repaired  to  the  platform  where  four  cannon  were 
mounted,  in  the  valorous  resolve  to  show  fight  should 


1606.]  REUNION. 

the  strangers  prove  to  be  enemies.  Happily  this  redun- 
dancy of  mettle  proved  needless.  He  saw  the  white 
flag  fluttering  at  the  mast-head,  and  joyfully  fired  his 
pieces  as  a  salute. 

The  voyagers  landed  and  eagerly,  surveyed  their  new 
home.  Some  wandered  through  the  buildings;  some 
visited  the  cluster  of  Indian  wigwams  hard  by ;  some 
roamed  in  the  forest  and  over  the  meadows  that  bor- 
dered, the  neighboring  river.  The  deserted  fort  now 
swarmed  with  life;  and  the  better  to  celebrate  their 
prosperous  arrival,  Poutrincourt  placed  a  hogshead  of 
wine  in  the  court-yard  at  the  discretion  of  his  followers, 
whose  hilarity,  in  consequence,  became  exuberant.  Nor 
was  it  diminished  when  Pontgrave's  vessels  were  seen 
entering  the  harbor.  A  boat  sent  by  Poutrincourt, 
more  than  a  week  before,  to  explore  the  coasts,  had  met 
them  among  the  adjacent  islands,  and  they  had  joyfully 
returned  to  Port  Royal. 

Pontgrave,  however,  soon  sailed  for  France  in  the 
Jonas,  hoping  on  his  way  to  seize  certain  contraband 
fur-traders,  reported  to  be  at  Canseau  and  Cape  Breton. 
Poutrincourt  and  Champlain  set  forth  on  a  voyage  of 
discovery,  in  an  ill-built  vessel  of  eighteen  tons,  while 
Lescarbot  remained  in  charge  of  Port  Royal.  They 
had  little  for  their  pains  but  danger,  hardship,  and 
mishap.  The  autumn  gales  cut  short  their  exploration  ; 
and,  after  advancing  as  far  as  the  neighborhood  of 
Hyannis,  on  the  southeast  coast  of  Massachusetts,  they 
turned  back  somewhat  disgusted  with  their  errand. 
Along  the  eastern  verge  of  Cape  Cod,  they  found  the 


24*0  LESCARBOT  AND  CHAMPLAIN.  [1606. 

shore  thickly  studded  with  the  wigwams  of  a  race  who 
were  less  hunters,  than  tillers  of  the  soil.  At  Chat- 
ham Harbor  —  called  by  them  Port  Fortune  —  five  of 
the  company,  who,  contrary,  to  orders,  had  remained  on 
shore  all  night,  were  assailed,  as  they  slept  around  their 
fire,  by  a  shower  of  arrows  from  four  hundred  Indians. 
Two  were  killed  outright,  while  the  survivors  fled  for 
their  boat,  bristled  like  porcupines,  —  a  scene  oddly  por- 
trayed by  the  untutored  pencil  of  Champlain.  He, 
with  Poutrincourt  and  eight  men,  hearing  the  war- 
whoops  and  the  cries  for  aid,  sprang  up  from  sleep, 
snatched  their  weapons,  pulled  ashore  in  their  shirts, 
and  charged  the  yelling  multitude,  who  fled  before  their 
spectral  assailants,  and  vanished  in  the  woods.  "  Thus," 
observes  Lescarbot,  "  did  thirty-five  thousand  Midianites 
fly  before  Gideon  and  his  three  hundred."  The  French 
buried  their  dead  comrades ;  but,  as  they  chanted  their 
funeral  hymn,  the  Indians,  at  a  safe  distance  on  a  neigh- 
boring hill,  were  dancing  in  glee  and  triumph,  and 
mocking  them  with  unseemly  gestures  ;  and  no  sooner 
had  the  party  reembarked,  than  they  dug  up  the  dead 
bodies,  burnt  them,  and  arrayed  themselves  in  their 
shirts.  Little  pleased  with  the  country  or  its  inhabi- 
tants, the  voyagers  turned  their  prow  towards  Port 
Royal.  Near  Mount  Desert,  on  a  stormy  night,  their 
rudder  broke,  and  .they  had  a  hair-breadth  escape  from 
destruction.  The  chief  object  of  their  voyage,  that  of 
discovering  a  site  for  their  colony  under  a  more  south- 
ern sky,  had  failed.  Pontgrave's  son  had  his  hand 
blown  off  by  the  bursting  of  his  gun ;  several  of  their 


AVOCATIONS  OF  LESCARBOT.  #4,] 

number  had  been  killed ;  others  were  sick  or  wounded  ; 
and  thus,  on  the  fourteenth  of  November,  with  some- 
what downcast  visages,  they  guided  their  helpless  ves- 
sel with  a  pair  of  oars  to  the  landing  at  Port  Royal. 

"  I  will  not,"  says  Lescarbot,  "  compare  their  perils 
to  those  of  Ulysses,  nor  yet  of  .-Eneas,  lest  thereby  I 
should  sully  our  holy  enterprise  with  things  impure." 

He  and  his  followers  had  been  expecting  them  with 
great  anxiety.  His  alert  and  buoyant  spirit  had  con- 
ceived a  plan  for  enlivening  the  courage  of  the  com- 
pany, a  little  dashed  of  late  with  misgivings  and  fore- 
bodings. Accordingly,  as  Poutrincourt,  Champlain, 
and  their  weather-beaten  crew  approached  the  wooden 
gate-way  of  Port  Royal,  Neptune  issued  forth,  followed 
by  his  tritons,  who  greeted  the  voyagers  in  good  French 
verse,  written  in  all  haste  for  the  occasion  by  Lescarbot. 
And,  as  they  entered,  they  beheld,  blazoned  over  the 
arch,  the  arms  of  France,  circled  with  laurels,  and 
flanked  by  the  scutcheons  of  De  Monts  and  Poutrin- 
court.1 

The  ingenious  author  of  these  devices  had  busied 
himself,  during  the  absence  of  his  associates,  in  more 
serious  labors  for  the  welfare  of  the  colony.  He  ex- 
plored the  low  borders  of  the  River  Equille,  or  Annap- 
olis. Here,  in  the  solitude,  he  saw  great  meadows, 
where  the  moose,  with  their  young,  were  grazing,  and 
where  at  times  the  rank  grass  was  beaten  to  a  pulp 
by  the  trampling  of  their  hoofs.  He  burned  the 

1  Lescarbot,  Muses  de  la  Nouvetle  France,  where  the  programme  is  given, 
and  the  speeches  of  Neptune  and  the  tritons  in  full.  . 

21 


LESCARBOT  AND   CHAMPLAIN.  [IGOt,. 

grass,  and  sowed  crops  of  wheat,  rye,  and  barley  in  its 
stead.  He  made  gardens,  near  the  fort,  where,  in 
his  zeal,  he  plied  the  hoe  with  his  own  hands,  late  into 
the  moonlight  evenings.  The  priests,  of  whom  at  the 
outset  there  had  been  no  lack,  had  all  succumbed  to  the 
scurvy  at  St.  Croix ;  and  Lescarbot,  so  far  as  a  layman 
might,  essayed  to  supply  their  place,  reading  on  Sun- 
days from  the  Scriptures,  and  adding  expositions  of  his 
own  after  a  fashion  which  may  cast  a  shade  of  doubt 
on  the  rigor  of  his  catholicity.  Of  an  evening,  when 
not  engrossed  with  his  garden,  he  was  reading  or  writ- 
ing in  his  room,  perhaps  preparing  the  material  of  that 
History  of  New  France  in  which,  despite  the  versa- 
tility of  his  busy  brain,  his  excellent  good  sense  and 
true  capacity  are  clearly  made  manifest. 

Now,  however,  when  the  whole  company  were  re- 
assembled, Lescarbot  found  associates  more  congenial 
than  the  rude  soldiers,  mechanics,  and  laborers  who 
gathered  at  night  around  the  blazing  logs  in  their  rude 
hall.  Port  Royal  was  a  quadrangle  of  wooden  build- 
ings, enclosing  a  spacious  court.  At  the  southeast 
corner  was  the  arched  gate-way,  whence  a  path,  a  few 
paces  in  length,  led  to  the  water.  It  was  flanked  by 
a  sort  of  bastion  of  palisades,  while  at  the  southwest 
corner  was  another  bastion,  on  which  four  cannon  were 
mounted.  On  the  east  side  of  the  quadrangle  was  a 
range  of  magazines  and  storehouses ;  on  the  west  were 
quarters  for  the  men ;  on  the  north,  a  dining-hall  and 
lodgings  for  the  principal  persons  of  the  company ; 
while  on  the  south,  or  water  side,  were  the  kitchen,  the 


1606.J  "L'ORDRE   DE  BON-TEMPS." 

forge,  and  the  oven.  Except  the  garden  -  patches  and 
the  cemetery,  the  adjacent  ground  was  thickly  studded 
with  the  stumps  of  the  newly  felled  trees. 

Most  bountiful  provision  had  been  made  for  the  tem- 
poral wants  of  the  colonists,  and  Lescarbot  is  profuse  in 
praise  of  the  liberality  of  De  Monts  and  two  merchants 
of  Rochelle,  who  had  freighted  the  ship  Jonas.  Of  wine, 
in  particular,  the  supply  was  so  generous  that  every 
man  in  Port  Royal  was  served  with  three  pints  daily. 

The  principal  persons  of  the  colony  sat,  fifteen  in 
number,  at  Poutrincourt's  table,  which,  by  an  ingenious 
device  of  Champlain,  was  always  well  furnished.  He 
formed  the  fifteen  into  a  new  order,  christened  "  L'Ordre 
de  Bon -Temps."  Each  was  Grand  Master  in  turn, 
holding  office  for  one  day.  It  was  his  function  to  cater 
for  the  company ;  and,  as  it  became  a  point  of  honor  to 
fill  the  post  with  credit,  the  prospective  Grand  Master 
was  usually  busy,  for  several  days  before  coming  to  his 
dignity,  in  hunting,  fishing,  or  bartering  provisions  with 
the  Indians.  Thus  did  Poutrincourt's  table  groan 
beneath  all  the  luxuries  of  the  winter  forest:  flesh  of 
moose,  caribou,  and  deer,  beaver,  otter,  and  hare,  bears, 
and  wild-cats  ;  with  ducks,  geese,  grouse,  and  plover  ; 
sturgeon,  too,  and  trout,  and  fish  innumerable,  speared 
through  the  ice  of  the  Equille,  or  drawn  from  the 
depths  of  the  neighboring  sea.  "  And,"  says  Les- 
carbot, in  closing  his  bill  of  fare,  "whatever  our  gour- 
mands at  home  may  think,  we  found  as  good  cheer  at 
Port  Royal  as  they  at  their  Rue  aux  Ours1  in  Paris, 

1  A  short  street  between  Rue  St  Martin  and  Rue  St.  Denis,  once  re- 
nowned for  its  restaurants. 


244  LESCARBOT   AND    CHAMPLAIN.  [1606. 

and  that,  too,  at  a  cheaper  rate."  As  for  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  manifold  provision,  for  that  too  was  the 
Grand  Master  answerable ;  since,  during  his  day  of 
office,  he  was  autocrat  of  the  kitchen. 

Nor  did  this    bounteous  repast    lack  a  solemn  and 
befitting  ceremonial.     When  the  hour  had  struck,  — 

O  * 

after  the  manner  of  our  fathers  they  dined  at  noon,  — 
the  Grand  Master  entered  the  hall,  a  napkin  on  his 
shoulder,  his  staff  of  office  in  his  hand,  and  the  collar 
of  the  order  —  of  which  the  chronicler  fails  not  to 
commemorate  the  costliness  —  about  his  neck.  The 
brotherhood  followed,  each  bearing  a  dish.  The  in- 
vited guests  were  Indian  chiefs,  of  whom  old  Member- 
tou  was  daily  present,  seated  at  table  with  the  French, 
who  took  pleasure  in  this  red -skin  companionship. 
Those  of  humbler  degree,  warriors,  squaws,  and  chil- 
dren, sat  on  the  floor  or  crouched  together  in  the  cor- 
ners of  the  hall,  eagerly  waiting  their  portion  of  biscuit 
or  of  bread,  a  novel  and  much  coveted  luxury.  Treated 
always  with  kindness,  they  became  fond  of  the  French, 
who  often  followed  them  on  their  moose  -  hunts,  and 
shared  their  winter  bivouac. 

At  their  evening  meal  there  was  less  of  form  and 
circumstance ;  and,  when  the  winter  night  closed  in, 
when  the  flame  crackled  and  the  sparks  streamed  up 
the  wide-throated  chimney,  when  the  founders  of  New 
France  and  their  tawny  allies  were  gathered  around  the 
blaze,  then  did  the  Grand  Master  resign  the  collar  and 
the  staff  to  the  successor  of  his  honors,  and,  with  jovial 
courtesy,  pledge  him  in  a  cup  of  wine.1  Thus  did 
1  Lescarbot,  (1612,)  11/581. 


1607.]  RETURN  OF  SPRING. 

these  ingenious  Frenchmen  beguile  the  winter  of  their 
exile. 

It  was  a  winter  unusually  benignant.  Until  Jan- 
uary, they  wore  no  warmer  garment  than  their  doub- 
lets. They  made  hunting  and  fishing  parties,  in  which 
the  Indians,  whose  lodges  were  always  to  be  seen  under 
the  friendly  shelter  of  the  buildings,  failed  not  to  bear 
a  part.  "  I  remember,"  says  Lescarbot,  "  that  on  the 
fourteenth  of  January,  of  a  Sunday  afternoon,  we 
amused  ourselves  with  singing  and  music  on  the  River 
Equille,  and  that  in  the  same  month  we  went  to  see 
the  wheat  -  fields  two  leagues  from  the  fort,  and  dined 
merrily  in  the  sunshine." 

Good  spirits  and  good  cheer  saved  them  in  great 
measure  from  the  scurvy,  and  though,  towards  the  end 
of  winter,  severe  cold  set  in,  yet  only  four  men  died. 
The  snow  thawed  at  last,  and  as  patches  of  the  black 
and  oozy  soil  began  to  appear,  they  saw  the  grain  of 
their  last  autumn's  sowing  already  piercing  the  mould. 
The  forced  inaction  of  the  winter  was  over.  The  car- 
penters built  a  water-mill ;  others  enclosed  fields  and 
laid  out  gardens;  others,  again,  with  scoop-nets  and 
baskets,  caught  the  herrings  and  alewives  as  they  ran 
up  the  innumerable  rivulets.  The  leaders  of  the  colony 
set  a  contagious  example  of  activity.  Poutrincourt  for- 
got the  prejudices  of  his  noble  birth,  and  went  himself 
into  the  woods  to  gather  turpentine  from  the  pines,  which 
he  converted  into  tar  by  a  process  of  his  own  invention ; 
while  Lescarbot,  eager  to  test  the  qualities  of  the  soil, 
was  again,  hoe  in  hand,  at  work  all  day  in  his  garden. 
21* 


LESCARBOT  AND  CHAMPLAIN.  (1607. 

All  seemed  full  of  promise  ;  but  alas  for  the  bright 
hope  that  kindled  the  manly  heart  of  Champlain  and 
the  earnest  spirit  of  the  vivacious  advocate !  A  sudden 
blight  fell  on  them,  and  their  rising  prosperity  withered 
to  the  ground.  On  a  morning,  late  in  spring,  as  the 
French  were  at  breakfast,  the  ever  watchful  Membertou 
came  in  with  news  of  an  approaching  sail.  They  has- 
tened to  the  shore ;  but  the  vision  of  the  centenarian 
sagamore  put  them  all  to  shame.  They  could  see  noth- 
ing. At  length  their  doubts  were  resolved.  In  full  view 
a  small  vessel  stood  on  towards  them,  and  anchored 
before  the  fort.  She  was  commanded  by  one  Chevalier, 
a  young  man  from  St.  Malo,  and  was  freighted  with  dis- 
astrous tidings.  De  Monts's  monopoly  was  rescinded. 
The  life  of  the  enterprise  was  stopped,  and  the  estab- 
lishment at  Port  Royal  could  no  longer  be  supported  ; 
for  its  expense  was  great,  the  body  of  the  colony  being 
laborers  in  the  pay  of  the  company.  Nor  was  the 
annulling  of  the  patent  the  full  extent  of  the  disaster ; 
for,  during  the  last  summer,  the  Dutch  had  found  their 
way  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  carried  away  a  rich  har- 
vest of  furs,  while  other  interloping  traders  had  plied 
a  busy  traffic  along  the  coasts,  and,  in  the  excess  of 
their  avidity,  dug  up  the  bodies  of  buried.  Indians  to 
rob  them  of  their  funeral  robes. 

It  was  to  the  merchants  and  fishermen  of  the  Nor- 
man, Breton,  and  Biscayan  ports,  exasperated  at  their 
exclusion  from  a  lucrative  trade,  and  at  the  confiscations 
which  had  sometimes  followed  their  attempts  to  engage 
in  it,  that  this  sudden  blow  was  due.  Money  had  been 


1607.]  PORT  ROYAL  ABANDONED. 

used  freely  at  court,  and  the  monopoly,  unjustly  granted, 
had  been  more  unjustly  withdrawn.  De  Monts  and  his 
company,  who  had  spent  a  hundred  thousand  livres, 
were  allowed  six  thousand  in  requital,  to  be  collected 
from  the  fur-traders  in  the  form  of  a  tax. 

Chevalier,  captain  of  the  ill-omened  bark,  was  enter- 
tained with  a  hospitality  little  deserved,  since,  having 
been  entrusted  with  sundry  hams,  fruits,  spices,  sweet- 
meats, jellies,  and  other  dainties,  sent  by  the  generous 
De  Monts  to  his  friends  of  New  France,  he  with  his 
crew  had  devoured  them  on  the  voyage,  alleging,  in 
justification,  that,  in  their  belief,  the  inmates  of  Port 
Royal  would  all  be  dead  before  their  arrival. 

Choice  there  was  none,  and  Port  Royal  must  be 
abandoned.  Built  on  a  false  basis,  sustained  only  by  the 
fleeting  favor  of  a  government,  the  generous  enterprise 
had  come  to  nought.  Yet  Poutrincourt,  who  in  virtue 
of  his  grant  from  De  Monts  owned  the  locality,  bravely 
resolved,  that,  come  what  might,  he  would  see  the 
adventure  to  an  end,  even  should  it  involve  emigration 
with  his  family  to  the  wilderness.  Meanwhile,  he  began 
the  dreary  task  of  abandonment,  sending  boat-loads  of 
men  and  stores  to  Causeau,  where  lay  the  ship  Jonas, 
eking  out  her  diminished  profits  by  fishing  for  cod. 

Membertou  was  full  of  grief  at  the  departure  of  his 
friends.  He  had  built  a  palisaded  village  not  far  from 
Port  Royal,  and  here  were  mustered  some  four  hundred 
of  his  warriors  for  a  foray  into  the  country  of  the  Ar- 
mouchiquois,  dwellers  along  the  coasts  of  Massachusetts, 
New  Hampshire,- and  Western  Maine.  In  behalf  of 


LESCARBOT   AND   CHAMPLAIN.  [1G07 

this  martial  concourse  he  had  proved  himself  a  sturdy 
beggar,  pursuing  Poutrincourt  with  daily  petitions,  now 
for  a  bushel  of  beans,  now  for  a  basket  of  bread,  and 
now  for  a  barrel  of  wine  to  regale  his  greasy  crew. 
Membertou's  long  life  had  not  been  one  of  repose.  In 
deeds  of  blood  and  treachery  he  had  no  rival  in  the  Aca- 
dian forest ;  and,  as  his  old  age  was  beset  with  enemies, 
his  alliance  with  the  French  had  a  foundation  of  policy 
no  less  than  of  affection.  For  the  rest,  in  right  of  his 
quality  of  Sagamore  he  claimed  perfect  equality  both 
with  Poutrincourt  and  with  the  King,  laying  his  shriv- 
elled forefingers  side  by  side  in  token  of  friendship  be- 
tween peers.  Calumny  did  not  spare  'him  ;  and  a  rival 
chief  intimated  to  the  French,  that,  under  cover  of  a  war 
with  the  Armouchiquois,  the  crafty  veteran  meant  to 
seize  and  plunder  Port  Royal.  Precautions,  therefore, 
were  taken ;  but  they  were  'seemingly  needless ;  for, 
their  feasts  and  dances  over,  the  warriors  launched  their 
birchen  flotilla  and  set  forth.  After  an  absence  of  six 
weeks  they  reappeared  with  howls  of  victory,  and  their 
exploits  were  commemorated  in  French  verse  by  the 
muse  of  the  indefatigable  Lescarbot.1 

With  a  heavy  heart  the  latter  bade  farewell  to  the 
dwellings,  the  cornfields,  the  gardens,  and  all  the  dawn- 
ing prosperity  of  Port  Royal,  and  sailed  for  Canseau  in 
a  small  vessel  on  the  thirtieth  of  July.  Poutrincourt 
and  Champlain  remained  behind,  for  the  former  was 
resolved  to  learn  before  his  departure  the  results  of  his 
agricultural  labors.  Reaching  a  harbor  on  the  south- 

1  See  Muses  de  la  Nouvdle  France. 


1607.]  CHARACTER   OP  THE   ENTERPRISE. 

ern  coast  of  Nova  Scotia,  six  leagues  west  of  Canseau, 
Lescarbot  found  a  fishing-vessel  commanded  and  owned 
by  an  old  Basque,  named  Savalet,  who  for  forty-two 
successive  years  had  carried  to  France  his  annual  cargo 
of  codfish.  He  was  in  great  glee  at  the  success  of  his 
present  venture,  reckoning  his  profits  at  ten  thousand 
francs.  The  Indians,  however,  annoyed  him  beyond 
measure,  boarding  him  from  their  canoes  as  his  fishing- 
boats  came  along-side,  and  helping  themselves  at  will  to 
his  halibut  and  cod.  At  Canseau  — a  harbor  near  the 
cape  now  bearing  the  name  —  the  ship  Jonas  still  lay, 
her  hold  well  stored  with  fish ;  and  here,  on  the  twenty- 
seventh  of  August,  Lescarbot  was  rejoined  by  Poutrin- 
court  and  Champlain,  who  had  come  from  Port  Royal 
in  an  open  boat.  For  a  few  days,  they  amused  them- 
selves with  gathering  raspberries  on  the  islands  ;  then 
they  spread  their  sails  for  France,  and  early  in  October, 
1607,  anchored  in  the  harbor  of  St.  Malo. 

First  of  Europeans,  they  had  essayed  to  found  an 
agricultural  colony  in  the  New  World.  The  leaders  of 
the  enterprise  had  acted  less  as  merchants  than  as  citi- 
zens ;  and  the  fur-trading  monopoly,  odious  in  itself,  had 
been  used  as  the  instrument  of  a  large  and  generous 
design.  There  was  a  radical  defect,  however,  in  theii 

o 

scheme  of  settlement.  Excepting  a  few  of  the  leaders 
those  engaged  in  it  had  not  chosen  a  home  in  the  wil- 
derness of  New  France,  but  were  mere  hirelings,  care- 
less of  the  welfare  of  the  colony.  The  life  which 
should  have  pervaded  all  the  members  was  confined  to 
the  heads  alone. 


250 


.bESCARBOT  AND   CHAMPLAIN. 


[1607. 


Towards  the  fickle  and  bloodthirsty  race  who  claimed 
the  lordship  of  the  forests  these  colonists  bore  tbem- 
selves  in  a  spirit  of  kindness  contrasting  brightly  with 
the  rapacious  cruelty  of  the  Spaniards  and  the  harsh- 
ness of  the  English  settlers.  When  the  last  boat-load 

O 

left  Port  Royal,  the  shore  resounded  with  lamentation  ; 
and  nothing  could  console  the  afflicted  savages  but 
reiterated  promises  of  a  speedy  return. 


CHAPTER  V. 

1610, 1611. 
THE   JESUITS   AND    THEIR    PATRONESS. 

I'OUTUINCOUET    AND     THE     JESUITS.  —  HE    SAILS    FOB    ACADIA.  —  SUDDKK 

CONVERSIONS.  —  BIENCOURT.  —  DEATH   OF    THE   KING.  —  MADAME    DB 
GUEKCHEVILLE.  —  BlAKD  AND  MASSE. —  THE  JESUITS  TjRIUMPHAMT. 

POUTRINCOURT,  we  have  seen,  owned  Port  Royal 
in  virtue  of  a  grant  from  De  Monts.  The  ardent  and 
adventurous  baron  was  in  evil  case,  involved  in  litiira- 

»  o 

tion  and  low  in  purse  ;  but  nothing  could  damp  his 
zeal.  Acadia  must  become  a  new  France,  and  he, 
Poutrincourt,  must  be  its  father.  He  gained  from  the 
King  a  confirmation  of  his  grant,  and,  to  supply  the 
lack  of  his  own  weakened  resources,  associated  with 
himself  one  Robin,  a  man  of  family  and  wealth.  This 
did  not  save  him  from  a  host  of  delays  and  vexations; 
and  it  was  not  until  the  spring  of  1610  that  he  found 
himself  in  a  condition  to  embark  on  his  new  and  doubt- 
ful venture. 

Meanwhile  an  influence,  of  sinister  omen  as  he 
thought,  had  begun  to  act  upon  his  schemes.  The 
Jesuits  were  potent  at  court.  One  of  their  number, 
the  famous  Father  Cotton,  was  confessor  to  Henry  the 
Fourth,  and,  on  matters  of  this  world  as  of  the  next, 
was  ever  whispering  at  the  facile  ear  of  the  renegade 
Kin-.  New  France  offered  a  fresh  field  of  action  to 


THE  JESUITS   AND  THEIR  PATRONESS.         [1010. 

the  indefatigable  society  of  Jesus,  and  Cotton  urged 
upon  the  royal  convert,  that,  for  the  saving  of  souls, 
some  of  its  members  should  be  attached  to  the  pro- 
posed enterprise.  The  King,  profoundly  indifferent 
in  matters  of  religion,  saw  no  evil  in  a  proposal 
which  at  least  promised  to  place  the  Atlantic  betwixt 
him  and  some  of  those  busy  friends  whom  at  heart  he 
deeply  mistrusted.1  Other  influences,  too,  seconded  the 
confessor.  Devout  ladies  of  the  court,  and  the  Queen 
herself,  supplying  the  lack  of  virtue  with  an  overflow- 
ing piety,  burned,  we  are  assured,  with  a  holy  zeal  for 
snatching  the  tribes  of  the  West  from  the  bondage  of 
Satan.  Therefore  it  was  insisted  that  the  projected 
colony  should  combine  the  spiritual  with  the  tempora. 
character,  or,  in  other  words,  that  Poutrincourt  should 
take  Jesuits  with  him.  Pierre  Biard,  Professor  of 
Theology  at  Lyons,  was  named  for  the  mission,  and 
repaired  in  haste  to  Bordeaux,  the  port  of  embarkation, 
where  he  found  no  vessel,  and  no  sign  of  preparation  ; 
and  here,  in  wrath  and  discomfiture,  he  remained  for 
a  whole  year. 

That  Poutrincourt  was  a  good  Catholic  appears 
from  a  letter  to  the  Pope,  written  for  him  in  Latin  by 
Lescarbot,  asking  a  blessing  on  his  enterprise,  and  as- 
suring His  Holiness  that  one  of  his  grand  objects  was 
the  saving  of  souls.2  But,  like  other  good  citizens,  he 
belonged  to  the  national  party  in  the  Church,  those 

1  The  missionary  Biard  makes  the  characteristic  assertion,  that  the 
King  initiated  the  Jesuit  project,  and  that  Father  Cotton  merely  obeyed 
his  orders.     Biard,  Relation,  c.  XI. 

2  See, Lescarbot,  (1618,)  605. 


1610.|  THE  JESUITS  DISAPPOINTED. 

liberal  Catholics,  who,  side  by  side  with  the  Huguenots, 
had  made  head  against  the  League  with  its  Spanish 
allies,  and  placed  Henry  the  Fourth  upon  the  throne. 
The  Jesuits,  an  order  Spanish  in  origin  and  policy, 
redoubtable  champions  of  ultramontane  principles,  the 
sword  and  shield  of  the  Papacy  in  its  broadest  preten- 
sions to  spiritual  and  temporal  sway,  were  to  him,  as  to 
others  of  his  party,  objects  of  deep  dislike  and  distrust. 
He  feared  them  in  his  colony,  evaded  what  he  dared  not 
refuse,  left  Biard  waiting  in  solitude  at  Bordeaux,  and 
sought  to  postpone  the  evil  day  by  assuring  Father 
Cotton,  that,  though  Port  Royal  was  at  present  in  no 
state  to  receive  the  missionaries,  preparation  should  be 
made  to  entertain  them  the  next  year  after  a  befitting 
fashion. 

Poutrincourt  owned  the  barony  of  St.  Just  in  Cham- 
pagne, inherited  a  few  years  before  from  his  mother. 
Hence,  early  in  February,  1610,  he  set  forth  in  a  boat 
loaded  to  the  gunwales  with  provisions,  furniture,  goods, 
and  munitions  for  Port  Royal,  descended  the  Rivers 
Aube  and  Seine,  and  reached  Dieppe  safely  with  his 
charge.1  Here  his  ship  was  awaiting  him ;  and  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  February  he  set  sail,  giving  the  slip  to 
the  indignant  Jesuit  at  Bordeaux. 

O 

The  tedium  of  a  long  passage  was  unpleasantly 
broken  by  a  mutiny  among  the  crew.  It  was  sup- 
pressed, however,  and  Poutrincourt  entered  at  length 
the  familiar  basin  of  Port  Royal.  The  buildings  were 

1  Lescarbot,  Relation  Derniere,  6.     This  is  a  pamphlet  of  thirty  -  nine 
pages,  containing  matters  not  included  in  the  larger  work. 
22 


251  THE   JESUITS  AND   THEIR  PATRONESS. 

still  standing,  whole  and  sound  save  a  partial  falling-in 
of  the  roofs.  Even  furniture  was  found  untouched  in 
the  deserted  chambers.  The  centenarian  Mernbertou 
was  still  alive,  his  leathern,  wrinkled  visage  beaming 
with  welcome. 

Poutrincourt  set  himself  without  delay  to  the  task 
of  Christianizing  New  France,  in  an  access  of  zeal 
which  his  desire  of  proving  that  Jesuit  aid  was  super- 
fluous may  be  supposed  largely  to  have  reinforced.  He 
had  a  priest  with  him,  one  La  Fleche,  whom  he  urged 
to  the  pious  work.  No  time  was  lost.  Membertou  first 
was  catechised,  confessed  his  sins,  and  renounced  the 
Devil,  whom  we  are  told  he  had  faithfully  served  during 
a  hundred  and  ten  years.  His  squaws,  his  children,  his 
grandchildren,  his  entire  clan,  were  next  won  over.  It 
was  in  June,  the  day  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  when  the 
naked  proselytes^  twenty-one  in  number,  were  gathered 
on  the  shore  at  Port  Royal.  Here  was  the  priest  in 
the  vestments  of  his  office  ;  here  were  gentlemen  in  gay 
attire,  soldiers,  laborers,  lackeys,  all  the  infant  colony. 
The  converts  kneeled ;  the  sacred  rite  was  finished, 
Te  Deum  was  sung,  and  the  roar  of  cannon  proclaimed 
to  the  astonished  wilderness  this  triumph  over  the  pow- 
ers of  darkness.1  Membertou  was  named  Henri,  after 
the  King;  his  principal  squaw,  Marie,  after  the  Queen. 
One  of  his  sons  received  the  name  of  the  Pope,  an- 
other that  of  the  Dauphin  ;  his  daughter  was  called 
Marguerite,  after  the  divorced  Marguerite  de  Valois, 
and,  in  like  manner,  the  rest  of  the  squalid  company 

i  Lescarbot,  Relation  Dernilre,  11. 


»610.]  INDIAN   PROSELYTES. 

exchanged  their  barbaric  appellatives  for  the  names  of 
princes,  nobles,  and  ladies  of  rank.1 

The  fame  of  this  chef-d'oeuvre  of  Christian  piety,  as 
Lescarbot  gravely  calls  it,  spread  far  and  wide  through 
the  forest,  whose  denizens,  partly  out  of  a  notion  that 
the  rite  would  bring  good  luck,  partly  to  please  the 
French,  and  partly  to  share  in  the  good  cheer  with 
which  the  apostolic  efforts  of  Father  la  Fleche  had  been 
sagaciously  seconded,  came  flocking  to  enroll  themselves 
under  the  banners  of  the  Faith.  Their  zeal  ran  high. 

O 

They  would  take  no  refusal.  Membertou  was  for  war 
on  all  who  would  not  turn  Christian.  A  living  skele- 
ton was  seen  crawling  from  hut  to  hut  in  search  of  the 
priest  and  his  saving  waters ;  while  another  neophyte, 
at  the  point  of  death,  asked  anxiously  whether,  in  the 
realms  of  bliss  to  which  he  was  bound,  pies  were  to  be 
had  comparable  to  those  with  which  the  French  regaled 
him. 

A  formal  register  of  baptisms  was  drawn  up  to  be 
carried  to  France  in  the  returning  ship,  of  which  Pou- 
trincourt's  son,  Biencourt,  a  spirited  youth  of  eighteen, 
was  to  take  charge.  He  sailed  in  July,  his  father  keep- 
ing him  company  as  far  as  Port  la  Heve,  whence,  bid- 
ding the  young  man  farewell,  he  attempted  to  return  in 
an  open  boat  to  Port  Royal.  A  north  wind  blew  him 
out  to  sea ;  and  for  six  days  he  was  out  of  sight  of 
land,  subsisting  on  rain-water  wrung  from  the  boat's 
sail,  and  on  a  few  wild-fowl  which  he  had  shot  on  an 
island.  Five  weeks  passed  before  he  could  rejoin  his 

1  Rfgitre  de  Bapteme  de  I'Eglise  du  Port  Royal  en  la  Noucelle  France. 


THE  JESUITS   AND   THEIR  PATRONESS.          [1G10. 

colonists,  who,  despairing  of  his  safety,  were  about  to 
choose  a  new  chief. 

Meanwhile  young  Biencourt,  speeding  on  his  way, 
heard  dire  news  from  a  fisherman  on  the  Grand  Bank. 
The  knife  of  Ravaillac  had  done  its  work.  Henry  the 
Fourth  was  dead. 

,  There  is  an  ancient  street  in  Paris,  where  a  great 
thoroughfare  contracts  to  a  narrow  pass,  the  Rue  de  la 
Ferronnerie.  Tall  buildings  overshadow  it,  packed 
from  pavement  to  tiles  with  human  life,  and  from  the 
dingy  front  of  one  of  them  the  sculptured  head  of  a 
man  looks  down  on  the  throng  that  ceaselessly  defiles 
beneath.  On  the  fourteenth  of  May,  1610,  a  ponderous 
coach,  studded  with  fleurs-de-lis  and  rich  with  gilding, 
rolled  along  this  street.  In  it  was  a  small  man,  well 
advanced  in  life,  whose  profile  once  seen  could  not  be 
forgotten  :  a  hooked  nose,  a  protruding  chin,  a  brow 
full  of  wrinkles,  grizzled  hair,  a  short,  grizzled  beard, 
and  stiff,  gray  moustaches,  bristling  like  a  cat's.  One 
would  have  thought  him  some  whiskered  satyr,  grim 
from  the  rack  of  tumultuous  years  ;  but  his  alert,  up- 
right port  bespoke  unshaken  vigor,  and  his  clear  eye 
was  full  of  buoyant  life.  Following  on  the  foot-way 
strode  a  tall,  strong,  and  somewhat  corpulent  man,  with 
sinister,  deep-set  eyes,  and  a  red  beard,  his  arm  and 
shoulder  covered  with  his  cloak.  In  the  throat  of  the 
thoroughfare,  where  the  sculptured  image  of  Henry 
the  Fourth  still  guards  the  spot,  a  collision  of  two  carts 
stopped  the  coach.  Ravaillac  quickened  his  pace.  In 
an  instant  he  was  at  the  door;  his  cloak  was  dropped ; 


161 0.J  SINISTER  OMENS. 

a  long  knife  was  in  his  hand ;  his  foot  upon  a  guard- 
stone,  he  thrust  his  head  and  shoulders  into  the  coach, 
and  with  frantic  force  stabbed  thrice  at  the  Kinjj's 

o 

heart.  A  broken  exclamation,  a  gasping  convulsion  ; 
then  the  grim  visage  drooped  on  the  bleeding  breast. 
Henry  breathed  his  last,  and  the  hope  of  Europe  died 
with  him. 

The  omens  were  sinister  for  old  France  and  for  New. 
Marie  de  Medicis,  "  cette  grosse  banquiere"  coarse 
scion  of  a  bad  stock,  false  wife  and  faithless  queen,  par- 
amour of  an  intriguing  foreigner,  tool  of  the  Jesuits 
and  of  Spain,  was  Regent  in  the  minority  of  her  imbe- 
cile son.  The  Huguenots  drooped,  the  national  party 
collapsed,  the  vigorous  hand  of  Sully  was  felt  no  more, 
and  the  treasure  gathered  for  a  vast  and  beneficent  en- 
terprise became  the  instrument  of  despotism  and  the 
prey  of  corruption.  Under  such  dark  auspices,  the 
stripling  envoy  entered  the  thronged  chambers  of  the 
Louvre. 

He  gained  audience  of  the  Queen,  and  displayed  his 
list  of  baptisms;  while  the  ever  present  Jesuits  failed 
not  to  seize  him  by  the  button,1  assuring  him  not  only 
that  the  late  King  had  deeply  at  heart  the  establishment 
of  their  Society  in  Acadia,  but  that  to  this  end  he  had 
made  them  a  grant  of  two  thousand  livres  a  year.  The 
Jesuits  had  found  an  ally  and  the  intended  mission  a 
friend  at  court,  whose  story  and  whose  character  are  too 
striking  to  pass  unnoticed. 

1  Lescarbot,  (1618,)  662:  ".  .  .  .  n«  manyuerent  de  I'empmgner  par  u* 
ehevaa." 

22* 


2,58  -I'HE  JESUITS   AND   THEIR  PATRONESS.        [1610. 

This  was  a  Lady  of  Honor  to  the  Queen,  Antoinette 
de  Pons,  Marquise  de  Guercheville,  once  renowned  for 
grace  and  beauty  and  not  less  conspicuous  for  qualities 
rare  in  the  unbridled  court  of  Henry's  predecessor, 
where  her  youth  had  been  passed.  When  the  civil  war 
was  at  its  height,  the  royal  heart,  leaping  with  insatia- 
ble restlessness  from ,  battle  to  battle,  from  mistress  to 
mistress,  had  found  a  brief  repose  in  the  affections  of  his 
Corisande,  famed  in  tradition  and  romance ;  but  Cori- 
sande  was  suddenly  abandoned,  and  the  young  widow, 
Madame  de  Guercheville,  became  the  loadstar  of  his 
erratic  fancy.  It  was  an  evil  hour  for  the  Bearnais. 
Henry  sheathed  in  rusty  steel,  battling  for  his  crown 
and  his  life,  and  Henry  robed  in  royalty  and  throned 
triumphant  in  the  Louvre,  alike  urged  their  suit  in 
vain.  Unused  to  defeat,  the  King's  passion  rose  higher 
for  the  obstacle  that  barred  it.  On  one  occasion  he 
was  met  with  an  answer  not  unworthy  of  record:  — 

"  Sire,  my  rank,  perhaps,  is  not  high  enough  to  per- 
mit me  to  be  your  wife,  but  my  heart  is  too  high  to 
permit  me  to  be  your  mistress." 

She  left  the  court  and  retired  to  her  chateau  of  La 
Roche-Guyon,  on  tbe  Seine,  ten  leagues  below  Paris, 
where,  fond  of  magnificence,  she  is  said  to  have  Jived 
in  much  expense  and  splendor.  The  indefatigable 
King,  haunted  by  her  memory,  made  a  hunting-party 
in  the  neighboring  forests ;  and,  as  evening  drew  near, 

1  A  similar  reply  is  attributed  to  Catherine  de  Rohan,  Duchcsse  de 
Deux- Fonts :  "Je  suis  trop  pauvre  pour  etre  votre  femme,  et  de  trop 
bonne  maison  pour  etre  votre  maitresse."  Her  suitor  also  was  Henry 
the  Fourth.  Dictionnaire  de  Bayle,  III.  2182. 


1610.]  MADAME   DE   GUERCHEVILLE. 

separating  himself  from  his  courtiers,  he  sent  a  gentle- 
man of  his  train  to  ask  of  Madame  de  Guercheville  the 
shelter  of  her  roof.  The  reply  conveyed  a  dutiful  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  honor,  and  an  offer  of  the  best 
entertainment  within  her  power.  It  was  night  when 
Henry,  with  his  little  band  of  horsemen,  approached  the 
chateau,  where  lights  were  burning  in  every  window, 
after  a  fashion  of  the  day  on  occasions  of  welcome  to 
an  honored  guest.  Pages  stood  in  the  gate- way,  each 
with  a  blazing  torch  ;  and  here,  too,  were  gentlemen 
of  the  neighborhood,  gathered  to  greet  their  sover- 
eign. Madame  de  Guercheville  came  forth,  followed 
by  the  women  of  her  household ;  and  when  the  King, 
unprepared  for  so  benign  a  welcome,  giddy  with  love 
and  hope,  saw  her  radiant  in  pearls  and  more  radiant 
yet  in  a  beauty  enhanced  by  the  wavy  torchlight  and 
the  surrounding  shadows,  he  scarcely  dared  trust  his 
senses :  — 

"  Que  vois-je,  Madame  ;  est-ce  bien  vous,  et  suis-je 
ce  roi  meprise  ?  " 

He  gave  her  his  hand,  and  she  led  him  within  the 
chateau,  where,  at  the  door  of  the  apartment  destined 
for  him,  she  left  him,  with  a  graceful  reverence.  The 
King,  nowise  disconcerted,  doubted  not  that  she  had 
gone  to  give  orders  for  his  entertainment,  when  an 
attendant  came  to  tell  him  that  she  had  descended  to 
the  court-yard  and  called  for  her  coach.  Thither  he 
hastened  in  alarm  :  — 

"  What !  am  I  driving  you  from  your  house  I  " 

"  Sire,"  replied  Madame  de  Guercheville,  "  where  a 


260  THE  JESUITS  AND  THEIR  PATRONESS.         [1610 

King  is,  he  should  be  the  sole  master;  but,  for  my  part, 
I  like  to  preserve  some  little  authority  wherever  I  may 
be." 

With  another  deep  reverence,  she  entered  her  coach 
and  disappeared,  seeking  shelter  under  the  roof  of  a 
friend,  some  two  leagues  off,  and  leaving  the  baffled 
King  to  such  consolation  as  he  might  find  in  a  magnifi- 
cent repast,  bereft  of  the  presence  of  the  hostess.1 

1  Mtmoires  de  fAbbe  de  Choisy,  liv.  XII.  The  elaborate  notices  of  Ma- 
dame de  Guercheville  in  the  Biogrnphie  Ge'nfrale  and  the  Biographie 
Universelle  are  from  this  source.  She  figures  under  the  name  of  Sci- 
linde  in  Les  Amours  du  Grand  Alcandre  (Henry  IV.).  See  Collection  Peti- 
tot,  LXIII.  515,  note,  where  the  passage  is  extracted. 

The  Abbe  de  Choisy  says  that  when  the  King  was  enamored  of  her 
she  was  married  to  M.  de  Liancourt.  This,  it  seems,  is  a  mistake,  this 
second  marriage  not  taking  place  till  1594.  Madame  de  Guercheville 
refused  to  take  the  name  of  Liancourt,  because  it  had  once  been  borne  by 
the  Duchesse  de  Beaufort,  who  had  done  it  no  honor,  —  a  scruple  very 
reasonably  characterized  by  her  biographer  as  "  trop  •affect^." 

The  following  is  De  Choisy's  account :  — 

"  Enfin  ce  prince  s'avisa  un  jour,  pour  derniere  ressource,  de  faire  une 
partie  de  chasse  du  cote  de  La  Roche-Guy  on  ;  et,  sur  la  fin  de  la  jour  nee, 
s'etant  se'pare'  de  la  plupart  de  ses  courtisans,  il  envoya  un  gentilhomme 
a  La  Roche  -  Guyon  demander  le  couvert  pour  une  nuit.  Madame  de 
Guercheville,  sans  s'embarrasser,  repondit  au  gentilhomme,  que  le  Roi 
lui  feroit  beaucoup  d'honneur,  et  qu'elle  le  recevroit  de  son  mieux.  En 
effet,  elle  donna  ordre  a  un  magnifique  souper ;  on  eclaira  toutes  les  fene'- 
tres  du  chfiteau  avec  des  torches  (c'etoit  la  mode  en  ce  temps-la) ;  elle  se 
para  de  ses  plus  beaux  habits,  se  couvrit  de  perles  (c'e'toit  aussi  la  mode) ; 
et  lorsque  le  Roi  arriva  k  1'entree  de  la  nuit,  elle  alia  le  recevoir  a  la  porte 
de  sa  maison,  accompagnee  de  toutes  ses  famines,  et  de  quelques  gentils- 
hommes  du  voisinage.  Des  pages  portoient  les  torches  devant  elle.  Le 
Roi,  transports'  de  joie,  la  trouva  plus  belle  que  jamais  :  les  ombres  de  la 
nuit,  la  lumiere  des  flambeaux,  les  diamans,  la  surprise  d'un  accueil  si 
favorable  et  si  peu  accoutume',  tout  contribuait  a  renouveler  ses  aneiennes 
blessures.  'Quevois-je,  madame?'  lui  dit  ce  monarque  tremblant; 
'est-ce  bien  vous,  et  suis-je  ce  roi  meprise!'  Madame  de  Guerche- 
ville 1'interrompit,  en  le  priant  de  monter  dans  son  appartement  pour  se 
reposer.  II  lui  donna  la  main.  Elle  le  conduisit  jusqu'a  la  porte  de 


1610.1  MADAME  DE   GUEUCHEVILLB. 

Henry  could  admire  the  virtue  which  he  could  not 
vanquish  ;  and,  long  after,  on  his  marriage,  he  acknowl- 
edged his  sense  of  her  worth  by  begging  her  to  accept 
an  honorable  post  near  the  person  of  the  Queen. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  presenting  her  to  Marie  de 
Medicis,  "  I  give  you  a  Lady  of  Honor  who  is  a  lady 
of  honor  indeed." 

Some  twenty  years  had  passed  since  the  adventure 
of  La  Roche-Guyon.  Madame  de  Guercheville  had 
outlived  the  charms  which  had  attracted  her  royal  suitor, 
but  the  virtue  which  repelled  him  was  reinforced  by  a 
devotion  no  less  uncompromising.  A  rosary  in  her 
hand  and  a  Jesuit  at  her  side,  she  realized  the  utmost 
wishes  of  the  subtle  fathers  who  had  moulded  and  who 
guided  her.  She  readily  took  fire,  when  they  told 
her  of  the  benighted  souls  of  New  France,  and  the 
wrongs  of  Father  Biard  kindled  her  utmost  indig- 
nation. She  declared  herself  the  protectress  of  the 
American  missions ;  and  the  only  difficulty,  as  a  Jesuit 
writer  tells  us,  was  to  restrain  her  zeal  within  reasona- 
ble bounds.1 

BH  chambre,  lui  fit  une  grande  rdvcrence,  et  se  retira.  Le  Roi  ne  s'en 
e'tonna  pas ;  il  crut  qu'elle  vouloit  aller  donner  ordre  a  la  lete  qu'elle  lui 
prc'paroit.  Mais  il  tut  bien  surpris  quand  on  lui  vint  dire  qu'elle  etoit 
descendue  dans  sa  cour,  et  qu'elle  avoit  crie"  tout  liaut :  Q'i'on  ntttlle  mon 
coche  !  coninie  pour  aller  coucher  hors  de  chez  elle.  II  dcscendit  aus- 
sttot,  et  tout  e'perdu  lui  dit :  '  Quoi!  niadame,  je  vous  chasserai  de  votre 
maison  ? '  — '  Sire,'  lui  re'pondit-elle  d'un  ton  ferine,'  '  un  roi  doit  etre 
le  maitre  partout  oil  il  est ;  et  pour  moi,  je  suis  bien  aise  d'avoir  quelque 
pouvoir  dans  les  lieux  oil  je  me  trouve.'  Et,  sans  vouloir  1'e'couter 
davantage,  elle  monta  dans  son  coche,  et  alia  coucher  a  deux  lieues  de 
Ik  chez  une  de  ses  araies." 
i  Charlevoix,  I.  122. 


THE  JESUITS  AND   THEIR  PATRONESS.         [1010. 

She  had  two  illustrious  coadjutors.  The  first  was  the 
jealous  Queen,  whose  unbridled  rage  and  vulgar  clamor 
had  made  the  Louvre  a  hell.  The  second  was  Hen- 
riette  d'Entragues,  Marquise  de  Verneuil,  the  crafty 
and  capricious  siren  who  had  awakened  these  conjugal 
tempests.  To  this  singular  coalition  were  joine'd  many 
other  ladies  of  the  court ;  for  the  pious  flame,  fanned  by 
the  Jesuits,  spread  through  hall  and  boudoir,  and  fair 
votaries  of  the  Loves  and  Graces  found  it  a  more  grate- 
ful task  to  win  heaven  for  the  heathen  than  to  merit  it 
for  themselves. 

Young  Biencourt  saw  it  vain  to  resist.  Biard  must 
go  with  him  in  the  returning  ship,  and  also  another 
Jesuit,  Enemond  Masse.  The  two  fathers  repaired  to 
Dieppe,  wafted  on  the  wind  of  court-favor,  which  they 
never  doubted  would  bear  them  to  their  journey's  end. 
Not  so,  however.  Poutrincourt  and  his  associates,  in 
the  dearth  of  their  own  resources,  had  bargained  with 
two  Huguenot  merchants  of  Dieppe,  Du  Jardin  and 
Du  Quesne,  to  equip  and  load  the  vessel,  in  considera- 
tion of  their  becoming  partners  in  the  expected  prof- 
its. Their  indignation  was  extreme  when  they  saw  the 
intended  passengers.  They  declared,  that  they  would 
not  aid  in  building  up  a  colony  for  the  profit  of  the 
King  of  Spain,  nor  risk  their  money  in  a  venture  where 
Jesuits  were  allowed  to  intermeddle  ;  and  they  closed 
with  a  flat  refusal  to  receive  them  on  board,  unless, 
they  added  with  patriotic  sarcasm,  the  Queen  would 
direct  them  to  transport  the  whole  order  beyond  sea.1 

i  Lescarbot,  (1618,)  664. 


1611.]  THE  JESUITS  TRIUMPHANT. 

Biard  and  Masse  insisted,  on  which  the  merchants  de- 
manded reimbursement  for  their  outlay,  as  they  would 
have  no  further  concern  in  the  business. 

Biard  communicated  with  Father  Cotton,  Father 
Cotton  with  Madame  de  Guercheville.  No  more  was 
needed.  A  subscription  was  set  on  foot  by  the  zealous 
Lady  of  Honor,  and  an  ample  fund  raised  within  the 
precincts  of  the  court.  Biard,  in  the  name  of  the 
"  Province  of  France  of  the  Order  of  Jesus,"  bought 
out  the  interest  of  the  two  merchants  for  thirty-eight 
hundred  livres,  thus  constituting  the  Jesuits  partners  in 
business  with  their  enemies.  Nor  was  this  all ;  for,  out 
of  the  ample  proceeds  of  the  subscription,  he  lent  to 
the  needy  associates  a  further  sum  of  seven  hundred 
and  thirty -seven  livres,  and  advanced  twelve  hundred 
and  twenty-five  more  to  complete  the  outfit  of  the  ship. 
Well  pleased,  the  triumphant  priests  now  embarked,  and 
friend  and  foe  set  sail  together  on  the  twenty-sixth  of 
January,  161 1.1 

1  Lcscarbot,  (1618,)  665,  gives  the  contract  with  the  Jesuits  in  full. 
Compare  Biard,  Relation,  c.  XII;  Champlain,  (1632,)  100;  Charlevoix, 
I.  123;  De  Laet,  1.  II.  c.  XXI.;  Lettre  dtt  P.  Pierre  Biard  au  T.  R.  P. 
Cluiide  At/itaviva,  General  de  la  ComjHiyiiie  de  Jesus  a  Rome,  Di-fipe,  21 
Jtinn'ir,  l(ill  ;  Lettr?.  dtt  P.  Biard  au  R.  P.  Christophe  Bulth'tzar,  Proi-incial 
de  France  a  Paris,  Port  Royal,  10  Jnin,  1611 ;  Isttre  du  P.  Biard  au  T.  R. 
P.  Clmule  AijiMciva,  Port  Royal,  31  Janvier,  1U12.  These  letters  form 
part  of  an  interesting  collection  recently  published  by  H.  P.  Auguste 
Carnyon,  S.  J.,  under  the  title,  Premiere  Mission  dts  J&ttites  an  Canada, 
(Paris,  186J).  They  are  taken  from  the  Jesuit  archives  at  Rome. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

1611,  1612. 
JESUITS    IN    ACADIA. 

THE  JESUITS  ARRIVE.  —  COLLISION  OF  POWERS  TEMPORAL  AND  SPIRITUAL. 
—  EXCURSION  OF  BIENCOURT.  —  BIARD'S  INDIAN  STUDIES.  —  MISERY  AT 
PORT  ROYAL.  —  GRANT  TO  MADAME  DE  GUERCHEVILLE.  —  GILBERT  DU 
THET.  —  QUARRELS.  —  ANATHEMAS.  —  TRUCE. 

THE  voyage  was  one  of  inordinate  length,  —  beset, 
too,  with  icebergs,  larger  and  taller,  according  to  the 
Jesuit  voyagers,  than  the  Church  of  Notre  Dame ;  but 
on  the  day  of  Pentecost  they  anchored  before  Port 
Royal.  Then  first  were  seen  in  the  wilderness  of  New 
France  the  close  black  cap,  the  close  black  robe  of  the 
Jesuit  father,  and  the  features  seamed  with  study  and 
thought  and  discipline.  Then  first  did  this  mighty 
Proteus,  this  many-colored  Society  of  Jesus,  enter  upon 
that  rude  field  of  toil  and  woe,  where,  in  after-years, 
the  devoted  zeal  of  its  apostles  was  to  lend  dignity  to 
their  order  and  do  honor  to  humanity. 

Few  were  the  regions  of  the  known  world  to  which 
the  potent  brotherhood  had  not  stretched  the  vast  net- 
work of  its  influence.  Jesuits  had  disputed  in  theology 
with  the  bonzes  of  Japan,  and  taught  astronomy  to  the 
mandarins  of  China ;  had  wrought  prodigies  of  sudden 
conversion  among  the  followers  of  Brahma,  preached 
the  papal  supremacy  to  Abyssinian  schismatics,  carried 


1611.]  BIARD  AND  POUTRINCOURT. 

the  cross  among-  the  savages  of  Caffraria,  wrought 
reputed  miracles  in  Brazil,  and  gathered  the  tribes  of 
Paraguay  heneath  their  paternal  sway.  And  now, 
with  the  aid  of  the  Virgin  and  her  votary  at  court, 
they  would  build  another  empire  among  the  tribes  of 
New  France.  The  omens  were  sinister  and  the  outset 
was  unpropitious.  The  Society  was  destined  to  reap 
few  laurels  from  the  brief  apostleship  of  Biard  and 
Masse.1 

When  the  voyagers  landed,  they  found  at  Port  Royal 
a  band  of  half-famished  men,  eagerly  expecting  their 
succor.  The  voyage  of  four  months  had,  however, 
nearly  exhausted  their  own  very  moderate  stock  of 
provisions,  and  the  mutual  congratulations  of  the  old 
colonists  and  the  new  were  damped  by  a  vision  of 
starvation.  A  friction,  too,  speedily  declared  itself  be- 
tween the  spiritual  and  the  temporal  powers.  Pont- 
grave's  son,  then  trading  on  the  coast,  had  exasperated 
the  Indians  by  an  outrage  on  one  of  their  women,  and, 
dreading  the  wrath  of  Poutrincourt,  had  fled  to  the 

O 

woods.  Biard  saw  fit  to  take  his  part,  remonstrated 
for  him  with  vehemence,  gained  his  pardon,  received 
his  confession,  and  absolved  him.  The  Jesuit  says, 

1  On  the  tenth  of  June,  1611,  Biard  and  Masse  wrote  the  first  letters 
ever  sent  by  their  onler  from  New  France.  The  letter  of  Masse  is  to 
Aquaviva,  General  of  the  Jesuits.  "  Je  vous  1'avoue,"  he  says,  "j'ai  dit 
alors  franchemcnt  ii  Dieu  :  Me  voici :  Si  vous  choisissex  ce  qu'il  y  a  de 
faible  ct  de  meprisable  dans  ce  nionde,  pour  renverser  et  dctruire  ce  qui 
est  fort,  vous  trouverez  tout  cela  dans  Eiu-moiul  "  (Masse).  See  the 
letter  in  Carayon,  39.  There  is  an  error  of  date  in  Biard's  Rtlation, 
where  he  places  the  arrival  on  the  twenty-second  of  June,  instead  of  the 
twenty -second  of  May. 
23 


265  JESUITS  IN  ACADIA.  [1611. 

that  he  was  treated  with  great  consideration  by  Pou- 
trincourt,  and  that  he  shall  be  forever  beholden  to  him. 
The  latter,  however,  chafed  at  Biard's  interference. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  know  my  duty,  and  I  beg 
you  will  leave  me  to  do  it.  I,  with  my  sword,  have 
hopes  of  Paradise  as  well  as  you  with  your  breviary. 
Show  me  my  path  to  Heaven.  I  will  show  you  yours 
on  earth."  1 

He  soon  set  sail  for  France,  leaving  his  son  Bien- 
court  in  charge.  This  hardy  young  sailor,  of  a  char- 
acter and  vigor  beyond  his  years,  had,  on  his  visit  to 
court,  received  the  post  of  Vice- Admiral  in  the  seas  of 
New  France,  and  in  this  capacity  had  a  certain  author- 
ity over  the  trading-vessels  of  St.  Malo  and  Rochelle, 
several  of  which  were  upon  the  coast.  To  compel  the 
recognition  of  this  authority,  and  also  to  purchase  pro- 
visions, he  set  forth  in  a  boat  filled  with  armed  follow- 
ers. His  first  collision  was  with  young  Pontgrave, 
who  with  a  few  men  had  built  a  trading -hut  on  the 
St.  John,  where  he  proposed  to  winter.  Meeting 
with  resistance,  Biencourt  took  the  whole  party  pris- 
oners, in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  Biard.  Next, 
proceeding  along  the  coast,  he  levied  tribute  on  four 
or  five  traders  wintering  at  St.  Croix,  and,  continuing 
his  course  to  the  Kennebec,  narrowly  escaped  a  fatal 
collision  with  the  Indians  of  that  region.  He  found 
them  greatly  enraged  at  the  conduct  of  certain  English 
adventurers,  who,  three  or  four  years  before,  had  set 

l  Lescarbot,  (1618,)  669.     Compare  Biard,  Relation,  c.  XIV.;  and  Ib, 
Z^ettre  au  R.  P.  Clmstophe  Balthazar,  in  Carayon,  9. 


1611.]  MEMBERTOU. 

dogs  upon  them,  beaten  them  with  sticks,  and  other- 
wise outraged  them.1 

It  was  late  in  November,  and  winter,  dreary  and 
bleak,  was  closing  around  the  comfortless  tenements  of 
Port  Royal,  when  the  adventurers  returned,  after  a 
voyavge  wellnigh  bootless.  Here  they  found  Masse,  a 
lonely  hermit,  half  starved,  in  a  wretched  hut.  He 
had  tried  a  forest-life  among  the  Indians,  with  signal 
ill  success.  Hard  fare,  smoke,  filth,  the  scolding  of 
women,  and  the  cries  of  children  had  reduced  him  to 
a  lamentable  plight  of  body  and  mind,  worn  him  to 
a  skeleton,  and  sent  him  back  to  Port  Royal  without  a 
single  convert.  The  French  were  on  the  point  of  los- 
ing a  fast  friend,  and,  as  we  are  told,  a  devout  Chris- 
tian, in  the  sagamore  Membertou,  who,  reaching  the 
settlement  in  a  dying  condition,  was  placed  in  Biard's 
bed,  and  attended  by  the  two  Jesuits.  The  old  savage 
was  as  remarkable  in  person  as  in  character,  for  he 
was  bearded  like  a  Frenchman.  He  insisted  on  being 
buried  with  his  heathen  forefathers,  but,  persuaded  with 
much  ado  to  forego  a  wish  fatal  to  his  salvation,  slept 
at  last  in  consecrated  ground.2 

1  They  must  have  been  the  colonists  under  Popham  and  Gilbert,  who, 
in  1607  and  1608,  made  an  abortive  and  disastrous  attempt  to  settle  at  the 
month  of  the  Kennebec. 

2  "  C'a  este  le  plus  grand,  renomme  et  redoutd  sauvage  qui  ayt  est<5  de 
memoire  d'liomme ;  de  riche  tuille,  et  plus  hault  ct  membru  que  n'est 
I'ordinaire  des  autres,  barbu  comnie  un  fran?oys,"  etc.  —  Ltilredn  P.  liiard 
au  K.  P.  Provincial,  Port  Roynl,  31  Junrier,  1612,  in  Carayon,  44.     Of  the 
character  of  the  Christianity  he  had  imbibed  under  the  instruction  of 
Father  la  Fleche,  Biard   gives  the  following  illustration.      He,   Biard, 
taught  him  to  say  the  Lord's  Prayer.     At  the  petition,  "  Give  us  this  day 
our  daily  bread,"  Membertou  remarked,  "  But  if  I  ask  for  nothing  bu 
bread,  I  shall  have  no  fish  or  moose-meat."    Carayon,  27. 


£68  JESUITS  IN  ACADIA.  [1611. 

Biard  set  himself  to  the  study  of  the  Indian  lan- 
guage, a  hard  and  thorny  path,  on  which  he  made  small 
progress,  and  often  went  astray.  Seated,  pencil  in 
hand,  hefore  some  Indian  squatting  on  the  floor,  whom 
with  the  bribe  of  a  mouldy  biscuit  he  had  lured  into  the 
hut,  he  plied  him  with  questions  which  the  latter  often 
neither  would  nor  could  answer.  What  was  the  Indian 
word  for  Faith,  Hope,  Charity,  Sacrament,  Baptism. 
Eucharist,  Trinity,  Incarnation  ?  The  perplexed  sav- 
age, willing  to  amuse  himself,  and  impelled,  as  Biard 
thinks,  by  .the  Devil,  gave  him  scurrilous  and  unseemly 
phrases  as  the  equivalent  of  things  holy,  which,  stu- 
diously incorporated  into  the  father's  Indian  catechism, 
produced  on  his  pupils  an  effect  the  reverse  of  that 
intended.1 

The  dark  months  wore  slowly  on.  A  band  of  half- 
famished  men  gathered  about  the  huge  fires  of  their 
barn-like  hall,  moody,  sullen,  and  quarrelsome.  Dis- 
cord was  here  in  the  black  robe  of  the  Jesuit,  in  the 
brown  capote  of  the  rival  trader.  The  position  of  the 
wretched  little  colony  may  well  provoke  reflection. 
Here  lay  the  shaggy  continent,  from  Florida  to  the 
Pole,  outstretched  in  savage  slumber  along  the  sea,  the 
stern  domain  of  Nature,  or,  to  adopt  the  ready  solution 
of  the  Jesuits,  a  realm  of  the  Powers  of  Night,  blasted 
beneath  the  sceptre  of  Hell.  On  the  banks  of  James 

1  Biard  says  that  Biencourt,  "  qui  entend  le  sauvage  le  mieux  de  tous 
ceux  qui  sont  icy,  a  pris  d'un  grand  zele,  et  prend  chaque  jour  beaucoup 
de  peine  a  nous  servir  de  truchement.  Mais,  ne  S9ay  comment,  aussi  tost 
qu'on  vient  a  traitter  de  Dieu,  il  se  sent  le  mesme  que  Moyse,  1'esprit 
estonne,  le  gosier  tary,  et  la  langue  nouee."  —  Lettre  du  P.  Biard  au  /?.  P. 
a  Purl*.  Port  Royal,  31  Janvier,  1612,  in  Carnyon,  14. 


1612.]  DISSENSION. 

River  was  a  nest  of  woe-begone  Englishmen,  a  handful 
of  Dutch  fur-traders  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson,1 
and  a  few  shivering  Frenchmen  among  the  snow-drifts 
of  Acadia ;  while  deep  within  the  wild  monotony  of 
desolation,  on  the  icy  verge  of  the  great  northern  river, 
the  hand  of  Champlain  upheld  the  fleur-de-lis  on  the 
rock  of  Quebec,  and  more  than  this ;  —  but  of  him 
and  his  deeds  hereafter.  These  were  the  advance 
guard,  the  forlorn  hope  of  civilization,  messengers  of 
promise  to  a  desert  continent.  Yet,  unconscious  of 
their  high  function,  not  content  with  inevitable  woes, 
they  were  rent  by  petty  jealousies  and  miserable  feuds, 
while  each  of  these  detached  fragments  of  rival  nation- 
alities, scarcely  able  to  maintain  its  own  wretched  exist- 
ence on  a  few  square  miles,  begrudged  to  the  others 
the  smallest  share  in  a  domain  which  all  the  nations  of 
Europe  could  not  have  sufficed  to  fill. 

One  evening,  as  the  forlorn  tenants  of  Port  Royal 
sat  together  disconsolate,  Biard  was  seized  with  a  spirit 
of  prophecy.  He  called  upon  Biencourt  to  serve  out 
to  the  company  present  the  little  of  wine  that  remained, 
—  a  proposal  which  met  with  high  favor  from  the  lat- 
ter, though  apparently  with  but  little  from  the  youthful 
Vice-Admiral.  The  wine  was  ordered,  however,  and, 
as  an  unwonted  cheer  ran  around  the  circle,  the  Jesuit 
announced  that  an  inward  voice  told  him  how,  within 
a  month,  they  should  see  a  ship  from  France.  In 

1  It  is  not  certain  that  the  Dutch  had  any  permanent  trading-post  here 
before  1613,  whtn  they  had  four  houses  at  Manhattan.  O'Callaghan. 
Hist.  New  Netherland,  1.  69. 

23* 


JESUITS  IN  ACADIA.  [1612. 

truth,  they  saw  one  within  a  week.  On  the  twenty- 
third  of  January,  161£,  arrived  a  small  vessel  laden 
with  a  moderate  store  of  provisions  and  abundant  seeds 
of  future  strife. 

This  was  the  expected  succor  sent  by  Poutrincourt. 
A  series  of  ruinous  voyages  had  exhausted  his  resources; 
but  should  he  leave  his  son  and  his  companions  to  per- 
ish "?  His  credit  was  gone ;  his  hopes  were  dashed ; 
yet  assistance  was  proffered,  and,  in  his  extremity,  he 
was  forced  to  accept  it.  It  came  from  Madame  de 
Guercheville  and  her  Jesuit  advisers.  She  offered  to 
buy  the  interest  of  a  thousand  crowns  in  the  enterprise. 
The  ill-omened  succor  could  not  be  refused ;  but  this 
was  not  all.  The  zealous  Protectress  of  the  Missions 
obtained  from  De  Monts,  whose  fortunes,  like  those  of 
Poutrincourt,  had  ebbed  low,  a  transfer  of  all  his  claims 
to  the  lands  of  Acadia;  while  the  young  King,  Louis 
the  Thirteenth,  was  persuaded  to  give  her,  in  addition,  a 
new  grant  of  all  the  territory  of  North  America,  from 
the  St.  Lawrence  to  Florida.  Thus  did  Madame  de 
Guercheville,  in  other  words,  the  Jesuits  who  used  her 
name  as  a  cover,  become  proprietors  of  the  greater  part 
of  the  future  United  States  and  British  Provinces. 
The  English  colony  of  Virginia  and  the  Dutch  trading- 
houses  of  New  York  were  included  within  the  limits 
of  this  destined  northern  Paraguay,  while  Port  Royal, 
the  seigniory  of  the  unfortunate  Poutrincourt,  was  en- 
compassed, like  a  petty  island,  by  the  vast  domain  of 
the  Society  of  Jesus.  They  could  not  deprive  him  of 
it,  since  his  title  had  been  confirmed  by  the  late  King, 


1612.]  BIENCOUBT   AND  THE  PRIESTS. 

but  they  flattered  themselves,  to  borrow  their  own  lan- 
guage, that  he  would  be  "  confined  as  in  a  prison."  l 
His  grant,  however,  had  been  vaguely  worded,  and, 
while  they  held  him  restricted  to  an  insignificant  patch 
of  earth,  he  claimed  lordship  over  a  wide  and  indefinite 
territory.  Here  was  argument  for  endless  strife. 
Other  interests,  too,  were  adverse.  Poutrincourt,  in 
his  discouragement,  had  abandoned  his  plan  of  liberal 
colonization,  and  now  thought  of  nothing  but  beaver- 
skins.  He  wished  to  make  a  trading-post;  the  Jes- 
uits wished  to  make  a  Mission. 

When  the  vessel  anchored  before  Port  Royal,  Bien- 
court,  with  disgust  and  anger,  saw  another  Jesuit  landed 
at  the  pier.  This  was  Gilbert  du  Thet,  a  lay-brother, 
versed  in  affairs  of  this  world,  who  hud  come  out  as 
representative  and  administrator  of  Madame  de  Guer- 
cheville.  Poutrincourt,  also,  had  his  agent  on  board ; 
and,  without  the  loss  of  a  day,  the  two  began  to  quarrel. 
A  truce  ensued  ;  then  a  smothered  feud  pervading  the 
whole  colony,  and  ending  in  a  notable  explosion.  The 
Jesuits,  chafing  under  the  sway  of  Biencourt,  had  with- 
drawn without  ceremony,  and  betaken  themselves  to  the 
vessel,  intending  to  sail  for  France.  Biencourt,  exas- 
perated at  such  a  breach  of  discipline,  and  fearing  their 
representations  at  court,  ordered  them  to  return,  adding, 
that,  since  the  Queen  had  commended  them  to  his  espe- 
cial care,  he  could  not,  in  conscience,  lose  sight  of  them. 
The  fathers,  indignant,  excommunicated  him.  On  this, 
the  sagamore  Louis,  son  of  the  grisly  convert  Member- 

i  Biard,  Relation,  c.  XIX. 


JESUITS  IN  ACADIA.  [1612. 

tou,  begged  leave  to  kill  them ;  but  Biencourt  would 
not  countenance  this  summary  mode  of  relieving  his 
embarrassment.  He  again,  in  the  King's  name,  or- 
dered the  clerical  mutineers  to  return  to  the  fort. 
Biard  declared  that  he  would  not,  threatened  to  excom- 
municate any  who  should  lay  hand  on  him,  and  called 
the  Vice-Admiral  a  robber.  His  wrath,  however,  soon 
cooled ;  he  yielded  to  necessity,  and  came  quietly  ashore, 
where,  for  the  next  three  months,  neither  he  nor  his 
colleagues  would  say  mass,  or  perform  any  office  of 
religion.1  At  length  a  change  came  over  him ;  he 
made  advances  of  peace,  prayed  that  the  past  might 
be  forgotten,  said  mass  again,  and  closed  with  a  peti- 
tion that  Brother  du  Thet  might  be  allowed  to  go  to 
France  in  a  trading-vessel  then  on  the  coast.  His  peti- 
tion granted,  he  wrote  to  Poutrincourt  a  letter  over- 
flowing with  praises  of  his  son  ;  and,  charged  with  this 
missive,  Du  Thet  set  sail. 

1  Lescarbot,  (1618,)  676.  Biard  passes  over  the  affair  in  silence.  In 
bis  letters  (see  Carayon)  prior  to  tbis  time,  he  speaks  favorably  both  of 
Biencourt  and  Poutrincourt. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

1613. 
SAUSSAYE. ARGALL. 

VOYAGE  OF  SAUSSAYE.  —  MOUNT  DESERT.  —  AROALL.  ATTACKS  THE  FREKCB. 
—  DEATH  OF  Du  THET.  —  ST.  SAVIOR  DESTROYED. 

PENDING  these  squabbles,  the  Jesuits  at  home  were 
far  from  idle.  Bent  on  ridding  themselves  of  Poutriu- 
court,  they  seized,  in  satisfaction  of  debts  due  them,  all 
the  cargo  of  his  returning  vessel,  and  involved  him  in 
a  network  of  litigation.  If  we  adopt  his  own  state- 
ments in  a  letter  to  his  friend  Lescarbot,  he  was  out- 
rageously misused,  and,  indeed,  defrauded,  by  his  co- 
partners, who  at  length  had  him  thrown  into  prison.1 
Here,  exasperated,  weary,  sick  of  Acadia,  and  anxious 
for  the  wretched  exiles  who  looked  to  him  for  succor, 
the  unfortunate  man  fell  ill.  Regaining  his  liberty,  he 
again  addressed  himself,  with  what  strength  remained, 
to  the  forlorn  task  of  sending  relief  to  his  son  and  his 
comrades. 

Scarcely  had  Brother  Gilbert  du  Thet  arrived  in 
France,  when  Madame  de  Guercheville  and  her  Jes- 
uits, strong  in  court-favor,  strong  in  the  charity  of 
wealthy  penitents,  prepared  to  take  possession  of  their 
empire  beyond  sea.  Contributions  were  asked,  and 
»  See  the  letter,  in  Lescarbot,  (1618,)  678. 


SAUSSAYE.— ARGALL.  [1613 

not  in  vain  ;  for  the  sagacious  fathers,  mindful  of  every 
spring  of  influence,  had  deeply  studied  the  mazes  of 
feminine  psychology,  and  then,  as  now,  were  favorite 
confessors  of  the  fair.  It  was  on  the  twelfth  of  March, 
1613,  that  the  "  Mayflower"  of  the  Jesuits  sailed  from 
Honfleur  for  the  shores  of  New  England.  She  was  a 
small  craft  of  a  hundred  tons,  bearing  forty-eight  sail- 
ors and  colonists,  including  two  Jesuits,  Father  Quen- 
tiu  and  Du  Thet.  She  carried  horses,  too,  and  goats, 
and  was  abundantly  stored  with  all  things  needful  by 
the  pious  munificence  of  her  patrons.  A  courtier 
named  Saussaye  commanded  her,  and,  as  she  winged 
her  way  across  the  Atlantic,  benedictions  hovered  over 
her  from  lordly  halls  and  perfumed  chambers. 

On  the  sixteenth  of  May,  Saussaye  touched  at  La 
Heve,  where  he  heard  mass,  planted  a  cross,  and  dis- 
played the  scutcheon  of  Madame  de  Guercheville. 
Thence,  passing  on  to  Port  Royal,  he  found  Biard, 
Masse,  their  servant-boy,  an  apothecary,  and  one  man 
beside.  Biencourt  and  his  followers  were  scattered 
about  the  woods  and  shores,  digging  ground-nuts,1 
catching  alewives  in  the  brooks,  and  by  .similar  expe- 
dients sustaining  their  miserable  existence.  Taking 
the  two  Jesuits  on  board,  the  voyagers  steered  for  the 
Penobscot.  A  fog  rose  upon  the  sea.  They  sailed  to 
and  fro,  groping  their  way  in  blindness,  straining  their 

1  The  tuberous  roots  of  Glycine  apios,  a  beautiful  climbing  plant,  with 
clusters  of  fragrant  purple  flowers,  often  a  conspicuous  ornament  of  New- 
England  road-sides.  The  tubers,  resembling  small  potatoes,  are  strung 
together  by  a  connecting  fibre.  The  Jesuits  compared  them  to  a  ro- 
sary. 


1613.]  MOUNT  DESERT. 

eyes  through  the  mist,  and  trembling  each  instant  lest 
they  should  descry  the  black  outline  of  some  deadly 
reef  and  the  ghostly  death-dance  of  the  breakers.  But 
Heaven  heard  their  prayers.  At  night  they  could  see 
the  stars.1  The  sun  rose  resplendent  on  a  laughing 
sea,  and  his  morning  beams  streamed  fair  and  full  on 
the  wild  heights  of  the  Island  of  Mount  Desert.  Ab- 
rupt and  sheer,  they  towered  above  the  waves:  walls 
of  sheeted  granite,  ramparts  and  bastions  begrimed 
with  the  war  of  elements,  buttressed  by  ancient  crags 
where  the  white  surf  broke  ceaselessly,  bristling  with 
firs,  and  half  wrapped  in  ragged  woods.  The  ship 
bore  on  before  a  favoring  wind,  foam  spouting  beneath 
her  bows  as  she  entered  Frenchman's  Bay,  where 
dome -like  islands  rose,  green  with  forests  and  gray 
with  jutting  rocks,  while  restless  waves  sparkled  and 
danced  between. 

Saussaye  anchored  in  a  harbor  on  the  east  side  of 
Mount  Desert.  The  jet-black  shade  betwixt  crags  and 
sea,  the  pines  along  the  cliff',  pencilled  against  the  fiery 
sunset,  the  dreamy  slumber  of  distant  mountains  bathed 
in  shadowy  purple,  —  such  is  the  scene  that  in  this  our 
day  greets  the  wandering  artist,  the  roving  collegian 
bivouacked  on  the  shore,  or  the  pilgrim  from  stifled 
cities  renewing  his  jaded  strength  in  the  mighty  life  of 

1  "  Suruint  en  mer  vne  si  espaisse  brume,  que  nous  n'y  voyons  pas  plus 
de  iour  que  cle  nuict.  Nous  apprehensions  grandement  ce  danger,  parce 
qu'en  cet  endroict,  il  y  a  beaucoup  de  brisans  et  rochers  ....  De  sa  bonte, 
Dieu  nous  exau^a,  car  le  soir  mesme  nous  commen9asmes  a  voir  lea 
estoiles,  et  le  matin  les  broue'es  se  dissiperent ;  nous  nous  reconnusmea 
estre  au  deuant  des  Monts  deserts."  —  Biard,  Relation,  c.  XXIII. 


SAUSSAYE.  —  ARGALL.  [1618. 

Nature.  Perhaps  they  then  greeted  the  adventurous 
Frenchman.  Peace  on  the  wilderness ;  peace  on  the  sea. 
Was  there  peace  in  this  missionary  bark,  pioneer  of 
Christianity  and  civilization  1  Far  from  it.  A  rahble 
of  angry  sailors  clamored  on  her  deck,  ready  to  mutiny 
over  the  terms  of  their  engagement.  Should  the  time 
of  their  stay  be  reckoned  from  their  landing  at  La 
Heve,  or  from  their  anchoring  at  Mount  Desert  ? 
Flory,  the  naval  commander,  took  their  part.  Sailor, 
courtier,  priest,  gave  tongue  together  in  vociferous  de- 
bate. Poutrincourt  was  far  away,  a  ruined  man  ;  and 
the  intractable  Vice- Admiral  had  ceased  from  troub- 
ling; yet  not  the  less  were  the  omens  of  the  pious  enter- 
prise sinister  and  dark.  The  company  however,  went 
ashore,  raised  a  cross,  heard  mass,  and  named  the  place 
St.  Savior.1 

At  a  distance  in  the  woods  they  saw  the  signal-smoke 
of  Indians,  whom  Biard  lost  no  time  in  visiting.  Some 
of  them  were  from  a  village  on  the  shore,  three  leagues 
westward.  Always  fond  of  the  French,  they  urged 
the  latter  to  go  with  them  to  their  wigwams.  The 
astute  savages  had  learned  already  how  to  deal  with  a 
Jesuit. 

"  Our  great  chief,  Asticou,  is  there.  He  wishes  for 
baptism.  He  is  very  sick.  He  will  die  unbaptized. 
He  will  burn  in  Hell,  and  it  will  be  all  your  fault." 

1  Probably  all  Frenchman's  Bay  was  included  under  the  name  of  the 
Harbor  of  St.  Sauveur.  The  landing-place  so  called  seems  to  have  been 
near  the  entrance  of  the  bay,  certainly  south  of  Bar  Harbor.  The  Indian 
name  of  the  Island  of  Mount  Desert  was  Pemetic.  Its  present  name,  as 
before  ment;oned,  was  given  by  Champlain. 


1613.]  MOUNT  DESERT. 

This  was  enough.     Biard  embarked  in  a  canoe,  and 

C* 

they  paddled  him  to  the  spot,  where  he  found  the  great 
chief,  Asticou,  in  his  wigwam,  with  a  heavy  cold  in  the 
head.  Disappointed  of  his  charitable  purpose,  the 
priest  consoled  himself  with  observing  the  beauties  of 
the  neiohbori nor  shore,  which  seemed  to  him  better  fit- 

<5  C>  ' 

ted  than  St.  Savior  for  the  intended  settlement.  It  was 
a  gentle  slope,  descending  to  the  sea,  and  covered  with 
tall  grass.  It  looked  southeast  upon  a  harbor  where  a 
fleet  might  ride  at  anchor,  sheltered  from  the  gales  by 
a  cluster  of  small  islands.1 

The  ship  was  brought  to  the  spot ;  the  colonists  dis- 
embarked. First  they  planted  a  cross ;  then  they  began 
their  labors,  and,  with  their  labors,  their  quarrels.  Saus- 
saye,  zealous  for  agriculture,  wished  to  break  ground 
and  raise  crops  immediately ;  the  rest  opposed  him, 
wishing  first  to  be  housed  and  fortified.  This  dispute 
begat  others.  Debate  ran  high,  when,  suddenly,  all  was 

1  Biard  says  that  the  place  was  only  three  leagues  from  St.  Savior,  and 
that  he  could  go  and  return  in  an  afternoon.  He  adds  that  it  was  "  separe 
de  la  (jrande  Isle  des  Monts  Deserts."  He  was  evidently  mistaken  in  this. 
St.  Savior  being  on  the  east  side  of  Mount  Desert,  there  is  no  place  sepa- 
rated from  it,  and  .answering  to  his  description,  which  he  could  have 
reached  within  the  time  mentioned.  He  no  doubt  crossed  Mount  Desert 
Sound,  which,  with  Soames's  Sound,  nearly  severs  the  island.  The  set- 
tlement must  have  been  on  the  western  side  of  Soames's  Sound.  Here, 
about  a  mile  from  the  open  sea,  on  the  farm  of  Mr.  Fernald,  is  a  spot 
perfectly  answering  to  the  minute  description  of  Biard:  "Le  terroir 
noir,  gras,  et  fertile;"  "la  jolie  colline  esleuee  doucement  sur  la  mer, 
et  baignc'e  a  ses  costez  de  deux  fontaines  ;  "  "  les  petites  islettes  qui 
rompent  les  flots  et  les  vents."  The  situation  is  picturesque  in  the 
extreme.  On  the  opposite,  or  eastern  shore  of  the  Sound,  are  found 
heaps  of  clam-shells  and  other  indications  of  an  Indian  village,  proba- 
bly that  of  Asticou.  I  am  indebted  to  E.  L.  Hamlin,  Esq.,  of  Bangor, 
for  pointing  out  this  locality. 
24 


SAUSSAYE.  —  ARGALL.  [1613. 

harmony,  and  the  disputants  were  friends  once  more  in 
the  pacification  of  a  common  danger. 

Far  out  at  sea,  beyond  the  islands  that  sheltered  their 
harbor,  they  saw  an  approaching  sail ;  and,  as  she  drew 
near,  straining  their  anxious  eyes,  they  could  descry  the 
blood-red  flags  that  streamed  from  her  mast-head  and 
her  stern  ;  then  the  black  muzzles  of  her  cannon,  — 
they  counted  seven  on  a  side;  then  the  throng  of  men 
upon  her  decks.  The  wind  was  brisk  and  fair ;  all  her 
sails  were  set ;  she  came  on,  writes  a  spectator,  more 
swiftly  than  an  arrow.1 

Six  years  before,  in  1607,  ^e  ships  of  Captain  New- 
port had  conveyed  to  the  banks  of  James  River  the  first 
vital  germ  of  English  colonization  on  the  continent. 
Noble  and  wealthy  speculators,  with  Hispaniola,  Mex- 
ico, and  Peru  for  their  inspiration,  had  combined  to 
gather  the  fancied  golden  harvest  of  Virginia,  received 
a  charter  from  the  crown,  and  taken  possession  of  their 
El  Dorado.  From  tavern,  gaming-house,  and  brothel 
was  drawn  the  staple  of  the  colony,  —  ruined  gentlemen, 
prodigal  sons,  disreputable  retainers,  debauched  trades- 
men. Yet  it  would  be  foul  slander  to  affirm  that  the 
founders  of  Virginia  were  all  of  this  stamp ;  for  among 
the  riotous  crew  were  men  of  worth,  and,  high  above 
them  all,  a  hero  disguised  by  the  homeliest  of  names. 
Again  and  again,  in  direst  woe  and  jeopardy,  the  infant 
settlement  owed  its  life  to  the  heart  and  hand  of  John 
Smith. 

1  "  La  nauire  Anglois  venoit  plus  viste  q'un  dard,  ayant  le  vent  a  sou- 
hait,  tout  pauis  de  rouge,  les  pauillons  d'Angleterre  flottans,  et  troia 
trompettes  et  deux  tambours  faisans  rage  de  sonner."  —  Biard,  IMation, 
c  XXV. 


1613.]  SAMUEL   ARGALL. 

Several  years  had  elapsed  since  Newport's  voyage ; 
and  the  colony,  depleted  by  famine,  disease,  and  an  In- 
dian war,  had  been  recruited  by  fresh  emigration,  when 
one  Samuel  Argall  arrived  at  Jamestown,  captain  of  an 
illicit  trading  -  vessel.  He  was  a  man  of  ability  and 
force,  —  one  of  those  compounds  of  craft  and  daring  in 
which  the  age  was  fruitful ;  for  the  rest,  unscrupulous 
and  grasping.  In  the  spring  of  1613  he  achieved  a 
characteristic  exploit,  the  abduction  of  Pocahontas.  that 
most  interesting  of  young  squaws,  or,  to  borrow  the 
style  of  the  day,  of  Indian  princesses.  Sailing  up  the 
Potomac,  he  lured  her  on  board  his  ship ;  then,  with 
infamous  treachery,  he  carried  off  the  benefactress  and 
savior  of  the  colony  a  prisoner  to  Jamestown.  Here 
a  young  man  of  family,  Rolfe,  became  enamored  of 
her,  married  her  with  more  than  ordinary  ceremony, 
and  thus  secured  a  firm  alliance  between  her  tribesmen 
and  the  English. 

Meanwhile  Argall  had  set  forth  on  another  enter- 
prise. With  a  ship  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  tons, 
carrying  fourteen  guns  and  sixty  men,  he  sailed  in  May 
for  islands  off'  the  coast  of  Maine  to  fish  for  cod.1 
Thick  fogs  involved  him  ;  and,  when  the  weather 
cleared,  he  found  himself  not  far  from  the  Bay  of  Pe- 
nobscot.  Canoes  came  out  from  shore ;  the  Indians 
climbed  the  ship's  side,  and,  as  they  gained  the  deck, 
greeted  the  astonished  English  with  an  odd  panto- 
mime of  bows  and  flourishes,  which,  in  the  belief  of  the 
latter,  could  have  been  learned  from  none  but  French- 

1  Letter  of  Argall  to  Nicholas  Hawes,  June,  1613,  in  Purchas,  IV.  1764. 


250  SAUSSAYE.  —  ARGALL.  [1613. 

men.1  By  signs,  too,  and  by  often  repeating  the  word 
Norman, —  by  which  they  always  designated  the  French, 
—  they  betrayed  the  presence  of  the  latter.  Argall, 
eager  as  a  hound  on  the  scent,  questioned  them  as  well 
as  his  total  ignorance  of  their  language  would  permit. 
He  learned,  by  signs,  the  position  and  numbers  of  the 
colonists.  Clearly  they  were  no  match  for  him.  Assur- 
ing the  Indians  that  the  Normans  were  his  friends  and 
that  he  longed  to  see  them,  he  retained  one  of  the  vis- 
itors as  a  guide,  dismissed  the  rest  with  presents,  and 
shaped  his  course  for  Mount  Desert.2 

Now  the  wild  heights  rose  in  view ;  now  the  Eng- 
lish could  see  the  masts  of  a  small  ship  anchored  in  the 
bay  ;  and  now,  as  they  rounded  the  islands,  four  white 
tents  were  visible  on  the  grassy  slope  between  the  water 
and  the  woods.  They  were  a  gift  from  the  Queen  to 
Madame  de  Guercheville  and  her  missionaries.  Ar- 
gall's  pirates  prepared  for  fight,  while  their  Indian 
guide,  amazed,  broke  into  a  howl  of  lamentation. 

On  shore  all  was  confusion.  The  pilot  went  to 
reconnoitre,  and  ended  by  hiding  among  the  islands. 
Saussaye  lost  presence  of  mind,  and  did  nothing  for 
defence.  La  Motte,  his  lieutenant,  with  an  ensign,  a 
sergeant,  the  Jesuit  Du  Thet,  and  a  few  of  the  bravest 
men,  hastened  on  board  the  vessel,  but  had  no  time  to 

1  " .  .  .  .  et  aux  ceremonies  que  les  sauvages  faisoient  pour  leur  cora- 
plaire,  ils  recognoissoient  que  c'etoient  ce'rcmonies  de  courtoisie  et  ciuili- 
tez  fram.-oises."  — Biard,  Relation,  c.  XXV. 

2  Holmes,  American  Annals,  by  a  misapprehension  of  Champlain's  nar- 
rative, represents  Argall  as  having  a  squadron  of  eleven  ships.     He  cer- 
tainly had  but  one. 


1613.]  ARGALL  ATTACKS   THE   FRENCH.  281 

cast  loose  her  cables.  Argall  bore  down  on  them,  with 
a  furious  din  of  drums  and  trumpets,  showed  his  broad- 
side, and  replied  to  their  hail  with  a  volley  of  cannon 
and  musket  shot.  "  Fire  !  Fire  !  "  screamed  the  French 
captain,  Flory.  But  there  was  no  gunner  to  obey,  till 
the  Jesuit  Du  Thet  seized  and  applied  the  match.  "  The 
cannon  made  as  much  noise  as  the  enemy's,"  writes  his 
colleague ;  but,  as  the  inexperienced  artillerist  forgot  to 
aim  the  piece,  no  other  result  ensued.  Another  storm 
of  musketry,  and  Brother  Gilbert  du  Thet  rolled  help- 
less on  the  deck.  The  French  ship  was  mute.  The 
English  plied  her  for  a  time  with  shot,  then  lowered  a 
boat  and  boarded.  Under  the  awnings  which  covered 
her,  dead  and  wounded  men  -lay  strewn  about  her 
deck,  and  among  them  the  brave  priest,  smothering  in 
his  blood.  He  had  his  wish  ;  for,  on  leaving  France, 
he  had  prayed  with  uplifted  hands  that  he  might  not 
return,  but  perish  in  that  holy  enterprise.  Like  the 
Order  of  which  he  was  a  member,  lie  was  a  compound 
of  qualities  in  appearance  contradictory.  La  Motte, 
sword  in  hand,  showed  fight  to  the  last,  and  won  the 
esteem  of  his  captors. 

The  English  landed  without  meeting  any  show  of 
resistance,  and  ranged  at  will  among  the  tents,  the  piles 
of  baggage  and  stores,  and  the  buildings  and  defences 
newly  begun.  Argall  asked  for  the  commander,  but 
Saussaye  had  fled  to  the  woods.  The  crafty  English- 
man seized  his  trunks,  caused  the  locks  to  be  picked, 
searched  till  he  found  the  royal  letters  and  commissions, 
withdrew  them,  replaced  everything  else  as  he  had 

24* 


SAUSSAYE.  —  ARGALL.  [HU3. 

found  it,  and  again  closed  the  lids.  In  the  morning-, 
Saussaye,  betwixt  the  English  and  starvation,  preferred 
the  former,  and  issued  from  his  hiding-place.  Argall 
received  him  with  studious  courtesy.  That  country, 
he  said,  belonged  to  his  master,  King  James.  Doubt- 
less they  had  authority  from  their  own  sovereign  for 
thus  encroaching  upon  it ;  and,  for  his  part,  he  was  pre- 
pared to  yield  all  respect  to  the  commissions  of  the 
King  of  France,  that  the  peace  between  the  two  nations 
might  nbt  be  disturbed.  Therefore  he  prayed  that  the 
commissions  might  be  shown  to  him.  Saussaye  opened 
his  trunks.  The  royal  signature  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  At  this,  Argall's  courtesy  was  changed  to 
wrath.  He  denounced  the  Frenchmen  as  robbers  and 
pirates  who  deserved  the  gallows,  removed  their  prop- 
erty on  board  his  ship,  and  spent  the  afternoon  in  divid- 
ing it  among  his  followers.  The  French,  disconsolate, 
remained  on  the  scene  of  their  woes,  where  the  greedy 
sailors  as  they  came  ashore  would  snatch  from  them, 
now  a  cloak,  now  a  hat,  now  a  doublet,  till  the  unfor- 
tunate colonists  were  left  half  naked.  In  other  re- 
spects the  English  treated  their  captives  well,  —  except 
two  of  them,  whom  they  flogged ;  and  Argall,  whom 
Biard,  after  recounting  his  knavery,  calls  u  a  gentle- 
man of  noble  courage,"  having  gained  his  point,  re- 
turned to  his  former  courtesy. 

But  how  to  dispose  of  the  prisoners  1  Fifteen  of 
them,  including  Saussaye  and  the  Jesuit  Masse,  were 
turned  adrift  in  an  open  boat,  at  the  mercy  of  the  wil- 
derness and  the  sea.  Nearly  all  were  landsmen ;  but 


1613.]  RETURN  TO  FRANCE. 

while  their  unpractised  hands  were  struggling  with  the 
oars,  they  were  joined  among  the  islands  hy  the  fugitive 
pilot  and  his  boat's  crew.  Worn  and  half  starved,  the 
united  hands  made  their  perilous  way  eastward,  stopping 
from  time  to  time  to  hear  mass,  make  a  procession,  or 
catch  codfish.  Thus  sustained  in  the  spirit  and  in  the 
flesh,  cheered  too  by  the  Indians,  who  proved  fast 
friends  in  need,  they  crossed  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  doubled 
Cape  Sable,  and  followed  the  southern  coast  of  Nova 
Scotia,  till  they  happily  fell  in  with  two  French  trading- 
vessels,  which  bore  them  in  safety  to  St.  Malo. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

1613  —  1615. 
RUIN    OF    FRENCH    ACADIA. 

THE  JESUITS  AT  JAMESTOWN.  —  WRATH  OF  SIR  THOMAS  DALE.  —  A  NBW 
EXPEDITION.  —  PORT  ROYAL  DEMOLISHED.  —  EQUIVOCAL  POSTURE  OF 
THE  JESUITS.  —  THEIR  ADVENTURES.  —  THE  FRENCH  WILL  NOT  ABAN- 
DON ACADIA. 

"  PRAISED  be  God,  behold  two  thirds  of  our  com- 
pany safe  in  France,  telling  their  strange  adventures  to 
their  relations  and  friends.  And  now  you  will  wish  to 
know  what  befell  the  rest  of  us."  Thus  writes  Father 
Biard,  who,  with  his  companions  in  misfortune,  four- 
teen in  all,  prisoners  on  board  Argall's  ship  and  the 
prize,  were  borne  captive  to  Virginia.  Old  Point  Com- 
fort was  reached  at  length,  the  site  of  Fortress  Mon- 
roe ;  Hampton  Roads,  renowned  in  our  day  for  the 
sea-fight  of  the  Titans  ;  Sewell's  Point ;  the  Rip  Raps; 
Newport  News  ;  —  all  household  words  in  the  ears  of 
this  generation.  Now,  far  on  their  right,  buried  in  the 
damp  shade  of  immemorial  verdure,  lay,  untrodden  and 
voiceless,  those  fields  of  future  fame  where  stretched 
the  leaguering  lines  of  Washington,  where  the  lilies 
of  France  floated  beside  the  banners  of  the  new-born 

1  "  Dieu  soit  beny.  Voyla  ja  les  deux  tiers  de  nostre  troupe  reconduicts 
en  France  sains  et  sauues  parmy  leurs  parents  et  amis,  qui  les  oyent  con- 
ter  leurs  grandes  aventures.  Ores  consequemment  vous  desirez  sijauoir 
ce  qui  deuiendra  1'autre  tiers."  — Biard,  Relation,  c.  XXVIII. 


1613.]  THE  WRATH  OF  SIR  THOMAS  DALE. 

Republic,  and  where,  in  later  years,  embattled  treason 
confronted  the  manhood  of  an  outraged  nation.  And 
now  before  them  they  could  descry  the  masts  of  small 
craft  at  anchor,  a  cluster  of  rude  dwellings  fresh  from 
the  axe,  scattered  tenements,  and  fields  green  with  to- 
bacco. 

Throughout  the  voyage  the  prisoners  had  been 
soothed  with  flattering  tales  of  the  benignity  of  the 
Governor  of  Virginia,  Sir  Thomas  Dale,  his  love  of 
the  French,  and  his  respect  for  the  memory  of  Henry 
the  Fourth,  to  whom,  they  were  told,  he  was  much 
beholden  for  countenance  and  favor.  On  their  landing 
at  Jamestown,  this  consoling  picture  was  reversed.  The 
indignant  governor  fumed  and  blustered,  talked  of  halter 
and  gallows,  and  declared  that  he  would  hang  them  all. 
In  vain  Argall  remonstrated,  urging  that  he  had  pledged 
his  word  for  their  lives.  Dale,  outraged  by  their  inva- 
sion of  British  territory,  was  deaf  to  all  appeals ;  when 
Argall,  driven  to  extremity,  displayed  the  stolen  com- 
missions, and  proclaimed  his  stratagem,  of  which  the 
French  themselves  had  to  that  moment  been  ignorant. 
As  they  were  accredited  by  their  government,  their 
lives  at  least  were  safe.  Yet  the  wrath  of  Sir  Thomas 
Dale  still  burned  high.  He  summoned  his  council, 
and  they  resolved  promptly  to  wipe  off  all  stain  of 
French  intrusion  from  shores  which  King  James  claimed 
as  his  own. 

Their  action  was  utterly  unauthorized.  The  two 
kingdoms,  were  at  peace.  James  the  First,  by  the 
patents  of  1606,  had  granted  all  North  America,  from 


RUIN  OF  FRENCH  ACADIA.  [1613. 

the  thirty-fourth  to  the  forty-fifth  degree  of  latitude,  to 
the  two  companies  of  London  and  Plymouth,  Virginia 
being  assigned  to  the  former,  while  to  the  latter  were 
given  Maine  and  Acadia,  with  adjacent  regions.  Over 
these,  though  as  yet  the  claimants  had  not  taken 
possession  of  them,  the  authorities  of  Virginia  had 
no  color  of  jurisdiction.  England  claimed  all  North 
America,  in  virtue  of  the  discovery  of  Cabot ;  and  Sir 
Thomas  Dale  became  the  self-constituted  champion  of 
British  rights,  not  the  less  zealous  that  his  champion- 
ship promised  a  harvest  of  booty. 

Argall's  ship,  the  captured  ship  of  Saussaye,  and 
another  smaller  vessel,  were  at  once  equipped  and  de- 
spatched on  their  errand  of  havoc.  Argall  commanded ; 
and  Biard,  with  Quentin  and  several  others  of  the  pris- 
oners, were  embarked  with  him.1  They  shaped  their 
course  first  for  Mount  Desert.  Here  they  landed,  lev- 

* 

elled  Saussaye's  unfinished  defences,  cut  down  the 
French  cross,  and  planted  one  of  their  own  in  its  place. 
Next  they  sought  out  the  island  of  St.  Croix,  seized  a 
quantity  of  salt,  and  razed  to  the  ground  all  that  re- 
mained of  the  dilapidated  buildings  of  De  Monts. 
They  crossed  the  Bay  of  Fundy  to  Port  Royal,  guided, 
says  Biard,  by  an  Indian  chief,  —  an  improbable  asser- 
tion, since  the  natives  of  these  coasts  hated  the  Eng- 
lish as  much  as  they  loved  the  French,  and  now  well 
knew  the  designs  of  the  former.  The  unfortunate  set- 

1  In  his  Relation,  Biard  does  not  explain  the  reason  of  his  accompany- 
ing the  expedition.  In  his  letter  to  the  General  of  the  Jesuits,  dated 
Amiens,  26  May,  1614,  (Carayon,)  he  says  that  it  was  "  dans  le  dessein  de 
profiler  de  la  premiere  occasion  qui  se  rencontrerait,  pour  nous  renvoyer 
dans  no'.rr  p.itre  " 


1613.]  THE   ENGLISH  AT   PORT   ROYAL. 

tlement  \vas  tenantless.  Biencourt,  with  some  of  his 
men,  was  on  a  visit  to  neighboring  bands  of  Indians, 
while  the  rest  were  reaping  in  the  fields  on  the  river 
two  leagues  above  the  fort.  Succor  from  Poutrincourt 
had  arrived  during  the  summer.  The  magazines  were 
by  no  means  empty,  and  there  were  cattle,  horses,  and 
hogs  in  adjacent  fields  and  enclosures.  Exulting  at 
their  good  fortune,  Argall's  men  butchered  or  carried 
off  the  animals,  ransacked  the  buildings,  plundered 
them  even  to  the  locks  and  bolts  of  the  doors  ;  then 
laid  the  whole  in  ashes ;  "  and  may  it  please  the  Lord," 
adds  the  pious  Biard,  "  that  the  sins  therein  committed 
may  likewise  have  been  consumed  in  that  burning." 

Port  Royal  demolished,  the  marauders  went  in  boats 
up  the  river  to  the  fields  where  the  reapers  were  at 
work.  These  fled,  and  took  refuge  behind  the  ridge 
of  a  hill,  whence  they  gazed  helplessly  on  the  destruc- 
tion of  their  harvest.  Biard  approached  them,  and, 
according  to  the  declaration  of  Poutrincourt  made  and 
attested  before  the  Admiralty  of  Guienne,  tried  to  per- 
suade them  to  desert  his  son,  Biencourt,  and  take  ser- 
vice with  Argall.  The  reply  of  otfe  of  the  men  gave 
little  encouragement  for  further  parley :  — 

"  Begone,  or  I  will  split  your  head  with  this  hatchet." 
There  is  flat  contradiction  here  between  the  narrative 
of  the  Josuit  and  those  of  Poutrincourt  and  contem- 
porary English  writers,  who  agree  in  affirming  that 
Biard,  "out  of  indigestible  malice  that  he  had  conceived 
against  Biencourt,"  l  encouraged  the  attack  on  the  set- 

1  Briefe  Intelligence  from  Virginia  by  Letters.     See  Purchas,  IV.  1808. 


288  RUIN   OF  FRENCH  ACADIA.  [1613. 

dements  of  St.  Croix  and  Port  Royal,  and  guided  the 
English  thither.  The  priest  himself  admits  that  both 
French  and  English  regarded  him  as  a  traitor,  and  that 
his  life  was  in  danger.  While  Argall's  ship  was  at 
anchor,  a  Frenchman  shouted  to  the  English  from  a 
distance  that  they  would  do  well  to  kill  him.  The  mas- 
ter of  the  ship,  a  Puritan,  in  his  ahomination  of  priests 
and  above  all  of  Jesuits,  was  at  the  same  time  urging 
his  commander  to  set  Biard  ashore  and  leave  him  to 
the  mercy  of  his  countrymen.  In  this  pass,  he  was 
saved,  to  adopt  his  own  account,  by  what  he  calls  his  sim- 
plicity; for  he  tells  us,  that,  while  —  instigated,  like  the 
rest  of  his  enemies,  by  the  Devil  —  the  robber  and  the 
robbed  were  joining  hands  to  ruin  him,  he  was  on  his 
knees  before  Argall,  begging  him  to  take  pity  on  the 
French,  and  leave  them  a  boat,  together  with  provisions 
to,  sustain  their  miserable  lives  through  the  winter. 
This  spectacle  of  charity,  he  further  says,  so  moved  the 
noble  heart  of  the  commander,  that  he  closed  his  ears 
to  all  the  promptings  of  foreign  and  domestic  malice.1 

Compare  Poutrincourt's  letter  to  Lescarbot,  in  Lescarbot,  (1618,)  684. 
Also,  Plainte  du  Sieur  de  Poutn'ncourt  devant  le  Juge  de  I'Admiraute  de  Guy- 
oine,  Lescarbot,  687. 

1  "  le  ne  S9ay  qui  secourut  tant  a  propos  le  lesuite  en  ce  danger  que  sa 
simplicite.  Car  tout  de  mesme  que  s'il  eust  este  bien  fauorise  et  qu'il 
eust  pen  beaucoup  enuers  ledit  Anglois,  il  se  mit  a  genoux  deuarit  le 
Capitaine  par  deux  diuerses  fois  et  a  deux  diuersea  occasions,  a  celle  fin 
de  le  flechir  a  misericorde  enuers  les  Francois  du  dit  Port  Royal  esgares 
par  les  bois,  et  pour  luy  persuader  de  leur  laisser  quelques  vuires,  Inur 
chaloupe  et  quelqu'autre  moyen  de  passer  1'hyuer.  Et  voyez  combien 
differentos  petitions  on  faisoit  audit  Capitaine  :  car  au  mesme  temps  que 
le  JP.  Biard  le  supplioit  ainsi  pour  les  Francois,  vn  Francois  crioit  de  loin, 
avec  outrages  ct  iniures,  qu'il  le  falloit  massacrer. 

"  Or  Argal,  qui  est  d'vn  coaur  noble,  voyant  ceste  tant  sincere  affection 


10 IS.]  BIENCOURT  AND   THE   ENGLISH. 

The  English  had  scarcely  reembarked,  when  Bien- 
court  arrived  with  his  followers,  and  beheld  the  scene 
of  destruction.  Hopelessly  outnumbered,  he  tried  to 
lure  Argall  and  some  of  his  officers  into  an  ambuscade, 
but  they  would  not  be  entrapped.  Biencourt  now 
asked  for  an  interview.  The  word  of  honor  was  mu- 
tually given,  and  the  two  chiefs  met  in  a  meadow  not 
far  from  the  demolished  dwellings.  An  anonymous 
English  writer  says  that  Biencourt  offered  to  transfer 
his  allegiance  to  King  James,  provided  he  was  permitted 
to  remain  at  Port  Royal  and  carry  on  the  fur  -  trade 
under  a  guaranty  of  English  protection  ;  but  that  Ar- 
gall would  not  listen  to  his  overtures.1  The  interview 
proved  a  stormy  one.  Biard  says  that  the  Frenchman 
vomited  against  him  every  species  of  malignant  abuse. 
"  In  the  mean  time,"  he  adds,  "  you  will  considerately 
observe  to  what  madness  the  evil  spirit  exciteth  those 
who  sell  themselves  to  him."2  According  to  Poutrin- 
court,  Argall  admitted  that  the  priest  had  urged  him 
to  attack  Port  Royal.8  Certain  it  is,  that  the  young 
man  demanded  his  surrender,  frankly  declaring  that  he 
meant  to  hang  him.  "  Whilest  they  were  discoursing 
together,"  says  the  old  English  writer  above  mentioned, 
"  one  of  the  savages  rushing  suddenly  forth  from  the 

du  lesuite,  et  de  1'autre  costc  tant  bestiale  et  enragce  inhumanitc  de  ce 
Francois,  laquelle  ne  recognoissoit  ny  sa  propre  nation,  ny  bien-faicts,  ny 
religion,  ny  estoit  dompte  par  1'affliction  et  verges  de  Dieu,  estima,"  etc.  — 
Uiard,  Relation,  c.  XXIX.  He  writes  throughout  in  the  third  person. 

*  Briefe  Intelligence,  Purchas,  I V.  1808. 

2  Biard,  e.  XXIX. :  "  Ccpendant  vous  remarqiierez  sagement  ixisqmt 
k  quelle  rage  le  malin  esprit  agite  ceux  qui  se  vcndcnt  a  luy." 

8  Plainte  du  Sieur  de  Poutrincourt,  Lescarbot,  (1618,)  689. 
25 


2QO  EUIN   OF  FRENCH  ACADIA.  [101 3 

Woods,  and  licentiated  to  come  neere,  did  after  his 
manner,  with  such  broken  French  as  he  had,  earnestly 
mediate  a  peace,  wondring  why  they  that  seemed  to  he 
of  one  Country,  should  vse  others  with  such  hostilitie, 
and  that  with  such  a  forme  of  habit  and  gesture  as 
made  them  both  to  laugh."  * 

His  work  done,  and,  as  he  thought,  the  French 
settlements  of  Acadia  effectually  blotted  out,  Argall 
set  sail  for  Virginia  on  the  thirteenth  of  November. 
Scarcely  was  he  at  sea  when  a  storm  scattered  the 
vessels.  Of  the  smallest  of  the  three  nothing  was  ever 

O 

heard.  Argall,  severely  buffeted,  reached  his  port  in 
safety,  having  first,  it  is  said,  compelled  the  Dutch  at 
Manhattan  to  acknowledge  for  a  time  the  sovereignty 
of  King  James.2  The  captured  ship  of  Saussaye,  with 
Biard  and  his  colleague  Quentin  on  board,  was  forced 
to  yield  to  the  fury  of  the  western  gales,  and  bear  away 
for  the  Azores.  To  Biard  the  change  of  destination 
was  nowise  unwelcome.  He  stood  in  fear  of  the  trucu- 
lent governor  of  Virginia,  and  his  tempest-rocked  slum- 
bers were  haunted  with  unpleasant  visions  of  a  rope's 
end.3  It  seems  that  some  of  the  French  at  Port  Royal, 
disappointed  in  their  hope  of  hanging  him,  had  com- 
mended him  to  Sir  Thomas  Dale  as  a  proper  subject 

1  Purchas,  IV.  1808. 

2  Description  of  the  Pronnce  of  New  Albion,  in  New  York  Historical  C-ilfco- . 
tions,  Second  Series,  I.  335.     The  statement  is  doubtful.    It  is  supported, 
however,  by  the  excellent  authority  of  Dr.  O'Callaghan,  History  of  New 
Netherland,  I.  69. 

:<  "  Lc  Marechal  Thomas  Deel  (que  vous  avez  ouy  estre  fort  aspre  en 
ses  humeurs)  ....  attendoit  en  bon  deuotion  le  Pere  Biard  pour  luy 
tost  accourcir  les  voyages,  luy  faisant  trouuer  an  milieu  d'une  eschelle  le 
bout  du  monde."  —  Biard,  Relation,  c.  XXX.,  XXX III. 


101G.]  ADVENTURES  OF  THE  JESUITS. 

for  the  gallows,  drawing  up  a  paper,  signed  by  six  of 
them,  and  containing  allegations  of  a  nature  well  fitted 
to  kindle  the  wrath  of  that  vehement  official.  The  vessel 
was  commanded  by  Turnel,  Argall's  lieutenant,  appar- 
ently an  officer  of  merit,  a  scholar  and  linguist.  He 
had  treated  his  prisoner  with  great  kindness,  because, 
says  the  latter,  "  he  esteemed  and  loved  him  for  his 
naive  simplicity  and  ingenuous  candor."  But  of  late, 
thinking  his  kindness  misplaced,  he  had  changed  it  for 
an  extreme  coldness,  preferring,  in  the  words  of  Biard 
himself,  "  to  think  that  the  Jesuit  had  lied,  rather  than 
«o  many  who  accused  him."  2 

Water  ran  low,  provisions  began  to  fail,  and  they  eked 
out  their  meagre  supply  by  butchering  the  horses  taken 
at  Port  Royal.  At  length  they  came  within  sight  of 
Fayal,  when  a  new  terror  seized  the  minds  of  the  two 
Jesuits.  Might  not  the  Englishmen  fear  that  their 
prisoners  would  denounce  them  to  the  fervent  Catholics 
of  that  island  as  pirates  and  sacrilegious  kidnappers 
of  priests  ?  From  such  hazard  the  escape  was  obvious. 
What  more  simple  than  to  drop  the  priests  into  the 
sea  \  8  In  truth,  the  English  had  no  little  dread  of  the 
results  of  conference  between  the  Jesuits  and  the  Port- 
uguese authorities  of  Fayal;  but  the  conscience  or  hu- 

1  " .  .  .  .  il  avoit  faict  cstat  de  le  priser  et  1'aymer  pour  sa  naifue  sim- 
plicitc  et  ouuerte  candeur."  —  Biard,  Relation,  c.  XXX. 

2  " .  .  .  .  il  aimoit  mieux  croire  quo  le  Icsuite  fust  menteur  que  non 
pas  tant  d'tiutres  qui  I'aceusoyent."  —  Ibid. 

3  "  Oe  souci  nous  inquic'tuit  fort.     Qu'allaient-ils  faire  ?     Nousjette- 
raient-ils  a  1'eau  1"  —  Lellre  du  P.  Biard  au  T.  R.  P.  Claude.  Aytiaviva, 
Amiens,  26   Mai,    1614,  in    Carayon,    106.     Like   all   Biard's   letters    to 
Aqua  viva,  this  is  translated  from  the  original  Latin. 


RUIN   ()F  FRENCH  ACADIA.  [1613. 

manity  of  Turnel  revolted  at  the  expedient  which  awa- 
kened grievous  apprehension  in  the  troubled  mind  of 
Biard.  He  contented  himself  with  requiring1  that  the 
two  priests  should  remain  hidden  while  the  ship  lay  off 
the  port.  Biard  does  not  say  that  he  enforced  the 
demand  either  by  threats  or  by  the  imposition  of  oaths. 
He  and  his  companion,  however,  rigidly  complied  with 
it,  lying  close  in  the  hold  or  under  the  boats,  while 
suspicious  officials  searched  the  ship,  —  a  proof,  he  tri- 
umphantly declares,  of  the  audacious  malice  which  has 
asserted  it  as  a  tenet  of  Rome  that  no  faith  need  be  kept 
with  heretics. 

Once  more  at  sea,  Turnel  shaped  his  course  for 
home,  having,  with  some  difficulty,  gained  a  supply  of 
water  and  provision  at  Fayal.  All  was  now  harmony 
betwixt  him  and  his  prisoners.  Arrived  at  Pembroke, 
in  Wales,  the  appearance  of  the  vessel  —  a  French 
craft  in  English  hands  —  again  drew  upon  him  the 
suspicion  of  piracy.  •  The  Jesuits,  dangerous  witnesses 
among  the  Catholics  of  Fayal,  could  at  the  worst  do 
little  harm  with  the  Vice-Admiral  at  Pembroke.  To 
him,  therefore,  he  led  the  prisoners,  in  the  sable  garb 
of  their  order,  now  much  the  worse  for  wear,  and  com- 
mended them  as  persons  without  reproach,  "  wherein," 
adds  the  modest  father,  "  he  spoke  the  truth." *  The 
result  of  this  evidence  was,  we  are  told,  that  Turnel 
was  henceforth  treated,  not  as  a  pirate,  but,  according 
to  his  deserts,  as  an  honorable  gentleman.  This  inter- 

1  ".  .  .  .  gens   irreprochables,  ce  disoit-il,  et  disoit  vray."  —  Biard. 
Relation,  c.  XXXII. 


1614.]  FORTUNES   OF  THE   COLONISTS. 

view  led  to  a  meeting-  with  certain    dignitaries  of  the 

O  ^ 

Anglican  church,  who,  much  interested  in  an  encounter 
with  Jesuits  in  their  robes,  were  filled,  says  Biard,  with 
wonder  and  admiration  at  what  they  were  told  of  their 
conduct.1  He  explains  that  these  churchmen  differ 
widely  in  form  and  doctrine  from  the  English  Calvin- 
ists,  who,  he  says,  are  called  Puritans;  and  he  adds 
that  they  are  superior  in  every  respect  to  these,  whom 
they  detest  as  an  execrable  pest.2 

Biard  was  sent  to  Dover  and  thence  to  Calais,  re- 
turning-, perhaps,  to  the  tranquil  honors  of  his  chair  of 
theology  at  Lyons.  Saussaye,  La  Motte,  Flory,  and 
other  prisoners,  were,  at  various  times,  sent  from  Vir- 
ginia to  England  and  ultimately  to  France.  Madame 
de  GuercheviJle,  her  pious  designs  crushed  in  the  bud, 
seems  to  have  gained  no  further  satisfaction  than  the 
restoration  of  the  vessel.  The  French  ambassador 
complained  of  the  outrage,  but  answer  was  postponed ; 
and.  in  the  troubled  state  of  France,  the  matter  appears 
to  have  been  dropped.3 

Argall,  whose  violent,  unscrupulous,  and  crafty  char- 
acter was  offset  by  a  gallant  bearing  and  various  traits 
of  martial  virtue,  became  deputy-governor  of  Virginia, 
and,  under  a  military  code,  ruled  the  colony  with  a  rod 
of  iron.  He  enforced  the  observance  of  Sunday  with 
an  edifying  vigor.  Those  who  absented  themselves 

1  " .  .  .  .  et  les  ministres  en  demonstroyent  grands  signes  estonne- 
ment  et  d'admiration."  —  Biard,  lielation,  e.  XXXI. 

2  ".  .  .  .  et  los  detestent  comme  peste  execrable."  —  Ibid.  c.  XXXII. 

8  Order  of  Council  respecting  certain  claims  w/ainst  Capt.  An/all,  etc.     An- 
•wer  to  the  preceding  Order.     See  Colonial  Documents  of  New  York,  III.  1,  2. 
25* 


RUIN   OF  FRENCH  ACADIA.  11615 

from  church  were,  for  the  first  offence,  imprisoned  for 
the  night,  and  reduced  to  slavery  for  a  week  ;  for  the 
second  offence,  a  month  ;  and  for  the  third,  a  year. 
Nor  was  he  less  strenuous  in  his  devotion  to  Mammon. 
He  enriched  himself  by  extortion  and  wholesale  pecu- 
lation, and  his  audacious  dexterity,  aided  by  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  is  said  to  have 
had  a  trading  connection  with  him,  thwarted  all  the 
efforts  of  the  company  to  bring  him  to  account.  In 
1623,  he  was  knighted  by  the  hand  of  King  James.1 

Early  in  the  spring  following  the  English  attack, 
Poutrincourt  came  to  Port  Royal.  He  found  the  place 
in  ashes,  and  his  unfortunate  son,  with  the  men  under 
his  command,  wandering  houseless  in  the  forests.  They 
had  passed  a  winter  of  extreme  misery,  sustaining  their 
wretched  existence  with  roots,  the  buds  of  trees,  and 
lichens  peeled  from  the  rocks. 

Despairing  of  his  enterprise,  Poutrinconrt  returned 
to  France.  In  the  next  year,  1615,  during  the  civil 
disturbances  which  followed  the  marriage  of  the  King, 
command  was  given  him  of  the  royal  forces  destined 
for  the  attack  on  Mery ;  and  here,  happier  in  his  death 
than  in  his  life,  he  fell,  sword  in  hand.2 

Despite  their  reverses,  the  French  kept  a  tenacious 
hold  on  Acadia.3  Biencourt,  partially  at  least,  rebuilt 

1  Argall's  history  may  be  gleaned  from  Purchas,  Smith,  Stith,  Gorges, 
Beverly,  etc.     An  excellent  summary  will  be  found  in  Belknap's  Aumi- 
can  Biography,  anl  a  briefer  one  in  AHen's. 

2  Nobilissimi  Unrols  Potrincurtii  Epitapliium,  Lescarbot,  (1618,)  691      lie 
took  the  town,  but  was  killed  immediately  after  by  a  treacherous  shot,  in 
the  fifty-eighth  year  of  his  age.    He  was  buried  on  his  barony  of  St.  Just. 

R  According  to  Biard,  more  than  five  hundred  French  vessels  sailed 


1615.]  FRANCE   AND   ENGLAND. 

Port  Royal ;  while  winter  after  winter  the  smoke  of  fur- 
traders'  huts  curled  into  the  still,  sharp  air  of  these 
frosty  wilds,  till  at  length,  with  happier  auspices,  plans 
of  settlement  were  resumed.1 

Rude  hands  strangled  the  "northern  Paraguay  "in  its 
birth.  Its  beginnings  had  been  feeble,  but  behind  were 
the  forces  of  a  mighty  organization,  at  once  devoted  and 
ambitious,  enthusiastic  and  calculating.  Seven  years 
later  the  Mayflower  landed  her  emigrants  at  Plymouth. 
What  would  have  been  the  issues  had  the  zeal  of  the 
pious  Lady  of  Honor  preoccupied  New  England  with 
a  Jesuit  colony  1  A  collision  of  adverse  elements  ;  a 
conflict  of  water  and  fire ;  the  death-grapple  of  the  iron 
Puritans  with  these  indomitable  priests. 

In  a  semi-piratical  descent,  an  obscure  stroke  of  law- 
less violence,  began  the  strife  of  France  and  England, 
Protestantism  and  Rome,  which,  for  a  century  and  a 
half,  shook  the  struggling  communities  of  North  Amer- 
ica, and  closed  at  last  in  the  memorable  triumph  on  the 
Plains  of  Abraham. 

annually,  at  this  time,  to  America,  for  the  whale  and  cod  fishery  and  the 
fur-trade. 

1  There  is  an  autograph  letter  in  the  Archives  de  la  Marine  from  Bien- 
court,  —  who  had  succeeded  to  his  father's  designation, — written  at  Port 
Royal  in  September,  1618,  and  addressed  "  aiix  Autoritfs  de  la  Viilc  de 
Paris,"  in  which  he  urges  upon  them  the  advantages  of  establishing  for- 
tified posts  in  Aciidia,  thus  defending  it  Jigainst  incursions  of  the  Knglish, 
who  had  lately  seized  a  French  trader  from  Dieppe,  and  insuring  the  con- 
tinuance and  increase  of  the  traffic  in  furs  from  which  the  city  of  Paris 
lerived  sut-h  advantages.  Moreover,  he  adds,  it  will  serve  as  an  asylum 
for  the  indigent  and  suffering  of  the  city,  to  their  own  great  benefit  and 
the  advantage  of  the  municipality,  who  will  be  relieved  of  the  burden 
of  their  maintenance.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  city  responded  t"  IUH 
appeal. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

1608,  1609. 
CHAMPLAIN    AT    QUEBEC. 

A  NEW  ENTERPRISE.  — THE  ST.  LAWRENCE.  —  CONFLICT  WITFI  BASQUES.— 
T.VDOUSSAC.  —  QUEBEC    FOUNDED.  —  CONSPIRACY.  —  WINTER.  —  Tiw 

MONTAGNAIS.  —  SPRING.  —  PROJECTS  OF    EXPLORATION. 

A  LONELY  ship  sailed  up  the  St.  Lawrence.  The 
white  whales  floundering1  in  the  Bay  of  Tadoussac,  and 
the  wild  duck  diving  as  the  foaming  prow  drew  near, 
—  there  was  no  life  but  these  in  all  that  watery  solitude, 
twenty  miles  from  shore  to  shore.  The  ship  was  from 
Honflecr,  and  was  commanded  by  Samuel  de  Cham- 
plain.  He  was  the  ^iEneas  of  a  destined  people,  and  in 
her  womb  lay  the  embryo  life  of  Canada. 

De  Monts,  after  his  exclusive  privilege  of  trade  was 
revoked,  and  his  Acadian  enterprise  ruined,  had  aban- 
doned it,  as  we  have  seen,  to  Poutrincourt.  Well,  per 
haps,  would  it  have  been  for  him,  had  he  abandoned 
with  it  all  Transatlantic  enterprises ;  but  the  passion 
for  discovery,  the  noble  ambition  of  founding  colonies, 
had  taken  possession  of  his  mind.  Nor  does  it  appear 
that  he  was  actuated  by  hopes  of  gain.  Yet  the  prof- 
its of  the  fur-trade  were  vital  to  the  new  designs  he 
was  meditating,  to  meet  the  heavy  outlay  they  de- 
manded ;  and  he  solicited  and  obtained  a  fresh  monop- 
oly of  the  traffic  for  one  year.1 

1  See  the  patent  in  Champlain,  (1613,)  163. 


1608.]  VIEWS   OF   CHAMPLAIN.  £97 

Champlain  was,  at  the  time,  in  Paris ;  but  his  unquiet 
thoughts  turned  westward.  He  was  enamored  of  the 
New  World,  whose  rugged  charms  had  seized  his  fancy 
and  his  heart ;  and  as  explorers  of  Arctic  seas  have 
pined  in  their  repose  for  polar  ice  and  snow,  so  did  he, 
with  restless  longing,  revert  to  the  fog-wrapped  coasts, 
the  piny  odors  of  forests,  the  noise  of  waters,  the  sharp 
and  piercing  sunlight,  so  dear  to  his  remembrance. 
Fain  would  he  unveil  the  mystery  of  that  boundless 
wilderness,  and  plant  the  Catholic  faith  and  the  power 
of  France  amid  its  ancient  barbarism. 

Five  years  before,  he  had  explored  the  St.  Lawrence 
as  far  as  the  rapids  above  Montreal.  On  its  banks,  as 
he  thought,  was  the  true  site  for  a  settlement,  a  fortified 
post,  whence,  as  from  a  secure  basis,  the  waters  of  the 
vast  interior  might  be  traced  back  towards  their  sources, 
and  a  western  route  discovered  to  China  and  the  East. 
For  the  fur-trade,  too,  the  innumerable  streams  that 
descended  to  the  great  river  might  all  be  closed  against 
foreign  intrusion  by  a  single  fort  at  some  commanding 
point,  and  made  tributary  to  a  rich  and  permanent  com- 
merce ;  while — and  this  was  nearer  to  his  heart,  for 
he  had  often  been  heard  to  say  that  the  saving  of  a  soul 
was  worth  more  than  the  conquest  of  an  empire  — 
countless  savage  tribes,  in  the  bondage  of  Satan,  might 
by  the  same  avenues  be  reached  and  redeemed. 

De  Monts  embraced  his  views  ;  and,  fitting  out  two 
ships,  gave  command  of  one  to  the  elder  Pontgrave, 
of  the  other  to  Champlain.  The  former  was  to  trade 
with  the  Indians  and  bring  back  the  cargo  of  furs 


CHAMPLAIN  AT   QUEBEC.  [1608. 

which,  it  was  hoped,  would  meet  the  expense  of  the 
voyage.  To  the  latter  fell  the  harder  task  of  settle- 
ment and  exploration. 

Pontgrave,  laden  with  goods  for  the  Indian  trade  of 
Tadoussac,  sailed  from  Honfleur  on  the  fifth  of  April, 
1608.  Champlain,  with  men,  arms,  and  stores  for  the 
colony,  followed  eight  days  later.  On  the  fifteenth  of 
May  he  was  on  the  Grand  Bank ;  on  the  thirtieth  he 
passed  Gaspe,  and  on  the  third  of  June  neared  Ta- 
doussac. No  life  was  to  be  seen.  Had  Pontgrave  yet 
arrived  1  He  anchored,  lowered  a  boat,  and  rowed  into 
the  port,  round  the  rocky  point  at  the  southeast,  then, 
from  the  fury  of  its  winds  and  currents,  called  La 
Pointe  de  Tous  les  Diables.1  There  was  life  enough 
within,  and  more  than  he  cared  to  find.  In  the  still 
anchorage  under  the  cliffs  lay  Pontgrave's  vessel,  and 
at  her  side  another  ship.  The  latter  was  a  Basque 
fur-trader. 

Pontgrave,  arriving  a  few  days  before,  had  found 
himself  anticipated  by  the  Basques,  who  were  busied  in 
a  brisk  trade  with  bands  of  Indians  cabined  along  the 
borders  of  the  cove.  In  all  haste  he  displayed  the 
royal  letters,  and  commanded  a  cessation  of  the  prohib- 
ited traffic ;  but  the  Basques  proved  refractory,  declared 
that  they  would  trade  in  spite  of  the  King,  fired  on 
Pontgrave  with  cannon  and  musketry,  wounded  him 
and  two  of  his  men,  and  killed  a  third.  They  then 
boarded  his  vessel,  and  carried  away  all  his  cannon, 

i  Champlain,  (1613,)  166.    Also  called  La  Pointe  aux  Kochers.    Ibid. 
(1632,)  119. 


1608.]  TADOUSSAC. 

small  arms,  and  ammunition,  saying  that  they  would 
restore  them  when  they  had  finished  their  trade  and 
were  ready  to  return  home. 

Champlain  found  his  comrade  on  shore,  in  a  disabled 
condition.  The  Basques,  though  still  strong  enough  to 
make  fight,  were  alarmed  for  the  consequences  of  their 
procedure,  and  anxious  to  come  to  terms.  A  peace, 
therefore,  was  signed  on  hoard  their  vessel ;  all  differ- 
ences were  referred  to  the  judgment  of  the  French 
courts,  harmony  was  restored,  and  the  choleric  stran- 
gers betook  themselves  to  catching  whales. 

This  port  of  Tadoussac  was  long  the  centre  of  the 
Canadian  fur  -  trade.  A  desolation  of  barren  moun- 
tains closes  around  it,  betwixt  whose  ribs  of  rugged 
granite,  bristling  with  savins,  birches,  and  firs,  the  Sa- 
guenay  rolls  its  gloomy  waters  from  the  northern  wil- 
derness. Centuries  of  civilization  have  not  tamed  the 
wildness  of  the  place ;  and  still,  in  grim  repose,  the 
mountains  hold  their  guard  around  the  waveless  lake 
that  glistens  in  their  shadow,  and  doubles,  in  its  sullen 
mirror,  crag,  precipice,  and  forest. 

Near  the  brink  of  the  cove  or  harbor  where  the 
vessels  lay,  and  a  little  below  the  mouth  of  a  brook 
which  formed  one  of  the  outlets  of  this  small  lake, 
stood  the  remains  of  the  wooden  barrack  built  by  Chau- 
vin  eight  years  before.  Above  the  brook  were  the 
lodges  of  an  Indian  camp,1 — stacks  of  poles  covered 
with  birch  -  bark.  They  belonged  to  an  Algonquin 
horde,  called  Moniagnais,  denizens  of  surrounding 

1  Plan  du  Port  de  Tadoussac,  Champlain,  (1613,)  172. 


300  CHAMPLAIN  AT   QUEBEC.  [1008. 

wilds,  and  gatherers  of  their  only  harvest,  —  skins  of 
the  moose,  caribou,  and  bear ;  fur  of  the  beaver,  marten, 
otter,  fox,  wild-cat,  and  lynx.  Nor  was  this  all,  for  they 
were  intermediate  traders  betwixt  the  French  and  the 
shivering  bands  who  roamed  the  weary  stretch  of  stunted 
forest  between  the  head  waters  of  the  Saguenay  and 
Hudson's  Bay.  Indefatigable  canoe -men,  in  their 
birchen  vessels,  light  as  egg-shells,  they  threaded  the 
devious  tracks  of  countless  rippling  streams,  shady  by- 
ways of  the  forest,  where  the  wild  duck  scarcely  finds 
depth  to  swim ;  then  descended  to  their  mart  along 
those  scenes  of  picturesque  yet  dreary  grandeur  which 
steam  has  made  familiar  to  modern  tourists.  With 
slowly  moving  paddles,  they  glided  beneath  the  cliff' 
whose  shaggy  brows  frown  across  the  zenith,  and  whose 
base  the  deep  waves  wash  with  a  hoarse  and  hollow 
cadence ;  and  they  passed  the  sepulchral  Bay  of  the 
Trinity,  dark  as  the  tide  of  Acheron,  —  a  sanctuary 
of  solitude  and  silence,  where  the  soul  of  the  wilderness 
dwells  embodied  in  voiceless  rock :  depths  which,  as 
the  fable  runs,  no  sounding  line  can  fathom,  and  heights 
at  whose  dizzy  verge  the  wheeling  eagle  seems  a  speck.1 
And  now,  peace  being  established  with  the  Basques, 
and  the  wounded  Pontgrave  busied,  as  far  as  might  be, 
in  transferring  to  the  hold  of  his  ship  the  rich  lading  of 
the  Indian  canoes,  Chainplain  spread  his  sails,  and  once 

more  held  his  course  up  the  St.  Lawrence.   .Far  to 

1 

1  Bouchette  estimates  the  height  of  these  cliffs  at  eighteen  hundred 
feet.  They  overhang  the  river  and  bay.  The  scene  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  on  the  continent. 


1608.J  QUEBEC.  301 

the  south,  in  sun  and  shadow,  slumbered  the  woody 
mountains  whence  fell  the  countless  springs  of  the  St. 
John,  behind  tenantless  shores,  now  white  with  glim- 
mering villiiges,  —  La  Chenaie,  Granville,  Kamouraska, 
St.  Roche,  St.  Jean,  Vincelot,  Berthier.  But  on  the 
north,  the  jealous  wilderness  still  asserts  its  sway, 
crowding  to  the  river's  verge  its  rocky  walls,  its  domes 
and  towers  of  granite ;  and  to  this  hour,  its  solitude 
is  scarcely  broken. 

Above  the  point  of  the  Island  of  Orleans,  a  constric- 
tion of  the  vast  channel  narrows  it  to  a  mile ;  on  one 
hand,  the  green  heights  of  Point  Levi  ;  on  the  other, 
the  cliffs  of  Quebec.1  Here,  a  small  stream,  the  St. 
Charles,  enters  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  in  the  angle 
betwixt  them  rises  the  promontory,  on  two  sides  a 
natural  fortress.  Land  among  the  walnut-trees  that 
formed  a  belt  between  the  cliffs  and  the  St.  Lawrence. 
Climb  the  steep  height,  now  bearing  aloft  its  ponderous 

1  The  origin  of  this  name  has  been  disputed,  but  there  is  no  good 
ground  to  doubt  its  Indian  origin,  which  is  distinctly  affirmed  by 
Champlain  and  Lesearbot.  Charlevoix,  Pastes  C/ironologiques,  (1608,) 
derives  it  from  the  Algonquin  word  Qntbeio,  or  Quelibec,  signifying  a  ««;•- 
rowing  or  contracting  (rtfrfrissemfnt).  A  half-breed  Algonquin  told  Gar- 
neau  that  the  word  Quel>ec  or  Ouabec  means  a  strait.  The  same  writer  was 
told  by  M.  Malo,  a  missionary  among  the  Micmacs,  a  branch  of  the  Al- 
gonqnins,  that  in  their  dialect  the  word  Kibec  had  the  same  meaning. 
Martin  says,  "  Lea  Algonquins  1'appellent  Oual>ec,  ct  les  Micmacs  fober/itf, 
c'est  k  dire.  '  la  oil  la  riviere  est  fermde.'  "  Martin's  Bresstini,  App.  326. 
The  derivations  given  by  Potherie,  Le  Beau,  and  others,  are  purely  fan- 
ciful. The  circumstance  of  the  word  Quel>ec  being  found  engraved  on 
the  ancient  seal  of  Lord  Suffolk  (see  Hawkins,  Picture  of  Qntbec)  can 
only  be  regarded  as  a  curious  coincidence.  In  Cartier's  times  the  site  of 
Quebec  was  occupied  by  a  tribe  of  the  Iroquois  race,  who  called  their 
village  Stadacont  The  Hurons  called  it,  says  Sagard,  Atou-ta-requee.  IP 
the  modern  Huron  dialect,  Tiatou-tu-riti  means  the  narrows 
26 


302  CHAMPLAIN  AT   QUEBEC.  11608 

load  of  churches,  convents,  dwellings,  ramparts,  and 
batteries,  —  there  was  an  accessible  point,  a  rough  pas- 
sage, gullied  downward  where  Prescott  Gate  now  opens 
on  the  Lower  Town.  Mount  to  the  highest  summit, 
Cape  Diamond,1  now  zigzagged  with  warlike  masonry. 
Then  the  fierce  sun  fell  on  the  bald,  baking  rock,  with 
its  crisped  mosses  and  parched  lichens.  Two  centuries 
and  a  half  have  quickened  the  solitude  with  swarm- 
ing life,  covered  the  deep  bosom  of  the  river  with  barge 
and  steamer  and  gliding  sail,  and  reared  cities  and  vil- 
lages on  the  site  of  forests ;  but  nothing  can  destroy 
the  surpassing  grandeur  of  the  scene. 

Grasp  the  savin  anchored  in  the  fissure,  lean  over 
the  brink  of  the  precipice,  and  look  downward,  a  little 
to  the  left,  on  the  belt  of  woods  which  covers  the  strand 
between  the  water  and  the  base  of  the  cliffs.  Here  a 
gang  of  axe-men  are  at  work,  and  Points  Levi  and  Or- 
leans echo  the  crash  of  falling  trees. 

These  axe-men  were  pioneers  of  an  advancing  host, 
—  advancing,  it  is  true,  with  feeble  and  uncertain 
progress :  priests,  soldiers,  peasants,  feudal  scutcheons, 
royal  insignia.  Not  the  Middle  Age,  but  engendered 
of  it  by  the  stronger  life  of  Modern  Centralization  ; 
sharply  stamped  with  a  parental  likeness  ;  heir  to  pa- 
rental weakness  and  parental  force. 

A  few  weeks  passed,  and  a  pile  of  wooden  buildings 
rose  on  the  brink  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  on  or  near  the 

1  Champlain  calls  Cape  Diamond,  Mont  du  Gas  (Guast),  from  the  fam- 
ily name  of  De  Monts.  He  gives  the  name  of  Cape  Diamond  to  Pointa 
a  Puiseaux.  See  Map  of  Quebec,  (1613). 


1608.]  CONSPIRACY.  303 

site  of  the  market-place  of  the  Lower  Town  of  Quebec.1 
The  pencil  of  Champlain,  always  regardless  of  propor- 
tion and  perspective,  has  preserved  its  semblance.  A 
strong  wooden  wall,  surmounted  by  a  gallery  loop-holed 
for  musketry,  enclosed  three  buildings,  containing  quar- 
ters for  himself  and  his  men,  together  with  a  court- 
yard, from  one  side  of  which  rose  a  tall  dove-cot,  like 
a  belfry.  A  moat  surrounded  the  whole,  and  two  or 
three  small  cannon  were  planted  on  salient  platforms 
towards  the  river.  There  was  a  large  magazine  near 
at  hand,  and  a  part  of  the  adjacent  ground  was  laid 
out  as  a  garden. 

In  this  garden  Champlain  was  one  morning  direct- 
ing his  laborers,  when  the  pilot  of  the  ship  approached 
him  with  an  anxious  countenance,  and  muttered  a  re- 
quest to  speak  with  him  in  private.  Champlain  assent- 
ing, they  withdrew  to  the  neighboring  woods,  \rhen  the 
pilot  disburdened  himself  of  his  secret.  One  Antoine 
Natel,  a  locksmith,  smitten  by  conscience  or  fear,  had 
revealed  to  him  a  conspiracy  to  murder  his  commander 
and  deliver  Quebec  into  the  hands  of  the  Basques  and 
of  certain  Spaniards  lately  arrived  at  Tadoussac.  An- 
other locksmith,  named  Duvrd,  was  the  author  of 
the  plot,  and,  with  the  aid  of  three  accomplices,  had 
befooled  or  terrified  nearly  all  the  company  into  bear- 
ing a  part  in  it.  Each  was  assured  that  he  should 
make  his  fortune,  and  all  were  mutually  pledged  to 
poniard  the  first  betrayer  of  the  secret.  The  critical 
point  of  their  enterprise  was  the  killing  of  Champlain. 
Some  were  for  strangling  him  in  his  bed,  some  for 

1  Compare  Faribault,  Voyages  de  D&ouverte  au  Canada,  105. 


304-  CHAMPLAIN  AT   QUEBEC.  [1608. 

raising  a  false  alarm  in  the  night  and  shooting  him  as 
he  issued  from  his  quarters. 

Having  heard  the  pilot's  story,  Champlain,  remain- 
ing iu  the  woods,  desired  his  informant  to  find  Antoine 
Natel,  and  bring  him  to  the  spot.  Natel  soon  appeared, 
trembling  with  excitement  and  fear,  and  a  close  exam- 
ination left  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  his  statement.  A 
shallop,  built  by  Pontgrave  at  Tadoussac.  had  lately 
arrived,  and  orders  were  now  given  that  it  should  an 
chor  before  the  buildings.  On  board  was  a  young 
man  in  whom  confidence  could  be  placed.  Champlain 
sent  him  two  bottles  of  wine,  with  a  direction  to  tell 
the  four  ringleaders  that  they  had  been  given  him  by 
his  Basque  friends  at  Tadoussac,  and  to  invite  them  to 
share  the  good  cheer.  They  came  aboard  in  the  even- 
ing, and  were  instantly  seized  and  secured.  "  Voyla 
done  iites  galants  Men  estonnez"  writes  Champlain. 

It  was  ten  o'clock,  and  most  of  the  men  on  shore 
were  asleep.  They  were  wakened  suddenly,  and  told 
of  the  discovery  of  the  plot  and  the  arrest  of  the  ring- 
leaders. Pardon  was  then  promised  them,  and  they 
were  dismissed  again  to  their  beds  greatly  relieved,  for 
they  had  lived  in  trepidation,  each  fearing  the  other. 
Duval's  body,  swinging  from  a  gibbet,  gave  wholesome 
warning  to  those  he  had  seduced ;  and  his  head  was 
displayed  on  a  pike,  from  the  highest  roof  of  the 
buildings,  food  for  birds,  and  a  lesson  to  sedition.  His 
three  accomplices  were  carried  by  Pontgrave  to  France, 
where  they  made  their  atonement  in  the  galleys.1 

It  was  on  the  eighteenth  of  September  that  Pont- 
*  Lescarbot,  (1612,)  623  ;  Purchas,  IV.  1642. 


1608.]  THE  MONTAGNAIS.  305 

grave  set  sail,  leaving  Champlain  with  twenty-eight 
men  to  hold  Quebec  through  the  winter.  Three  weeks 
later  and  shores  and  hiils  glowed  with  gay  prognostics 
of  approaching  desolation,  —  the  yellow  and  scarlet  of 
the  maples,  the  deep  purple  of  the  ash,  the  garnet  hue 
of  young  oaks,  the  bonfire  blaze  of  tbe  tupelo  at  the 
water's  edge,  and  the  golden  plumage  of  birch-saplings 
in  the  fissure  of  the  cliff'.  It  was  a  short-lived  beauty. 
The  forest  dropped  its  festal  robes.  Shrivelled  and 
faded,  they  rustled  to  the  earth.  The  crystal  air  and 
laughing  sun  of  October  passed  away,  and  November 
sank  upon  the  shivering  waste,  chill,  and  sombre  as 
the  tomb. 

A  roving  band  of  Montagnais  had  built  their  huts 
near  the  buildings,  and  were  busying  themselves  in 
their  autumn  eel-fishery,  on  which  they  greatly  relied  to 
sustain  their  miserable  lives  through  the  winter.  Their 
slimy  harvest  gathered,  and  duly  smoked  and  dried,  they 
gave  it  for  safe-keeping  to  Champlain,  and  set  forth  to 
hunt  beavers.  It  was  deep  in  the  winter  before  they 
came  back,  reclaimed  their  eels,  built  their  birch  cabins 
again,  and  disposed  themselves  for  a  life  of  ease,  until 
famine  or  tbeir  enemies  should  put  a  period  to  their 
enjoyments.  These  were  by  no  means  without  alloy. 
As,  gorged  with  food,  they  lay  dozing  on  piles  of 
branches  in  their  smoky  huts,  where,  through  the  crev- 
ices of  the  thin  birch  -  bark,  streamed  in  a  cold  capa- 
ble at  times  of  congealing  mercury,  — as  they  thus  re» 
posed,  their  slumbers  were  beset  with  nightmare  visions 
of  Iroquois  forays,  scalpings,  butcherings,  and 

26* 


306  CHAMPLAIN  AT   QUEBEC.  [1608 

ings.  As  dreams  were  their  oracles,  the  camp  was 
wild  with  fright.  They  sent  out  no  scouts  and  placed 
no  guard  ;  but,  with  each  repetition  of  these  nocturnal 
terrors,  they  came  flocking  in  a' body  to  beg  admission 
within  the  fort.  The  women  and  children  were  allowed 
to  enter  the  yard  and  remain  during  the  night,  while 
anxious  fathers  and  jealous  husbands  shivered  in  the 
darkness  without. 

On  one  occasion,  a  group  of  wretched  beings  was 
seen  on  the  farther  bank  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  like  wild 
animals  driven  by  famine  to  the  borders  of  the  settler's 
clearing.  The  river  was  full  of  drifting-  ice  :  none 

C1  C* 

could  cross  without  risk  of  life.  T\\e  Indians,  in  their 
desperation,  made  the  attempt ;  and  midway  their  canoes 
were  ground  to  atoms  among  the  tossing  masses.  Agile 
as  wild-cats,  they  all  leaped  upon  a  huge  raft  of  ice,  the 
squaws  carrying  their  children  on  their  shoulders,  —  a 
feat  at  which  Champlain  marvelled  when  he  saw  their 
starved  and  emaciated  condition.  Here  they  began  a 
wail  of  despair ;  when  happily  the  pressure  of  other 
masses  thrust  the  sheet  of  ice  against  the  northern 
shore.  Landing,  they  soon  made  their  appearance  at 
the  fort,  worn  to  skeletons  and  horrible  to  look  upon. 
The  French  gave  them  food,  which  they  devoured  with 
a  frenzied  avidity,  and,  unappeas'ed,  fell  upon  a  dead  dog 
left  on  the  snow  by  Champlain  for  two  months  past  as 
a  bait  for  foxes.  They  broke  this  carrion  into  frag- 
ments, thawed  and  devoured  it,  to  the  disgust  of  the 
spectators,  who  tried  vainly  to  prevent  them. 

This  was  but  a  severe  access  of  that  periodical  fam- 


1609.]  WINTER  AT   QUEBEC. 

ine  which,  during  winter,  was  a  normal  condition  of 
the  Algonquin  tribes  of  Acadia  and  the  Lower  St. 
Lawrence,  who,  unlike  the  cognate  tribes  of  New  Eng- 
land, never  tilled  the  soil  or  made  any  reasonable  pro- 
vision against  the  time  of  need. 

One  would  gladly  know  how  the  founders  of  Quebec 
spent  the  long  hours  of  their  first  winter ;  but  on  this 
point  the  only  man  among  them,  perhaps,  who  could 
write,  has  not  thought  it  necessary  to  enlarge.  He 
himself  beguiled  his  leisure  with  trapping  foxes,  or 
hanging  a  dead  dog  from  a  tree  and  watching  the  hun- 
gry martens  in  their  efforts  to  reach  it.  Towards  the 
close  of  winter,  all  found  abundant  employment  in 
nursing  themselves  or  their  neighbors,  for  the  inevitable 
scurvy  broke  out  with  virulence.  At  the  middle  of 
May,  only  eight  men  of  the  twenty-eight  were  alive, 
and  of  these  half  were  suffering  from  disease.1 

This  wintry  purgatory  wore  away ;  the  icy  stalactites 
that  hung  from  the  cliffs  fell  crashing  to  the  earth ;  the 
clamor  of  the  wild  geese  was  heard ;  the  bluebirds 
appeared  in  the  naked  woods ;  the  water-willows  were 
covered  with  their  soft  caterpillar  -  like  blossoms  ;  the 
twigs  of  the  swamp -maple  were  flushed  with  ruddy 
bloom  ;  the  ash  hung  out  its  black-tufted  flowers ;  the 
shad-bush  seemed  a  wreath  of  snow ;  the  white  stars  of 
the  bloodroot  gleamed  among  dank,  fallen  leaves ;  and 
in  the  young  grass  of  the  wet  meadows,  the  marsh- 
marygolds  shone  like  spots  of  gold. 

Great  was  the  joy  of  Champlain  when    he  saw  a 

1  Champlain,  (1613,)  205. 


308  CHAMPLAIN  AT   QUEBEC.  [1609. 

sail -boat  rounding1  the  Point  of  Orleans,  betokening 
that  the  spring  had  brought  with  it  the  longed-for  suc- 
cors. A  son-in-law  of  Pontgrave,  named  Marais,  was 
on  board,  and  he  reported  that  Pontgrave  was  then  at 
Tadoussac,  where  he  had  lately  arrived.  Thither  Cham- 
plain  hastened,  to  take  counsel  with  his  comrade.  His 
constitution  or  his  courage  had  defied  the  scurvy.  They 
met,  and  it  was  determined  betwixt  them,  that,  while 
Pontgrave  remained  in  charge  of  Quebec,  Champlain 
should  enter  at  once  on  his  long-meditated  explorations, 
by  which,  like  La  Salle  seventy  years  later,  he  had 
good  hope  of  finding  a  way  to  China. 

But  there  was  a  lion  in  the  path.  The  Indian  tribes, 
war-hawks  of  the  wilderness,  to  whom  peace  was  un- 
known, infested  with  their  scalping  parties  the  streams 
and  pathways  of  the  forest,  increasing  tenfold  its  in- 
separable risks.  That  to  all  these  hazards  Champlain 
was  more  than  indifferent,  his  after-career  bears  abun- 
dant witness ;  yet  now  an  expedient  for  evading  them 
offered  itself,  so  consonant  with  his  instincts  that  he 
was  fain  to  accept  it.  Might  he  not  anticipate  sur- 
prises, join  a  war-party,  and  fight  his  way  to  discovery  ? 

During  the  last  autumn,  a  young  chief  from  the 
banks  of  the  then  unknown  Ottawa  had  been  at  Que- 
bec ;  and,  amazed  at  what  he  saw,  he  had  begged 
Champlain  to  join  him  in  the  spring  against  his  ene-, 
mies.  These  enemies  were  a  formidable  race  of  sav- 
ages, the  Iroquois,  or  Five  Confederate  Nations,  dwell- 
ers in  fortified  villages  within  limits  now  embraced  by 
the  State  of  New  York,  to  whom  was  afterwards  given 


1609.]  THE   IROQUOIS.  3QC) 

the  fanciful  name  of  "  Romans  of  the  New  World," 
and  who  even  then  were  a  terror  to  all  the  surrounding 
forests.  Conspicuous  among1  their  enemies  were  their 
kindred,  the  tribes  of  the  Hurons,  dwelling  on. the  lake 
which  bears  their  name,  and  allies  of  Algonquin  bands 
on  the  Ottawa.  All  alike  were  tillers  of  the  soil,  liv- 
ing at  ease  when  compared  to  the  famished  Algonquins 
of  the  Lower  St.  Lawrence.1 

What  was  Champlain's  plan,  or  had  he  a  plan  1  To 
influence  Indian  counsels,  to  hold  the  balance  of  power 
between  adverse  tribes,  to  envelop  in  the  network  of 
her  power  and  diplomacy  the  remotest  hordes  of  the 
wilderness,  —  such,  from  first  to  last,  was  the  policy  of 
France  in  America.  Of  this  policy  the  Father  of  New 
France  may  perhaps  be  held  to  have  set  a  rash  and 
premature  example.  Yet,  while  he  was  apparently  fol- 
<owiug  the  dictates  of  his  own  adventurous  spirit,  it 
became  evident,  a  few  years  later,  that,  under  his  thirst 
for  discovery  and  spirit  of  knight-errantry  lay  a  con- 
sistent and  deliberate  purpose.  This  purpose  will  be 
shown  hereafter.  That  it  had  already  assumed  a  defi- 
nite shape  is  not  likely ;  yet  his  after  -  course  makes 
it  evident,  that,  in  embroiling  himself  and  his  colony 
with  the  most  formidable  savages  on  the  continent,  he 
was  by  no  means  acting  so  recklessly  as  at  first  sight 
would  appear. 

1  The  tribes  east  of  the  Mississippi,  between  the  latitudes  of  Lake  Su- 
perior and  the  Ohio,  were  divided  into  two  groups  or  families,  distin- 
guished by  a  radical  difference  of  language.  One  of  these  families  of 
tribes  is  called  Algonquin,  from  the  name  of  a  small  Indian  community 
on  the  Ottawa.  The  other  is  called  the  Huron-lroquois,  from  the  names 
of  its  two  principal  member* 


CHAPTER  X. 

1609. 
LAKE    CHAM  PLAIN. 

CHAMPLAIN  joins  A  WAR-PAETT.  —  PREPARATION.  —  DEPARTURE.  •-  THB 
RIVER  RICHELIEU.  —  THE  SPIRITS  CONSULTED.  —  DISCOVERY  OF  LAKH 
CHAMPLAIN.  —  BATTLE  WITH  THE  IUOQUOIS.  —  FATE  OF  PRISONERS.  — 
PANIC  OF  THE  VICTORS. 

IT  was  past  the  middle  of  May,  and  the  expected 
warriors  from  the  upper  country  had  not  come :  a  delay 
which  seems  to  have  given  Champlain  little  concern, 
for,  without  waiting  longer,  he  set  forth  with  no  better 
allies  than  a  band  of  Montagnais.  But,  as  he  moved 
up  the  St.  Lawrence,  he  saw,  thickly  clustered  in  the 
bordering  forest,  the  lodges  of  an  Indian  camp,  and, 
landing,  found  his  Huron  and  Algonquin  allies.  Few 
of  them  had  ever  seen  a  white  man.  They  surrounded 
the  steel-clad  strangers  in  speechless  wonderment. 
Champlain  asked  for  their  chief,  and  the  staring  throng 
moved  with  him  towards  a  lodge  where  sat,  not  one 
chief,  but  two,  for  each  band  had  its  own.  There 
were  feasting,  smoking,  speeches ;  and,  the  needful  cer- 
emony over,  all  descended  together  to  Quebec ;  for  the 
strangers  were  bent  on  seeing  those  wonders  of  archi- 
tecture whose  fame  had  pierced  the  recesses  of  their 
forests. 

On  their  arrival,  they  feasted  their  eyes  and  glutted 


1609.]  INDIAN  WARRIORS. 

their  appetites  ;  yelped  consternation  at  the  sharp  ex- 
plosion of  the  arquebuse  and  the  roar  of  the  cannon  ; 
pitched  their  camps,  and  bedecked  themselves  for  their 
war-dance.  In  the  still  night,  their  fire  glared  against 
the  black  and  jagged  cliff,  and  the  fierce  red  light  fell 
on  tawny  limbs  convulsed  with  frenzied  gestures  and 
ferocious  stampings ;  on  contorted  visages,  hideous  with 
paint;  on  brandished  weapons,  stone  war -clubs,  stone 
hatchets,  and  stone-pointed  lances  ;  while  the  drum  kept 
up  its  hollow  boom,  and  the  air  was  split  with  mingled 
yells,  till  the  horned  owl  on  Point  Levi,  startled  at  the 
sound,  gave  back  a  whoop  no  less  discordant. 

Stand  with  Champlain  and  view  the  war-dance  ;  sit 
with  him  at  the  war-feast,  —  a  close-packed  company, 
ring  within  ring  of  ravenous  feasters  ;  then  embark  with 
him  on  his  hare-brained  venture  of  discovery.  It  was 
in  a  small  shallop,  carrying,  besides  himself,  eleven  men 
of  Pontgrave's  party,  including  his  son-in-law,  Marais, 
and  La  Routte,  his  pilot.  They  were  armed  with  the 
arquebuse,  a  matchlock  or  firelock  somewhat  like  the 
modern  carbine,  and  from  its  shortness  not  ill-suited  for 
use  in  the  forest.  On  the  twenty-eighth  of  May,1  they 
spread  their  sails  and  held  their  course  against  the  cur- 
rent, while  around  them  the  river  was  alive  with  canoes, 
and  hundreds  of  naked  arms  plied  the  paddle  with  a 
steady,  measured  sweep.  They  crossed  the  Lake  of  St. 
Peter,  thre;ided  the  devious  channels  among  its  many 
islands,  and  reached  at  last  the  mouth  of  the  Riviere 

1  Champlain's  dates,  in  this  part  of  his  narrative,  are  exceedingly  care- 
less and  confused,  May  and  June  being  mixed  indiscriminately. 


LAKE  CHAMPLAIN.  |1G09. 

des  Iroquois,  since  called  the  Richelieu,  or  the  St. 
John.1  Here,  probably  on  the  site  of  the  town  of 
Sorel,  the  leisurely  warriors  encamped  for  two  days, 
hunted,  fished,  and  took  their  ease,  regaling  their  allies 
with  venison  and  wild  -  fowl.  They  quarrelled,  too ; 
three  fourths  of  their  number  seceded,  took  to  their 
canoes  in  dudgeon,  and  paddled  towards  their  homes, 
while  the  rest  pursued  their  course  up  the  broad  and 
placid  stream. 

On  left  and  right  stretched  walls  of  verdure,  fresh 
with  the  life  of  June.  Now,  aloft  in  the  lonely  air 
rose  the  cliffs  of  Beloeil,  and  now,  before  them,  framed 
in  circling  forests,  the  Basin  of  Chambly  spread  its 
tranquil  mirror,  glittering  in  the  sun.  The  shallop  out- 
sailed the  canoes.  Champlain,  leaving  his  allies  behind, 
crossed  the  basin  and  essayed  to  pursue  his  course;  but 
as  he  listened  in  the  stillness,  the  unwelcome  noise  of 
rapids  reached  his  ear,  and,  by  glimpses  through  the 
dark  foliage  of  the  Islets  of  St.  John,  he  could  see  the 
gleam  of  snowy  foam  and  the  flash  of  hurrying  waters. 
Leaving  the  boat  by  the  shore  in  charge  of  four  men, 
he  set  forth  with  Marais,  La  Routte,  and  five  others,  to 
explore  the  wild  before  him.  They  pushed  their  te- 
dious way  through  the  damps  and  shadows  of  the  wood, 
through  thickets  and  tangled  vines,  over  mossy  rocks 
and  mouldering  logs.  Still  the  hoarse  surging  of  the 
rapids  followed  them  ;  and  when,  parting  the  screen  of 
foliage,  they  looked  forth,  they  saw  the  river  thick  set 
with  rocks,  where,  plunging  over  ledges,  gurgling 

1  Also  called  the  Chambly,  the  St.  Louis,  and  the  Sorel. 


1609.J  THE  RIVER  KICHELIEU. 

under  drift-logs,  darting  along  clefts,  and  boiling  iu 
chasms,  the  angry  waters  filled  the  solitude  with  mo- 
notonous ravings.1 

Champluin,  disconsolate,  retraced  his  steps.  He  had 
learned  the  value  of  an  Indian's  word.  His  menda- 
cious allies  had  promised  him,  that,  throughout  their 
course,  his  shallop  could  pass  unobstructed.  But 
should  he  abandon  the  adventure,  and  forego  the  discov- 
ery of  that  great  lake,  studded  with  islands  and  bor- 
dered with  a  fertile  laud  of  forests,  which  his  red  com- 
panions had  traced  in  outline,  and  by  word  and  sign 
had  painted  to  his  fancy1? 

When  he  reached  the  shallop,  he  found  the  whole 
savage  crew  gathered  at  the  spot.  He  mildly  rebuked 
their  bad  faith,  but  added,  that,  though  they  had  deceived 
him,  he,  as  far  as  might  be,  would  fulfil  his  pledge. 
To  this  end,  he  directed  Marais,  with  the  boat  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  men,  to  return  to  Quebec,  while  he, 
with  two  who  offered  to  follow  him,  should  proceed  in 
the  Indian  canoes. 

The  warriors  lifted  their  canoes  from  the  water,  and 
in  long  procession  through  the  forest,  under  the  flicker- 
ing sun  and  shade,  bore  them  on  their  shoulders  around 
the  rapids  to  the  smooth  stream  above.  Here  the  chiefs 
made  a  muster  of  their  forces,  counting  twenty-four 
canoes  and  sixty  warriors.  All 'embarked  again,  and 
advanced  once  more,  by  marsh,  meadow,  forest,  and 
scattered  islands,  then  full  of  game,  for  it  was  an  uniu- 

1  In  spite  of  the  changes  of  civilization,  the  tourist,  with  Chauiplain'a 
journal  in  his  hand,  can  easily  trace  each  stage  of  his  progress. 
27 


LAKE   CHAMPLAIN.  [1609 

habited  land,  the  war-path  and  battle-ground  of  hostile 
tribes.  The  warriors  observed  a  certain  system  in  their 
advance.  Some  were  in  front  as  a  vanguard ;  oth- 
ers formed  the  main  body ;  while  an  equal  number  were 
in  the  forests  on  the  flanks  and  rear,  hunting  for  the 
subsistence  of  the  whole ;  for,  though  they  had  a  pro- 
vision of  parched  maize  pounded  into  meal,  they  kept 
it  for  use  when,  from  the  vicinity  of  the  enemy,  hunt- 
ing should  become  impossible. 

Late  in  the  day,  they  landed  and  drew  up  their  canoes, 
ranging  them  closely,  side  by  side.  All  was  life  and 
bustle.  Some  stripped  sheets  of  bark,  to  cover  their 
camp-sheds  ;  others  gathered  wood,  —  the  forest  was 
full  of  dead,  dry  trees;  others  felled  the  living  trees, 
for  a  barricade.  They  seem  to  have  had  steel  axes, 
obtained  by  barter  from  the  French ;  for  in  less  than  two 
hours  they  had  made  a  strong  defensive  work,  a  half- 
circle  in  form,  open  on  the  river  side,  where  their  canoes 
lay  on  the  strand,  and  large  enough  to  enclose  all  their 
huts  and  sheds.1  Some  of  their  number  had  gone  for- 
ward as  scouts,  and,  returning,  reported  no  signs  of  an 
enemy.  This  was  the  extent  of  their  precaution,  for 
they  placed  no  guard,  but  al),  in  full  security,  stretched 

1  Such  extempore  works  of  defence  are  still  used  among  some  tribes 
of  the  remote  West.  The  author  lias  twice  seen  them,  made  of  trees 
piled  together  as  described  by  Cliamplain,  probably  by  war-parties  of  the 
Crow  or  Snake  Indians.  In  1637,  the  Algonquins  at  Trois  Rivieres, 
alarmed  at  a  sudden  raid  of  Iroquois,  threw  up  a  much  more  elaborate 
work  of  two  lines  of  pickets,  the  intervening  space  being  filled  with 
earth.  Le  Jeune,  Relation,  1637,  271. 

Champlain,  usually  too  concise,  is  very  minute  in  his  description  of  the 
march  and  encampment 


1609.]  INDIAN  ORACLE.  315 

themselves  to  sleep, — a  vicious  custom  from  which  the 
lazy  warrior  of  the  forest  rarely  departs. 

They  had  not  forgotten,  however,  to  take  counsel  of 
their  oracle.  The  medicine  -  man  pitched  his  magic 
lodge  in  the  woods,  —  a  small  stack  of  poles,  planted  in 
a  circle  and  brought  together  at  the  tops  like  stacked 
muskets.  Over  these  he  placed  the  filthy  deer-skins 
which  served  him  for  a  robe,  and  creeping  in  at  a  narrow 
orifice,  he  hid  himself  from  view.  Crouched  in  a  ball 
upon  the  earth,  he  invoked  the  spirits  in  mumbling,  in- 
articulate tones  ;  while  his  naked  auditory,  squatted  on 
the  ground  like  apes,  listened  in  wonderment  and  awe. 
Suddenly,  the  lodge  moved,  rocking  with'  violence  to 
and  fro,  by  the  power  of  the  spirits,  as  the  Indians 
thought,  while  Champlain  could  plainly  see  the  tawny 
fist  of  the  medicine  -  man  shaking  the  poles.  They 
begged  him  to  keep  a  watchful  eye  on  the  peak  of  the 
lodge,  whence  fire  and  smoke  would  presently  issue; 
but  with  the  best  efforts  of  his  vision,  he  discovered 
none.  Meanwhile  the  medicine -man  was  seized  with 
such  convulsions,  that,  when  his  divination  was  over,  his 
naked  body  streamed  with  perspiration.  In  loud,  clear 
tones,  and  in  an  unknown  tongue,  he  invoked  the  Spirit, 
who  was  understood  to  be  present  in  the  form  of  -a 
stone,  and  whose  feeble  and  squeaking  accents  were 
heard  at  intervals  like  the  wail  of  a  young  puppy.1 

1  Tliis  mode  of  divination  was  universal  among  the  Algonquin  tribes, 
and  is  not  extinct  to  this  day  among  their  roving  northern  bands.  Le 
Jeune,  Lafitau,  and  other  early  Jesuit  writers  describe  it  witli  great  mi- 
nuteness. The  former  (Relation,  1634)  speaks  of  an  audacious  conjurer, 
who,  having  invoked  the  Manitou,  or  Spirit,  killed  him  with  a  hatchet. 


LAKE    CHAMFLAIN.  J1G00. 

Thus  did  they  consult  the  Spirit  —  as  Champlain 
thinks,  the  Devil  —  at  all  their  camps.  His  replies, 
for  the  most  part,  seem  to  have  given  them  great  con- 
tent ;  yet  they  took  other  measures,  also,  of  which  the 
military  advantages  were  less  questionable.  The  prin- 
cipal chief  gathered  handles  of  sticks,  and,  without 
wasting  his  breath,  stuck  them  in  the  earth  in  a  certain 
order,  calling  each  by  the  name  of  some  warrior,  a  few 
taller  thaii  the  rest  representing  the  subordinate  chiefs. 
Thus  was  indicated  the  position  which  each  was  to  hold 
in  the  expected  battle.  All  gathered  around  and  atten- 
tively studied  the  sticks,  ranged  like  a  child's  wooden 
soldiers,  or  the  pieces  on  a  chess-board ;  then,  with  no 
further  instruction,  they  formed  their  ranks,  broke  them, 
and  reformed  them  again  and  again  with  an  excellent 
alacrity  and  skill. 

Again  the  canoes  advanced,  the  river  widening  as 
they  went.  Great  islands  appeared,  leagues  in  extent : 
Isle  a  la  Motte,  Long  Island,  Grande  Isle.  Channels 
where  ships  might  float  and  broad  reaches  of  expanding 
water  stretched  between  them,  and  Champlain  entered 
the  lake  which  preserves  his  name  to  posterity.  Cum- 
berland Head  was  passed,  and  from  the  opening  of  the 
great  channel  between  Grande  Isle  and  the  main,  he 
could  look  forth  on  the  wilderness  sea.  Edged  with 
woods,  the  tranquil  flood  spread  southward  beyond  the 
sight.  Far  on  the  left,  the  forest  ridges  of  the  Green 

T.:  all  appearance  he  was  a  stone,  which,  however,  when  struck  witli  the 
hatchet,  proved  to  be  full  of  flesh  and  blood.  A  kindred  superstition  pre- 
vails among  the  Crow  Indians. 


16091  DANGER.  —  PRECAUTION. 

Mountains  were  heaved  against  the  sun,  patches  of  snow 
still  glistening  on  their  tops  ;  and  on  the  right  rose  the 
Adirondacks,  haunts  in  these  later  years  of  amateur 
sportsmen  from  counting-rooms  or  college  halls,  nay, 
of  adventurous  beauty,  with  sketch-book  and  pencil. 
Then  the  Iroquois  made  them  their  hunting-ground  ;  and 
beyond,  in  the  valleys  of  the  Mohawk,  the  Onondaga, 
and  the  Genesee,  stretched  the  long  line  of  their  five 
cantons  and  palisaded  towns. 

At  night,  they  were  encamped  again.  The  scene  is 
a  familiar  one  to  many  a  tourist  and  sportsman  ;  and, 
perhaps,  standing  at  sunset  on  the  peaceful  strand, 
Champlain  saw  what  a  roving  student  of  this  generation 
has  seen  on  those  same  shores,  at  that  same  hour,  — 
the  glow  of  the  vanished  sun  behind  the  western  moun- 
tains, darkly  piled  in  mist  and  shadow  along  the  sky  ; 
near  at  hand,  the  dead  pine,  mighty  in  decay,  stretching 
its  ragged  arms  athwart  the  burning  heaven,  the  crow 
perched  on  its  top  like  an  image  carved  in  jet;  and 
aloft,  the  night-hawk,  circling  in  his  flight,  and,  with  a 
strange  whirring  sound,  diving  through  the  air  each 
moment  for  the  insects  he  makes  his  prey. 

The  progress  of  the  party  was  becoming  dangerous. 
They  changed  their  mode  of  advance,  and  moved  only 
in  the  night.  ^_A11  day,  they  Lay  close  in  the  depth  of  the 
g,  lounging,  smoking  tobacco  of  their  own 


raising,  and__bpgnjling 


shallow,  hqjvterjuul  ohsr;pn<>  jesting  with  which  knots  of 
Iiidiaus  are  wont  to  am  use,  their  -leisure.  /At  fwiligJit 
they  embarked  again,  paddling^their  cautioji&_way_ti)l 

27  » 


LAKE  CHAMPLAIN.  (1G09. 

Q^ed^i?n.  Their  goal  was  the 
rocky  promontory  where  Fort  Ticonderoga  was  long 
afterward  built.  Thence,  they  would  pass  the  outlet 
of  Lake  George,  and  launch  their  canoes  again  on  that 
Coino  of  the  wilderness,  whose  waters,  limpid  as  a 
fountain  -  head,  stretched  far  southward  between  their 
flanking  mountains.  Landing  at  the  future  site  of  Fort 
William  Henry,  they  would  carry  their  canoes  through 
the  forest  to  the  River  Hudson,  and  descending  it,  at- 
tack, perhaps,  some  outlying  town  of  the  Mohawks. 
In  the  next  century  this  chain  of  lakes  and  rivers  be- 
came the  grand  highway  of  savage  and  civilized  war,  a 
bloody  debatable  ground  linked  to  memories  of  mo- 
mentous conflicts. 

The  allies  were  spared  so  long  a  progress.  On  the 
morning  of  the  twenty-ninth  of  July,  after  paddling  all 
night,  they  hid  as  usual  in  the  forest  on  the  western 
shore,  not  far  from  Crown  Point.  The  warriors 
stretched  themselves  to  their  slumbers,  and  Champlain, 
after  Wfdking  for  a  time  through  the  surrounding  woods, 
returned  to  take  his  repose  on  a  pile  of  spruce-boughs. 
Sleeping,  he  dreamed  a  dream,  wherein  he  beheld  the 
Iroquois  drowning  in  the  lake  ;  and,  essaying  to  rescue 
them,  he  was  told  by  his  Algonquin  friends  that  they 
were  good  for  nothing  and  had  better  be  left  to  their 
fate.  Now,  he  had  been  daily  beset,  on  awakening,  by 
his  superstitious  allies,  eager  to  learn  about  his  dreams ; 
and,  to  this  moment,  his  unbroken  slumbers  had  failed  to 
furnish  the  desired  prognostics.  The  announcement  of 
this  auspicious  vision  filled  the  crowd  with  joy,  and  at 


1609.1  ENCOUNTER  WITH  IROQUOIS. 

nightfall  they  embarked,  flushed  with  anticipated  vic- 
tories.1 

It  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  they  descried 
dark  objects  in  motion  on  the  lake  before  them.  These 
were  a  flotilla  of  Iroquois  canoes,  heavier  and  slower 
than  theirs,  for  they  were  made  of  oak-bark.2  Each 
party  saw  the  other,  and  the  mingled  war-cries  pealed 
over  the  darkened  water.  The  Iroquois,  who  were  near 
the  shore,  having  no  stomach  for  an  aquatic  battle, 
landed,  and,  making  night  hideous  with  their  clamors, 
began  to  barricade  themselves.  Chatnplain  could  see 
them  in  the  woods,  laboring  like  beavers,  hacking  down 
trees  with  iron  axes  taken  from  the  Canadian  tribes  in 
war,  and  with  stone  hatchets  of  their  own  making. 
The  allies  remained  on  the  lake,  a  bowshot  from  the 
hostile  barricade,  their  canoes  made  fast  together  by 

i  The  power  of  dreams  among  Indians  in  their  primitive  condition  can 
scarcely  be  over-estimated.  Among  the  ancient  Hurons  and  cognate 
tribes,  they  were  the  universal  authority  and  oracle;  but  while  a  dreamer 
of  reputation  had  unlimited  power,  the  dream  of  a  vaurien  was  held  in  no 
account.  There  were  professed  interpreters  of  dreams.  Brebeuf,  Rel. 
dts  llnrons,  117. 

A  man,  dreaming  that  he  had  killed  his  wife,  made  it  an  excuse  for 
killing  her  in  fact.  All  these  tribes,  including  the  Iroquois,  had  a  stated 
game  called  Ononhara,  or  the  dreaming  game,  in  which  dreams  were 
made  the  pretext  for  the  wildest  extravagances.  See  Lafitau,  Charlevoix, 
Sagard,  Brebeuf,  etc. 

-J  Champlain,  (1613,)  232.  Probably  a  mistake;  the  Iroquois  canoes 
were  usually  of  elm-bark.  The  paper-birch  was  used  wherever  it  could 
be  had,  being  incomparably  the  best  material.  All  the  tribes,  from  the 
moutli  of  the  Saco  northward  and  eastward,  and  along  the  entire  northern 
portion  of  the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  Great  Lakes,  used  the 
birch.  The  best  substitutes  were  elm  and  spruce.  The  birch-bark,  from 
its  laminated  texture,  could  be  peeled  at  any  time;  the  others  only  when 
the  sap  was  in  motion 


320  LAKE    CHAMPLAIN.  [1009 

poles  lashed  across.  All  night,  they  danced  with  as 
much  vigor  as  the  frailty  of  their  vessels  would  permit, 
their  throats  making  amends  for  the  enforced  restraint 
of  their  limbs.  It  was  agreed  on  both  sides  that  the 
fight  should  be  deferred  till  daybreak ;  but  meanwhile  a 
commerce  of  abuse,  sarcasm,  menace,  and  boasting  gave 
unceasing  exercise  to  the  lungs  and  fancy  of  the  com- 
batants, —  "  much,"  says  Champlain,  "  like  the  besiegers 
and  besieged  in  a  beleaguered  town." 

As  day  approached,  lie  and  his  two  followers  put  on 
the  light  armor  of  the  time.  Champlain  wore  the 
doublet  and  long  hose  then  in  vogue.  Over  the  doublet 
he  buckled  on  a  breastplate,  and  probably  a  back-piece, 
while  his  thighs  were  protected  by  cuisses  of  steel,  and 
his  head  by  a  plumed  casque.  Across  his  shoulder 
hung  the  strap  of  his  bandoleer,  or  ammunition-box  ;  at 
his  side  was  his  sword,  and  in  his  hand  his  arquelmse, 
which  he  had  loaded  with  four  balls.1  Such  was  the 
equipment  of  this  ancient  Indian-fighter,  whose  exploits 
date  eleven  years  before  the  landing  of  the  Puritans  at 
Plymouth,  and  sixty-six  years  before  King  Philip's  War. 

Each  of  the  three  Frenchmen  was  in  a  separate 
canoe,  and,  as  it  grew  light,  they  kept  themselves  hid- 
den, either  by  lying  at  the  bottom,  or  covering  them- 
selves with  an  Indian  robe.  The  canoes  approached  the 
shore,  and  all  landed  without  opposition  at  some  distance 
from  the  Iroquois,  whom  they  presently  could  see  filing 

i  Champlain,  in  his  rude  drawing  of  the  battle,  (ed.  1613,)  portrays 
himself  and  his  equipment  with  sufficient  distinctness.  Compare  plates 
of  the  weapons  and  armor  of  the  period  in  Meyrick,  Ancient  Armor,  and 
Susane,  Ilistoire  de  I'Ancienne  Infanterie  Fran  false. 


1609.]  VICTORY. 

out  of  their  barricade,  tall,  strong1  men,  some  two  hun- 
dred in  number,  of  the  boldest  and  fiercest  warriors  of 
North  America.  They  advanced  through  the  forest 
with  a  steadiness  which  excited  the  admiration  of  Cham- 
plain.  Among  them  could  be  seen  several  chiefs,  made 
conspicuous  by  their  tall  plumes.  StQiB£-Jbujie^^shjeids 
of  wood  and  hide,  and  some  were  covered  with  a  kind 
ofliTmor  maiEr'&f  tuiigliTwgs— luterjaced  \yitli-a^vt*ge- 
table  fibre  supposej_b^£)liainpla4ft-ta.JhacatloJi.1 

The  allies,  growing  anxious,  called  with  loud  cries 
for  their  champion,  and  opened  their  ranks  that  he 
might  pass  to  the  front.  He  did  so,  and,  advancing 
before  his  red  companions-in-arms,  stood  revealed  to 
the  astonished  gaze  of  the  Iroquois,  who,  beholding1  the 
warlike  nppncition  in  their  path,  stared  i"  muff*  nmngp- 
ment.  But  his  arquebuse  was  levelled ;  the  report 
startled  the  woods,  a  chief  fell  dead,  and  another  by 
his  side  rolled  among  the  bushes.  Then  there  rose 
from  the  allies  a  yell,  which,  says  Champlain,  would 
have  drowned  a  thunder-clap,  and  the  forest  was  full  of 
whizzing  arrows.  For  a  moment,  the  Iroquois  stood 
firm  and  sent  back  their  arrows  lustily;  but  when  an- 
other an*1  /iiiother  gunshot  came  from  the  thickets  on 
*lieir  (lank,  they  broke  and  fled  in  uncontrollable  terror. 
Swifter  chan  hounds,  the  allies  tore  through  the  bushes 

1  According  to  Lafitau,  both  bucklers  and  breastplates  were  in  frequent 
use  among  the  Iroquois.  The  former  were  very  large,  and  made  of  cedar 
wood  covered  with  interwoven  thongs  of  hide.  The  kuulred  nation  of 
the  Hurons,  says  Sagard,  (  Voyage  dest  llurons,  126-206,)  carried  large 
shields,  and  wore  greaves  for  the  legs  and  cuirasses  made  of  twigs  in- 
terwoven with  cords.  His  account  corresponds  with  thnt  of  Champlain, 
who  gives  a  wood-cut  of  a  warrior  thus  armed. 


LAKE  CHAMPLAIN.  [1609. 

in  pursuit.  Some  of  the  Iroquois  were  killed ;  more 
were  taken.  Camp,  canoes,  provisions,  all  were  aban- 
doned, and  many  weapons  flung  down  in  the  panic 
flight.  The  arquebuse  had  done  its  work.  The  vic- 
tory was  complete. 

At  night,  the  victors  made  their  bivouac  in  the 
forest.  A  great  fire  was  kindled,  and  near  it,  one  of 
the  captives  was  bound  to  a  tree.  The  fierce  crowd 
"thronged  around  him,  firebrands  in  their  hands.  Cham- 
plain  sickened  at  his  tortures  :  — 

"  Let  me  send  a  bullet  through  his  heart." 

o 

They  would  not  listen  ;  and  when  he  saw  the  scaJp 
torn  from  the  living  head,1  he  turned  away  in  anger 
and  disgust.  They  followed :  . — 

"Do  what  you  will  with  him.' 

He  turned  again,  and  at  the  report  of  his  arquebuse 
the  wretch's  woes  were  ended. 

In  his  remonstrance,  he  had  told  them  that  the 
French  never  so  used  their  prisoners.  Not,  indeed, 
their  prisoners  of  war ;  but  had  Champlain  stood  a  few 
months  later  in  the  frenzied  crowd  on  the  Place  de  la 
Greve  at  Paris.  —  had  he  seen  the  regicide  Ravaillac, 
the  veins  of  his  forehead  bursting  with  anguish,  the  hot 

1  It  lias  been  erroneously  asserted  that  tlie  practice  of  scalping  did  not 
prevail  among  the  Indians  hefore  the  advent  of  Europeans.  In  1535, 
Cartier  saw  five  scalps  at  Quebec,  dried  and  stretched  on  hoops.  In 
1564,  Laudonniere  saw  them  among  the  Indians  of  Florida.  The  Algon- 
quins  of  New  England  and  Nova  Scotia  were  accustomed  to  cut  off  an<? 
carry  away  the  head,  which  they  afterwards  scalped.  Those  of  Canada, 
it  seems,  sometimes  scalped  dead  bodies  on  the  field.  The  Algonqujr/ 
practice  of  carrying  off  heads  as  trophies  is  mentioned  by  Lalemar.t, 
Roger  Williams,  Lescarbot,  and  Champlain.  Compare  Historical  Maya- 
zine,  V.  253. 


1C09.]  GRATITUDE  OF  THE  VICTORS. 

lead  and  oil  seething  in  his  lacerated  breast,  and  the 
horses  vainly  panting  to  drag  his  strong  limbs  asunder, 
— he  might  have  felt  that  Indian  barbarity  had  found  its 
match  in  the  hell-born  ingenuity  of  grave  and  learned 
judges. 

The  victors  made  a  prompt  retreat  from  the  scene  of 
their  triumph.  Three  or  four  days  brought  them  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Richelieu.  Here  they  separated.;  the 
Hurons  and  Algonquins  made  for  the  Ottawa,  their 
homeward  route,  each  with  a  share  of  prisoners  for 
future  torments.  At  parting  they  invited  Champlain 
to  visit  their  towns  and  aid  them  again  in  their  wars, 
—  an  invitation  which  this  paladin  of  the  woods  failed 
not  to  accept. 

The  companions  now  remaining  to  him  were  the 
Montagnais.  In  their  camp  on  the  Richelieu,  one  of 
them  dreamed  that  a  war-party  of  Iroquois  was  close 
upon  them  ;  whereupon,  in  a  torrent  of  rain,  they  left 
their  huts,  paddled  in  dismay  to  the  islands  above  the 
Lake  of  St.  Peter,  and  hid  themselves  all  night  in  the 
rushes.  In  the  morning,  they  took  heart,  emerged  from 
their  hiding-places,  descended  to  Quebec,  and  went  thence 
to  Tadoussac,  whither  Champlain  accompanied  them. 
Mere,  the  squaws,  stark  naked,  swam  out  to  the  canoes 
to  receive  the  heads  of  the  dead  Iroquois,  and,  hanging 
them  from  their  necks,  danced  in  triumphant  glee  along 
the  shore.  One  of  the  heads  and  a  pair  of  arms  were 
then  bestowed  on  Champlain,  —  touching  memorials  of 
gratitude,  which,  however,  he  was  by  no  means  to  keep 
for  himself,  but  to  present  them  to  the  King. 


LAKE   CHAMPLAIN.  [1609. 

Thas  did  New  France  rush  into  collision  with  the 
redoubted  warriors  of  the  Five  Nations.  Here  was 
the  beginning,  in  some  measures  doubtless  the  cause,  of 
a  long  suite  of  murderous  conflicts,  bearing  havoc  and 
flame  to  generations  yet  unborn.  Champlain  had  in- 
vaded the  tiger's  den  ;  and  now,  in  smothered  fury,  the 
patient  savage  would  lie  biding  his  day  of  blood. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

1610  —  1612. 
WAR. TRADE. DISCOVERY. 

CHAMPLAIN  AT  FONTAINEBLEAU.  —  CHAMPLAIN  ON  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE.  — 
ALARM.  —  BATTLE.  —  WAR  PARTIES.  —  ICEBEKGS.  —  ADVENTURERS.  — 
CHAMPLAIN  AT  MONTREAL.  —  RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  —  TUB  COMTE  DB 
SOISSONS.  —  THE  PRINCE  OF  CONDE. 

CHAMPLAIN    and    Pontorrave    returned    to    France. 

O 

Pierre  Chauvin  of  Dieppe  held  Quebec  in  their  ab- 
sence. The  King  was  at  Fontainebleau,  —  it  was  a  few 
months  before  his  assassination,  —  and  here  Champlain 
recounted  his  adventures,  to  the  great  contentment  of 
the  lively  monarch.  He  gave  him  also,  not  the  head 
of  the  dead  Iroquois,  but  a  belt  wrought  in  embroidery 
of  dyed  quills  of  the  Canada  porcupine,  together  with 
two  small  birds  of  scarlet  plumage,  and  the  skull  of  a 
gar-fish. 

De  Monts  was  at  court,  striving  for  a  renewal  of  his 
monopoly.  His  efforts  failed ;  on  which,  with  admira- 
ble spirit,  but  with  little  discretion,  he  resolved  to  push 
his  enterprise  without  it.  Early  in  the  spring  of  1610, 
the  ship  was  ready,  and  Champlain  and  Pontgrave 
were  on  board,  when  a  violent  illness  seized  the  former, 
reducing  him  to  the  most  miserable  of  all  conflicts,  the 
battle  of  the  eager  spirit  against  the  treacherous  and 
failing  flesh.  Partially  recovered,  he  put  to  sea.  giddy 

28 


826  WAR.  — TRADE.  — DISCOVERY.  [1010. 

and  weak,  in  wretched  plight  for  the  hard  career  of 
toil  and  battle  which  the  New  World  offered  him.  The 
voyage  was  prosperous,  no  other  mishap  occurring 
than  that  of  an  ardent  youth  of  St.  Malo,  who  drank 
the  health  of  Pontgrave  with  such  persistent  enthusiasm 
that  he  fell  overheard  and  was  drowned. 

There  were  ships  at  Tadoussac,  fast  loading  with 
furs;  boats,  too,  higher  up  the  river,  anticipating  the 
trade,  and  draining  De  Monts's  resources  in  advance. 
Champlain,  who  had  full  discretion  to  fight  and  explore 
wherever  he  should  see  fit,  had  provided,  to  use  his  own 
phrase,  "  two  strings  to  his  bow."  On  the  one  hand, 
the  Montagnais  had  promised  to  guide  him  northward 
to  Hudson's  Bay ;  on  the  other,  the  Hurons  were  to 
show  him  the  Great  Lakes,  with  the  mines  of  copper 
on  their  shores ;  and  to  each  was  the  same  reward 
promised,  —  to  join  them  against  the  common  foe,  the 
deadly  Iroquois.  The  rendezvous  was  at  the  mouth  of 
the  River  Richelieu.  Thither  the  Hurons  were  to  de- 
scend in  force,  together  with  Algonquins  of  the  Ottawa ; 
and  thither  Champlain  now  repaired,  while  around  his 
boat  swarmed  a  multitude  of  Montagnais  canoes,  filled 
with  warriors  whose  lank  hair  streamed  loose  in  the 
wind. 

There  is  an  island  in  the  St.  Lawrence  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Richelieu.  On  the  nineteenth  of  June, 
it  was  swarming  'with  busy  and  clamorous  savages, 
Champlain's  Montagnais  allies,  cutting  down  the  trees 
and  clearing  the  ground  for  a  dance  and  a  feast ;  for 
they  were  hourly  expecting  the  Algonquin  warriors, 


1610.]  ALARM. 

and  -were  eager  to  welcome  them  with  befitting  honors. 
But  suddenly,  far  out  on  the  river,  they  saw  an  ad- 
vancing canoe.  Now  on  this  side,  now  on  that,  the 
flashing  paddles  urged  it  forward  as  if  death  were  on 
its  track  ;  and  as  it  drew  near,  the  strangers  cried  out 
that  the  Algonquins  were  in  the  forest,  a  league  dis- 
tant, engaged  with  a  hundred  warriors  of  the  Iroquois, 
who,  outnumbered,  were  fighting  savagely  within  a  bar- 
ricade of  trees. 

The  air  was  split  with  shrill  outcries.     The  Monia- 
gnais  snatched  their 


war^clubs^wprd-blades  madejast  to  poles.  —  and,  pell- 
mell.  ran  -headkmg  to  their^canoes.  impeding  ^ch  nflipr 
in  their  haste,  screeching  to  Champlain  to  follow,,  and 
invoking  with  no  less  vehemence  the  aid  of  certain  fur- 
traders,  just  arrived  in  four  boats  from  below.  These; 
as  it  was  not  their  cue  to  fight,  lent  them  a  deaf  ear  ; 
on  which,  in  disgust  and  scorn,  they  paddled  off,  call- 
ing to  the  recusants  that  they  were  women,  fit  for 
nothing'  but  to  make  war  on  beaver  -  skins. 

O 

Champlain  and  four  of  his  men  were  in  the  canoes. 
They  shot  across  the  intervening  water,  and,  as  theii 
prows  grated  on  the  pebbles,  each  warrior  flung  down 
his  paddle,  snatched  his  weapons,  and  ran  like  a  grey 
hound  into  the  woods.  The  five  Frenchmen  followed 
striving  vainly  to  keep  pace  with  the  naked,  light- 
limbed  rabble,  bounding  like  shadows  through  the  for- 
est. They  quickly  disappeared.  Even  their  shrill 
cries  grew  faint,  till  Champlain  and  his  men,  discom- 
forted and  vexed,  found  themselves  deserted  iu  the 


WAR.  —  TRADE.  —  DISCOVERT.  [ItilO. 

midst  of  a  swamp'.  The  day  was  sultry,  the  forest  air 
heavy  and  dense,  filled,  too,  with  hosts  of  mosquitoes, 
"  so  thick,"  says  the  'chief  sufferer,  "  that  we  could 
scarcely  draw  breath,  and  it  was  wonderful  how  cruelty 
they  persecuted  us." 1  Through  black  mud,  spongy 
moss,  water  knee-deep ;  over  fallen  trees  ;  among  slimy 
logs  and  entangling  roots  ;  tripped  by  vines ;  lashed  by 
recoiling  boughs ;  panting  under  their  steel  head-pieces 
and  heavy  corselets,  the  Frenchmen  struggled  on,  bevvil 
dered  and  indignant.  At  length  they  descried  two 
Indians  running1  in  the  distance,  and  shouted  to  them 

O  7 

in  desperation,  that,  if  they  wished  for  their  aid,  they 
must  guide  them  to  the  enemy. 

And  now  they  could  hear  the  yells  of  the  comba- 
tants ;  now  there  was  light  in  the  forest  before  them ; 
and  now  they  issued  into  a  partial  clearing  made  by  the 
Iroquois  axe-men.near  the  river.  Champlain  saw  their 
barricade.  Trees  were  piled  into  a  circular  breastwork, 
trunks,  boughs,  and  matted  foliage  forming  a  strong 
defence,  within  which,  grinding  their  teeth,  the  Iroquois 
stood  savagely  at  bay.  Around  them  flocked  the  allies, 
half  hidden  in  the  edges  of  the  forest,  like  hounds  around 
a  wild  boar,  eager,  clamorous,  yet  afraid  to  rush  in. 
They  had  attacked,  and  had  met  a  bloody  rebuff.  All 
their  hope  was  now  in  the  French;  and  when  they  saw 
them,  a  yell  arose  from  hundreds  of  throats  that  outdid 
the  wilderness-voices  whence  its  tones  were  borrowed, — 

1  ".  .  .  .  quantite  de  mousquites,  qui  estoient  si  espoisscs  qu'elles 
ne  nous  permettoient  point  presque  de  reprendre  nostre  halaine,  tant 
elles  nous  persecutoient,  et  si  cruellement  que  c'estoit  chose  estrange."  — 
Champlain,  (1613,)  260. 


1610.J  BATTLE.  —  VICTORY. 

the  whoop  of  the  horned  owl,  the  scream  of  the  cougar, 
the  howl  of  starved  wolves  on  a  winter  night.  A  fierce 
response  pealed  from  the  desperate  band  within ;  and 
amid  a  storm  of  arrows  from  both  sides,  the  Frenchmen 
threw  themselves  into  the  fray.  Champlain  felt  a 
stone-headed  arrow  splitting  his  ear  and  tearing  through 
the  muscles  of  his  neck.  He  drew  it  out,  and,  the  mo- 
ment after,  did  a  similar  office  for  one  of  his  men.  But 
the  Iroquois  had  by  no  means  recovered  from  their  first 
terror  at  the  arquehuse ;  and  when  the  mysterious  and 
terrible  assailants,  clad  in  steel  and  armed  with  portable 
thunder-bolts,  ran  up  to  the  barricade,  thrust  their  pieces 
through  the  crevices,  and  shot  death  among  the  crowd 
within,  they  could  not  control  their  fright,  but  with 
every  report  threw  themselves  flat  on  the  earth.  Ani- 
mated with  unwonted  valor,  the  allies,  covered  by  their 
large  shields,  began  to  drag  out  tlje  felled  trees  of 
the  barricade,  while  others,  under  Champlain's  direction, 
gathered  like  a  dark  cloud  at  the  edge  of  the  forest, 
preparing  to  close  the  affair  with  a  final  rush.  And 
now,  new  actors  appeared  on  the  scene.  These  were  a 
boat's  crew  of  the  fur-traders  under  a  young  man  of 
St.  Malo,  one  Des  Prairies,  who,  when  he  heard  the  fir- 
ing, could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  join  the  fight.  On 
seeing  them,  Champlain  checked  the  assault,  in  order, 
as  he  says,  that  the  new-comers  might  have  their  share 
in  the  sport.  The  traders  opened  fire,  with  great  zest 
and  no  less  execution  ;  while  the  Iroquois,  now  wild  with 
terror,  leaped  and  writhed  to  dodge  the  shot  which  tore 
resistlessly  through  their  frail  armor  of  twigs.  Cham- 

28* 


330  WAR.  —  TRADE.  —DISCOVERY.  J1G10 

plain  gave  the  signal  ;  the  crowd  ran  to  the  barricade, 
dragged  down  the  boughs  or  clambered  over  them, 
and  bore  themselves,  in  his  own  words,  "  so  well  and 
manfully,"  that,  though  wofully  scratched  and  torn  by 
the  sharp  points,  they  quickly  forced  an  entrance.  The 
French  ceased  their  fire,  and,  followed  by  a  smaller  body 
of  Indians,  scaled  the  barricade  on  the  farther  side. 
Now,  amid  bowlings,  shouts,  and  screeches,  the  work 
was  finished.  Some  of  the  Iroquois  were  cut  down  as 
they  stood,  hewing  with  their  war-clubs,  and  foaming 
like  slaughtered  tigers ;  some  climbed  the  barrier  and 
were  killed  by  the  furious  crowd  without ;  some  were 
drowned  in  the  river ;  while  fifteen,  the  only  survivors, 
were  made  prisoners.  "  By  the  grace  of  God,"  writes 
Champlain,  "  behold  the  battle  won  !  "  Drunk  with 
ferocious  ecstasy,  the  conquerors  scalped  the  dead  and 
gathered  fagots  for  the  living,  while  some  of  the  fur- 
traders,  too  late  to  bear  part  in  the  fight,  robbed  the 
carcasses  of  their  blood  -  bedrenched  robes  of  beaver- 
skin,  amid  the  derision  of  the  surrounding  Indians.1 

That  night,  the  torture-fires  blazed  along  the  shore. 
Champlain  saved  one  prisoner  from  their  clutches,  but 
nothing  could  save  the  rest.  One  body  was  quartered 
and  eaten.2  Of  the  remaining  captives,  some  were  kept 

1  Champlain,  (1613,)  254.     This  narrative,  like  most  others,  is  much 
abridged  in  the  edition  of  1632. 

2  Traces  of  cannibalism  may  be  found  among  most  of  the  North  Amer- 
ican tribes,  though  they  are  rarely  very  conspicuous.     Sometimes  the 
practice  arose,  as  in  the  present  instance,  from  revenge  or  ferocity; 
sometimes  it  bore  a  religious  character,  as  with  the  Miamis,  among  whom 
there  existed  a  secret  religious  fraternity  of  man-eaters ;  sometimes  the 
heart  of  a  brave  enemy  was  devoured  in  the  idea  that  it  made  the  eater 


1610.]  A  SAVAGE  CONCOURSE. 

in  reserve  for  the  women  and  young  girls,  who,  as  the 
warriors  were  forced  to  admit,  far  excelled  them  in  the 
art  of  torture  by  reason  of  their  feminine  subtlety. 

On  the  next  day,  a  large  band  of  Hurons  appeared 
at  the  rendezvous,  greatly  vexed  that  they  had  come  too 
late.  The  shores  were  thickly  studded  with  Indian 
huts ;  the  woods  were  full  of  them.  Here  were  war- 
riors of  three  designations,  including  many  subordinate 
tribes,  and  representing  three  grades  of  savage  society. 
Here  were  the  Hurons,  the  Algonquins  of  the  Ottawa, 
and  the  Montagnais  ;  afterwards  styled  by  a  Franciscan 
friar,  than  whom  few  men  better  knew  them,  the  No- 
bles, the  Burghers,  and  the  Peasantry  and  Paupers  of 
the  forest.1  Many  of  them,  from  the  remote  interior, 
had  never  before  seen  a  white  man  ;  and,  wrapped  like 
statues  in  their  robes,  they  stood  gazing  on  the  French 
with  a  fixed  stare  of  wild  and  wondering  eyes. 

Judged  by  the  standard  of  Indian  war,  a  heavy  blow 
had  been  struck  on  the  common  enemy.  Here  were 
hundreds  of  assembled  warriors ;  yet  none  thought  of 
following  up  their  success.  Elated  with  unexpected 
fortune,  they  danced,  they  sang;  then  loaded  their 
canoes,  hung  •  their  scalps  on  poles,  broke  up  their 
camps,  and  set  forth  triumphant  for  their  homes. 
Champlain  had  fought  their  battles,  and  now  might 
claim,  on  their  part,  guidance  and  escort  to  the  distant 

brave.     This  last  practice  was  common.     The  ferocious  threat,  used  in 
speaking  of  an  enemy,  "  I  will  eat  his  heart,"  is  by  no  means  a  mere  fig- 
ure of  speech.     The  roving  hunter- tribes,  in  their  winter  wanderings 
were  not  infrequently  impelled  to  cannibalism  by  famine. 
1  Sagard,  Voyage  des  Uuions,  184. 


WAK.  — TRADE.— DISCOVERY.  [1G10 

interior.  Why  he  did  not  do. so  is  scarcely  apparent. 
There  were  cares,  it  seems,  connected  with  the  very 
life  of  his  puny  colony,  which  demanded  his  return  to 
France.  Nor  were  his  anxieties  lessened  by  the  arrival 
of  a  ship  from  his  native  town  of  Brouage,  fraught 
with  the  tidings  of  the  King's  assassination.  Here  was 
a  death-blow  to  all  that  had  remained  of  De  Monts's 
credit  at  court ;  while  that  unfortunate  nobleman,  like 
his  old  associate,  Poutrincourt,  was  moving  with  swift 
strides  toward  financial  ruin.  With  the  revocation  of 
his  monopoly,  fur-traders  had  swarmed  to  the  St.  Law- 
rence. Tadoussac  was  full  of  them,  and  for  that  year 
the  trade  was  spoiled.  Far  from  aiding  to  support  a 
burdensome  enterprise  of  colonization,  it  was,  in  itself, 
an  occasion  of  heavy  loss. 

Champlain  bade  farewell  to  his  garden  at  Quebec, 
where  maize,  wheat,  rye,  and  barley,,  with  vegetables  of 
all  kinds,  and  a  small  vineyard  of  native  grapes,  —  for 
he  was  a  zealous  horticulturist,1  —  held  forth  a  promise 
which  he  was  not  to  see  fulfilled.  He  left  one  Du  Pare 
in  command,  with  sixteen  men,  and,  sailing  on  the 
eighth  of  August,  arrived  at  Honfleur  with  no  worse 
accident  than  that  of  running  over  a  sleeping  whale 
near  the  Grand  Bank. 

With  the  opening  spring  he  was  afloat  again.  Per- 
ils awaited  him  worse  than  those  of  Iroquois  toma- 
hawks ;  for,  approaching  Newfoundland,  the  ship  was 
entangled  for  days  among  drifting  fields  and  bergs  of 
ice.  Escaping  at  length,  she  arrived  at  Tadoussac  on 

1  During  the  next  year,  he  planted  roses  around  Quebec.    Champlain, 
(1613,)  313. 


1611.J  ADVENTURERS. 

the  thirteenth  of  May,  1611.  She  had  anticipated  the 
spring.  Forests  and  mountains,  far  and  near,  all  were 
white  with  snow.  A  principal  object  with  Champlain 
was  to  establish  such  relations  with  the  great  Indian 
communities  of  the  interior  as  to  secure  to  De  Monts 
and  his  associates  the  advantage  of  trade  with  them ; 
and  to  this  end  he  now  repaired  to  Montreal,  a  position 
in  the  gate-way,  as  it  were,  of  their  yearly  descents  of 
trade  or  war.  On  arriving,  he  began  to  survey  the 
ground  for  the  site  of  a  permanent  post. 

A  few  days  convinced  him,  that,  under  the  present 
system,  all  his  efforts  would  be  vain.  Wild  reports  of 
the  wonders  of  New  France  had  gone  abroad,  and  a 
crowd  of  hungry  adventurers  had  hastened  to  the  land 
of  promise,  eager  to  grow  rich,  they  scarcely  knew 
how,  and  soon  to  return  disgusted.  A  fleet  of  boats 
and  small  vessels  followed  in  Champlain's  wake. 
Within  a  few  days,  thirteen  of  them  arrived  at  Mon- 
treal, and  more  soon  appeared.  He  was  to  break  the 
ground ;  others  would  reap  the  harvest.  Travel,  dis- 
covery, and  battle,  all  must  inure  to  the  profit,  not  of 
the  colony,  but  of  a  crew  of  greedy  traders. 

Champlain,  however,  chose  the  site  and  cleared  the 
ground  for  his  intended  post.  It  was  immediately 
above  a  small  stream,  now  running  under  arches  of 
masonry,  and  entering  the  St.  Lawrence  at  Point  Cal- 
liere,  within  the  modern  city.  He  called  it  Place 
Royale ; l  and  here,  on  the  margin  of  the  river,  he  built 

1  The  mountain  being  Mont  Royal  (Montreal).     The  Hospital  of  the 
Gray  Nuns  was  built  on  a  portion  cf  Champlain's  Place  Royale. 


S3  i  WAK.  —  TRADE.  -  DISCOVERY.  [1611. 

a  wall  of  bricks  made  on  the  spot,  in  order  to  meas- 
ure the  destructive  effects  of  the  "  ice  -  shove  "  in  the 
spring. 

Now,  down  the  surges  of  St.  Louis,  where  the 
mighty  floods  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  contracted  to  a  nar- 
row throat,  roll  in  fury  among  their  sunken  rocks, — 
here,  through  foam  and  spray  and  the  roar  of  the  angry 
torrent,  a  fleet  of  birch  canoes  came  dancing  like  dry 
leaves  on  the  froth  of  some  riotous  brook.  They  bore 
a  band  of  Hurons,  first  at  the  rendezvous.  As  they 
drew  near  the  landing.,  all  the  fur-traders'  boats  blazed 
forth  in  a  clattering  fusillade,  which  was  designed  to  bid 
them  welcome,  but,  in  fact,  terrified  many  of  them  to 
such  a  degree  that  they  scarcely  dared  to  come  ashore. 
Nor  were  they  reassured  by  the  bearing  of  the  disorderly 
crowd,  who,  in  jealous  competition  for  their  beaver-skins, 
left  them  not  a  moment's  peace,  and  outraged  all  their 
notions  of  decorum.  More  soon  appeared,  till  hundreds 
of  warriors  were  encamped  along  the  shore,  all  restless, 
suspicious,  and  alarmed.  Late  one  night,  they  awak- 
ened Champlain.  On  going  with  them  to  their  camp, 
he  found  chiefs  and  warriors  in  solemn  conclave  around 
the  glimmering  firelight.  Though  they  were  fearful  of 
the  rest,  their  trust  in  him  was  boundless.  "  Come  to 
our  country,  buy  our  beaver,  build  a  fort,  teach  us  the 
true  faith,  do  what  you  will,  but  do  not  bring  this  crowd 
with  you."  An  idea  had  seized  them  that  these  lawless 
hands  of  rival  traders,  all  well  armed,  meant  to  attack, 
plunder,  and  kill  them.  Champlain  assured  them  of 
safety,  and  the  whole  night  was  consumed  in  friendly 


1611.]  NARROW  ESCAPE  OF  CHAMPLAIN. 

colloquy.  Soon  afterward,  however,  the  camp  broke  up, 
and  the  uneasy  warriors  removed  to  the  borders  of  the 
Lake  of  St.  Louis,  placing  the  rapids  betwixt  themselves 
and  the  objects  of  their  alarm.  Here  Champlain  visited 
them,  and  hence  these  intrepid  canoe-men,  kneeling1  in 
their  birchen  egg-shells,  carried  him  homeward  down 
the  rapids,  somewhat,  as  he  admits,  to  the  discomposure 
of  his  nerves.1 

The  great  gathering  dispersed  :  the  traders  descended 
to  Tadoussac,  Champlain  to  Quebec ;  the  Indians  went, 
some  to  their  homes,  some  to  fight  the  Iroquois.  A  few 
months  later,  Champlain  was  in  close  conference  with 
De  Monts,  at  PODS,  a  place  near  Rochelle,  of  which 
the  latter  was  governor.  The  last  two  years  had  made 
it  apparent,  that  to  keep  the  colony  alive  and  maintain 
a  basis  for  those  discoveries  on  which  his  heart  was 
bent,  Wcis,  without  a  change  of  system,  impossible. 
De  Monts,  engrossed  with  the  cares  of  his  govern- 
ment, placed  all  in  the  hands  of  his  associate,  and 
Champlain,  fully  empowered  to  act  as  he  should  judge 
expedient,  set  out  for  Paris.  On  the  way,  Fortune, 
at  one  stroke,  well  nigh  crirshed  him  and  New  France 
together ;  for  his  horse  fell  on  him,  and  he  narrowly 
escaped  with  life.  When  he  was  partially  recovered, 
he  resumed  his  journey,  pondering  on  means  of  rescue 

1  The  first  white  man  to  descend  the  rapids  of  St.  Louis  was  a  youth 
who  had  volunteered,  the  previous  summer,  to  go  with  the  Hurons  to 
their  country  and  winter  among  them,  —  a  proposal  to  which  Champlain 
gladly  assented.  The  second  was  a  young  man  named  Louis,  who  had 
gone  up  with  Indians  to  an  island  in  the  rapid,  to  shoot  herons,  and  was 
drowned  in  the  descent.  The  third  was  Champlain  himself. 


WAR.  — TRADE.  — DISCOVERY.  [1612. 

for  the  fading  colony.  A  powerful  protector  must  be 
had,  —  a  great  name  to  shield  the  enterprise  from  as- 
saults and  intrigues  of  jealous  rival  interests.  On 
reaching  Paris,  he  addressed  himself  to  a  prince  of 
the  blood,  Charles  of  Bourbon,  Comte  de  Soissons ; 
described  New  France,  its  resources^  its  boundless  ex- 
tent, urged  the  need  of  unfolding  a  mystery  pregnant 
perhaps  with  results  of  the  deepest  moment,  laid  before 
him  maps  and  memoirs,  and  begged  him  to  become  the 
guardian  of  this  new  world.  The  royal  consent  being 
obtained,  the  Comte  de  Soissons  became  Lieutenant- 
General  for  the  King  in  New  France,  with  viceregal 
powers.  These,  in  turn,  he  conferred  upon  Champlain, 
making  him  his  lieutenant,  with  full  control  over  the 
trade  in  furs  at  and  above  Quebec,  and  with  power  to 
associata  with  himself  such  persons  as  he  saw  fit,  to 
aid  in  the  exploration  and  settlement  of  the  country.1 

Scarcely  was  the  commission  drawn  when  the  Comte 
de  Soissons,  attacked  with  fever,  died,  to  the  joy  of  the 
Breton  and  Norman  traders,  whose  jubilation,  however, 
found  a  speedy  end.  Henry  of  Bourbon,  Prince  of 
Conde,  First  Prince  of  the  Blood,  assumed  the  vacant 
protectorship.  He  was  grandson  of  the  gay  and  gal- 
lant Conde  of  the  Civil  Wars,  was  father  of  the  great 
Conde,  the  man  of  steel,  the  youthful  victor  of  Rocroy, 
and  was  husband  of  Charlotte  de  Montmorenci,  whose 
blonde  beauties  had  fired  the  inflammable  heart  of 

1  Commission  de  Monseigneur  le  Comte  de  Soissons  donne"e  au  Sieur  de 
Chitmplein.  See  Champlain,  (1632,)  231,  and  Me~moires  des  Cotamis- 
satires,  II.  451. 


161'J.l  CONDE.-  PLANS   OF   CHAMPLAIN. 


387 


Henry  the  Fourth.  To  the  unspeakable  wrath  of  that 
keen  lover,  the  prudent  Conde  fled  with  his  bride, 
first  to  Brussels,  then  to  Italy  ;  nor  did  he  return  to 
Fiance  till  the  regicide's  knife  had  put  his  jealous  fears 
to  rest.1  Arrived,  he  began  to  intrigue  against  the 
court.  In  1614,  two  years  after  the  death  of  the 
Comte  de  Soissons,  his  plots  were  hatched  into  life, 
and,  after  exciting  a  wild  alarm,  ended  in  his  three 
years'  imprisonment  at  Viucennes.  He  was  a  man 
of  common  abilities,  greedy  of  money  and  power,  and 
scarcely  seeking  even  the  decency  of  a  pretext  to  cover 
his  mean  ambition.2  His  chief  honor  —  an  honor 
somewhat  equivocal  —  is,  as  Voltaire  observes,  to  have 
been  father  of  the  great  Conde.  Busy  with  his  nas- 
cent conspiracy,  he  cared  little  for  colonies  and  dis- 
coveries ;  and  his  rank  and  power  were  his  sole  quali- 
fications for  his  new  post. 

In  Champlain  alone  was  the  life  of  New  France. 
By  instinct  and  temperament  he  was  more  impelled  to 
the  adventurous  toils  of  exploration  than  to  the  duller 
task  of  building  colonies.  The  profits  of  trade  had 
value  in  his  eyes  only  as  means  to  these  ends,  and  set- 
tlements were  important  chiefly  as  a  base  of  discovery. 
Two  great  objects  eclipsed  all  others,  —  to  find  a  route 
to  the  Indies,  and  to  bring  the  heathen  tribes  into  the 
embraces  of  the  Church,  since,  while  he  cared  little 

1  The  anecdote,  as  told  by  the  Princess  herself  to  her  wandering  court 
during  the  romantic  campaigning  of  the  Fronde,  will  be  found  in  the 
curious  Me'moires  de  Lenet. 

'2  Me'moires  de   Madame  de  Motteville,  passim ;    Sismondi,    Histolre  de.* 
Francais,  XXIV.,  XXV.  passim. 
29 


338  WAR.  — TRADE.  — DISCOVERY.  [1612. 

for  their  bodies,  his  solicitude  for  their  souls  knew  no 
bounds. 

It  was  no  part  of  his  plan  to  establish  an  odious 
monopoly.  He  sought  rather  to  enlist  the  rival  traders 
in  his  cause ;  and  he  now,  in  concurrence  with  De  Monts, 
invited  them  to  become  sharers  in  the  traffic,  under 
certain  regulations  and  on  condition  of  aiding  in  the 
establishment  and  support  of  the  colony.  The  mer- 
chants of  St.  Malo  and  Rouen  accepted  the  terms,  and 
became  members  of  the  new  company ;  but  the  intrac- 
table heretics  of  Rochelle,  refractory  in  commerce  as  in 
religion,  kept  aloof,  and  preferred  the  chances  of  an 
illicit  trade.  The  prospects  of  New  France  were  far 
from  flattering;  for  little  could  be  hoped  from  this 
unwilling  league  of  selfish  traders,  each  jealous  of  the 
rest.  They  gave  the  Prince  of  Conde  large  gratuities 
to  secure  his  countenance  and  support.  The  hungry 
viceroy  took  them,  and  with  these  emoluments  his  inter- 
est in  the  colony  ended. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

1612, 1613. 
THE    IMPOSTOR    VIGNAN. 

ILLUSIONS.  —  A  PATH  TO  THE  NORTH  SEA.  —  THE  OTTAWA.  —  FOREST 
TRAVELLERS. —  INDIAN  FEAST.  —  THE  IMPOSTOR  EXPOSED.  —  RETURN  TO 
MONTREAL. 

THE  arrangements  just  indicated  were  a  work  of 
time.  In  the  summer  of  1612,  Champlain  was  forced 
to  forego  his  yearly  voyage  to  New  France ;  nor,  even 
in  the  following  spring,  were  his  labors  finished  and  the 
rival  interests  brought  to  harmony.  Meanwhile,  inci- 
dents occurred  destined  to  have  no  small  influence  on  his 
movements.  Three  years  before,  after  his  second  fight 
with  the  Iroquois,  a  young  man  of  his  company  had 
boldly  volunteered  to  join  the  Indians  on  thetr  home- 
ward journey  and  winter  among  them.  Champlain 
gladly  assented,  and  in  the  following  summer,  the  ad- 
venturer returned.  Another  young  man,  one  Nicholas 
de  Vignan,  next  offered  himself;  and  he,  also,  embark- 
ing in  the  Algonquin  canoes,  passed  up  the  Ottawa 
and  was  seen  no  more  for  a  twelvemonth.  In  161)3 
he  reappeared  in  Paris,  bringing  a  tale  of  wonders  ;  for, 
says  Champlain, "  he  was  the  most  impudent  liar  that 
has  been  seen  for  many  a  day."  He  averred  that  at 
the  sources  of  the  Ottawa  he  had  found  a  great  lake ; 


34.Q  THE  IMPOSTOR  VIGNAN.  [1613. 

that  he  had  crossed  it,  and  discovered  a  river  flowing 
northward ;  that  he  had  descended  this  river,  and 
reached  the  shores  of  the  sea ;  that  here  he  had  seen 
the  wreck  of  an  English  ship,  whose  crew,  escaping  to 
land,  had  been  killed  by  the  Indians ;  and  that  this  sea 
was  distant  from  Montreal  only  seventeen  days  by 
canoe.  The  clearness,  consistency,  and  apparent  sim- 
plicity of  his  story  deceived  Champlain,  who  had  heard 
of  a  voyage  of  the  English  to  the  northern  seas,  coupled 
with  rumors  of  wreck  and  disaster,1  and  was  thus  con- 
firmed in  his  belief  of  Vignan's  honesty.  The  Mare- 
chal  de  Brissac,  the  President  Jeannin,  and  other  per- 
sons of  eminence  about  the  court,  greatly  interested  by 
these  dexterous  fabrications,  urged  Champlain  to  follow 
up  without  delay  a  discovery  which  promised  results  so 
important ;  while  he,  with  the  Pacific,  Japan,  China,  the 
Spice  Islands,  and  India  stretching  in  flattering  vista 
before  his  fancy,  entered  with  eagerness  on  the  chase 
of  this  illusion.  Early  in  the  spring  of  1613,  the 
unwearied  voyager  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  sailed  up 
the  St.  Lawrence.  On  Monday,  the  twenty  -  seventh 
of  May,  he  left  the  island  of  St.  Helen,  opposite 
Montreal,  with  four  Frenchmen,  one  of  whom  was 
Nicholas  de  Vignan,  and  one  Indian,  in  two  small 
canoes.  They  passed  the  swift  current  at  St.  Ann's, 
crossed  the  Lake  of  Two  Mountains,  and  advanced  up 
the  Ottawa  till  the  rapids  of  Carillon  and  the  Long 

1  Evidently  the  voyage  of  Henry  Hudson  in  1610-12,  when  that  voy 
ager,  after  discovering  Hudson's  Strait,  lost  his  life  through  a  mutiny 
Compare  Je'remie,  Relation,  in  Recueil  de  Voyages  au  Nord,  VI. 


1613.1  CHAMPLAIN  ON  THE   OTTAWA. 

Saut  checked  tlieir  course.  So  dense  and  tangled  was 
the  forest,  that  they  were  forced  to  remain  in  the  bed 
of  the  river,  trailing  their  canoes  along  the  bank  with 
cords,  or  pushing  them  by  main  force  up  the  current. 
Champlain's  foot  slipped  ;  he  fell  in  the  rapids,  two 
boulders  against  which  he  braced  himself  saving  him 
from  being  swept  down,  while  the  cord  of  the  canoe, 
twisted  round  his  hand,  nearly  severed  it.  At  length 
they  reached  smoother  water,  and  presently  met  fif- 
teen canoes  of  friendly  Indians.  Champlain  gave 
them  the  most  awkward  of  his  Frenchmen  and  took 
one  of.  their  number  in  return,  —  an  exchange  greatly 
to  his  profit. 

All  day  they  plied  their  paddles.  Night  came,  and 
they  made  their  camp-fire  in  the  forest.  He  who  now, 
when  two  centuries  and  a  half  are  passed,  would  see 
the  evening  bivouac  of  Champlain,  has  but  to  encamp, 
with  Indian  guides,  on  the  upper  waters  of  this  same 
Ottawa,  —  to  tin's  day  a  solitude,  —  or  on  the  borders 
of  some  lonely  river  of  New  Brunswick  or  of  Maine. 

As,  crackling  in  the  forest  stillness,  the  flame  cast 
its  keen  red  light  around,  wild  forms  stood  forth 
against  the  outer  gloom  ;  —  the  strong,  the  weak,  the 
old,  the  young ;  all  the  leafy  host  of  the  wilderness  ; 
moss  -  bearded  ancients  tottering  to  their  death,  sap- 
lings slender  and  smooth,  trunks  hideous  with  wens 
and  goitres  and  strange  deformity  ;  the  oak,  a  giant  in 
rusty  mail ;  the  Atlantean  column  of  the  pine,  bearing 
on  high  its  murmuring  world  of  verdure  ;  the  birch, 
ghastly  and  wan,  a  spectre  in  the  darkness  ;  and,  aloft, 

29  » 


THE  IMPOSTOR   VIGNAN.  [1613. 

the  knotted  boughs,  uncouth,  distorted  shapes  struggling 
amid  dim  clouds  of  foliage. 

The  voyagers  gathered  around  the  flame,  the  red 
men  and  the  white,  these  cross-legged  on  the  earth, 
those  crouching  like  apes,  each  feature  painted  in 
fiery  light  as  they  waited  their  evening  meal,  —  trout 
and  perch  on  forked  sticks  hefore  the  scorching  blaze. 
Then  each  spread  his  couch  —  boughs  of  the  spruce, 
hemlock,  balsam-fir,  or  pine — and  stretched  himself 
to  rest.  Perhaps,  as  the  night  wore  on,  chilled  by 
the  river  -  damps,  some  slumberer  woke,  rose,  kneeled 
by  the  sunken  fire,  spread  his  numbed  hands  over  the 
dull  embers,  and  stirred  them  with  a  half -consumed 
brand.  Then  the  sparks,  streaming  upward,  roamed 
like  fire-flies  among  the  dusky  boughs.  The  scared  owl 
screamed,  and  the  watcher  turned  quick  glances  into 
the  dark,  lest,  from  those  caverns  of  gloom,  the  lurk- 
ing savage  might  leap  upon  his  defenceless  vigil.  As 
he  lay  once  more  by  the  replenished  fire1,  sounds  stole 
upon  his  ear,  faint,  mysterious,  startling  to  the  awa- 
kened fancy,  —  the  whispering  fall  of  a  leaf,  the  creak- 
ing of  a  bough,  the  stir  of  some  night  insect,  the  soft 
footfall  of  some  prowling  beast,  from  the  far-off  shore 
the  mournful  howl  of  a  lonely  wolf,  or  the  leaping  of  a 
fish  where,  athwart  the  pines,  the  weird  moon  gleamed 
on  the  midnight  river. 

Day  dawned.  The  east  glowed  with  tranquil  fire,  that 
pierced,  with  eyes  of  flame,  the  fir-trees  whose  jagged 
tops  stood  drawn  in  black  against  the  burning  heaven 
Beneath,  the  glossy  river  slept  in  shadow,  or  spread 


1613.]  THE  CHAUDIERE.  34,3 

far  and  wide  in  sheets  of  burnished  bronze  ;  and,  in 
the  western  sky,  the  white  moon  hung  like  a  disk  of 
silver.  Now,  a  fervid  light  touched  the  dead  top  of  the 
hemlock,  and  now,  creeping  downward,  it  bathed  the 
mossy  beard  of  the  patriarchal  cedar,  unstirred  in 
the  breathless  air.  Now,  a  fiercer  spark  beamed  from 
the  east ;  and,  now,  half  risen  on  the  sight,  a  dome  of 
crimson  fire,  the  sun  blazed  with  floods  of  radiance 
across  the  awakened  wilderness. 

The  paddles  flashed  ;  the  voyagers  held  their  course. 
And  soon  the  still  surface  was  flecked  with  spots  of 
foam ;  islets  of  froth  floated  by,  tokens  of  some  great 
convulsion.  Then,  on  their  left,  the  falling  curtain  of 
the  Rideau  shone  like  silver  betwixt  its  bordering 
woods,  and  in  front,  white  as  a  snow-drift,  the  cataracts 
of  the  Chaudiere  barred  their  way.  They  saw  the 
dark  cliffs,  gloomy  with  impending  firs,  and  the  darker 
torrent,  rolling  its  mad  surges  along  the  gulf  between. 
They  saw  the  unbridled  river  careering  down  its  sheeted 
rocks,  foaming  in  unfathomed  chasms,  wearying  the 
solitude  with  the  hoarse  outcry  of  its  agony  and  rage. 

On  the  brink  of  the  rocky  basin  where  the  plunging 
torrent  boiled  like  a  caldron,  and  pufls  of  spray  sprang 
out  from  its  concussion  like  smoke  from  the  throat  of 
a  camion,  —  here  Champlain's  two  Indians  took  their 
stand,  and,  with  a  loud  invocation,  threw  tobacco  into  the 
foam,  an  offering  to  the  local  spirit,  the  Manitou  of  the 
cataract.1 

1  An  invariable  custom  with  the  upper  Indians  on  passing  this  place. 
When   many   were  present,  it  was  attended  with  solemn   dances  and 


THE  IMPOSTOR  VIGNAN.  [1613. 

Over  the  rocks,  through  the  woods ;  then  they 
launched  their  canoes  again,  and,  with  toil  and  struggle, 
made  their  amphibious  way,  now  pushing,  now  drag- 
ging, now  lifting,  now  paddling,  now  shoving  with 
poles.  When  the  evening  sun  poured  its  level  rays 
across  the  quiet  Lake  of  the  Chaudiere.  they  landed, 
and  made  their  peaceful  camp  on  the  verge  of  a  woody 
island. 

Day  by  day  brought  a  renewal  of  their  toils.  Hour 
by  hour,  they  moved  prosperously  up  the  long  winding 
of  the  solitary  stream;  then,  in  quick  succession,  rapid 
followed  rapid,  till  the  bed  of  the  Ottawa  seemed  a 
slope  of  foam.  Now,  like  a  wall  bristling  at  the  top 
with  woody  islets,  the  Falls  of  the  Chats  faced  them 
with  the  sheer  plunge  of  their  sixteen  cataracts.  Now 
they  glided  beneath  overhanging  cliffs,  where,  seeing 
but  unseen,  the  crouched  wild-cat  eyed  them  from  the 
thicket ;  now  through  the  maze  of  water-girded  rocks, 
which  the  white  cedar  and  the  spruce  clasped  with  ser- 
pent-like roots,  or  among  islands  where  old  hemlocks, 
dead  at  the  top,  darkened  the  water  with  deep  green 
shadow.  Here,  too,  the  rock-maple  reared  its  verdant 
masses,  the  beech  its  glistening  leaves  and  clean,  smooth 
stem,  and  behind,  stiff  and  sombre,  rose  the  balsam-fir. 
Here,  in  the  tortuous  channels,  the  muskrat  swam  and 
plunged,  and  the  splashing  wild  duck  dived  beneath  the 


speeches,  a  contribution  of  tobacco  being  first  taken  on  a  dish.  It  was 
thought  to  insure  a  safe  voyage ;  but  was  often  an  occasion  of  disaster, 
since  hostile  war-parties,  lying  in  ambush  at  the  spot,  would  surprise  and 
kill  the  votaries  of  the  Manitou  in  the  very  presence  of  their  guardian. 


1613.]  CHAMPLAIN  AS  A  PIONEER. 

alders  or  among  the  red  and  matted  roots  of  thirsty 
water-willows.  Aloft,  the  white  pine  towered  "  proudly 
eminent "  above  a  sea  of  verdure.  Old  fir-trees,  hoary 
and  grim,  shaggy  with  pendent  mosses,  leaned  above 
the  stream,  and  beneath,  dead  and  submerged,  some 
fallen  oak  thrust  from  the  current  its  bare,  bleached 
limbs,  like  the  skeleton  of  a  drowned  giant.  In  the 
weedy  cove  stood  the  moose,  neck-deep  in  water  to  escape 
the  flies,  wading  sho'reward,  with  glistening  sides,  as 
the  canoes  drew  near,  shaking  his  broad  antlers  and 
writhing  his  hideous  nostril,  as  with  clumsy  trot  he 
vanished  in  the  woods. 

In  these  ancient  wilds,  to  whose  ever  verdant  antiq 
uity  the  pyramids  are  young  and  Nineveh  a  mushroom 
of  yesterday  ;  where  the  sage  wanderer  of  the  Odyssey, 
could  he  have  urged  his  pilgrimage  so  far,  would  have 
surveyed  the  same*  grand  and  stern  monotony,  the 
same  dark  sweep  of  melancholy  woods ;  and  where,  as 
of  yore,  the  bear  and  the  wolf  still  lurk  in  the  thicket, 
and  the  lynx  glares  from  the  leafy  bough  ;  —  here, 
while  New  England  was  a  solitude,  and  the  settlers  of 
Virginia  scarcely  dared  venture  inland  beyond  the  sound 
of  cannon-shot,  Champlain  was  planting  on  shores  and 
islands  the  emblems  of  his  Faith.1  Of  the  pioneers  of 
the  North  American  forests,  his  name  stands  foremost 
on  the  list.  It  was  he  who  struck  the  deepest  and 
boldest  strokes  into  the  heart  of  their  pristine  barba- 
rism. At  Chantilly,  at  Fontainebleau,  at  Paris,  in  the 

1  They  were  large  crosses  of  white  cedar,  placed   at  various   point* 
along  the  river 


34-6  THE  IMPOSTOR  VIGNAN.  [1013. 

cabinets  of  princes  and  of  royalty  itself,  mingling  with 
the  proud  vanities  of  the  court ;  then  lost  from  sight 
in  the  depths  of  Canada,  the  companion  of  savages, 
sharer  of  their  toils,  privations,  and  battles,  more  hardy, 
patient,  and  bold  than  they ;  —  such,  for  successive 
years,  were  the  alternations  of  this  man's  life. 

To  follow  on  his  trail  once  more.  His  Indians  said 
that  the  rapids  of  the  river  above -were  impassable. 
Nicholas  de  Vignan  affirmed  the  contrary  ;  but  from 
the  first,  Vignan  had  been  found  always  in  the  wrong. 
His  aim  seems  to  have  been  to  involve  his  leader 
in  difficulties,  and  disgust  him  with  a  journey  which 
must  soon  result  in  exposing  the  imposture  which  had 
occasioned  it.  Champlain  took  the  counsel  of  the  In- 
dians. The  party  left  the  river,  and  entered  the  forest. 

Each  Indian  shouldered  a  canoe.  The  Frenchmen 
carried  the  baggage,  paddles,  arms,  and  fishing-nets. 
Champlain's  share  was  three  paddles,  three  arquebuses, 
his  capote,  and  various  "  bagatelles."  Thus  they  strug- 
gled on,  till,  at  night,  tired  and  half  starved,  they  built 
their  fire  on  the  border  of  a  lake,  doubtless  an  expan- 
sion of  the  river.  Here,  clouds  of  mosquitoes  gave 
them  no  peace,  and  piling  decayed  wood  on  the  flame, 
they  sat  to  leeward  in  the  smoke.  Their  march,  in  the 
morning,  was  through  a  pine  forest.  A  whirlwind  had 
swept  it,  and  in  the  track  of  the  tornado  the  trees  lay 
uptorn,  inverted,  prostrate,  and  flung  in  disordered 
heaps,  boughs,  roots,  and  trunks  mixed  in  wild  con- 
fusion. Over,  under,  and  through  these  masses  the 
travellers  made  their  painful  way ;  then  through  the 


1613.]  OTTAWA  TOWNS. 

pitfalls  and  impediments  of  the  living  forest,  till  a  sunnj 
transparency  in  the  screen  of  young  foliage  before  them 
gladdened  their  eyes  with  the  assurance  that  they  had 
reached  again  the  banks  of  the  open  stream. 

At  the  point  where  they  issued  it  could  no  longer  be 
called  a  stream,  for  it  was  that  broad  expansion  now 
known  as  Lake  Coulange.  Below,  were  the  dangerous 
rapids  of  the  Calumet ;  above,  the  river  was  split  into 
two  arms,  folding  in  their  watery  embrace  the  large 
island  called  Isle  des  Allumettes.  This  neighborhood 
was  the  seat  of  the  principal  Indian  population  of  the 
river,  ancestors  of  the  modern  Ottawas ; l  and,  as  the 

1  Usually  called  Algoumequins,  or  Algonqnins,  by  Champlain  and 
other  early  writers,  — a  name  now  always  used  in  a  generic  sense  to  des- 
ignate a  large  family  of  cognate  tribes,  speaking  languages  radically  simi- 
lar, and  covering  a  vast  extent  of  country.  The  Ottawas,  however,  soon 
became  known  by  their  tribal  name,  written  in  various  forms  by  French 
and  English  writers,  as  Otttotiais,  Outaouaks,  Tnwaas,  Oadauwaus,  Outauies, 
Oulaouucs,  Uiawas,  Olbtwwaivwitg,  Onttoaels,  Outltnvaals,  Atlnwawas.  The 
French  nicknamed  them  "  C/ieveux  Releces,"  from  their  mode  of  wearing 
their  hair.  Champlain  gives  the  same  name  to  a  tribe  near  Lake  Huron. 

The  Ottawas  or  Algonquins  of  the  Isle  des  Allumettes  and  its  neigh- 
borhood are  most  frequently  mentioned  by  the  early  writers  as  la  Nation 
de  i'lsle.  Lalemant  (Relation  den  Huroiis,  ItioO)  calls  them  Ehonkeronons. 
Vimont  (Relation,  1G40)  calls  them  Kichesipirini.  The  name  Alyonqnin 
was  used  generally  as  early  as  the  time  of  Sagard,  whose  Histoire  du 
Canada  appeared  in  1G36.  Champlain  always  limits  it  to  the  tribes  of 
thfs  Ottawa. 

As  the  Ottawas  were  at  first  called  Algonquins,  so  all  the  Algonquin 
tribes  of  the  Great  Lakes  were  afterwards,  without  distinction,  called 
Ottawas,  because  the  latter  had  first  become  known  to  the  French. 
Dablon,  Rd>itio»,  1670,  c.  X. 

Isle  des  Allumettes  was  called  also  Isle  du  Borgne,  from  a  renowned 
one-eyed  chief  who  made  his  abode  here,  and  who,  after  greatly  exasper- 
ating the  Jesuits  by  his  evil  courses,  at  last  became  a  convert  and  died  in 
the  Faith.  They  regarded  the  people  of  this  island  as  the  haughtiest  of 
all  the  tribes.  Lc  Jeune,  Relation,  1G3G,  230. 


THE  IMPOSTOR  VIGNAN.  [1613, 

canoes  advanced,  unwonted  signs  of  human  life  could 
be  seen  on  the  borders  of  the  lake.  Here  was  a  rough 
clearing.  The  trees  had  been  burned ;  there  was  a 
rude  and  desolate  gap  in  the  sombre  green  of  the  pine 
forest.  Dead  trunks,  blasted  and  black  with  fire,  stood 
grimly  upright  amid  the  charred  stumps  and  prostrate 
bodies  of  comrades  half  consumed.  In  the  intervening- 
spaces,  the  soil  had  been  feebly  scratched  with  hoes  of 
wood  or  bone,  and  a  crop  of  maize  was  growing,  now 
some  four  inches  high.1  The  dwellings  of  these  slov- 
enly farmers,  framed  of  poles  covered  with  sheets  of 
bark,  were  scattered  here  and  there,  singly  or  in  groups, 
while  their  tenants  were  running  to  the  shore  in  amaze- 
ment. Warriors  stood  with  their  hands  over  their 
mouths, — the  usual  Indian  attitude  of  astonishment; 
squaws  stared  betwixt  curiosity  and  fear ;  naked  pap- 
pooses  screamed  and  ran.  The  chief,  Nibachis,  offered 
the  calumet,  then  harangued  the  crowd  :  "  These  white- 
men  must  have  fallen  from  the  clouds.  How  else  could 
they  have  reached  us  through  the  woods  and  rapids 
which  even  we  find  it  hard  to  pass "?  The  French  chief 
can  do  anything.  All  that  we  have  heard  of  him  must 
be  true."  And  they  hastened  to  regale  the  hungry  vis- 
itors with  a  repast  of  fish. 

Champlain  asked  for  guidance  to  the  settlements 
above.  It  was  readily  granted.  Escorted  by  his 
friendly  hosts,  he  advanced  beyond  the  head  of  Lake 

1  Champlain,  Quatriesme  Voyarje,  29.  This  is  a  pamphlet  of  fifty-two 
pages,  containing  the  journal  of  his  voyage  of  1613,  and  apparently  pub- 
lished at  the  close  of  that  year. 


1613.]  OTTAWA   CEMETERY. 

Coulange,  and,  lauding,  saw  the  unaccustomed  sight  of 
pathways  through  the  forest..  They  led  to  the  clearings 
and  cabins  of  a  chief  named  Tessooat,  who,  amazed  at 
the  apparition  of  the  white  strangers,  exclaimed  that  he 
must  be  in  a  dream.1  Next,  the  voyagers  crossed  to 
the  neighboring  island,  then  deeply  wooded  with  pine, 
elm,  and  oak.  Here  were  more  desolate  clearings, 
more  rude  cornfields  and  bark -built  cabins.  Here, 
too,  was  a  cemetery,  which  excited  the  wonder,  of 
Champlain,  for  the  dead  were  better  cared  for  than  the 
living.  Over  each  grave  a  flat  tablet  of  wood  was 
supported  on  posts,  and  at  one  end  stood  an  upright 
tablet,  carved  with  an  intended  representation  of  the 
features  of  the  deceased.  If  a  chief,  the  head  was 
adorned  with  a  plume.  If  a  warrior,  there  were 
figures  near  it  of  a  shield,  a  lance,  a  war-club,  and  a 
bow  and  arrows ;  if  a  boy,  of  a-  small  bow  and  one 
arrow ;  and  if  a  woman  or  a  girl,  of  a  kettle,  an 
earthen  pot,  a  wooden  spoon,  and  a  paddle.  The  whole 
was  decorated  with  red  and  yellow  paint ;  and  beneath 
slept  the  departed,  wrapped  in  a  robe  of  skins,  his 
earthly  treasures  about  him,  ready  for  use  in  the  land 
of  souls. 

Tessouat  was  to  give  a  tabagie,  or  solemn  feast,  in 
honor  of  Champlain,  and  the  chiefs  and  elders  of  the 

1  Tessouat's  village  seems  to  have  been  on  the  Lower  Lake  des  Allu- 
niettes,  a  wide  expansion  of  that  ami  of  the  Ottawa  which  flows  along 
the  southern  side  of  Isle  des  Allumettes.  Champlain  is  clearly  wrong, 
by  one  degree,  in  his  reckoning  of  the  latitude,  —  47°  for  46?.  Tessouat 
was  father,  or  predecessor,  of  the  chief  Le  Borgne,  whose  Indian  namn 
was  the  same.  See  note,  ante,  p.  347. 
30 


350  rHE  IMPOSTOR   VIGNAN.  [1613. 

island  were  invited.  Runners  were  sent  to  summon 
the  guests  from  neighboring  hamlets  ;  and,  on  the  mor- 
row, Tessouat's  squaws  swept  his  cabin  for  the  festivity. 
Then  Charnplain  and  his  Frenchmen  were  seated  on 
skins  in  the  place  of  honor,  and  the  naked  guests  ap- 
peared in  quick  succession,  each  with  his  wooden 
dish  and  spoon,  and  each  ejaculating  his  guttural  salute 
as  he  stooped  at  the  low  door.  The  spacious  cabin 
was  full.  The  congregated  wisdom  and  prowess  of 
the  nation  sat  expectant  on  the  bare  earth.  Each  long, 
bare  arm  thrust  forth  its  dish  in  turn  as  the  host  served 
out  the  banquet,  in  which,  as  courtesy  enjoined,  he 
himself  was  to  have  no  share.  First,  a  mess  of 
pounded  maize  wherein  were  boiled,  without  salt,  mor- 
sels of  fish  and  dark  scraps  of  meat ;  then,  fish  and 
flesh  broiled  on  the  embers,  with  a  kettle  of  cold  water 
from  the  river.  Champlain,  in  wise  distrust  of  Ottawa 
cookery,  confined  himself  to  the  simpler  and  less  doubt- 
ful viands.  A  few  minutes,  and  all  alike  had  vanished. 
The  kettles  were  empty.  Then  pipes  were  filled  and 
touched  with  fire  brought  in  by  the  duteous  squaws, 
while  the  young  men  who  had  stood  thronged  about  the 
entrance  now  modestly  withdrew,  and  the  door  was 
closed  for  counsel.1 

First,  the  pipes  were  passed  to  Champlain.     Then, 

1  Cliamplain's  account  of  this  feast  (Quatriesme  Voyage,  32)  is  unusually 
minute  and  graphic.  In  every  particular  —  excepting  the  pounded  maize 
—  it  might,  as  the  writer  can  attest,  be  taken  as  the  description  of  a  sim- 
ilar feast  among  some  of  the  tribes  of  the  Far  West  at  the  present  day, 
as,  for  example,  one  of  the  remoter  bands  of  the  Dacotah,  a  race  radi- 
cally distinct  from  the  Algonquin. 


1613.]  INDIAN  FEAST. 

for  full  half  an  hour,  the  assembly  smoked  in  silence. 
At  length,  when  the  fitting1  time  was  come,  he  addressed 
them  in  a  speech  in  which  he  declared,  that,  moved  by 
affection,  he  visited  their  country  to  see  its  richness  and 
its  beauty,  and  to  aid  them  in  their  wars  ;  and  he  now 
begged  them  to  furnish  him  with  four  canoes  and  eight 
men,  to  convey  him  to  the  country  of  the  Nipissings,  a 
tribe  dwelling  northward  on  the  lake  which  bears  their 
name.1 

His  audience  looked  grave,  for  they  were  but  cold 
and  jealous  friends  of  the  Nipissings.  For  a  time  they 
discoursed  in  murmuring  tones  among  themselves,  all 
smoking  meanwhile  with  redoubled  vigor.  Then  Tes- 
souat,  chief  of  these  forest  republicans,  rose  and  spoke 
in  behalf  of  all. 

"  We  always  knew  you  for  our  best  friend  among 
the  Frenchmen.  We  love  you  like  our  own  children. 
But  why  did  you  break  your  word  with  us  last  year 
when  we  all  went  down  to  meet  you  at  Montreal  to 
give  you  presents  and  go  with  you  to  war  1  You  were 
not  there,  but  other  Frenchmen  were  there  who  abused 
us.  We  will  never  go  again.  As  for  the  four  canoes, 
you  shall  have  them  if  you  insist  upon  it ;  but  it  grieves 

1  The  Nebecerini  of  Champlain,  called  also  Nipissinr/ues,  Nipissiriniens, 
Nibissiriniens,  Bissiriniens,  Epiciriniens,  by  various  early  French  writers. 
They  are  the  Askikouanheronons  of  Lalcmant,  who  borrowed  the  name 
from  the  Huron  tongue,  and  were  also  called  Sarders  from  their  ill  repute 
as  magicians. 

They  belonged,  like  the  Ottawas,  to  the  great  Algonquin  family,  and 
are  considered  by  Charlevoix  (Journal  Hislorique,  186)  as  alone  preserv- 
ing the  original  type  of  that  race  and  language.  They  had,  however, 
borrowed  certain  usages  from  their  Huron  neighbors. 


352  THE  IMPOSTOR   VIGNAN  [1G13. 

us  to  think  of  the  hardships  you  must  endure.  The 
Nipissings  have  weak  hearts.  They  are  good  for 
nothing  in  war,  but  they  kill  us  with  charms,  and  they 
poison  us.  Therefore  we  are  on  bad  terms  with  them. 
They  will  kill  you,  too."v 

Such  was  the  pith  of  Tessouat's  discourse,  and  at 
each  clause,  the  conclave  responded  in  unison  with  an 
approving  grunt. 

Charnplain  urged  his  petition  ;  sought  to  relieve  their 
tender  scruples  in  his  behalf;  assured  them  that  he 
was  charm-proof,  and  that  he  feared  no  hardships.  At 
length  he  gained  his  point.  The  canoes  and  the  men 
were  promised,  and,  seeing  himself  as  he  thought  on  the 
highway  to  his  phantom  Northern  Sea,  he  left  his  en- 
tertainers to  their  pipes,  and  with  a  light  heart  issued 
from  the  close  and  smoky  den  to  breathe  the  fresh  air 
of  the  afternoon.  He  visited  the  Indian  fields,  with 
their  young  crops  of  pumpkins,  beans,  and  French  peas, 
—  the  last  a  novelty  obtained  from  the  traders.1  Here, 
Thomas,  the  interpreter,  soon  joined  him  with  a  coun- 
tenance of  ill  news.  In  the  absence  of  Champlain,  the 
assembly  had  reconsidered  their  assent.  The  canoes 
were  denied. 

With  a  troubled  mind  he  hastened  again  to  the  hall 
of  council,  and  addressed  the  naked  senate  in  terms  bet- 
ter suited  to  his  exigencies  than  to  their  dignity. 

1 "  Pour  passer  le  reste  du  jour,  je  fus  me  pourmener  par  les  jardins, 
qui  n'estoient  remplis  que  de  quelques  citrouilles,  phasioles,  et  de  nos 
pois,  qu'ils  commencent  a  cultiver,  ou  Thomas,  mon  truchement,  qui  en- 
tendoit  fort  bien  la  langue,  me  vint  trouver,"  etc. —  Champlain,  (1632.) 
1.  IV.  c.  II. 


1618.J  THE  IMPOSTOR   UNMASKED.  353 

<;  I  thought  you  were  men ;  I  thought  you  would 
hold  fast  to  your  word :  but  I  find  you  children,  with- 
out truth.  You  call  yourselves  my  friends,  yet  you 
break  faith  with  me.  Still  I  would  not  incommode 
you  ;  and  if  you  cannot  give  me  four  canoes,  two  will 


serve."  l 


The  burden  of  the  reply  was,  rapids,  rocks,  cataracts, 
and  the  wickedness  of  the  Nipissings. 

"  This  young  man,"  rejoined  Champlain,  pointing  to 
Vignan,  who  sat  by  his  side,  "•  has  been  to  their  coun- 
try, and  did  not  find  the  road  or  the  people  so  bad  as 
you  have  said." 

"  Nicholas,"  demanded  Tessouat,  "  did  you  say  that 
you  had  been  to  the  Nipissings  ^  " 

The  impostor  sat  mute  for  a  time,  then  replied,  — 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  there." 

Hereupon  an  outcry  broke  forth  from  the  assem- 
bly, and  their  small,  deep-set  eyes  were  turned  on  him 
askance,  "as  if,"  says  Champlain,  "  they  would  have 
torn  and  eaten  him." 

"  You  are  a  liar,"  returned  the  unceremonious  host ; 
"  you  know  very  well  that  you  slept  here  among  my 
children  every  night  and  rose  again  every  morning ; 
and  if  you  ever  went  where  you  pretend  to  have  gone, 
it  must  have  been  when  you  were  asleep.  How  can  you 
be  so  impudent  as  to  lie  to  your  chief,  and  so  wicked  as 
to  risk  his  life  among  so  many  dangers  ?  He  ought  to 


1  " .  .  .  .  et  leur  dis,   que  je   les   nvois  jusques  &  ce  jour  estimez 
hommcs,  et  veritables,  et  que  maintenant  Us  se  monstroient  enfants  et 
mensongers,"  etc.  —  Champlain,  (1632,)  1.  IV.  c.  II. 
30  « 


THE   IMPOSTOR   VIGNAN.  [1613. 

kill  you  with  tortures  worse  than  those  with  which  we 
kill  our  enemies."  l 

Champlain  urged  him  to  reply,  but  he  sat  motion- 
less and  dumb.  Then  he  led  him  from  the  cabin  and 
conjured  him  to  declare  if,  in  truth,  he  had  seen  this 
sea  of  the  North.  Vignan.  with  oaths,  affirmed  that 
all  he  had  said  was  true.  Returning  to  the  council, 
Champlain  repeated  his  story:  how  he  had  seen  the 
sea,  the  wreck  of  an  English  ship,  eighty  English 
scalps,  and  an  English  boy,  prisoner  among  the  In- 
dians. 

At  this,  an  outcry  rose,  louder  than  before. 

"  You  are  a  liar."  "  Which  way  did  you  go  ?  " 
"  By  what  rivers  ?  "  "  By  what  lakes  I  "  "  Who 
went  with  you  1  " 

Vignan  had  made  a  map  of  his  travels,  which 
Champlain  now  produced,  desiring  him  to  explain  it 
to  his  questioners ;  but  his  assurance  had  failed  him, 
and  he  could  not  utter  a  word. 

Champlain  was  greatly  agitated.  His  hopes  and 
heart  were  in  the  enterprise  ;  his  reputation  was  in  a 
measure  at  stake  ;  and  now,  when  he  thought  his  tri- 
umph so  near,  he  shrank  from  believing  himself  the 

1  "  Alors  Tessouat  ....  luy  dit  en  son  langage  :  Nicholas,  est-il  vray 
que  tu  as  dit  avoir  este  aux  Nebecerini  ?  II  fut  longtemps  sans  parler, 
puis  il  leur  dit  en  leur  langue,  qu'il  parloit  aucunement :  Ouy  j'y  ay  este. 
Aussitost  ils  le  regarderent  de  travers,  et  se  jettant  sur  luy,  comme  s'ils 
1'eussent  voulu  manger  ou  descliirer,  firent  de  grands  cris,  et  Tessouat 
luy  dit :  Tu  es  un  asseure'  menteur :  tu  S9ais  bien  que  tous  les  soirs  tu 
couchois  a  mes  costez  avec  mes  enfants,  et  tous  les  matins  tu  t'y  levois  : 
situ  as  este  vers  ces  peuples,  9'a  este  en  dormant."  etc. — Champluin, 
(1632,)  1.  IV.  c.  II. 


1613.J  RETURN   TO   MONTREAL. 

sport  of  an  impudent  impostor.  The  council  broke 
up  ;  the  Indians  displeased  and  moody,  and  he,  on  his 
part,  full  of  anxieties  and  doubts.  At  length,  one  of 
the  canoes  being  ready  for  departure,  the  time  of  deci- 
sion came,  and  he  called  Vignan  before  him. 

"  If  you  have  deceived  me,  confess  it  no\v,  and  the 
past  shall  be  forgiven.  But  if  you  persist,  you  will 
soon  be  discovered,  and  then  you  shall  be  hanged." 

Vignan  pondered  for  a  moment ;  then  fell  on  his 
knees,  owned  his  treachery,  and  begged  for  mercy. 
Ohamplain  broke  into  a  rage,  and,  unable,  as  he  says, 
to  endure  the  sight  of  him,  ordered  him  from  his  pres- 
ence, and  sent  the  interpreter  after  him  to  make  further 
examination.'  Vanity,  the  love  of  notoriety,  and  the 
hope  of  reward,  seem  to  have  been  his  inducements ;  for 
he  had,  in  truth,  spent  a  quiet  winter  in  Tessouat's 
cabin,  his  nearest  approach  to  the  Northern  Sea ;  and 
he  had  flattered  himself  that  he  might  escape  the  neces- 
sity of  guiding  his  commander  to  this  pretended  dis- 
covery. The  Indians  were  somewhat  exultant.  "  Why 
did  you  not  listen  to  chiefs  and  warriors,  instead  of 
believing  the  lies  of  tin's  fellow  1  "  And  they  counselled 
Champlain  to  have  him  killed  at  once,  adding  that 
they  would  save  their  friends  trouble  by  taking  that 
office  upon  themselves. 

No  motive  remaining  for  farther  advance,  the  party 
set  forth  on  their  return,  attended  by  a  fleet  of  forty 
canoes  bound  to  Montreal l  for  trade.  They  passed 

1  The  name  is  used  here  for  distinctness.    The  locality  is  indicated  by 
Champlain  as  le  Saut,  from  the  Saut  St.  Louis,  immediately  above. 


356  THE   IMPOSTOR  VIGNAN.  [1618 

the  perilous  rapids  of  the  Calumet,  and  were  one  night 
encamped  on  an  island,  when  an  Indian,  slumbering  in 
an  uneasy  posture,  was  visited  with  a  nightmare.  He 
leaped  up  with  a  yell,  screamed  that  somebody  was  kill-, 
ing  him,  and  ran  for  refuge  into  the  river.  Instantly  all 
his  companions  were  on  their  feet,  and  hearing  in  fancy 
the  Iroquois  war-whoop,  they  took  to  the  water,  splash- 
ing, diving,  and  wading  up  to  their  necks  in  the  blind- 
ness of  their  fright.  Champlam  and  his  Frenchmen, 
roused  at  the  noise,  snatched  their  weapons  and  looked 
in  vain  for  an  enemy.  The  panic-stricken  warriors, 
reassured  at  length,  waded  crestfallen  ashorej  and  the 
whole  ended  in  a  laugh/ 

At  the  Chaudiere,  an  abundant  contribution  of  to- 
bacco was  collected  on  a  wooden  platter,  and,  after  a 
solemn  harangue,  was  thrown  to  the  guardian  Manitou. 
On  the  seventeenth  of  June  they  approached  Montreal, 
where  the  assembled  traders  greeted  them  with  dis- 
charges of  small  arms  and  cannon.  Here,  among  the 
rest,  was  Champlain's  lieutenant,  Du  Pare,  with  his 
men,  who  had  amused  their  leisure  with  hunting,  and 
were  revelling  in  a  sylvan  abundance,  while  their  baffled 
chief,  with  worry  of  mind,  fatigue  of  body,  and  a  Lenten 
diet  of  half -cooked  fish,  was  grievously  fallen  away 
in  flesh  and  strength.  He  kept  his  word  with  De 
Vignan,  left  the  scoundrel  unpunished,  bade  farewell  to 
the  Indians,  and,  promising  to  rejoin  them  the  next 
year,  embarked  in  one  of  the  trading-ships  for  France. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

1615. 
DISCOVERY    OF    LAKE    HURON. 

RELIGIOUS  ZEAL  OP  CHAMPLAIX. — RECOLLET  FRIARS. —  ST.  FRAXCJS. — 
EXPLORATION  AND  WAR.  —  LE  CAUON  ON  THE  OTTAWA.  —  Cn AMI-LAIN 
REACHES  LAKE  HURON.  —  THE  HURON  TOWNS.  —  MASS  IN  THE  WILDER- 
NESS. 

IN  New  France,  spiritual  and  temporal  interests 
were  inseparably  blended,  and,  as  will  hereafter  appear, 
the  conversion  of  the  Indians  became  vital  to  commer- 
cial and  political  growth.  But,  with  the  single-hearted 
founder  of  the  colony,  considerations  of  material  advan- 
tage, though  clearly  recognized,  were  no  less  clearly 
subordinate.  He  would  fain  rescue  from  perdition  a 
people  living,  as  he  says,  ';  like  brute  beasts,  without 
faith,  without  law,  without  religion,  without  God." 
While  the  want  of  funds  and  the  indifference  of  his  mer- 
chant associates,  who  as  yet  did  not  fully  see  that  their 
trade  would  find  in  the  missions  its  surest  ally,  were 
threatening  to  wreck  his  benevolent  schemes,  he  found  a 
kindred  spirit  in  his  friend  Houe'l,  Secretary  to  the  King 
and  comptroller-general  of  the  salt-works  of  Brouage. 
Near  this  town  was  a  convent  of  Recollet  friars,  some 
of  whom  were  well  known  to  Houe'l.  To  them  he 
addressed  himself;  and  several  of  the  brotherhood,  "  in- 
flamed," we  are  told,  "  with  charity,"  were  eager  to 


DISCOVERY  OF  LAKE  HURON.  [1615. 

undertake  the  mission.  But  the  Recollets,  mendicants 
by  profession,  were  as  weak  in  resources  as  Champlain 
himself.  He  repaired  to  Paris,  then  filled  with  bishops, 
cardinals,  and  nobles,  assembled  for  the  States-General. 
Responding  to  his  appeal,  they  subscribed  fifteen  hun- 
dred livres  for  the  purchase  of  vestments,  candles,  and 
ornaments  for  altars.  The  Pope  authorized  the  mis- 
sion, and  the  King  gave  letters-patent  in  its  favor.1 

The  Recollets  form  a  branch  of  the  great  Franciscan 
order,  founded  early  in  the  thirteenth  century  by  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi.  Saint,  hero,  or  madman,  according 
to  the  point  of  view  from  which  he  is  regarded,  he 
belonged  to  an  era  of  the  Church  when  the  tumult  of 
invading  heresies  awakened  in  her  defence  a  band  of 
impassioned  champions,  widely  different  from  the  placid 
saints  of  an  earlier  age.  He  was  very  young  when 
dreams  and  voices  began  to  reveal  to  him  his  vocation, 
and  kindle  his  high-wrought  nature  to  sevenfold  heat. 
Self-respect,  natural  affection,  decency,  became  in  his 
eyes  but  stumbling-blocks  and  snares.  He  robbed  his 
father  to  build  a  church  ;  and,  like  so  many  of  the  Ro- 
man Catholic  saints,  confounded  filth  with  humility, 
exchanged  clothes  with  beggars,  and  walked  the  streets 
of  Assisi  in  rags  amid  the  hootings  of  his  townsmen. 
He  vowed  perpetual  poverty  and  perpetual  beggary,  and, 
in  token  of  his  renunciation  of  the  world,  stripped  him- 
self naked  before  the  Bishop  of  Assisi ;  then  begged 
of  him  in  charity  a  peasant's  mantle.  Crowds  gath- 

1  The  papal  brief  and  the  royal  letter  are  in  Sagard,  Hist,  de  la  Nou- 
velle  France,  and  Le  Clerc,  Etablissement  de  la  Foy. 


1615.]  RfcOOLLET   FRIARS. 

ered  to  his  fervid  and  dramatic  eloquence.  His  hand- 
ful of  disciples  multiplied  with  an  amazing  increase. 
Europe  became  thickly  dotted  with  their  convents.  At 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  three  Orders  of 
St.  Francis  numbered  a  hundred  and  fifteen  thousand 
friars  and  twenty-eight  thousand  nuns.  Four  popes, 
forty-five  cardinals,  and  forty-six  canonized  martyrs 
were  enrolled  on  their  record,  besides  about  two  thou- 
sand more  who  had  shed  their  blood  for  the  Faith.1 
Their  missions  embraced  nearly  all  the  known  world ; 
and  in  1621,  there  were,  in  Spanish  America  alone,  five 
hundred  Franciscan  convents.2 

In  process  of  time  the  Franciscans  had  relaxed  their 
ancient  rigor ;  but  much  of  their  pristine  ^f'vh  still 
subsisted  in  the  Recollets,  a  reformed  branch  of  the 
Order,  sometimes  known  as  Franciscans  of  the  Strict 
Observance. 

Four  friars  were  named  for  the  mission  of  New 
France,  —  Denis  Jamet,  Jean  Dolbeau,  Joseph  le  Caron, 
and  Pacifiqne  du  Plessis.  "  They  packed  their  church 
ornaments,"  says  Champlain,  "and  we,  our  luggage." 
All  alike  confessed  their  sins,  and,  embarking  at  Hon- 
fleur,  readied  Quebec  at  the  end  of  May,  1615.  Great 
was  the  perplexity  of  the  Indians  as  the  apostolic  men- 
dicants landed  beneath  the  rock.  Their  garb  was  a 
form  of  that  common  to  the  brotherhood  of  St.  Fran- 
cis, consisting  of  a  rude  garment  of  coarse  gray  cloth, 

1  Helyot,  Hi.itolre  des  Ordres  Relitjieiix  et  Militaires,  devotes  his  seventh 
volume-  (cd.  1792)  to  the  Franciscans  and  Jesuits.     He  draws  largely  from 
the  great  work  of  Wadding  on  the  Franciscans 

2  Le  Cierc,  Elablisstment  de  la  Foy,  I.  33-52. 


360  DISCOVERY  OF  LAKE  HURON.  [1616. 

girt  at  the  waist  with  the  knotted  cord  of  the  Order, 
and  furnished  with  a  peaked  hood,  to  be  drawn  over 
the  head.  Their  naked  feet  were  shod  with  wooden 
sandals,  more  than  an  inch  thick.1 

Their  first  care  was  to  choose  a  site  for  their  con- 
vent, ne*ar  the  fortified  dwellings  and  storehouses  built 
by  Champlain.  This  done,  they  made  an  altar,  and 
celebrated  the  first  mass  ever  said  in  Canada.  Dolbeau 
was  the  officiating  priest ;  all  New  France  kneeled  on 
the  bare  earth  around  him,  and  cannon  from  the  ship 
and  the  ramparts  hailed  the  mystic  rite.2  Then,  in 
imitation  of  the  Apostles,  they  took  counsel  together, 
and  assigned  to  each  his  province  in  the  vast  field  of 
their  mission  :  to  Le  Caron,  the  Hurons,  and  to  Dol- 
beau, the  Montagnais;  while  Jamet  and  Du  Plessis  were 
to  remain  for  the  present  near  Quebec. 

Dolbeau,  full  of  zeal,  set  forth  for  his  post,  and,  in 
the  next  winter,  essayed  to  follow  the  roving  hordes  of 
Tadoussac  to  their  frozen  hunting-grounds.  He  was 
not  robust,  and  his  eyes  were  weak.  Lodged  in  a  hut 
of  birch-bark,  full  of  abominations,  dogs,  fleas,  stench, 
and  all  uncleanness,  he  succumbed  at  length  to  the 
smoke,  which  had  wellnigh  blinded  him,  forcing  him 
to  remain  for  several  days  with  his  eyes  closed.8  After 
debating  within  himself  whether- God  required  of  him 
the  sacrifice  of  his  sight,  he  solved  his  doubts  with  a 
negative,  and  returned  to  Quebec,  only  to  set  forth 

1  An  engraving  of  their  habit  will  be  found  in  Helyot,  (1792). 

2  Lettre  (lit  P.  Jean  Dolbeau  an  P.  Didace  David,  son  ami;  de  Quebec  le  20 
Jaillet,  1615.     See  Le  Clerc,  Etablissement  de  la  Foy,  I.  62. 

8  Sagard,  Hist,  de  la  Nouvelle  France,  26. 


1015.]  POLICY  OF  CHAMPLAIN.  35 J 

again  with  opening  spring  on  a  tour  so  extensive,  that 
it  brought  him  in  contact  with  outlying  bands  of  the 
Esquimaux.1  Meanwhile  Le  Caron  had  long  been  ab- 
sent on  a  mission  of  more  noteworthy  adventure. 

While  his  brethren  were  building  their  convent  and 
garnishing  their  altar  at  Quebec,  the  ardent  friar  had 
hastened  to  the  site  of  Montreal,  then  thronged  with  a 
savage  concourse,  come  down  for  the  yearly  trade.  He 
mingled  with  them,  studied  their  manners,  tried  to  learn 
their  languages;  and  when,  soon  after,  Champlain  and 
Pontgrave  arrived,  he  declared  his  purpose  of  winter- 
ing in  their  villages.  Dissuasion  availed  nothing. 
"  What,"  he  demanded,  "  are  privations  to  him  whose 
life  is  devoted  to  perpetual  poverty,  who  has  no  am- 
bition but  to  serve  God  ?  " 

The  assembled  Indians  were  more  eager  for  temporaV 
than  for  spiritual  succor,  and  beset  Champlain  with  im- 
portunate clamors  for  aid  against  the  Iroquois.  He 
and  Pontgrave  were  of  one  mind.  The  aid  demanded 
must  be  given,  and  that  from  no  motive  of  the  hour, 
but  in  pursuance  of  a  deliberate  policy.  It  was  evident 
that  the  innumerable  tribes  of  New  France,  otherwise 
divided,  were  united  in  a  common  fear  and  hate  of 
these  formidable  bands,  who,  in  the  strength  of  their 
fivefold  league,  spread  havoc  and  desolation  through  all 
the  surrounding  wilds.  It  was  the  aim  of  Champlain, 
as  of  his  successors,  to  persuade  the  threatened  and 
endangered  hordes  to  live  at  peace  with  each  other,  and 
to  form,  against  the  common  foe,  a  virtual  league,  of 

1  Le  Clerc,  Etablissement  de  la  Foy,  I.  71. 
31 


DISCOVERY  OF  LAKE   HURON.  [1615. 

which  the  French  colony  would  be  the  heart  and  the 
head,  and  which  would  continually  widen  with  the  wi- 
dening area  of  discovery.  With  French  soldiers  to  fight 
their  battles,  French  priests  to  baptize  them,  and  French 
traders  to  supply  their  increasing1  wants,  their  depend- 
ence would  be  complete.  They  would  become  assured 
tributaries  to  the  growth  of  New  France.  It  was  a 
triple  alliance  of  soldier,  priest,  and  trader.  The  sol- 
dier might  be  a  roving  knight,  the  priest  a  martyr  and 
a  saint ;  but  both  alike  were  subserving  the  interests 
of  that  commerce  which  formed  the  only  solid  basis  of 
the  colony.  The  scheme  of  English  colonization  made 
no  account  of  the  Indian  tribes.  In  the  scheme  of 
French  colonization  they  were  all  in  all. 

In  one  point  the  plan  was  fatally  defective,  since  it 
involved  the  deadly  enmity  of  a  race  whose  character 
and  whose  power  were  as  yet  but  ill  understood,  —  the 
fiercest,  the  boldest,  the  most  politic,  and  the  most  am- 
bitious savages  to  whom  the  American  forest  has  ever 
given  birth  and  nurture. 

The  chiefs  and  warriors  met  in  council,  — Algonquins 
of  the  Ottawa,  Hurons  from  the  borders  of  the  great 
Fresh  Water  Sea.  Champlain  promised  to  join  them 
with  all  the  men  at  his  command,  while  they,  on  their 
part,  were  to  muster  without  delay  twenty-five  hundred 
warriors  for  an  inroad  into  the  country  of  the  Iroquois. 
He  descended  at  once  to  Quebec  for  needful  prepara- 
tion ;  but  when,  after  a  short  delay,  he  returned  to  Mon- 
treal, he  found,  to  his  chagrin,  a  solitude.  The  wild 
concourse  had  vanished ;  nothing  remained  but  the 


1615.]  LE  CARON'S  JOURNEY. 

skeleton  poles  of  their  huts,  the  srnoke  of  their  fires, 
and  the  refuse  of  their  encampments.  Impatient  at  his 
delay,  they  had  set  forth  for  their  villages,  and  with 
them  had  gone  Father  Joseph  le  Caron. 

Twelve  Frenchmen,  well  armed,  had  attended  him. 
Summer  was  at  its  height,  and  as  his  canoe  stole  along 
the  still  bosom  of  the  glassy  river, — as  the  friar 
gazed  about  him  on  the  tawny  multitude  whose  fragile 
craft,  like  swarms  of  gliding  insects,  covered  the  breath- 
less water,  —  he  bethought  him,  perhaps,  of  his  white- 
washed cell  in  the  convent  of  Brouage,  of  his  book,  his 
table,  his  rosary,  and  all  the  narrow  routine  of  that 
familiar  life  from  which  he  had  awakened  to  contrasts 
so  startling.  That  his  progress  up  the  Ottawa  was  far 
from  being  an  excursion  of  pleasure,  is  attested  by  his 
letters,  fragments  of  which  have  come  down  to  us. 

"  It  would  be  hard  to  tell  you,"  he  writes  to  a  friend, 
"  how  tired  I  was  with  paddling  all  day,  with  all  my 
strength,  among  the  Indians;  wading  the  rivers  a  hun- 
dred times  and  more,  through  the  mud  and  over  the 
sharp  rocks  that  cut  my  feet ;  carrying  the  canoe  and 
luggage  through  the  woods  to  avoid  the  rapids  and 
frightful  cataracts ;  and  half  starved  all  the  while,  for 
we  had  nothing  to  eat  but  a  little  sagamite,  a  sort  of 
porridge  of  water  and  pounded  maize,  of  which  they 
gave  us  a  very  small  allowance  every  morning  and 
night.  But  I  must  needs  tell  you  what  abundant  con- 
solation I  found  under  all  my  troubles  ;  for  when  one 
sees  so  many  infidels  needing  nothing  but  a  drop  of 
water  to  make  them  children  of  God,  he  feels  an  i 


,%4,  DISCOVERY   OF  LAKE   HURON.  [161o. 

pressible  ardor  to  labor  for  their  conversion,  and  sacri- 
fice to  it  his  repose  and  his  life."  1 

While  the  devoted  missionary  toiled  painfully  towards 
the  scene  of  his  apostleship,  the  no  less  ardent  soldier 
was  following  on  his  track.  Champlain,  with  two  canoes, 
ten  Indians,  Etienne  Brule  his  interpreter,  and  another 
Frenchman,  pushed  up  the  riotous  stream  till  he  reached 
the  Algonquin  villages  which  had  formed  the  term  of 
his  former  journeying.  He  passed  the  Uvo  lakes  of 
the  Allumettes  ;  and  now,  for  twenty  miles,  the  Ottawa 
stretched  before  him,  straight  as  the  bee  can  fly,  deep, 
narrow,  and  black,  between  its  mountain-shores.  He 
passed  the  rapids  of  the  Joachims  and  the  Caribou, — 
the  Rocher  Capitaine,  where  the  angry  current  whirls 
in  its  rocky  prison, — the  Deux  Rivieres,  where  it  bursts 
its  mountain-barrier,  — and  reached  at  length  the  trib- 
utary waters  of  the  Mattawan.  He  turned  to  the  left, 
ascended  this  little  stream,  forty  miles  or  more,  and, 
crossing  a  portage-track,  well  trodden,  stood  on  the 
margin  of  Lake  Nipissing.  The  canoes  were  launched 
again.  All  day,  they  glided  by  leafy  shores  and  ver- 
dant islands  floating  on  the  depth  of  blue.  And  now 
appeared  unwonted  signs  of  human  life,  clusters  of  bark 

1  "  ....  Car  helas  quancl  on  voit  un  si  grand  nombre  d'lnfidcls,  et  qu'il 
ne  tient  qu'a  une  goutte  d'eau  pour  les  rendre  enfans  de  Dieu,  on  ressent 
je  ne  s<,'ay  quelle  ardeur  de  travailler  a  leur  conversion  et  d'y  sacrifier  son 
repos  et  sa  vie."  —  Le  Caron  in  Le  Clerc,  I.  74.  Le  Clerc,  usually  exact, 
affixes  a  wrong  date  to  Le  Caron's  departure,  which  took  place,  not  in  the 
autumn,  but  about  the  first  of  July,  Champlain  following  on  the  ninth. 
Of  the  last  writer  the  editions  consulted  have  been  those  of  1020  and 
1627,  the  narrative  being  abridged  in  the  edition  of  1032.  Compare 
Sagard,  Hist,  de  la  Nouvelle  France 


1615.]  LAKE   HURON. 

lodges,  half  hidden  in  the  vastness  of  the  woods.  It 
was  the  village  of  an  Algonquin  band,  called  by  cour- 
tesy a  nation,  the  Nipissings,  a  race  so  beset  with 
spirits,  so  infested  by  demons,  and  abounding  in  magi- 
cians, that  the  Jesuits,  in  after-years,  stigmatized  them 
all  as  "  the  Sorcerers."  In  this  questionable  company 
Champlain  spent  two  days,  feasted  on  fish  from  the  lake, 
deer  and  bears  from  the  forest.  Then,  descending  to 
the  outlet  of  the  water,  his  canoes  floated  westward 
down  the  current  of  French  River. 

Days  passed,  and  no  sight  of  human  form  had  enliv- 
ened the  rocky  desolation.  Hunger  was  pressing  them 
hard,  for  the  ten  gluttonous  Indians  had  devoured  al- 
ready their  whole  provision  for  the  voyage,  and  they 
were  forced  to  subsist  on  the  blueberries  and  wild  rasp- 
berries that  grew  abundantly  in  the  meagre  soil,  when 
suddenly  they  encountered  a  troop  of  three  hundred 
Indians,  whom,  from  their  bizarre  and  startling  mode 
of  wearing  their  hair,  Champlain  named  the  Cheveux 
Relcves.  "  Not  one  of  our  courtiers,"  he  says,  "  takes 
so  much  pains  in  dressing  his  locks."  Here,  how- 
ever, their  care  of  the  toilet  ended  ;  for,  though  tattooed 
on  various  parts  of  the  body,  and  armed  with  bows, 
arrows,  and  shields  of  bison-hide,  they  wore  no  cloth- 
ing whatever.  Savage  as  was  their  aspect,  they  were 
busied  in  the  pacific  task  of  gathering  blueberries  for 
their  winter  store.  Their  demeanor,  too,  was  friendly ; 
and  from  them  the  voyager  learned  that  the  great  lake 
of  the  Hurons  was  close  at  hand.1 

1  These  savages  belonged  to  a  numerous  Algonquin  tribe  who  occupied 
31* 


366  DISCOVERY   OF  LAKE   HURON.  |1615. 

Now,  far  along  the  western  sky  was  traced  the 
watery  line  of  that  inland  ocean,  and,  first  of  white 
men,  save  the  humble  friar,  Champlain  beheld  the"Mer 
Douce,"  the  Fresh  Water  Sea  of  the  Hurons.  Before 
him,  too  far  for  sight,  lay  the  spirit-haunted  Manitoua- 
lins,  and,  southward,  spread  the  vast  bosom  of  the 
Georgian  Bay.  For  more  than  a  hundred  miles,  his 
course  was  along  its  eastern  shores,  through  tortuous 
channels  of  islets  countless  as  the  sea-sands,  —  an  archi- 
pelago of  rocks  worn  for  ages  by  the  wash  of  waves. 
Not  to  this  day  does  the  handiwork  of  man  break  the 
savage  charm  of  those  lonely  coasts.  He  crossed  Byng 
Inlet,  Franklin  Inlet,  Parry  Sound,  and  the  wider  bay 
of  Matchedash,  and  seems  to  have  debarked  at  the  inlet 
now  called  Thunder  Bay,  at  the  entrance  of  the  Bay 
of  Matchedash  and  a  little  west  of  the  Harbor  of  Pene- 
tanguishine. 

An  Indian  trail  led  inland,  now  through  woods  and 
thickets,  now  across  broad  meadows,  over  brooks,  and 
along  the  skirts  of  green  acclivities.  To  the  eye  of 
Champlain,  accustomed  to  the  desolation  he  had  left 
behind,  it  seemed  a  land  of  beauty  and  abundance. 
There  was  a  broad  opening  in  the  forest,  fields  of  maize, 
idle  pumpkins  ripening  in  the  sun,  patches  of  sunflow- 
ers, from  the  seeds  of  which  the  Indians  made  hair-oil, 

a  district  west  and  southwest  of  the  Nottawassaga  Bay  of  Lake  Huron, 
within  the  modern  counties  of  Bruce  and  Grey,  Canada  West.  Sagard 
speaks  of  meeting  a  party  of  them  near  the  place  where  they  were  met 
by  Champlain.  Sagard,  Grand  Voyage  da  Pays  ties  Hurons,  77-  The  Ot- 
tawas,  a  kindred  people,  were  afterwards,  as  already  mentioned,  called 
Cheveux  Releves  by  the  French. 


1615.]  THE  HURONS. 

and,  iu  the  midst,  the  Huron  town  of  Otouacha.  In 
all  essential  points,  it  resembled  that  which  Carrier, 
eighty  years  hefore,  had  seen  at  Montreal :  the  same 
triple  palisade  of  crossed  and  intersecting  trunks,  and 
the  same  long  lodges  of  bark,  each  containing  many 
households.  Here,  within  an  area  of  sixty  or  seventy 
miles,  was  the  seat  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  sav- 
age communities  of  the  continent.  By  the  Indian 
standard,  it  was  a  mighty  nation  ;  yet  the  entire  Huron 
population  did  not  exceed  that  of  a  second  or  third  class 
American  city,  and  the  draft  of  twenty-five  hundred 
warriors  pledged  to  Champlain  must  have  left  its  sev- 
enteen or  eighteen  villages  bereft  of  fighting  men.1 

Of  this  people,  its  tragic  fate,  and  the  heroic  lives 
spent  in  ministering  to  it,  I  purpose  to  speak  more  fully 
in  another  work.  To  the  south  and  southeast  lay  other 
tribes  of  kindred  race  and  tongue,  all  stationary,  all 
tillers  of  the  soil,  and  all  in  a  state  of  social  advance- 
ment when  compared  with  the  roving  bands  of  Eastern 
Canada :  the  Neutral  Nation  2  west  of  the  Niagara,  and 
the  Eries  and  Andastes  in  Western  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania ;  while  from  the  Genesee  eastward  to  the 
Hudson  lay  the  banded  tribes  of  the  Iroquois,  leading 
members  of  this  potent  family,  deadly  foes  of  their 
kindred,  and  at  last  their  destroyers. 

1  The  number  of  villages  is  Champlain's  estimate.    Le  Jeune,  Sagard, 
and  Lulemnnt  afterwards  reckoned  them  at  from  twenty  to  thirty-two. 
Le  Clerc,  following  Le  Caron,  makes  the  population  about  ten  thousand 
souls  ;  but  several  later  observers  set  it  at  above  thirty  thousand. 

2  A  warlike  people,  called  Neutral  from  their  neutrality  between  the 
Hurons  and  the  Iroquois,  which  did  not  save  them  from  sharing  the  d*» 
itruction  which  overwhelmed  the  former 


3(38  DISCOVERY  OF  LAKE   HURON.  [1615. 

In  Champlain  the  Hurons  beheld  the  champion  who 
was  to  lead  them  to  assured  victory.  In  the  great 
lodge  at  Otouacha  there  was  bountiful  feasting  in  his 
honor,  and  consumption  without  stint  of  corn,  pump- 
kins, and  fish.  Other  welcome,  too,  was  tendered,  of 
which  the  Hurons  were  ever  liberal,  but  which,  with 
all  courtesy,  was  declined  by  the  virtuous  Champlain. 
Next,  he  went  to  Carmaron,  a  league  distant ;  then  to 
Touaguainchain  and  Tequinonquihaye ;  till  at  length  he 
reached  Carhagouha,  with  its  triple  palisade  thirty-five 
feet  high,  and  its  dark  throngs  of  mustering  warriors. 
Here  he  found  Le  Carou.  The  Indians,  ea^er  to  do 

7  O 

him  honor,  had  built  for  him  a  bark  lodge  in  the 
neighboring  forest,  fashioned  like  their  own,  but  much 
smaller.  Here  the  friar  had  made  an  altar,  garnishing 
it  with  those  indispensable  decorations  which  he  had 
borne  with  him  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  his  pain- 
ful journeying ;  and  hither,  night  and  day,  came  a 
curious  multitude  to  listen  to  his  annunciations  of  the 
novel  doctrine.  It  was  a  joyful  hour  when  he  saw 
Champlain  approach  his  hermitage ;  and  the  two  men 
embraced  like  brothers  long  sundered. 

The  twelfth  of  August  was  a  day  evermore  marked 
with  white  in  the  friar's  calendar.  Arrayed  in  priestly 
vestments,  he  stood  before  his  simple  altar ;  behind  him 
his  little  band  of  Christians,  —  the  twelve  Frenchmen 
who  had  attended  him,  and  the  two  who  had  followed 
Champlain.  Here  stood  their  devout  and  valiant  chief, 
and,  at  his  side,  the  dauntless  woodsman,  pioneer  of 
pioneers,  Etienne  Brule,  the  interpreter.  The  Host 


1615.]  THE  FIRST  MASS. 

was  raised  aloft ;  the  worshippers  kneeled.  Then  their 
rough  voices  joined  in  the  hymn  of  praise,  Te  Deum 
laudamm  j  and  then  a  volley  of  their  guns  proclaimed 
the  triumph  of  the  Faith  to  the  okies,  manitous,  and  all 
the  brood  of  anomalous  devils  who  had  reigned  with 
undisputed  sway  in  these  wild  realms  of  darkness.  The 
brave  friar,  a  true  soldier  of  the  Church,  had  led  her 
forlorn  hope  into  the  fastnesses  of  Hell ;  and  now,  with 
contented  heart,  he  might  depart  in  peace,  for  he  had 
the  first  mass  in  the  country  of  the  Hurons. 


,-JD 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

1615, 1616. 
THE    GREAT    WAR-PARTY. 

MUSTER  OF  WARRIORS. —  DEPARTURE.  —  THE  RIVER  TRENT.  —  LAKE  On- 
TARIO.  —  THK  IROQUOIS  TOWNS.  —  ATTACK.  —  REPULSE.  —  CHAMPLAIH 
WOUNDED.  —  RETRKAT.  —  ADVENTURES  OF  ETIENNE  BRULE.  —  WINTEP 
HUNT.  —  CHAJU'LAUJ  LOST  IN  THE  FOREST.  —  MADK  UMPIRE  OF  INDIAN 
QUARRELS. 

WEARY  of  the  inanity  of  the  Indian  town- — idleness 
without  repose,  for  they  would  never  leave  him  alone 
—  and  of  the  continuous  feasting  with  which  they 
nearly  stifled  him,  Cham  plain,  with  some  of  his  French- 
men, set  forth  on  a  tour  of  observation.  Journeying  at 
their  ease  hy  the  Indian  trails,  they  visited,  in  three 
days,  five  palisaded  villages.  The  country  delighted 
them :  its  meadows,  its  deep  woods,  its  pine  and  cedar 
thickets,  full  of  hares  and  partridges,  its  wild  grapes 
and  plums,  cherries,  crab-apples,  nuts,  and  raspberries. 
It  was  the  seventeenth  of  August  when  they  reached 
the  Huron  metropolis,  Cahiague,  in  the  modern  town- 
ship of  Orillia,  three  leagues  west  of  the  River  Severn, 
by  which  Lake  Simcoe  pours  its  waters  into  the  bay  of 
Matchedash.  A  shrill  clamor  of  rejoicing,  the  fixed 
stare  of  wondering  squaws,  and  the  screaming  flight 
of  terrified  children,  hailed  the  arrival  of  Champlain. 
By  his  estimate,  the  place  contained  two  hundred  lodges ; 


c^,*r 


L    /  H&OfJ 


1615.]  HURON   WARRIORS. 

but  they  must  have  heen  relatively  small,  since,  had 
they  been  of  the  enormous  capacity  sometimes  found 
in  these  structures,  Cahiague  alone  would  have  held 
the  whole  Huron  population.  Here  was  the  chief  ren- 
dezvous, and  the  town  swarmed  with  gathering  war- 
riors. There  was  cheering  news  ;  for  an  allied  nation, 
probably  the  Eries,  had  promised  to  join  the  Hurons 
in  the  enemy's  country,  with  five  hundred  men.1  Feasts 
and  the  war-dance  consumed  the  days,  till  at  length  the 
tardy  bands  had  all  arrived;  and,  shouldering  their  ca- 
noes and  scanty  baggage,  the  naked  host  set  forth. 

At  the  outlet  of  Lake  Sirncoe,  they  all  stopped 
to  fish,  —  their  simple  substitute  for  a  commissariat. 
Hence,  too,  the  intrepid  Etienne  Brule,  at  his  own 
request,  was  sent  with  twelve  Indians  to  hasten  forward 
the  five  hundred  allied  warriors,  —  a  venture  of  deadly 
hazard,  since  his  course  must  lie  through  the  borders 
of  the  Iroquois. 

It  was  the  eighth  of  September,  and  Champlain, 
shivering  in  his  blanket,  awoke  to  see  the  bordering 
meadows  sparkling  with  an  early  frost,  soon  to  vanish 
under  the  bright  autumnal  sun.  The  Huron  fleet  pur- 
sued its  course  along  the  bosom  of  Lake  Siincoe,  up 
the  little  River  Talbot,  across  the  portage  to  Balsam 
Lake,  and  down  the  chain  of  lakes  which  form  the 
sources  of  the  River  Trent.  As  the  long  line  of  canoes 
moved  on  its  devious  way,  no  human  life  was  seen,  no 

1  Champlain,  (1G27,)  31.  While  the  French  were  aiding  the  Hurona 
against  the  Iroquois,  the  Dutch  on  the  Hudson  aided  the  Iroquois  n gainst 
this  nation  of  allies,  who  captured  three  Dutchmen,  but  are  said  to  ha»e 
set  them  free  in  the  belief  that  they  were  French.  Ibid. 


gyg  THE   GREAT   WAR-PARTY.  [1616. 

sign  of  friend  or  foe.  Yet,  at  times,  to  the  fancy  of 
Champlain,  the  horders  of  the  stream  seemed  decked 
with  groves  and  shrubhery  by  the  hands  of  man,  and 
mighty  walnut-trees,  laced  with  grape-vines,  seemed 
decorations  of  a  pleasure-ground. 

They  stopped  and  encamped  for  a  deer-hunt.  Five 
hundred  Indians,  in  line,  like  the  skirmishers  of  an 
army  advancing  to  battle,  drove  the  game  to  the  end 
of  a  woody  point ;  and  the  canoe-men  killed  them  with 
spears  and  arrows  as  they  took  to  the  river.  Champlain 
and  his  men  keenly  relished  the  sport,  but  paid  a  heavy 
price  for  their  pleasure.  A  Frenchman,  firing  at  a 
buck,  brought  down  an  Indian,  and  there  was  need  of 
a  liberal  largess  to  console  the  sufferer  and  his  friends. 

The  canoes  now  issued  from  the  mouth  of  the  Trent. 
Like  a  flock  of  venturous  wild-fowl,  they  put  boldly 
forth  upon  the  broad  breast  of  Lake  Ontario,  crossed  it 
in  safety,  and  landed  within  the  borders  of  New  York, 
on  or  near  the  point  of  land  west  of  Hungry  Bay. 
After  hiding  their  light  craft  in  the  woods,  the  warriors 
took  up  their  swift  and  wary  march,  filing  in  silence 
between  the  woods  and  the  lake,  for  twelve  miles  along 
the  pebbly  strand.  Then  they  struck  inland,  threaded 
the  forest,  crossed  the  River  Onondaga,  and  after  a 
march  of  four  days,  were  deep  within  the  western  lim- 
its of  the  Iroquois.  Some  of  their  scouts  met  a  fish- 
ing-party of  this  people,  and  captured  them,  eleven  in 
number,  men,  women,  and  children.  They  were  brought 
to  the  camp  of  the  exultant  Hurons.  As  a  beginning 
of  the  jubilation,  a  chief  cut  off  a  finger  of  one  of  the 


1615.]  JROQUOIS  FORTIFICATION. 

women  ;  but  desisted  from  farther  torturing  on  the  an- 
gry protest  of  Champlain,  reserving  that  pleasure  for 
a  more  convenient  season. 

Light  broke  in  upon  the  forest.  The  hostile  town 
was  close  at  hand.  Rugged  fields  lay  before  them, 
with  a  slovenly  and  savage  cultivation.  The  young 
Hurons  in  advance  saw  the  Iroquois  at  work  among 
the  pumpkins  and  maize,  gathering  their  rustling  har- 
vest, for  it  was  the  tenth  of  October.  Nothing  could 
restrain  the  hare-brained  and  ungoverned  crew.  They 
screamed  their  war-cry  and  rushed  in  ;  but  the  Iroquois 
snatched  their  weapons,  killed  and  wounded  five  or  six 
of  the  assailants,  and  drove  back  the  rest  discomfited. 
Champlain  and  his  Frenchmen  were  forced  to  inter- 
pose ;  and  the  crack  of  their  pieces  from  the  border  of 
the  woods  stopped  the  pursuing  enemy,  who  withdrew 
to  their  defences,  bearing  with  them  their  dead  and 
wounded.1 

It  was  a  town  of  the  Senecas,  the  most  populous 
and  one  of  the  most  warlike  of  the  five  Iroquois  tribes ; 
and  its  site  was  on  or  near  one  of  the  lakes  of  central 
New  York,  perhaps  Lake  Canandaigua.2  Champlain 

1  Le  Clerc,  I.  79-87,  gives  a  few  particulars  not  mentioned  by  Cham- 
plain,  whose  account  will  be  found  in  the  editions  of  1620,  1627,  and 
1632. 

2  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Entouohronons,  or  Ontouoronons  of 
Champlain  wore  the  Senecas,  whose  western  limit  at  this  period  was  the 
Genesee.     Lake  Ontario,  the  Lac  St.  Louis  of  the  French,  was  called  by 
the  Hurons  the  Lake  of  the  Ontouoronons.     Hence  its  present  name. 

It  is  impossible,  from  Champlain's  account,  to  identify  the  precise  posi- 
tion of  the  town  attacked.    O.  H.  Marshall,  Esq.,  in  an  excellent  lecture 
on  early  western  exploration,  published  in  the  Western  Literary  M  -- 
ger,  alluding  to  this  expedition,  speaks  of  the  town  as  situated  on  Lak» 
32 


,374-  THE   GREAT   WAR-PARTY.  [1616. 

describes  its  defensive  works  as    much  stronger  than 

o 

those  of  the  Huron  villages.  They  consisted  of  four 
concentric  rows  of  palisades,  formed  of  trunks  and  trees, 
thirty  feet  high,  set  aslant  in  the  earth,  and  intersecting 
each  other  near  the  top,  where  they  supported  a  kind 
of  gallery,  well  defended  by  shot -proof  timber,  and 
furnished  with  wooden  gutters  for  quenching  tire.  A 
pond  or  lake,  which  washed  one  side  of  the  palisade, 
and  was  led  by  sluices  within  the  town,  gave  au  ample 
supply  of  water,  while  the  galleries  were  well  provided 
with  magazines  of  stones. 

Cham  plain  was  greatly  exasperated  at  the  desultory 
and  futile  procedure  of  his  Huron  allies.  At  their  even- 
ing camp  in  the  adjacent  forest,  he  upbraided  the  throng 
of  chiefs  and  warriors  somewhat  sharply,  and,  having 
finished  his  admonition,  he  proceeded  to  instruct  them 
in  the  art  of  war.  In  the  morning,  aided  doubtless  by 
his  ten  or  twelve  Frenchmen,  they  betook  themselves 
with  alacrity  to  their  prescribed  task.  A  wooden  tower 
was  made,  high  enough  to  overlook  the  palisade,  and 
large  enough  to  shelter  four  or  five  marksmen.  Huge 
wooden  shields,  or  movable  parapets,  like  the  mantelets 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  were  also  constructed.  Four  hours 
sufficed  to  finish  the  work,  and  then  the  assault  began. 
Two  hundred  of  the  strongest  warriors,  with  unwonted 
prowess,  dragged  the  tower  forward,  and  planted  it 

Onoiulaga.  He  is  followed  by  Brodhead,  History  of  New  York,  and  Clark, 
Hislory  of  Onondaga.  It  must,  however,  have  been  further  westward,  as 
the  eastern  borders  of  the  Ontouoronons  or  Senecas  were  at  some  distance 
west  of  Lake  Onondaga.  The  suggestion  of  Lake  Canandaigua  is  due 
to  Dr.  O'Callaghan 


1615.]  CHAMPLAIX   WOUNDED.  375 

within  a  pike's  length  of  the  palisade.  Three  arqut- 
busiers  mounted  to  the  top,  and  opened  a  raking1  fire 
along  the  galleries,  now  thronged  with  wild  and  naked 
defenders.  Bat  nothing  could  restrain  the  ungov- 
ernable Hurons.  They  abandoned  their  mantelets,  and, 
deaf  to  every  command,  swarmed  out  like  bees  upon 
the  open  field,  leaped,  shouted,  shrieked  their  war-cries, 
and  shot  off  their  arrows ;  while  the  Iroquois,  hurling 
defiance  from  their  ramparts,  sent  back  a  shower  of 
stones  and  arrows  in  reply.  A  Huron,  bolder  than  the 
fest,  ran  forward  with  firebrands  to  burn  the  palisade, 
and  others  followed  with  wood  to  feed  the  flame.  But 
it  was  stupidly  kindled  on  the  leeward  side,  without  the 
protecting  shields  designed  to  cover  it ;  and  torrents  of 
water,  poured  down  from  the  gutters  above,  quickly 
extinguished  it.  The  confusion  was  redoubled.  Cham- 

O 

plain  strove  in  vain  to  restore  order.  Each  warrior 
was  yelling  at  the  top  of  his  throat,  and  his  voice  was 
drowned  in  the  outrageous  din.  Thinking,  as  he  says, 
that  his  head  would  split  with  shouting,  he  gave  over 
the  attempt,  and  busied  himself  and  his  men  with  pick- 
ing off  the  Iroquois  along  their  ramparts. 

The  attack  lasted  three  hours,  when  the  assailants  fell 
back  to  their  fortified  camp,  with  seventeen  warriors 
wounded.  Champlain,  too,  had  received  an  arrow  in 
his  knee  and  another  in  his  leg,  which,  for  the  time, 
disabled  him.  He  was  urgent,  however,  to  renew  the 
attack ;  while  the  Hurons,  crestfallen  and  disheartened, 
refused  to  move  from  their  camp  unless  the  five  hun- 
dred allies,  for  some  time  expected,  should  appear. 


THE   GREAT   WAR-PARTY.  [1615. 

They  waited  five  days  in  vain,  beguiling1  the  interval 
with  frequent  skirmishes,  in  which  they  were  always 
worsted  ;  then  began  hastily  to  retreat  in  confused  files 
along  the  sombre  forest-pathways,  while  the  Iroquois, 
sallying  from  their  stronghold,  showered  arrows  on 
their  flanks  and  rear.  Their  wounded,  Champlain 
among  the  rest,  had  been  packed  in  baskets  for  trans- 
portation, each  borne  on  the  back  of  a  strong  warrior, 
"  bundled  in  a  heap,"  says  Champlain,  "  doubled  and 
strapped  together  after  such  a  fashion  that  one  could 
move  no  more  than  an  infant  in  swaddling-clothes. 
....  I  lost  all  patience,  and  as  soon  as  I  could  bear 
my  weight  I  got  out  of  this  prison,  or  to  speak  plainly, 
out  of  Hell."  l 

At  length  the  dismal  march  was  ended.  They  reached 
the  spot  where  their  canoes  were  hidden,  found  them 
untouched,  embarked,  and  recrossed  to  the  northern 
shore  of  Lake  Ontario.  The  Hurons  had  promised 
Champlain  an  escort  to  Quebec ;  but  as  the  chiefs  had 
little  power  in  peace  or  war,  beyond  that  of  persuasion, 
each  warrior  found  good  reasons  for  refusing  to  go  or 
lend  his  canoe.  Champlain,  too,  had  lost  prestige. 
The  "  man  with  the  iron  breast  "  had  proved  not  insep- 
arably wedded  to  victory  ;  and  though  the  fault  was 
their  own,  yet  not  the  less  was  the  lustre  of  their  hero 
tarnished.  There  was  no  alternative.  He  must  winter 
with  the  Hurons.  The  great  war-party  broke  into 
fragments,  each  band  betaking  itself  to  its  hunting- 

*  Champlain,  (1G27,)  46.    In  the  edition  of  1632  there  are  some  onus- 
Bions  and  verbal  changes  in  this  part  of  the  narrative. 


1615.]  tTIENNE   BRULfi. 

ground.'  A  chief  named  Durantal,or  Darontal,1  offered 
Champlain  the  shelter  of  his  lodge,  and  he  was  fain  to 
accept  it. 

And  now  to  pause  for  a  moment  and  trace  the  foot- 
steps of  Etienne  Brule  on  his  hazardous  mission  to  the 
five  hundred  allies.  Three  years  passed  before  Cham- 
plain  saw  him.  It  was  in  the  summer  of  1618,  that, 
reaching  the  Saut  St.  Louis,  he  there  found  the  inter- 
preter, his  hands  and  his  swarthy  face  marked  witli  dire 
traces  of  the  ordeal  he  had  passed.  Brule  then  told 
him  his  story. 

He  had  set  forth,  as  already  mentioned,  with  twelve 
Indians,  to  hasten  the  march  of  the  allies,  who  were  to 
join  the  Hurons  before  the  hostile  town.  Crossing 
Lake  Ontario,  the  party  pushed  onward  with  all  speed, 
avoiding  trails,  threading  the  thickest  forests  and  dark- 
est swamps,  for  it  was  the  land  of  their  arch-enemies, 
the  fierce  and  watchful  Senecas.  They  were  well  ad- 
vanced on  their  way  when  they  saw  a  small  party  of 
these  Iroquois  crossing  a  meadow,  set  upon  them,  sur- 
prised them,  killed  four,  and  took  two  prisoners.  They 
led  them  to  Carantouan,  the  place  of  their  destination, 
a  palisaded  town  with  a  population  of  eight  hundred 
warriors,  or  about  four  thousand  souls.  The  dwellings 
and  defences  were  like  those  of  the  Hurons ;  and  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  Carantouans  were  the  Erics, 
or  a  subdivision  of  that  nation.  They  were  welcomed 
with  feasts,  dances,  and  an  uproar  of  rejoicing.  The 

1  Champlain,  with  his  usual  carelessness,  calls  him  by  either  name  in 
differently. 

82* 


THE   GREAT   WAR-PARTY.  [1616 

five  hundred  warriors  prepared  to  depart,  but,  engrossed 
by  the  general  festivity,  they  prepared  so  slowly,  that, 
though  the  hostile  town  was  but  three  days  distant,  they 
found  on  reaching  it  that  the  besiegers  were  gone.  Brule 
now  returned  with  them  to  Carantouan,  and,  with  enter- 
prise worthy  of  his  commander,  spent  the  winter  in  a 
tour  of  exploration.  Descending  a  river,  evidently  the 
Susquehanna,  he  followed  it  to  its  junction  with  the  sea, 
through  territories  of  populous  tribes,  at  war  the  one  with 
the  other.  When,  in  the  spring,  he  returned  to  Car- 
antouan, five  or  six  of  the  Indians  offered  to  guide  him 
towards  his  countrymen.  Less  fortunate  than  before,  he 
encountered  on  the  way  a  band  of  Iroquois,  who,  rush- 
ing upon  the  party,  scattered'  them  through  the  woods. 
Brule  ran  like  the  rest.  The  cries  of  pursuers  and  pur- 
sued died  away  in  the  distance.  The  forest  was  still 
around  him.  He  was  lost  in  the  shady  labyrinth.  For 
three  or  four  days  he  wandered,  helpless  and  famished, 
till  at  length  he  found  an  Indian  foot-path,  and,  choosing 
between  starvation  and  the  Iroquois,  desperately  followed 
it  to  throw  himself  on  their  mercy.  He  soon  saw  three 
Indians  in  the  distance,  laden  with  fish  newly  caught,  and 
called  to  them  in  the  Huron  tongue,  which  was  radically 
similar  to  that  of  the  Iroquois.  They  stood  amazed, 
then  turned  to  fly;  but  Brule,  gaunt  with  famine,  flung 
down  his  weapons  in  token  of  amity.  They  now  drew 
near,  listened  to  the  story  of  his  distress,  lighted  their 
pipes,  and  smoked  with  him  ;  then  guided  him  to  theif 
village,  and  gave  him  food.  A  crowd  gathered  about 
him.  "  Whence  do  vou  come  "?  Are  vou  not  one  or 


IBIS. i  £TIENNE  BRULE. 

the  Frenchmen,  the   men  of  iron,  who   make  war  on 

t " 
us  ? 

Brule  answered  that  he  was  of  a  nation  better  than 
the  French  and  fast  friends  of  the  Iroquois. 

His  captors,  incredulous,  tied  him  to  a  tree,  tore  out 
his  beard  by  handfuls,  and  burned  him  with  firebrands, 
while  their  chief  vainly  interposed  in  his  behalf.  He 
was  a  good  Catholic,  and  wore  an  Agnus 'Dei  at  his 
breast.  One  of  his  torturers  asked  what  it  was,  and 
thrust  out  his  hand  to  take  it. 

"  If  you  touch  it,"  exclaimed  Brule,  "  you  and  all 
your  race  will  die." 

The  Indian  persisted.  The  day  was  hot,  and  one  of 
those  thunder-gusts  which  often  succeed  the  fierce  heats 
of  au  American  midsummer  was  rising  against  the  sky. 
Brule  pointed  to  the  inky  clouds  as  tokens  of  the  anger 
of  his  God.  The  storm  broke,  and,  as  the  celestial  ar- 
tillery boomed  over  their.darkening  forests,  the  Iroquois 
were  stricken  with  a  superstitious  terror.  All  fled  from 
the  spot,  leaving  their  victim  still  bound  fast,  until  the 
chief  who  had  endeavored  to  protect  him  returned,  cut 
the  cords,  and  leading  him  to  his  lodge  dressed  his 
wounds.  Thenceforth  there  was  neither  dance  nor  feast 
to  which  Brule  was  not  invited ;  and  when  he  wished  to 
return  to  his  countrymen,  a  party  of  Iroquois  guided 
him  four  days  on  his  way.  He  reached  the  friendly 
Hurons  in  safety,  and  joined  them  on  their  yearly  de- 
scent to  meet  the  French  traders  at  Montreal.1 

1  The  story  of  Etienne  Brulc",  whose  name  may  possibly  allude  to  the 
fierv  ordeal  through  which  he  had  passed,  is  in  Champlain's  narrative  of 


380  THE   GREAT  WAR-PARTY.  [1615 

Brule's  adventures  find  in  some  points  their  counter- 
part in  those  of  his  commander  on  the  winter  hunting- 
grounds  of  his  Huron  allies.  As  we  turn  the  ancient, 
worm-eaten  page  which  preserves  the  simple  record  of 
his  fortunes,  a  wild  and  dreary  scene  rises  before  the 
mind  :  a  chill  November  air,  a  murky  sky,  a  cold  lake, 
bare  and  shivering  forests,  the  earth  strewn  with  crisp, 
brown  leaves,  and,  by  the  water-side,  the  bark  sheds 
and  smoking  camp-fires  of  a  band  of  Indian  hunters. 
Champlain  was  of  the  party.  There  was  ample  argu- 
ment for  his  gun,  for  the  morning  was  vocal  with  the 
clamor  of  wild-fowl,  and  his  evening  meal  was  enliv- 
ened by  the  rueful  music  of  the  wolves.  It  was  a  lake 
north  or  northwest  of  the  site  of  Kingston.  On  the 
borders  of  a  neighboring  river,  twenty-five  of  the  In- 
dians had  been  busied  ten  days  in  preparing  for  their 
annual  deer-hunt.  They  planted  posts  interlaced  with 
boughs  in  two  straight  converging  lines,  each  extending 
more  than  half  a  mile  through  forests  and  swamps.  At 
the  angle  where  they  met  was  made  a  strong  enclosure 
like  a  pound.  At  dawn  of  day  the  hunters  spread 
themselves  through  the  woods,  and  advanced  with  shouts 
and  clattering  of  sticks,  driving  the  deer  before  them 

his  voyage  of  1618.    It  will  be  found  in  the  edition  of  1627,  but  is  omitted 
in  the  condensed  edition  of  1632. 

Brule  met  a  lamentable  fate.  In  1632  he  was  treacherously  murdered 
by  Hurons  at  one  of  their  villages  near  Penetanguishine.  Several  years 
after,  when  the  Huron  country  was  ravaged  and  half  depopulated  by  an 
epidemic,  the  Indians  believed  that  it  was  caused  by  the  French  in  re- 
venge for  his  death,  and  a  renowned  sorcerer  averred  that  he  had  seen  a 
sister  of  the  murdered  man  flying  over  their  country,  breathing  forth 
pestilence  and  death.  Le  Jeune,  Relation,  1633,  34  j  Brebeuf,  Relation  des 
Hurons,  1635,  28;  1637,  160,  167,  (Quebec,  1858). 


1615.]  CHAMPLAIN  LOST   IN  THE   WOODS.  $81 

into  the  enclosure,  where  others  lay  in  wait  to  despatch 
them  with  arrows  and  spears, 

Champlaiii  was  in  the  woods  with  the  rest,  when  he 
saw  a  bird,  apparently  a  red-headed  woodpecker,  whose 
novel  appearance  greatly  excited  his  astonishment ;  and, 
gun  in  hand,  he  set  forth  in  pursuit.  The  bird,  flitting 
from  tree  to  tree,  lured  him  deeper  and  deeper  yet 
into  the  forest ;  then  took  wing  and  vanished.  The 
disappointed  sportsman  essayed  to  retrace  his  steps. 
But  whither  to  turn  ?  The  day  was  clouded,  and  he 
had  left  his  pocket-compass  at  the  camp.  The  forest 
closed  around  him,  trees  mingled  with  trees  in  limit- 
less confusion.  Bewildered  and  lost,  he  wandered  all 
day,  and  at  night  slept  fasting  at  the  foot  of  a  great 
tree.  Awaking,  he  wandered  on  till  afternoon,  when 
beneath  him  a  sullen  pond  lay  glimmering,  deep  set 
among  the  shadowing  pines.  There  were  water-fowl 
along  its  brink,  some  of  which  he  shot,  and  for  the  first 
time  found  food  to  allay  his  hunger.  He  kindled  afire, 
cooked  his  game,  and,  exhausted,  blanketless,  drenched 
by  a  cold  rain,  invoked  his  patron  saint,  and  again  lay 
down  to  sleep.  Another  day  of  blind  and  weary  wan- 
dering succeeded,  and  another  night  of  exhaustion.  He 
had  found  paths  in  the  wilderness,  but  they  were  not 
made  by  human  feet.  Once  more  aroused  from  his 
shivering  repose,  he  journeyed  on  till  he  heard  the  tink- 
ling of  a  little  brook  from  the  shaggy  depths  of  a  ra 
vine,  and,  looking  down  on  this  wild  nursling  of  the 
wilderness,  bethought  him  of  following  its  guidance,  in 
hope  that  it  might  lead  him  to  the  river  where  the  hunt- 


THE   GREAT   WAR-PARTY.  [1616. 

ers  were  now  encamped.  With  toilsome  steps  lie  traced 
the  infant  stream,  now  lost  beneath  the  decaying  masses 
of  fallen  trunks  or  the  impervious  intricacies  of  matted 
"  windfalls,"  now  stealing  through  swampy  thickets  or 
gurgling  in  the  shade  of  rocks,  till  it  entered  at  length, 
not  into  the  river,  but  into  a  small  lake.  Circling 
around  the  brink,  he  found  the  point  where,  gliding 
among  clammy  roots  of  alders,  the  brook  ran  out  and 
resumed  its  course.  And  now,  listening  in  the  dead 
stillness  of  the  woods,  a  dull,  hoarse  sound  rose  upon 
his  ear.  He  went  forward,  listened  again,  and  could 
plainly  hear  the  plunge  of  waters.  There  was  broad 
light  before  him,  and,  thrusting  himself  through  the  en- 
tanglement of  bushes,  he  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  meadow. 
Wild  animals  were  here  of  various  kinds  ;  some  skulking 
in  the  bordering  thickets,  some  browsing  on  the  dry  and 
matted  grass.  On  his  right  rolled  the  river,  wide  and 
turbulent,  and  along  its  bank  he  saw  the  portage-path 
by  which  the  Indians  passed  the  neighboring  rapids. 
He  gazed  about  him.  The  rocky  hills  seemed  familiar 
to  his  eye.  A  clue  was  found  at  last;  and,  kindling  his 
evening  fire,  with  grateful  heart  he  broke  a  long  fast  on 
the  game  he  had  killed.  With  the  break  of  day,  he 
descended  at  his  ease  along  the  bank,  and  soon  descried 
the  smoke  of  the  Indian  fires  slowly  curling  in  the  heavy 
morning  air  against  the  gray  borders  of  the  adjacent 
forest.  Great  was  the  joy  on  both  sides.  The  anxious 
Indians  had  searched  for  him  without  ceasing  ;  and  from 
that  day  forth  his  host,  Durantal,  would  never  sutler 
him  to  go  into  the  forest  alone. 


1616.]  WINTER  JOURNEYING.  383 

They  were  thirty-eight  days  encamped  on  this  name- 
less river,  and  killed,  in  that  time,  a  hundred  and  twenty 
deer.  Hard  frosts  were  needful  to  give  them  passage 
over  the  land  of  lakes  and  marshes  that  lay  between 
them  and  the  Huron  towns.  Therefore  they  lay  wait- 
ing till  the  fourth  of  December ;  when  the  frost  qarne, 
bridged  the  lakes  and  streams,  and  made  the  oozy  marsh 
as  firm  as  granite.  Snow  followed,  powdering  the  broad 
wastes  with  dreary  white.  Then  they  broke  up  their 
camp,  packed  their  game  on  sledges  or  on  their  shoul- 
ders, tied  on  their  snow-shoes,  and  set  forth.  Cham- 
plain  could  scarcely  endure  his  load,  though  some  of 
the  Indians  carried  a  weight  fivefold  greater.  At 
night,  they  heard  the  cleaving  ice  uttering  its  strange 
groans  of  torment,  and  on  the  morrow  there  came  a 
thaw.  For  four  days  they  waded  through  slush  .and 
water  up  to  their  knees ;  then  came  the  shivering  north- 
west wind,  and  all  was  hard  again.  In  nineteen  days 
they  reached  the  town  of  Cahiague,  and,  lounging 
around  their  smoky  lodge-fires,  the  hunters  forgot  the 
hardships  of  the  past. 

For  Champluin  there  was  no  rest.  A  double  mo- 
tive urged  him, — discovery,  and  the  strengthening  of 
his  colony  by  widening  its  circle  of  trade.  First,  he 
repaired  to  Carhagouha ;  and  here,  in  his  hermitage,  he 
found  the  friar,  still  praying,  preaching,  making  cate- 
chismsj  and  struggling  with  the  manifold  difficulties 
of  the  Huron  tongue.  After  spending  several  weeks 
together,  they  began  their  journeyings,  and  in  three  days 
reached  the  chief  village  of  the  Nation  of  Tobacco,  a 


88 4  THE   GREAT  WAR-PARTY  [1616. 

powerful  tribe  akin  to  the  Hurons,  and  soon  to  be  in- 
corporated with  them.1  After  visiting  seven  of  their 
towns,  the  travellers  passed  westward  to  those  of  the 
mysterious  people  whom  Champlain  calls  the  Cheveux 
Releves,  and  whom  'he  commends  for  neatness  and  inge- 
nuity no  less  than  he  condemns  them  for  the  nullity  of 
their  summer  attire.2  Crowds  escorted  the  strangers 

<T* 

from  town  to  town,  and  their  arrival  was  everywhere  the 
signal  of  festivity.  Champlain  exchanged  with  his  hosts 
pledges  of  perpetual  amity,  and  urged  them  to  come 
down  with  the  Hurons  to  the  yearly  trade  at  Montreal ; 
while  the  friar,  in  broken  Indian,  expounded  the  Faith. 
Spring  was  now  advancing,  and  Champlain,  anxious 
for  his  colony,  turned  homeward,  following  that  long 
circuit  of  Lake  Huron  and  the  Ottawa  which  Iroquois 
hostility  made  the  only  practicable  route.  Scarcely  had 
he  reached  the  lake  of  the  Nipissings,  and  exacted 
from  them  a  pledge  to  guide  him  to  that  delusive  north- 
ern sea  which  never  ceased  to  possess  his  thoughts, 
when  evil  news  called  him  back  in  haste  to  the  Huron 
towns.  A  band  of  those  Algonquins  who  dwelt  on  the 
great  island  in  the  Ottawa  had  spent  the  winter  en- 
camped near  Cahiague,  whose  inhabitants  made  them  a 
present  of  an  Iroquois  prisoner,  with  the  friendly  wish 
that  they  should  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  torturing  him. 
The  Algonquins,  on  the  contrary,  fed,  clothed,  and 
adopted  him.  On  this,  the  donors,  in  a  rage,  sent  a 


1  The  Dionondadies,  Petuneux,  or  Nation  of  Tobacco,  had  till  recently, 
wjcording  to  Lalemant,  been  at  war  with  the  Hurons. 
a  See  ante,  p.  365 


161G.J  RETURN   TO   QUEBEC. 

warrior  to  kill  the  Iroquois.  He  stabbed  him,  accord- 
ingly, in  the  midst  of  the  Algonquin  chiefs,  who  in  re- 
quital riddled  the  murderer  with  arrows.  Here  was  a 
casus  Mil  involving  most  serious  issues  for  the  French, 
since  the  Algonquins,  by  their  position  on  the  Ottawa, 
would  cut  off  the  Hurons  and  all  their  allies  from 
coming  down  to  trade.  Already,  a  fight  had  taken 
place  at  Cahiague ;  the  principal  Algonquin  chief  had 
been  wounded,  and  his  band  forced  to  purchase  safety 
by  a  heavy  tribute  of  wampum.1 

All  eyes  turned  to  Champlain  as  umpire  of  the  quar 
rel.  The  great  council  -  house  was  filled  with  Huron 
and  Algonquin  chiefs,  smoking  with  that  immobility  of 
feature  beneath  which  their  race  often  hide  a  more  than 
tiger-like  ferocity.  The  umpire  addressed  the  assembly, 
enlarged  on  the  folly  of  falling  to  blows  between  them- 
selves when  the  common  enemy  stood  ready  to  devour 
them  both,  extolled  the  advantages  of  the  French  trade 
and  alliance,  and,  with  zeal  not  wholly  disinterested, 
urged  them  to  shake  hands  like  brothers.  The  friendly 
counsel  was  accepted ;  gifts  of  wampum  were  tendered 
and  accepted,  the  pipe  of  peace  was  smoked,  the  storm 
dispelled,  and  the  commerce  of  New  France  rescued 
from  a  serious  peril.2 

Once  more  Champlaiu  turned  homeward,  and  with 

1  Wampum  was  a  sort  of  beads,  of  several  colors,  made  originally  by 
the  Indians  from   the  inner  portion  of  certain  shells,  and  afterwards  by 
the  French  of  porcelain  and  glass.     It  served  a  treble  purpose,  —  that  of 
currency,  decoration,  and  record.     Wrought  into  belts  of  various  devices, 
each  having  its  significance,  it  preserved  the  substance  of  treaties  and 
compacts  from  generation  to  generation. 

2  Champlain,  (1627,)  63-72. 

33 


385  THE   GREAT  WAR-FAKTr.  f!616. 

him  went  his  Huron  host,  Durantal.  Le  Caron  had 
preceded  him  ;  and,  on  the  eleventh  of  July,  the  fellow- 
travellers  met  again  in  the  embryo  capital  of  Canada. 
The  Indians  had  reported  that  Champlain  was  dead, 
and  he  was  welcomed  as  one  risen  from  the  grave. 
The  friars  —  they  were  all  here  —  chanted  lauds  in  their 
chapel,  with  a  solemn  mass  and  thanksgiving.  To  the 
two  travellers,  fresh  from  the  hardships  of  the  wilder- 
ness, the  hospitable  board  of  Quebec,  the  kindly  society 
of  countrymen  and  friends,  the  adjacent  gardens,  — 
always  to  Champlain  an  object  of  especial  interest,  — 
seemed  like  the  comforts  and  repose  of  home. 

The  chief  Durantal  found  entertainment  worthy  of 
his  high  estate.  The  fort,  the  ship,  the  armor,  the 
plumes,  the  cannon,  the  marvellous  architecture  of  the 
houses  and  barracks,  the  splendors  of  the  chapel,  and 
above  all  the  good  cheer,  outran  the  boldest  excursion 
of  his  fancy;  and  he  paddled  back  at  last  to  his  lodge 
in.  the  woods,  bewildered  with  admiring  astonishment. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

1616—1627. 
HOSTILE    SECTS. RIVAL    INTERESTS. 

QtF.r.EC.  —  EMBARRASSMENTS  OP  CHAMPLAIN.  —  MONTMORESCY.  —  MA- 
DAME DE  CHAMPLAIN. —  DISORDERS  AND  DANGERS  OF  THE  COLONY.— 
A  NEW  MONOPOLY. — THE  Due  DE  VENTADOUK. —  JESUITS.  —  CATHOLICS 
AND  HERETICS.  —  RICHELIEU.  —  THE  HUNDRED  ASSOCIATES. 

AND  now  a  change  began  in  the  life  of  Champlain. 
His  forest  rovings  were  over.  The  fire  that  had  flashed 
the  keen  flame  of  daring  adventure  must  now  be  sub- 
dued to  the  duller  uses  of  practical  labor.  To  battle 
with  savages  and  the  elements  was  doubtless  more  con- 
genial with  his  nature  than  to  nurse  a  puny  colony  into 
growth  and  strength ;  yet  to  each  task  he  gave  himself 
with  the  same  strong  devotion. 

At  Quebec  the  signs  of  growth  were  faint  and  few. 
By  the  water-side,  beneath  the  cliff',  still  stood  the  so- 
called  "  habitation,"  built  in  haste  eight  years  before  ; 
near  it  were  the  warehouses  of  the  traders,  the  tenement 
of  the  friars,  and  their  rude  little  chapel.  On  the  verge 
of  the  rock  above,  where  now  are  seen  the  buttresses 
of  the  demolished  Castle  of  St.  Louis,  Champlain  built 
a  fort,  behind  which  were  gardens,  fields,  and  a  few 
small  buildings.  A  mile  and  a  half  distant,  by  the 
bank  of  the  St.  Charles,  on  the  site  of  the  present 
General  Hospital,  the  Recollets,  a  few  years  later,  built 


388  HOSTILE   SECTS.  — RIVAL   INTERESTS.     11616-24. 

a  convent  of  stone.  Quebec  could  scarcely  be  called  a 
settlement.  It  was  half  trading-factory,  half  mission. 
Its  permanent  inmates  did  not  exceed  fifty  or  sixty  per- 
sons, —  fur-traders,  friars,  and  two  or  three  wretched 
families,  who  had  no  inducement  and  little  wish  to  labor. 
The  fort  is  facetiously  represented  as  having  two  old 
women  for  garrison,  and  a  brace  of  hens  for  senti- 
nels.1 All  was  discord  and  disorder.  Champlain  was 
the  nominal  commander  ;  but  the  actual  authority  was 
with  the  merchants,  who  held,  excepting  the  friars, 
nearly  every  one  in  their  pay.  Each  was  jealous  of  the 
other,  but  all  were  united  in  a  common  jealousy  of 
Champlain.  From  a  short-sighted  view  of  self-interest, 
they  sought  to  check  the  colonization  which  they  were 
pledged  to  promote.  The  few  families  whom  they 
brought  over  were  forbidden  to  trade  with  the  Indians, 
and  compelled  to  sell  the  fruits  of  their  labor  to  the 
agents  of  the  company  at  a  low,  fixed  price,  receiving 
goods  in  return  at  an  inordinate  valuation.  Some  of 
the  merchants  were  of  Rouen,  some  of  St.  Malo ;  some 
were  Catholics,  some  were  Huguenots.  Hence  unceas- 
ing bickerings.  All  exercise  of  the  Reformed  Relig- 
ion, on  land  or  water,  was  prohibited  within  the  limits 
of  New  France ;  but  the  Huguenots  set  the  prohibition 
at  nought,  roaring  their  heretical  psalmody  with  such 
vigor  from  their  ships  in  the  river,  that  the  unhallowed 
strains  polluted  the  ears  of  the  Indians  on  shore.  The 
merchants  of  Rochelle,  who  had  refused  to  join  the 
company,  carried  on  a  bold,  illicit  traffic  along  the  bor- 

1  Advis  au  Roy  sur  les  Affaires  de  la  Nouuelle  France,  7. 


16-20.]  MADAME  DE   CHAMPLAIN. 


389 


ders  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  eluding  pursuit,  or,  if  hard 
pressed,  showing  fight ;  and  this  was  a  source  of  per- 
petual irritation  to  the  incensed  monopolists.1 

Champlain,  in  his  singularly  trying  position,  displayed 
a  mingled  zeal  and  fortitude.  He  went  every  year  to 
France,  laboring  for  the  interests  of  the  colony.  To 
throw  open  the  trade  to  all  competitors  was  a  measure 
beyond  the  wisdom  of  the  times ;  and  he  aimed  only  so 
to  bind  and  regulate  the  monopoly  as  to  make  it  sub- 
serve the  generous  purpose  to  which  he  had  given  him- 
self. The  imprisonment  of  Conde  was  a  source  of  fresh 
embarrassment ;  but  the  young  Duke  de  Montmorency 
assumed  his  place,  purchasing  from  him  the  profitable 
lieutenancy  of  New  France  for  eleven  thousand  crowns, 
and  continuing  Champlain  in  command.  Champlain 
had  succeeded  in  binding  the  company  of  merchants 
with  new  and  more  stringent  engagements ;  and,  in  the 
Vain  belief  that  these  might  not  be  wholly  broken,  he 
began  to  conceive  fresh  hopes  for  the  colony.  In  this 
faith  he  embarked  with  his  wife  for  Quebec  in  the  spring 
of  1620;  and,  as  the  boat  drew  near  the  landing,  the 
cannon  welcomed  her  to  the  rock  of  her  banishment. 
The  buildings  were  falling  to  ruin  ;  rain  entered  on 
all  sides ;  the  court-yard,  says  Champlain,  was  as  squalid 
and  dilapidated  as  a  grange  pillaged  by  soldiers.  Ma- 
dame de  Champlain  was  still  very  young.  If  the  Ur- 
suline  tradition  is  to  be  trusted,  the  Indians,  amazed  at 

1  Charaplain,  (1627,)  (1032,)  passim ;  Sagard,  Hist,  du  Canada,  passim; 
Le  Clerc,  Etailissement  de  la  Foy,  cc.  IV.-VII.  ;    Advls  an  Ho>j  sur  let 
Affaires  de  la  Noucelle  France;   Decret  de  Prise  de  Corps  d'lletert,  MS.' 
J'itiiiUe  de  la  Nouvelle  France  a  la  France  sa  Germaine,  passim. 
33* 


HOSTILE   SECTS.  — RIVAL   INTERESTS.     [161G-24. 

her  beauty  and  touched  by  her  gentleness,  would  have 
worshipped  her  as  a  divinity.  Her  husband  had  mar- 
ried her  at  the  age  of  t\velve  ;  when,  to  his  horror,  he 
presently  discovered  that  she  was  infected  witli  the  here- 
sies of  her  father,  a  disguised  Huguenot.  He  addressed 
himself  at  once  to  her  conversion,  and  his  pious  efforts 
were  something  more  than  successful.  During  the  four 
years  which  she  passed  in  Canada,  her  zeal,  it  is  true, 
•was  chiefly  exercised  in  admonishing  Indian  squaws 
and  catechising  their  children ;  but,  on  her  return  to 
France,  nothing  would  content  her  but  to  become  a  nun. 

.  (       C5 

Champlain  refused  ;  but,  as  she  was  childless,  he  at 
length  consented  to  a  virtual,  though  not  formal,  separa- 
tion. After  his  death  she  gained  her  wish,  became  an 
Ursuline  nun,  founded  a  convent  of  that  order  atMeaux, 
and  died  with  a  reputation  almost  saintly.1 

At  Quebec,  matters  grew  from  bad  to  worse.  The 
few  emigrants,  with  no  inducement  to  labor,  fell  into  a 
lazy  apathy,  lounging  about  the  trading-houses,  gain- 
ing, drinking  when  drink  could  be  had,  or  roving  into 
the  woods  on  vagabond  hunting  excursions.  The  In- 
dians could  not  be  trusted.  In  the  year  1617  they 
had  murdered  two  men  near  the  end  of  the  Island  of 
Orleans.  Terrified  at  what  they  had  done,  and  incited 
perhaps  by  other  causes,  the  Montagnais  and  their 
kindred  bands  mustered  at  Three  Rivers  to  the  number 
of  eight  h  indred,  resolved  to  destroy  the  French.  The 
secret  was  betrayed ;  and  the  childish  multitude,  naked 

1  Extraits  des  Clironiques  de  I'Ordre  des  Ursulines,  Journal  de  Que>Mtct  10 
Mars,  1855. 


1621.]  A-  NEW  MONOPOLY. 

and  famishing,  became  suppliants  to  their  intended 
victims  for  the  means  of  life.  The  French,  themselves 
at  the  point  of  starvation,  could  give  little  or  nothing. 
An  enemy,  far  more  formidable,  awaited  them  ;  and 
now  were  seen  the  fruits  of  Cham  plain's  intermeddling 
in  Indian  wars.  In  the  summer  of  1622,  the  Iroquois 
descended  upon  the  settlement.  A  strong  party  of  their 
warriors  hovered  about  Quebec,  but,  still  fearful  of  the 
fatal  arquebuse,  forbore  to  attack  it,  and  assailed  the 
Recollet  convent  on  the  St.  Charles.  The  prudent 
friars  had  fortified  themselves.  While  some  prayed  in 
the  chapel,  the  rest,  with  their  Indian  converts,  manned 
the  walls.  The  Iroquois  respected  their  redoubts  and 
demi-lunes,  and  withdrew,  after  burning  two  Huron 
prisoners. 

Yielding  at  length  to  reiterated  complaints,  the 
Viceroy  Mont  m  or  en  cy  suppressed  the  company  of  St. 
Malo  and  Rouen,  and  conferred  the  trade  of  New 
France,  burdened  with  similar  conditions,  destined  to 
be  similarly  broken,  on  two  Huguenots,  William  and 
Emery  de  Caen.1  The  change  was  a  signal  for  fresh 
disorders.  The  enraged  monopolists  refused  to  yield. 
The  rival  traders  filled  Quebec  with  their  quarrels  ; 
and  the  evil  rose  to  such  a  pitch,  that  Champluin 
joined  with  the  Recollets  and  the  better  -  disposed 
among  the  colonists  in  sending  one  of  the  friars  to 
lay  their  grievances  before  the  King.  The  result 
was  a  temporary  union  of  the  two  companies,  together 

1  Lettrede  Montmorency  a  Champlain,2  Fevrier,  1621,  MS.  ;  Paris  Docu- 
ments in  archives  of  Massachusetts,  I.  493. 


HOSTILE   SECTS.  — RIVAL  INTERESTS.  [1625 

with  a  variety  of  arrets  and  regulations,  suited,  it  was 
thought,  to  restore  tranquillity.1 

A  new  change  was  at  hand.  Montmorency,  tired 
of  his  viceroyalty,  which  gave  him  ceaseless  annoy- 
ance, sold  it  to  his  nephew,  the  Due  de  Ventadour. 
It  was  no  worldly  motive  which  prompted  this  young 
nobleman  to  assume  the  burden  of  fostering  the  in- 
fancy of  New  France.  He  had  retired  from  the 
court,  and  entered  into  holy  orders.  For  trade  and 
colonization  he  cared  nothing.  The  conversion  of 
infidels  was  his  sole  care.  The  Jesuits  had  the  keep- 
ing of  his  conscience,  and  in  his  eyes  they  were  the 
most  fitting  instruments  for  his  purpose.  The  Recol- 
lets,  it  is  true,  had  labored  with  an  unflagging  devotion. 
The  six  friars  of  their  Order  —  for  this  was  the  number 
which  the  Calvinist  Caen  had  bound  himself  to  sup- 
port—  had  established  five  distinct  missions,  extending 
from  Acadia  to  the  borders  of  Lake  Huron  ;  but  the 
field  was  too  vast  for  their  powers.  Ostensibly  by  a 
spontaneous  movement  of  their  own,  but  in  reality,  it  is 
probable,  under  influences  brought  to  bear  on  them  from 
without,  the  Recollets  applied  for  the  assistance  of  the 
Jesuits,  who,  strong  in  resources  as  in  energy,  would 
not  be  compelled  to  rest  on  the  reluctant  sunjjo..rt,of 
Huguenots.  Three  of  their  brotherhood,  Charles  Lale- 
mant,  Enemond  Masse,  and  Jean  de  Brebeuf,  accord- 
ingly embarked ;  and,  fourteen  years  after  Biard  and 
Masse  had  landed  in  Acadia,  Canada  beheld  for  the 

1  Le  Roy  a  Champlain,  20  Mars,  1622  ;  Champlain,  (1632,  Seconde  Par- 
tie)  ;  Le  Clerc,  Etablissement  de  la  Fay,  c.  VI. ;  Sagard,  Histoire  du  Co- 
naila,  c.  VII 


1626.]  ARRIVAL  OF  JESUITS.  393 

first  time  those  whose  names  stand  so  prominent  on  her 
annals,  —  the  mysterious  followers  of  Loyola.  Their 
reception  was  most  inauspicious.  Champlain  was  ab- 
sent. Caen  would  not  lodge  them  in  the  fort ;  the 
traders  would  not  admit  them  to  their  houses.  Noth- 
ing seemed  left  for  them  but  to  return  as  they  came; 
when  a  boat,  bearing  several  Recollets,  approached  the 
ship  to  proffer  them  the  hospitalities  of  the  convent  on 
the  St.  Charles.1  They  accepted  the  proffer,  and  be- 
came guests  of  the  charitable  friars,  who  nevertheless 
entertained  a  lurking  jealousy  of  these  formidable  fel- 
low-laborers. The  Jesuits  soon  unearthed  and  publicly 
burnt  a  libel  against  their  Order  belonging  to  some  of 
the  traders.  Their  strength  was  soon  increased.  The 
Fathers  Noirot  and  De  la  Noue  landed,  with  twenty 
laborers,  and  the  Jesuits  were  no  longer  houseless.2 
Brebeuf  set  forth  for  the  arduous  mission  of  the  Hu- 
rons  ;  but,  on  arriving  at  Trois  Rivieres,  he  learned 
that  one  of  his  Franciscan  predecessors,  Nicholas  Viel, 
had  recently  been  drowned  by  Indians  of  that  tribe, 
in  the  rapid  behind  Montreal,  known  to  this  day  as 
the  Saut  au  Recollet.  Less  ambitious  for  martyrdom 
than  he  afterwards  approved  himself,  he  postponed 
his  voyage  to  a  more  auspicious  season.  In  the  fol- 

1  Le  Clerc,  AtaUissement  tie  La  Foy,  I.  310 ;  Latemant  a  Champlain,  28 
Ju-llet,  1625,  in  Le  Clerc,  I.  313;  Lalemant,  Relation,  1625,  in  Mercurt 
Frannils,  XIII. 

'2  Lalemant,  in  a  letter  dated  1  August,  1626,  says  that  at  tliat  time 
there  were  only  forty  -three  Frenchmen  at  Quebec.  The  Jesuits  em- 
ployed themselves  in  confessing  them,  preaching  ^two  sermons  a  month, 
studying  the  Indian  languages,  and  cultivating  the  ground,  as  a  prepa- 
ration for  more  arduous  work.  See  Carayon,  Premiere  Mission,  117. 


HOSTILE   SECTS.  — K1VAL  INTERESTS.  [1028. 

lowing  spring  he  renewed  the  attempt,  in  company 
with  De  la  Noue  and  one  of  the  friars.  The  Indians, 
however,  refused  to  receive  him  into  their  canoes, 
alleging  that  his  tall  and  portly  frame  would  overset 
them  ;  and  it  was  only  by  dint  of  many  presents,  that 
their  pretended  scruples  could  he  conquered.  Breheuf 
emharked  with  his  companions,  and,  after  months  of 
toil,  reached  the  harbarous  scene  of  his  labors,  his  suf- 
ferings, and  his  death. 

Meanwhile  the  Viceroy  had  been  deeply  scandalized 
by  the  contumacious  heresy  of  Emery  de  Caen,  who 
not  only  assembled  his  Huguenot  sailors  at  prayers,  but 
forced  Catholics  to  join  them.  He  was  ordered  thence- 
forth to  prohibit  his  crews  from  all  praying  and  psalm- 
singing  on  the  River  St.  Lawrence.  The  crews  re- 
volted, and  a  compromise  was  made.  It  was  agreed, 
that,  for  the  present,  they  might  pray,  but  not  sing.1 
"  A  bad  bargain,"  says  the  pious  Champlain,  "  but  we 
made  the  best  of  it  we  could.  Caen,  enraged  at  the 

7  O 

Viceroy's  reproofs,  lost  no  opportunity  to  vent  his 
spleen  against  the  Jesuits,  whom  he  cordially  hated. 

Twenty  years  had  passed  since  the  founding  of  Que- 
bec, and  still  the  colony  could  scarcely  be  said  to  exist 
but  in  the  founder's  brain.  Those  who  should  have 
been  its  support  were  engrossed  by  trade  or  propagan- 
dism.  Champlain  might  look  back  on  fruitless  toils, 
hopes  hopelessly  deferred,  a  life  spent  seemingly  in  vain. 

1  " ....  en  fin,  fut  accorde  qu'ils  ne  chanteroient  point  lea  Pseaumea, 
mais  qu'ils  s'assembleroient  pour  faire  leur  prieres."  —  Cliamplain,  (1632, 
Seconde  Partie,)  108. 


1628.]  TRADING-POSTS.  395 

The  population  of  Quebec  had  risen  to  about  a  hun- 
dred and  five  persons,  men,  women,  and  children.  Of 
these,  one  or  two  families  had  now  learned  to  support 
themselves  from  the  products  of  the  soil.  The  rest 
lived  on  supplies  from  France.  .  All  withered  under  the 
monopoly  of  the  Caens.1  Champlain  had  long  desired 
to  rebuild  the  fort,  which  was  weak  and  ruinous  ;  but 
the  merchants  would  not  grant  the  men  and  means 
which,  by  their  charter,  they  were  bound  to  furnish. 
At  length,  however,  his  urgency  in  part  prevailed,  and 
the  work  began  to  advance.  At  Cape  Tourrnente  there 
was  a  small  outpost  for  pasturing  the  cattle  of  the  set- 
tlement. The  chief  trading-stations  were  Quebec,  Trois 
Rivieres,  the  Rapids  of  St.  Louis,  and  above  all,  Ta- 
doussac.  Here  the  ships  from  France  usually  anchored, 
forwarding  their  cargoes  to  Quebec  in  boats  or  small 
craft,  kept  in  readiness  for  the  purpose.  Here,  amid 
the  desolation,  nestled  the  little  chapel  of  the  Recollet 
mission.  Here,  too,  were  the  cabins  of  the  traders; 
and,  in  the  spring,  a  host  of  bark  wigwams,  with  in- 
numerable canoes  of  savages,  bluffing  the  fruits  of 
their  winter  hunt  from  the  solitudes  of  flic  interior.  In 
one  year,  the  Caens  and  their  associates  brought  from 
Canada  twenty-two  thousand  beaver-skins,  though  the 
usual  number  did  not  exceed  twelve  or  fifteen  thou- 
sand.2 

While  infant  Canada  was  thus  struggling  into  a  half- 

1  Adi-Is  an  R»y,  passim  ;  Plaints  de  la  Nouvelle  France. 

9  Lnlemant,  Helalion,  1625,  in  Mercure  Francois,  XIII.  The  skins  sold 
at  a  nistole  each.  The  Caens  employed  forty  men  and  upwards  in  Can- 
ada, besides  a  hundred  and  fifty  in  their  ships. 


3Q6      HOSTILE  SECTS.  — BIVAL  INTERESTS.  |1(30-50. 

stifled  being-,  the  foundation  of  a  commonwealth,  des- 
tined to  a  marvellous  vigor  of  development,  had  been 
laid  on  the  Rock  of  Plymouth.  In  their  character,  as 
in  their  destiny,  the  rivals  were  widely  different ;  yet,  at 
the  outset,  New  England  was  unfaithful  to  the  principle 
of  her  existence.  Seldom  has  religious  tyranny  as- 
sumed a  form  more  oppressive  than  among  the  Puritan 
exiles.  New-England  Protestantism  appealed  to  Lib- 
erty ;  then  closed  the  door  against  her.  On  a  stock  of 
freedom  she  grafted  a  scion  of  despotism  ; l  yet  the  vital 
juices  of  the  root  penetrated  at  last  to  the  uttermost 
branches,  and  nourished  them  to  an  irrepressible  strength 

1  In  Massachusetts,  none  but  church-members  could  vote  or  hold  office. 
In  other  words,  the  deputies  to  the  General  Court  were  deputies  of 
churches,  and  the  Governor  and  Magistrates  were  church  -  members, 
elected  by  church-members.  Church  and  State  were  not  united  :  they 
were  identified.  A  majority  of  the  people,  including  men  of  wealth, 
ability,  and  character,  were  deprived  of  the  rights  of  freemen,  because 
they  wore  not  church-members.  When  some  of  them  petitioned  the  Gen- 
eral Court  for  redress,  they  were  imprisoned  and  heavily  fined  as  guilty 
of  sedition.  Their  sedition  consisted  in  their  proposing  to  appeal  to  Par- 
liament, though  it  was  then  composed  of  Puritans.  See  Palfrey,  His- 
tory of  Neto  EiKjIand,  II.  c.  IV. 

The  New -England  Purit^s  were  foes,  not  only  of  Episcopacy,  but 
of  Presbytery^  But  uufcwtheir  system  of  separate  and  independent 
churches,  it  was  impos^l  Ho  pn force  the  desired  uniformity  of  doctrine. 
Therefore,  while  inveighing; against  English  and  Scottish  Presbytery, 
they  established  a  virtual  Presbytery  of  their  own.  A  distinction  was 
made.  The  New-England  Synod  could  not  coerce  an  erring  church ;  it 
could  only  advise  and  exhort.  This  was  clearly  insufficient,  and,  accord- 
ingly, in  cases  of  heresy  and  schism,  the  cioil  power  was  invoked.  That  is 
to  say,  the  churches  in  their  ecclesiastical  capacity  consigned  doctrinal 
offenders  for  punishment  to  the  same  churches  acting  in  a  civil  capacity, 
while  they  professed  an  abomination  of  Presbytery  because  it  endangered 
liberty  of  conscience.  See  A  Platform  of  Church  Di.sci/>line,  gather' d  out 
of  the  Word  of  God  and  agreed  n/>on  by  the  Elders  and  Messengers  of  the 
Churches  assembled  in  the  Synod  at  Cambridge,  in  New  Enyland,  c.  XVII 
S§  8,  9. 


1626-27.]  RICHELIEU 

and  expansion.  With  New  France  it  was  otherwise. 
She  was  consistent  to  the  last.  Root,  stem,  and  branch, 
she  was  the  nursling  of  authority.  Deadly  absolutism 
blighted  her  early  and  her  later  growth.  Friars  and 
Jesuits,  a  Ventadour  and  a  Richelieu,  shaped  her  des- 
tinies. All  that  conflicted  against  advancing  liberty, 

—  the  centralized  power   of  the  crown  and  the  tiara, 

—  the  ultramontane  in  religion,  —  the  despotic  in  pol- 
icy, —  found   their  fullest   expression   and    most    fatal 
exercise.     Her  records  shine  with  glorious  deeds,  the 
self-devotion  of  heroes  and  of  martyrs  ;  and  the  result 
of  all  is  disorder,  im'becility,  ruin. 

The  great  champion  of  Absolutism,  Richelieu,  was 
now  supreme  in  France.  His  thin  frame,  pale  cheek, 
and  cold,  calm  eye,  concealed  an  inexorable  will,  and  a 
mind  of  vast  capacity,  armed  with  all  the  resources  of 
boldness  and  of  craft.  Under  his  potent  agency,  the 
royal  power,  in  the  weak  hands  of  Louis  the  Thirteenth, 
waxed  and  strengthened  daily,  triumphing  over  the  fac- 
tions of  the  court,  the  turbulence  of  the  Huguenots, 
the  ambitious  independence  of  the  nobles,  and  all  the 
elements  of  anarchy  which,  since  the  death  of  Henry 
the  Fourth,  had  risen  into  fresh  life.  With  no  friends 
and  a  thousand  enemies,  disliked  and  feared  by  the  pit- 
iful King  whom  he  served,  making  his  tool  by  turns  of 
every  party  and  of  every  principle,  he  advanced  by 
countless  crooked  paths  towards  his  object,  —  the  great- 
ness of  France  under  a  concentred  and  undivided  au- 
thority. 

In  the  midst  of  more   urgent  cares,   he   addressed 

34 


398  HOSTILE  SECTS.  — RIVAL  INTERESTS.     [162fi-27 

himself  to  fostering  the  commercial  and  naval  power. 
Montmorency  then  held  the  ancient  charge  of  Admiral 
of  France.  Richelieu  hought  it,  suppressed  it,  and,  in 
its  stead,  constituted  himself  Grand  Master  and  Super- 
intendent of  Navigation  and  Commerce.  In  this  new 
capacity,  the  mismanaged  affairs  of  New  France  were 
not  long  concealed  from  him  ;  and  he  applied  a  prompt 
and  powerful  remedy.  The  privileges  of  the  Caens 
were  ttnnulled.  A  company  was  formed,  to  consist  of 
a  hundred  associates,  and  to  be  called  the  Company  of 
New  France.  Richelieu  himself  was  the  head,  and 
the  Marechal  Deffiat,  with  other  men  of  rank,  besides 
many  merchants  and  burghers  of  condition,  were  mem- 
bers.1 The  whole  of  New  France,  from  Florida  to  the 
Arctic  Circle,  and  from  Newfoundland  to  the  sources  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  and  its  tributary  waters,  was  con- 
ferred on  them  forever,  with  the  attributes  of  sovereign 
power.  A  perpetual  monopoly  of  the  fur  -  trade  was 
granted  them,  witfi  a  monopoly  of  all  other  commerce 
within  the  limits  of  their  government  for  fifteen  years.2 
The  trade  of  the  colony  was  declared  free,  for  the  same 
period,  from  all  duties  and  imposts.  Nobles,  officers, 
and  ecclesiastics,  members  of  the  Company,  might  en- 
gage in  commercial  pursuits  without  derogating  from 
the  privileges  of  their  order.  And,  in  evidence  of  his 
good-will,  the  King  gave  them  two  ships  of  war,  armed 
and  equipped. 

1  Noms,  Sumoms,  et  Qualitez  des  Associez  de  la  Compagnie  de  la  Nouvelle 
France,  MS.  • 

2  The  whale  and  the  cod  fishery  were,  however,  to  remain   open 
to  all. 


1627.]  EXCLUSION   OF   HUGUENOTS.  399 

On  their  part,  the  Company  were  bound  to  convey  to 
Ne\v  France,  during  the  next  year,  1628,  two  or  three 
hundred  men  of  all  trades,  and  before  the  year  164-3,  to 
increase  the  number  to  four  thousand 1  persons,  of  both 
sexes;  to  lodge  and  support  them  for  three  years;  and, 
this  time  expired,  to  give  them  cleared  lands  for  their 
maintenance.  Every  settler  must  be  a  Frenchman 
and  a  Catholic;  and  for  every  new  settlement  at  least 
three  ecclesiastics  must  be  provided.  Thus  was  New 
France  to  be  forever  free  from  the  taint  of  heresy. 
The  stain  of  her  infancy  was  to  be  wiped  away.  She 
was  to  be  a  land  set  apart ;  a  sheepfold  of  the  faith- 
ful. The  Huguenots,  the  only  emigrating  class  in 
France,  were  forbidden  to  touch  her  shores  ;  and  when 
at  last  the  drayonnadcs  expelled  them,  they  carried  their 
skill  and  industry  to  enrich  foreign  countries,  and  the 
British  colonies  in  America.  There  is  nothing  im- 
probable in  the  supposition,  that,  had  New  France  been 
thrown  open  to  Huguenot  emigration,  Canada  would 
never  have  been  a  British  province,  that  the  field  of 
Anglo-American  settlement  would  have  been  greatly 
narrowed,  and  that  large  portions  of  the  United  States 
would  at  this  day  have  been  occupied  by  a  vigorous  and 
expansive  French  population. 

A  trading  company  was  now  feudal  proprietor  of  all 
domains  in  North  America  within  the  claim  of  France. 

1  Charlevoix  erroneously  says  sixteen  thousand.  Compare  Acte  pour 
I' Etublissemenl  de  la  Comjxuinie  des  Cent  Associes,  in  Mercure  Fran$ais,  XIV. 
piirtie  II.  232 ;  Edits  et  Ordonnances,  I.  6.  The  act  of  establishment  was 
originally  published  in  a  small  duodecimo  volume,  which  differs,  though 
not  very  essentially,  from  the  copy  in  the  Mercure. 


4,00  HOSTILE   SECTS. —  RIVAL  INTERESTS.  [1027. 

Fealty  and  homage,  on  its  part,  and,  on  the  part  of  the 
crown,  the  appointment  of  supreme  judicial  officers,  and 
the  confirmation  of  the  titles  of  dukes,  marquises,  counts, 
and  barons,  were  the  only  reservations.  The  King" 
heaped  favors  on  the  new  corporation.  Twelve  of  the 
bourgeois  members  were  ennobled  ;  while  artisans  and 
even  manufacturers  were  tempted,  by  extraordinary 
privileges,  to  emigrate  to  the  New  World.  The  asso- 
ciates, of  whom  Cham  plain  was  one,  entered  upon  their 
functions  with  a  capital  of  three  hundred  thousand 
livres.1 

1  Articles  et  Conventions  de  Societe  et  Compagme,  in  Mercure  Franqait, 
XIV.  partie  II.  250. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

1628, 1629. 
THE    ENGLISH    AT    QUEBEC. 

REVOLT  OF  ROCHELLE.  —  WAR  WITH  ENGLAND.  —  THE  ENGLISH  ON  THB 
ST.  LAWRENCE.  —  BOLD  ATTITUDE  OF  CIIAMPLAI.N.  —  THF.  FRENCH 
SQU \DKON  DESTHOYED. —  FAMINE.  —  RETURN  OF  THE  ENGLISH.  —  QUE- 

BEC     BUKKENDERED.  —  ANOTHER     NAVAL    BATTLE.  —  MlClIEL.  —  CHAM- 
PLAIN  AT  LONDON. 

THE  first  care  of  the  new  company  was  to  succor 
Quebec,  whose  inmates  were  on  the  verge  of  starvation. 
Four  armed  vessels,  with  a  fleet  of  transports  commanded 
by  Roquemont,  one  of  the  associates,  sailed  from  Dieppe 
with  colonists  and  supplies  in  April,  162S  ;  hut,  nearly 
at  the  same  time,  another  squadron,  destined  also  for 
Quehec,  was  sailing  from  an  English  port.  War  had 
at  length  broken  out  in  France.  The  Huguenot  revolt 
had  come  to  a  head.  Hochelle  was  in  arms  against  the 

O 

King;  and  Richelieu,  with  his  royal  wand,  was  belea- 
guering it  with  the  whole  strength  of  the  kingdom. 
Charles  the  First,  of  England,  urged  by  the  heated 
passions  of  Buckingham,  had  declared  himself  for  the 
rebels,  and  sent  a  fleet  to  their  aid.  At  home,  Charles 
detested  the  followers  of  Calvin  as  dangerous  to  his 
own  authority  ;  abroad,  he  befriended  them  as  dangerous 
to  the  authority  of  a  rival.  In  France,  Richelieu  crushed 
Protestantism  as  being  a  curb  to  the  House  of  Bour- 
34* 


4,02  THE  ENGLISH  AT   QUEBEC.  [1G28. 

bon  ;  in  Germany,  he  nursed  and  strengthened  it  as  a 
curb  to  the  House  of  Austria. 

The  attempts  of  Sir  William  Alexander  to  colonize 
Acadia  had  of  late  turned  attention  in  England  towards 
the  New  World ;  and,  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  war, 
an  enterprise  was  set  on  foot,  under  the  auspices  of  that 
singular  personage,  to  seize  on  the  French  possessions 
in  North  America.  At  its  head  was  a  subject  of  France, 
David  Kirk,  a  Calvinist  of  Dieppe.  With  him  were 
his  brothers,  Louis  and  Thomas  Kirk;  and  many  Hu- 
guenot refugees  were  among  the  crews.  Having  been 
expelled  from  New  France  as  settlers,  the  persecuted 
sect  were  returning  as  enemies.  One  Captain  Michel, 
who  had  been  in  the  service  of  the  Caens,  "  a  furious 
Calvinist,"  l  is  said  to  have  instigated  the  attempt,  act- 
ing, it  is  affirmed,  under  the  influence  of  one  of  his  for- 
mer employers. 

Meanwhile  the  famished  tenants  of  Quebec  were  ea- 
gerly waiting  the  expected  succor.  Daily  they  gazed 
beyond  Point  Levi  and  along  the  channels  of  Orleans, 
in  the  vain  hope  of  seeing  the  approaching  sails.  At 
length,  on  the  ninth  of  July,  two  men,  worn  with  strug- 
gling through  forests  and  over  torrents,  crossed  the  St. 

o         o  O 

Charles  and  mounted  the  rock.  They  were  from  the 
outpost  at  Cape  Tourmente,  and  brought  news,  that, 
according  to  the  report  of  Indians,  six  large  vessels  lay 
in  the  harbor  of  Tadoussac.2  The  friar  Le  Caron  was  at 
Quebec,  and,  with  a  brother  Recollet,  he  set  forth  in  a 

1  "  Calviniste  furieux." —  Charlevoix,  I.  171. 
a  Champlaiu,  (1632,  Seconde  Partie,)  152 


1628.J  KIRK   SUMMONS   QUEBEC. 

canoe  to  gain  further  intelligence.  As  the  two  mission- 
ary scouts  were  paddling  along  the  borders  of  the  Island 
of  Orleans,  they  met  tw<j  canoes  advancing  in  hot  haste, 
manned  by  Indians,  who  with  shouts  and  gestures 
warned  them  to  turn  back.  The  friars,  however,  waited 
till  the  canoes  came  up,  when  they  beheld  a  man  lying 
disabled  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  them,  his  moustaches 
burned  by  the  flash  of  the  musket  which  had  wounded 
him.  He  proved  to  be  Foucher,  who  commanded  at 
Cape  Tourmente.  On  that  morning,  —  such  was  the 
story  of  the  fugitives,  —  twenty  men  had  landed  at  that 
post  from  a  small  fishing-vessel.  Being  to  all  appear- 
ance French,  they  were  hospitably  received ;  but  no 
sooner  had  they  entered  the  houses  than  they  began 
to  pillage  and  burn  all  before  them,  killing  the  cattle, 
wounding  the  commandant,  and  making  several  pris- 


oners.1 


The  character  of  the  fleet  at  Tadoussac  was  now  suf- 
ficiently clear.  Quebec  was  incapable  of  defence.  Only 
fifty  pounds  of  gunpowder  were  left  in  the  magazine ; 
and  the  fort,  owing  to  the  neglect  and  ill-will  of  the 
Caens,  was  so  wretchedly  constructed,  that,  a  few  days 
before,  two  towers  of  the  main  building  had  fallen. 
Champlain,  however,  assigned  to  each  man  his  post, 
and  waited  the  result.2  On  the  next  afternoon,  a  boat 
was  seen  issuing  from  behind  the  Point  of  Orleans  and 
hovering  hesitatingly  about  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Charles. 
On  being  challenged,  the  men  on  board  proved  to  be 
Basque  fishermen,  lately  captured  by  the  English,  and 

i  Sa^ard,  919  «  10  July,  1628. 


4Q4<  THE   ENGLISH  AT   QUEBEC.  [1628. 

now  sent  by  Kirk  unwilling  messengers  to  Champlaiu. 
Climbing  the  steep  pathway  to  the  fort,  they  delivered 
their  letter,  —  a  summons,  couched  in  terms  of  great 
courtesy,  to  surrender  Quebec.  There  was  no  hope  but 
in  courage.  A  bold  front  must  supply  the  lack  of  bat- 
teries and  ramparts  ;  and  Champlain  dismissed  the 
Basques  with  a  reply,  in  which,  with  equal  courtesy,  he 
expressed  his  determination  to  hold  his  position  to  the 
last.1 

All  now  stood  on  the  watch,  hourly  expecting  the 
enemy  ;  when,  instead  of  the  hostile  squadron,  a  small 
boat  crept  into  sight,  and  one  Desdames,  with  ten 
Frenchmen,  landed  at  the  storehouses.  •  He  brought 
stirring  news.  The  French  commander,  Roquemont, 
had  despatched  him  to  tell  Champlain  that  the  ships  of 
the  Hundred  Associates  were  ascending  the  St.  Law- 
rence, with  reinforcements  and  supplies  of  all  kinds. 
But,  on  his  way,  Desdames  had  seen  an  ominous  sight, 
— the  English  squadron  standing  under  full  sail  out  of 
Tadoussac,  and  steering  downwards  as  if  to  intercept 
the  advancing  succor.  He  had  only  escaped  them  by 
dragging  his  boat  up  the  beach,  and  hiding  it ;  and 
scarcely  were  they  out  of  sight  when  the  booming  of 
cannon  told  him  that  the  fight  was  begun. 

Racked  with  suspense,  the  starving  tenants  of  Quebec 
waited  the  result ;  but  they  waited  in  vain.  No  white 
sail  moved  athwart  the  green  solitudes  of  Orleans. 
Neither  friend  nor  foe  appeared ;  and  it  was  not  till  long 
afterward  that  Indians  brought  them  the  tidings  that 

1  Ragard,  922;  Champlain,  (1632,  Seconde  Partie,)  157. 


1629.]  FAMINE. 

Roquemont's  crowded  transports  had  been  overpowered, 
and  all  the  supplies  destined  to  relieve  their  miseries 
sunk  in  the  St.  Lawrence  or  seized  by  the  victorious 
English.  Kirk,  however,  deceived  by  the  bold  attitude 
of  Champlain,  had  been  too  discreet  to  attack  Quebec, 
and  after  his  victory  employed  himself  in  cruising  for 
French  fishing-vessels  along  the  borders  of  the  Gulf. 
Meanwhile,  the  suffering  at  Quebec  increased  daily. 
Somewhat  less  than  a  hundred  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren were  cooped  up  in  the  fort,  subsisting  on  a  meagre 
pittance  of  pease  and  Indian  corn.  The  garden  of  the 
Heberts,  the  only  thrifty  settlers,  was  ransacked  for 
every  root  or  seed  that  could  afford  nutriment.  Months 
wore  on,  and,  in  the  spring,  the  distress  had  risen  to 
such  a  pitch  that  Champlain  had  wellnigh  resolved  to 
leave  to  the  women,  children,  and  sick,  the  little  food 
that  remained,  and  with  the  able-bodied  men  invade  the 
Iroquois,  seize  one  of  their  villages,  fortify  himself  in 
it,  and  sustain  his  followers  on  the  buried  stores  ;»f 
maize  with  which  the  strongholds  of  these  provident 
savages  were  always  furnished. 

Seven  ounces  of  pounded  pease  were  now  the  daily 
food  of  each  ;  and,  at  the  end  of  May,  even  this  failed. 
Men,  women,  and  children  betook  themselves  to  the 
woods,  gathering  acorns  and  grubbing  up  roots.  Those 
of  the  plant  called  Solomon's  seal  were  most  in  re- 
quest.1 Some  joined  the  Hurons  or  the  Algonquins; 
some  wandered  towards  the  Abenakis  of  Maine ;  some 
descended  in  a  boat  to  Gaspe,  trusting  to  meet  a  French 
i  Sagard,  977 


4,06  THE   ENGLISH  AT   QUEBEC.  [1629. 

fishing-vessel.  There  was  scarcely  one  who  would  not 
have  hailed  the  English  as  deliverers.  But  the  Eng- 
lish had  sailed  home  with  their  hooty,  and  the  season 
was  so  late  that  there  was  little  prospect  of  their  return. 
Forgotten  alike  hy  friends  and  foes,  Quebec  was  on  the 
verge  of  extinction. 

On  the  morning  of  the  nineteenth  of  July,  an  In- 
dian, renowned  as  a  fisher  of  eels,  who  had  built  his 
hut  on  the  St.  Charles,  hard  by  the  new  dwelling  of 
the  Jesuits,  came,  with  his  usual  imperturbability  of 
visage,  to  Champlain.  He  had  just  discovered  three 
ships  sailing  up  the  south  channel  of  Orleans.  Cham- 
plain  was  alone.  All  his  followers  were  absent,  fishing 
or  searching  for  roots.  At  about  ten  o'clock  his  servant 
appeared  with  four  small  bags  of  roots,  and  the  tidings 
that  he  had  seen  the  three  ships  a  league  off,  behind 
Point  Levi.  As  man  after  man  hastened  in,  Cham- 
plain  ordered  the  starved  and  ragged  band,  sixteen  in 
all,1  to  their  posts,  whence,  with  hungry  eyes,  they 
watched  the  English  vessels  anchoring  in  the  basin  be- 
low, and  a  boat,  with  a  white  flag,  moving  towards  the 
shore.  A  young  officer  landed  with  a  summons  to  sur- 
render. The  terms  of  capitulation  were  at  length  set- 
tled. The  French  were  to  be  conveyed  to  their  own 
country  ;  and  each  soldier  was  allowed  to  take  with  him 
furs  to  the  value  of  twenty  crowns.  On  this  some 
murmuring  rose,  several  of  those  who  had  gone  to  the 
Hurons  having  lately  returned  with  peltry  of  no  small 
value.  Their  complaints  were  vain  ;  and  on  the  tuen- 
1  Champlain,  (1632,  Seconde  Partie,)  267 


162y.]  NAVAL   FIGHT. 

tieth  of  July,  amid  the  roar  of  cannon  from  the  ships, 
Louis  Kirk,  the  Admiral's  brother,  landed  at  the  head  of 
his  soldiers,  and  planted  the  cross  of  St.  George  where 
the  followers  of  Wolfe  again  planted  it  a  hundred  and 
thirty  years  later.  After  inspecting  the  worthless  fort, 
he  repaired  to  the  houses  of  the  Recollets  and  Jesuits  on 
the  St.  Charles.  He  treated  the  former  with  great  cour- 
tesy, hut  displayed  against  the  latter  a  violent  aversion, 
expressing  his  regret  that  he  could  not  have  begun  his 
operations  by  battering  their  house  about  their  ears. 
The  inhabitants  had  no  cause  to  complain  of  him.  He 
urged  the  widow  and  family  of  the  settler  Hebert,  the 
patriarch,  as  he  has  been  styled,  of  New  France,  to  re- 
main and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  industry  under  Eng- 
lish allegiance  ;  and,  as  beggary  in  France  was  the 
alternative,  his  offer  was  accepted. 

Champlnin,  bereft  of  ins  command,  grew  restless,  and 
begged  to  be  sent  to  Tadoussac,  where  the  Admiral, 
David  Kirk,  lay  with  his  main  squadron,  having  sent 
his  brothers  Louis  and  Thomas  to  seize  Quebec.  Ac- 
cordingly, Champlain,  with  the  Jesuits,  embarking  with 
Thomas  Kirk,  descended  the  river.  Off  Mai  Bay  a 
strange  sail  was  seen.  As  she  approached,  she  proved 
to  be  a  French  ship.  In  fact,  she  was  on  her  way  to 
Quebec  with  supplies,  which,  if-  earlier  sent,  would 
have  saved  the  place.  She  had  passed  the  Admiral's 
squadron  in  a  fog  ;  but  here  her  good  fortune  ceased. 
Thomas  Kirk  bore  clown  on  her,  and  the  cannonade 
began.  The  fight  was  hot  and  doubtful  ;  but  at  length 
the  French  struck,  and  Kirk  sailed  into  Tadoussao 


4Q8  THE  ENGLISH  AT    QUEBEC.  [1629. 

with  his  prize.  Here  lay  his  brother,  the  Admiral,  with 
five  armed  ships.  Though  horn  at  Dieppe,  he  was 
Scotch  on  the  father's  side,  and  had  been  a  wine- 
merchant  at  Bordeaux.  His  two  voyages  to  Canada 
were  private  adventures  ;  and,  though  he  had  captured 
nineteen  fishing-vessels,  besides  Roquemont's  eighteen 
transports,  and  other  prizes,  the  result  had  not  answered 
his  hopes.  His  mood,  therefore,  was  far  from  benign, 
especially  as  he  feared,  that,  owing  to  the  declaration  of 
peace,  he  would  be  forced  to  disgorge  a  part  of  his 
booty  ;  yet,  excepting  the  Jesuits,  he  treated  his  cap- 
tives with  courtesy,  and  often  amused  himself  with 
shooting  larks  on  shore  in  company  with  Champlain. 
The  Huguenots,  however,  of  whom  there  were  many  in 
the  ships,  showed  an  exceeding  bitterness  against  the 
Catholics.  Chief  among  them  was  Michel,  who  had 
instigated  and  conducted  the  enterprise,  the  merchant- 
admiral  being  a  very  indifferent  seaman.  Michel,  whose 
skill  was  great,  held  a  high  command  and  the  title  of 
Rear-Admiral.  He  was  a  man  of  a  sensitive  tempera- 
ment, easily  piqued  on  the  point  of  honor.  His  morbid 
and  irritable  nerves  were  wrought  to  the  pitch  of  frenzy 
by  the  reproaches  of  treachery  and  perfidy  with  winch 
the  French  prisoners  assailed  him,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  was  in  a  state  of  continual  ragfe  at  the  fancied 

7  O 

neglect  and  contumely  of  his  English  associates.  He 
raved  against  Kirk,  who,  as  he  declared,  treated  him  with 
an  insupportable  arrogance.  "  I  have  left  my  coun- 
try," he  exclaimed,  "  for  the  service  of  foreigners ;  and 
they  give  me  nothing  but  ingratitude  and  scorn."  His 


1629.]  MICHEL   AND   THE  JESUITS.  4,99 

fevered  mind,  acting-  on  his  diseased  body,  often  excited 
him  to  transports  of  fury,  in  which  he  cursed  indiscrim- 
inately the  people  of  St.  Mala,  against  whom  he  had  a 
grudge,  and  the  Jesuits,  whom  he  detested.  On  one 
occasion,  Kirk  was  conversing  with  the  latter. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  ';  your  business  in  Canada 
was  to  enjoy  what  belonged  to  M.  de  Caen,  whom  you 
dispossessed." 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir,"  answered  Brebeuf,  "  we  came 
purely  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  exposed  ourselves  to 
every  kind  of  danger  to  convert  the  Indians." 

Here  Michel  broke  in :  "Ay,  ay,  convert  the  In- 
dians !  You  mean,  convert  the  beaver!" 

"  That  is  false  !  "  retorted  Brebeuf. 

Michel  raised  his  fist,  exclaiming,  "  But  for  the  re- 
spect I  owe  the  General,  I  would  strike  you  for  giving 
me  the  lie." 

Brebeuf,  a  man  of  powerful  frame  and  vehement 
passions,  nevertheless  regained  his  practised  self-com- 
mand, and  replied:  "You  must  excuse  me.  I  did  not 
mean  to  give  you  the  lie.  I  should  be  very  sorry  to 
do  so.  The  words  I  used  are  those  we  use  in  the 
schools  when  a  doubtful  question  is  advanced,  and  they 
mean  no  offence.  Therefore  I  ask  you  to  pardon  me." 

Despite  the  apology,  Michel's  frenzied  brain  harped 
on  the  presumed  insult,  and  he  raved  about  it  without 
ceasing. 

"  Bon  Dieu  /"  said  Champlain,  "you  swear  well  for 
a  Reformer !  " 

"  I  know  it,"  returned  Michel;  "  I  should  be  content 

35 


THE  ENGLISH  AT   QUEBEC.  [1629. 

if  I  had  but  struck  that  Jesuit  who  gave  me  the  lie  be- 
fore my  General." 

At  length,  one  of  his  transports  of  rage  ended  in  a 
lethargy  from  which  he  never  awoke.  His  funeral  was 
conducted  with  a  pomp  suited  to  his  rank ;  and,  amid 
discharges  of  cannon  whose  dreary  roar  was  echoed 
from,  the  yawning  gulf  of  the  Saguenay,  his  body  was 
borne  to  its  rest  under  the  rocks  of  Tadoussac.  Good 
Catholics  and  good  Frenchmen  saw  in  his  fate  the 
immediate  finffer  of  Providence.  "  I  do  not  doubt 

C* 

that  his  soul  is  in  perdition,"  remarks  Champlain, 
who,  however,  had  endeavored  to  befriend  the  unfortu- 
nate man  during  the  access  of  his  frenzy.1 

Having  finished  their  carousings,  which  were  profuse, 
and  their  trade  with  the  Indians,  which  was  not  lucra- 
tive, the  English  steered  down  the  St.  Lawrence.  Kirk 
feared  greatly  a  meeting  with  Razilly,  a  naval  officer  of 
distinction,2  who  was  to  have  sailed  from  France  with  a 
strong  force  to  succor  Quebec  ;  but,  peace  having  been 
proclaimed,  the  expedition  had  been  limited  to  two  ships 
under  Captain  Daniel.  Thus  Kirk,  wilfully  ignoring 
the  treaty  of  peace,  was  left  to  pursue  his  depredations 
unmolested.  Daniel,  however,  though  too  weak  to  cope 
with  him,  achieved  a  signal  exploit.  On  the  island  of 
Cape  Breton,  near  the  site  of  Louisburg,  he  found  an 
English  fort,  built  two  months  before,  under  the  aus- 

1  Champlain,  (1682,  Seconde  Partie,)  256:  "jenedottte  point  qii'elle  ne 
toil  anx  fnfers."     The  dialogue  above  is  literally  translated.     The  Jesu- 
its Le  Joune  and  Charlevoix  tell  the  story  with  evident  satisfaction. 

2  Claude  de  Kazilly  was  one  of  three  brothers,  all  distinguished  in  the 
marine  service. 


1629.]  NEW   FRANCE   RECLAIMED. 

pices,  doubtless,  of  Sir  William  Alexander.  Daniel,  re- 
garding it  as  a  bold  encroachment  on  French  territory, 
stormed  it  at  the  head  of  his  pikemen,  entered  sword  in 
hand,  and  took  it  with  all  its  defenders.1 

Meanwhile,  Kirk  with  his  prisoners  was  crossing  the 
Atlantic.  His  squadron  at  length  reached  Plymouth, 
whence  Champlain  set  forth  for  London.  Here  he  had 
an  interview  with  the  French  ambassador,  who,  at  his 
instance,  gained  from  the  King  a  promise,  that,  in  pur- 
suance of  the  terms  of  the  treaty  concluded  in  the  pre- 
vious April,  New  France  should  be  restored  to  the 
French  crown.2 

1  Relation  du  Voyage  fait  par  le  Capitaine  Daniel;   Champlain,  (1632, 
Secomle  Partie,)  271. 

2  Besides  Champlain,  Sagard,  and  Du  Creux,  consult,  on  this  period, 
Extrait  r.onceinant  ce  qui  s'est  passe  dans  I'Acadie  et  le  Canada  en  1627  et  1628 
tit/fun  retjucte  du   Cttecalicr  Louis  Kirk,  in  JUe'moires  des  Cuminisituires,  II. 
275  ;  Lilenv   co»tinen(es  Promissionpm  Jiei/ls  ad  tradenrfinn,  etc.,  in  Hazard, 
I.  314;  Tmite  de  Paix  fait  a  Suze,  Ibid.  319;  liet/lemens  entre  fa  Hoys  dt 
France  et  d' Anyleterre,  in  Mercure  Franyais,  XVIII.  39;  Rush  worth,  II 
24. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

1632  —  1635. 
DEATH    OF    CHAMPLAIN. 

NEW  FRANCE  REST  >RED  TO  THE  FRENCH  CROWN.  —  ZEAL  OF  CHAMTLAIN. 
—  THE  KMGLISH  LEAVE  QUEBEC.  —  KETUKN  OF  JESUITS.  —  ARUIVAL  OF 
CHAMI-LAIN. —  DAILY  LIKE  AT  QUEBEC.  —  PKOPAGANDISM. —  POLICY 
AND  RELIGION.  —  DEATH  OF  CHAMPLAIN. 

Ox  Monday,  the  fifth  of  July,  1632,  Emery  cle  Caen 
anchored  before  Quebec.  He  was  commissioned  by  the 
French  crown  to  reclaim  the  place  from  the  English  ; 
to  hold,  for  one  year,  a  monopoly  of  the  fur-trade,  as 
an  indemnity  for  his  losses  in  the  war  ;  and,  this  time 
expired,  to  give  place  to  the  Hundred  Associates  of 
New  France.1 

By  the  convention  of  Suza,  New  France  was  to  be 
restored  to  the  French  crown  ;  yet  it  had  been  matter 
of  debate  whether  a  fulfilment  of  this  engagement  was 
worth  the  demanding.  That  wilderness  of  woods  and 
savages  had  been  ruinous  to  nearly  all  connected  with  it. 
The  Caens  had  suffered  heavily.  The  Associates  were 
on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  These  deserts  were  useless 
unless  peopled ;  and  to  people  them  would  depopu'ate 
France.  Thus  argued  the  inexperienced  reasoners  of 
the  time,  judging  from  the  wretched  precedents  of 

1  Articles  accordes  au  Sr.  de  Caen,  MS. ;  Acte  de  Protestation  dtt  Sr.  da 
C'aen,  MS. 


1632.]  OLD    AND   NEW  FRANCE. 

Spanish  and  Portuguese  colonization.  The  world  had 
not  as  yet  the  example  of  an  island  kingdom,  which, 
vitalized  by  a  stable  and  regulated  liberty,  has  peopled 
a  continent  and  spread  colonies  over  all  the  earth,  gain- 
ing constantly  new  vigor  with  the  matchless  growth  of 
its  offspring. 

On  the  other  hand,  honor,  it  was  urged,  demanded 
that  France  should  be  reinstated  in  the  land  which  she 
had  discovered  and  explored.  Should  she,  the  centre 
of  civilization,  remain  cooped  up  within  her  own  narrow 
limits,  while  rivals  and  enemies  were  sharing  the  vast 
regions  of  the  West  1  The  commerce  and  fisheries  of 
New  France  would  in  time  become  a  school  for  French 
sailors.  Mines  even  now  might  be  discovered  ;  and  the 
fur-trade, 'well  conducted,  could  not  but  be  a  source  of 
wealth.  Disbanded  soldiers  and  women  from  the  streets 
might  be  shipped  to  Canada.  Then  New  France  would 
be  peopled  and  old  France  purified.  A  power  more  po- 
tent than  reason  reinforced  such  arguments.  Richelieu 
seems  to  have  regarded  it  as  an  act  of  personal  encroach- 
ment that  the  subjects  of  a  foreign  crown  should  seize 
on  the  domain  of  a  company  of  which  he  was  the  head; 
and  it  could  not  be  supposed,  that,  with  power  to  eject 
them,  the  arrogant  minister  would  suffer  them  to  re- 
main in  undisturbed  possession.  A  spirit  far  purer,  far 
more  generous,  was  active  in  the  same  behalf.  The 
character  of  Champlain  belonged  rather  to  the  Middle 
Age  than  to  the  seventeenth  century.  Long  toil  and 
endurance  had  calmed  the  adventurous  enthusiasm  of 

his  youth  into  a  steadfast  earnestness  of  purpose ;  and 
35  » 


DEATH   OF   CHAMPLAIN.  [1632. 

he  gave  himself  with  a  loyal  zeal  and  devotedness  to 
the  profoundly  mistaken  principles  which  he  had  es- 
poused. In  his  mind,  patriotism  and  religion  were  in- 
separably linked.  France  was  the  champion  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  her  honor,  her  greatness,  were  involved  in 
IILT  fidelity  to  this  high  function.  Should  she  abandon 
to  perdition  the  darkened  nations  among  whom  she  had 
cast  the  first  faint  rays  of  hope "?  Among  the  members 
of  the  Company  were  those  who  shared  his  zeal  ;  and 
though  its  capital  was  exhausted,  and  many  of  the  mer- 
chants were  withdrawing  in  despair,  these  enthusiasts 
formed  a  subordinate  association,  raised  a  new  fund, 
and  embarked  on  the  venture  afresh.1 

England,  then,  unwillingly  resigned  her  prize,  and 
Caen  was  despatched  to  reclaim  Quebec  from  the  re- 
luctant hands  of  Thomas  Kirk.  The  latter,  obedient 
to  an  order  from  the  King  of  England,  struck  his  flag, 
embarked  his  followers,  and  abandoned  the  scene  of  his 
conquest.  Caen  landed  with  the  Jesuits,  Paul  le 
Jeune  and  Anne  de  la  None.  They  climbed  the  steep 
stair-way  which  led  up  the  rock,  and  as  they  reached  the 
top,  the  dilapidated  fort  lay  on  their  left,  while  farther 
on  was  the  massive  cottage  of  the  Heberts,  surrounded 
with  its  vegetable-gardens,  —  the  only  thrifty  spot  amid 
a  scene  of  neglect.  But  few  Indians  could  be  seen. 
True  to  their  native  instincts,  they  had,  at  first,  left 
the  defeated  French  and  welcomed  the  conquerors. 
Their  English  partialities  were,  however,  but  short- 
lived. Their  intrusion  into  houses  and  store-rooms,  the 

1  Etat  de  la  defense  de  la  Compagnie  de  la  Nouvelle  France,  MS 


1633  J  CHA.MPLAIN    RESUMES    COMMAND.  4J5 

stench  of  their  tobacco,  and  their  importunate  begging, 
though  before  borne  patiently,  were  rewarded  by  the 
new-comers  with  oaths,  and  sometimes  with  blows. 
The  Indians  soon  shunned  Quebec,  seldom  approaching 
it  except  when  drawn  by  necessity  or  a  craving  for 
brandy.  This  was  now  the  case  ;  and  several  Algon- 
quin families,  maddened  with  drink,  were  howling, 
screeching,  and  fighting  within  their  bark  lodges.  The 
women  were  frenzied  like  the  men.  It  was  dangerous 
to  approach  the  place  unarmed.1 

In  the  following  spring,  1633,  on  the  twenty-third 
of  May,  Champlain,  commissioned  anew  by  Richelieu, 
resumed  command  at  Quebec  in  behalf  of  the  Company.3 
Father  le  Jeune,  Superior  of  the  mission,  was  wakened 
from  his  morning  sleep  by  the  boom  of  the  saluting  can- 
non. Before  he  could  sally  forth,  the  convent-door  was 
darkened  by  the  stately  form  of  his  brother  Jesuit,  Bre- 
beuf,  newly  arrived  ;  and  the  Indians,  who  stood  by, 
uttered  ejaculations  of  astonishment  at  the  raptures  of 
their  greeting.  The  father  hastened  to  the  fort,  and 
arrived  in  time  to  see  a  file  of  musketeers  and  pike- 
men  mounting  the  pathway  of  the  cliff  below,  and  the 
heretic  Caen  resigning  the  keys  of  the  citadel  into 
the  Catholic  hands  of  Champlain.  Le  Jeune's  delight 
exudes  in  praises  of  one  not  always  a  theme  of  Jesuit 
eulogy,  but  on  whom,  in  the  hope  of  a  continuance  of 


1  Ildation  da  Voyage  fait  a  Canada  pour  'a  prise  de  possession  du  Fort  d» 
Quebec  par  les  Francois,  in  Mercure  Francois,  XVIII. 

2  Voya<je  de  Cliaiiplain,  in  Mercure  Francois,  XIX.;  Lettre  de  Cam  i 

.  MS. 


446  DEATH   OF   CHAMPLAIN.  [1033. 

his  favors,  no  praise  could  now  be  ill  bestowed.  "  I 
sometimes  think  that  this  great  man  [Richelieu,]  who 
by  his  admirable  wisdom  and  matchless  conduct  of  af- 
fairs is  so  renowned  on  earth,  is  preparing  for  himself 
a  dazzling  crown  of  glory  in  Heaven  by  the  care  he 
evinces  for  the  conversion  of  so  many  lost  infidel  souls 
in  this  savage  land.  I  pray  affectionately  for  him 
.every  day,"  etc.1 

For  Champlain,  too,  he  has  praises  which,  if  more 
measured,  are  at  least  as  sincere.  Indeed,  the  Father 
Superior  had  the  best  reason  to  be  pleased  with  the 
temporal  head  of  the  colony.  In  his  youth,  Champlain 
had  fought  on  the  side  of  that  more  liberal  and  national 
form  of  Romanism  of  which  the  Jesuits  were  the  most 
emphatic  antagonists.  Now,  as  Le  Jeune  tells  us,  with 
evident  contentment,  he  chose  him,  the' Jesuit,  as  direc- 
tor of  his  conscience.  In  truth,  there  were  none  but 
Jesuits  to  confess  and  absolve  him  ;  for  the  Recollets, 
virtually  ejected,  were  seen  no  more  in  Canada,  and  the 
followers  of  Loyola  were  sole  masters  of  the  field. 
The  manly  heart  of  the  commandant,  earnest,  zealous, 
and  direct,  was  seldom  chary  of  its  confidence,  or  apt 
to  stand  too  warily  on  its  guard  in  presence  of  a  pro- 
found art  mingled  with  a  no  less  profound  -sincerity. 

A  stranger  visiting  the  fort  of  Quebec  would  have 
been  astonished  at  its  air  of  conventual  decorum. 
Black  Jesuits  and  scarfed  officers  mingled  at  Cham- 
plain's  table.  There  was  little  conversation,  but,  in  its 
place,  histories  and  the  lives  of  saints  were  read  aloud,  as 
*  Le  Jeune,  Relation,  1633,  26,  (Quebec,  1858). 


1633.]  NEW  FRANCE   A  MISSION.  4,17 

in  a  monastic  refectory.1  Prayers,  masses,  and  confes- 
sions followed  each  other  with  an  edifying  regularity, 
and  the  bell  of  the  adjacent  chapel,  built  by  Champlain, 
rang  morning,  noon,  and  night.  Godless  soldiers 
caught  the  infection,  and  whipped  themselves  in  pen- 
ance for  their  sins.2  Debauched  artisans  outdid  each 
other  in  the  fury  of  their  contrition.  Quebec  was  be- 
come a  Mission.  Indians  gathered  thither  as  of  old, 
not  from  the  baneful  lure  of  brandy,  for  the  traffic  in  it 
was  no  longer  tolerated,  but  from  the  less  pernicious  at- 
tractions of  gifts,  kind  words,  and  politic  blandishments. 
To  the  vital  principle  of  propagandism  the  commercial 
and  the  military  character  were  subordinated ;  or,  to  speak 
more  justly,  trade,  policy,  and  military  power  leaned  on 
the  missions  as  their  main  support,  the  grand  instru- 
ment of  their  extension.  The  missions  were  to  explore 
the  interior ;  the  missions  were  to  win  over  the  savage 
hordes  at  once  to  Heaven  and  to  France.  Peaceful, 
benign,  beneficent,  were  the  weapons  of  this  conquest. 
France  aimed  to  subdue,  not  by  the  sword,  but  by  the 
cross ;  not  to  overwhelm  and  crush  the  nations  she 
invaded,  but  to  convert,  to  civilize,  and  embrace  them 
among  her  children. 

And  who  were  the  instruments  and  the  promoters  of 
this  proselytism,  at  once  so  devout  and  so  politic  ?  Who 
can  answer;  who  can  trace  out  the  crossing  and  mingling 
currents  of  wisdom  and  folly,  ignorance  and  knowledge, 

1  I*  Jcune,  Relation,  1G34,  2,  (Quebcc.1858).   Compare  Du  Creux,  £fo. 
tor  in  Caiiailensis,  156. 

2  Lc  Jeune,  Relation,  1635,  4,  5,  (Paris,  1636). 


418  DEATH  OF   UHAMFfcAIN.  [1635. 

truth  and  falsehood,  weakness  and  force,  the  nohle  and 
the  base ;  can  analyze  a  systematized  contradiction,  and 
follow  through  its  secret  wheels,  springs,  and  levers,  a 
phenomenon  of  moral  mechanism  ^  Who  can  define 
the  Jesuit  \  The  story  of  these  missions,  marvellous 
as  a  tale  of  chivalry  or  legends  of  the  lives  of  saints, 
will  he  the  theme  of  a  separate  work.  For  many  years, 
it  was  the  history  of  New  France  and  of  the  wild  com- 
munities of  her  desert  empire. 

Two  years  passed.  The  mission  of  the  Hurons  was 
established,  and  here  the  indomitable  Brebeuf,  with  a 
band  worthy  of  him,  toiled  amid  miseries  and  perils  as 
fearful  as  ever  shook  the  constancy  of  man  ;  while 
Champlain  at  Quebec,  in  a  life  uneventful,  yet  harassing 
and  laborious,  was  busied  in  the  round  of  cares  which 
his  post  involved. 

Christmas  day,  1635,  was  a  dark  day  in  the  annals 
of  New  France.  In  a  chamber  of  the  fort,  breathless 
and  cold,  lay  the  hardy  frame  which  war,  the  wilderness, 
and  the  sea  had  buffeted  so  long  in  vain.  After  two 
months  and  a  half  of  illness,  Champlain,  at  the  age 
of  sixty-eight,  was  dead.  His  last  cares  were  for  his 
colony  and  the  succor  of  its  suffering  families.  Jes- 
uits, officers,  soldiers,  traders,  and  the  few  settlers  of 
Quebec  followed  his  remains  to  the  church  ;  Le  Jeune 
pronounced  his  eulogy,1  and  the  feeble  community  built 
a  tomb  to  his  honor.2 

The  colony  could  ill  spare  him.     For  twenty-seven 

i  Le  Jeune,  Relation,  1636,  200,  (Paris,  1637). 
8  Viraont,  Relation,  1643,3,  (Quebec,  1858  >. 


1635.)  HIS   CHARACTER.  4,19 

years  lie  had  labored  hard  and  ceaselessly  for  its  wel- 
fare, sacrificing  fortune,  repose,  and  domestic  peace  to  a 
cause  embraced  with  enthusiasm  and  pursued  with  in- 
trepid persistency.  His  character  belonged  partly  to 
the  past,  partly  to  the  present.  The  preux  chevalier ', 
the  crusader,  the  romance-loving  explorer,  the  curious, 
knowledge-seeking  traveller,  the  practical  navigator,  all 
claimed  their  share  in  him.  His  views,  though  far 
beyond  those  of  the  mean  spirits  around  him,  belonged 
to  bis  age  and  his  creed.  He  was  less  statesman  than 
soldier.  He  leaned  to  the  most  direct  and  boldest 
policy,  and  one  of  his  last  acts  was  to  petition  Richelieu 
for  men  and  munitions  for  repressing  that  standing 
menace  to  the  colony,  the  Iroquois.1  His  dauntless 
courage  was  matched  by  an  unwearied  patience,  a  pa- 
tience proved  by  life-long  vexations,  and  not  wholly  sub- 
dued even  by  the  saintly  follies  of  his  wife.  He  is 
charged  with  credulity,  from  which  few  of  his  age 
were  free,  and  which  in  all  ages  has  been  the  foible 
of  earnest  and  generous  natures,  too  ardent  to  criticise, 
and  too  honorable  to  doubt  the  honor  of  others.  Per- 
haps in  his  later  years  the  heretic  might  like  him 
more  had  the  Jesuit  liked  him  less.  The  adventurous 
explorer  of  Lake  Huron,  the  bold  invader  of  the  Iro- 
quois, befits  but  indifferently  the  monastic  sobrieties  of 
the  fort  of  Quebec  and  his  sombre  environment  of 
priests.  Yet  Champlain  was  no  formalist,  nor  was  his 
an  empty  zeal.  A  soldier  from  his  youth,  in  an  age  of 
unbridled  license,  his  life  had  answered  to  his  maxims ; 

1  Lettre  de  Champlain  nu  Ministre,  15  Aont,  1635,  MS. 


DEATH  OF  CHAMPLAIN.  [1635. 

and  when  a  generation  had  passed  after  his  visit  to  the 
Hurons,  their  elders  remembered  with  astonishment  the 
continence  of  the  great  French  war-chief.1 

His  books  mark  the  man,  —  all  for  his  theme  and  his 
purpose,  nothing1  for  himself.  Crude  in  style,  full  of 
the  superficial  errors  of  carelessness  and  haste,  rarely 
diffuse,  often  brief  to  a  fault,  they  bear  on  every  page 
the  palpable  impress  of  truth. 

With  the  life  of  the  faithful  soldier  closes  the  open- 
ing period  of  New  France.  Heroes  of  another  stamp 
succeed ;  and  it  remains  to  tell  hereafter  the  story  of 
their  devoted  lives,  their  faults,  their  follies,  and  their 
virtues. 

1  Vimont,  Relation,  1640,  146,  (Paris,  1641). 


ERRATUM. 
For  Brebeuf,  read  Brebcuf,  wherever  the  name  occurs. 


THE    END. 


INDEX. 


ACADIE,  220. 

Algonquins,  347. 

Allumcttcs,  Isle  clcs,  347. 

Annapolis  Harbor,  225. 

Antarctic  France,  22. 

Anticosti,  209. 

Apalachen,  183,  note. 

Appalache,  mountains  of,  C8;  gold 
mines  of,  54,  70. 

Arciniega,  Sanclio  de,  93. 

Argiill,  Samuel,  279;  attacks  tlie 
French  at  Mount  Desert,  280 ;  his 
duplicity,  281 ;  destroys  French 
settlements  in  Acadia,  280 ;  his 
subsequent  career,  293. 

Arlac,  Laudonni^rc's  ensign,  5G ; 
releases  Laudonniere,  04  ;  his 
battle  with  the  Thimajjoa,  70. 

Anhert  of  Dieppe,  174. 

Aubry,  Nicholas,  224,  227. 

Audiibon,  J.  J.,  51. 

Audusta,  cliief  near  Port  Royal, 
80. 

Avacal,  183,  note. 

Avilc's.  —  See  Menendez. 

Ayllon,  Vasquez  de,  his  voyages, 
7. 

BAOALAOS,  171,  note,  199. 
Bacd'iis,  Island  of,  184. 


Barrc",  Nicholas,  taxes  command  at 
Charlesfort,  38. 

Bar  tram,  John  and  William,  51, 
note. 

Basques,  the,  170,  171 ;  their  quar- 
rel with  Pontgravo,  298. 

Bazares,  Guido  de  las,  13. 

Beaupre,  Vicomte  de,  201. 

Biard,  Pierre,  Jesuit,  ordered  to 
Acadia,  252 ;  sails,  203 ;  his  In- 
dian studies,  208;  his  visit  to 
Asticou,  277 ;  his  equivocal  con- 
duct, 287  ;  his  voyage  to  Walee, 
2'.)0 ;  his  arrival  at  Pembroke 
2112 ;  his  return  to  France,  293. 

Biencourt,  son  of  Poutrincourt, 
255 ;  apjtcars  at  court,  257 ;  his 
voyage  to  the  Kenncbec,  200 ; 
quarrels  with  the  Jesuits,  271 ; 
his  interview  with  Argall,  289; 
remains  in  Acadia,  294,  295,  note. 

Bimini,  Island  of,  0. 

Black  Drink,  149. 

Bois-Lecomte,  his  voyage  to  Bra- 
zil, 23. 

Borgia,  general  of  the  Jesuits,  100. 

Bourdet,  Captain,  arrives  in  Flrr- 
ida,  Gl. 

Bourdelais,  Francois,  149. 

Brazil,  Huguenot  colony  in,  22. 
|421] 


422 


INDEX. 


Brebeuf,  Jean  de,  Jesuit,  lands  at 
Quebec,  392;  his  dialogue  with 
Michel,  409 ;  returns  to  Quebec, 
415 ;  goes  to  the  Hurons,  418. 

Bretons,  the,  170,  171. 

Brion-Chabot,  Philippe  de,  181. 

Brule,  Etienne,  368;  his  embassy 
to  the  Eries,  371,  377;  reaches 
the  Susquehanna,  378;  captured 
by  the  Iroquois,  378 ;  his  death, 
380,  note.  ' 

CABE<JA  DE  VACA,  his  journey 
across  the  continent,  8. 

Cabot,  Sebastian,  170, 171,  note. 

Caen,  William  and  Emery  de,  391, 
394,  395 ;  reclaim  Quebec,  414. 

Calos,  King  of,  69. 

Canada,  its  name  and  limits,  183, 
note,  184,  note ;  restored  to  France, 
412. 

Cancello,  his  mission  and  death,  13. 

Cannibalism  among  the  Indians, 
330,  note. 

Canoes,  materials  of  their  construc- 
tion, 319,  note. 

Cape  Ann,  called  St.  Louis,  232. 

Cape  Cod,  called  Cap  Blanc,  232. 

Cap  Kouge,  River  of,  201,  205. 

Carantouans,  Indians,  377. 

Caroline,  Fort,  48.  —  See  Fort  Car- 
oline. 

Carder,  Jacques,  181 ;  his  first  voy- 
age, 181 ;  his  second  voyage, 
183 ;  reaches  Quebec,  185 ;  visits 
Hochelaga,  188;  winters  on  the 
St.  Charles,  193;  returns  to  St. 
Malo,  196 ;  his  third  voyage,  198, 
200 ;  abandons  New  France,  202. 

Catherine  de  Medicis,  90. 

Cazenove,  lieutenant  of  Gourgues, 
152,  155 


Challeux  escapes  from  Fort  Caro- 
line, 113,  117. 

Champdore,  French  pilot,  226. 

Champlain,  Samuel  de,  215;  his 
West-India  journal,  216;  his  first 
voyage  to  Canada,  219 ;  embarks 
with  De  Monts,  222 ;  explores 
the  coast  of  New  England,  231 ; 
explores  it  n  second  time,  239; 
again  ascends  the  St.  Lawrence, 
296,  297;  founds  Quebec,  302; 
suppresses  a  mutiny,  303 ;  winters 
at  Quebec,  307 ;  joins  a  war- 
party,  308;  ascends  the  Riche- 
lieu, 312;  discovers  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  316 ;  meets  the  Iroquois, 
319;  his  fight  with  them,  320; 
returns  to  France,  325;  his  ill- 
ness, 325 ;  again  sails  for  Canada, 
826 ;  second  battle  with  the  Iro- 
quois, 327 ;  makes  a  clearing  at 
Montreal,  333;  injured  by  the 
fall  of  his  horse,  335;  ascends 
the  Ottawa,  340;  returns  to 
Montreal,  355;  discovers  Lake 
Nipissing,  364 ;  discovers  Lake 
Huron,  366 ;  reaches  the  Huron 
Indians,  366 ;  joins  a  Huron  war- 
party,  370 ;  discovers  Lake  Onta- 
rio, 372 ;  enters  New  York,  372 ; 
attacks  a  Seneca  town,  373;  re- 
pulsed, 375;  lost  in  the  woods, 
381 ;  visits  the  Tobacco  Nation, 
383 ;  umpire  of  Indian  quarrels, 
385 ;  his  position  at  Quebec,  387 ; 
refuses  to  surrender  it,  404 ;  his 
capitulation  with  Kirk,  406 ; 
traits  of  his  character,  413;  re- 
sumes command  at  Quebec,  415; 
his  death,  418 ;  his  character  and 
writings,  419,  420. 

Champlain,  Madame  de.  !iS!i. 


INDEX. 


423 


Charles  the  Ninth,  139. 
Charleshourg-Royal,  201. 
Charlesfort,  35 ;  abandoned,  39. 
Chastes,  Ay  mar  de,  218,  220. 
Chaudicre,  cataract  of  the,  343. 
Chauvin,  Captain,  213,  218,  325. 
Chedotel,  Norman  pilot,  212. 
Chenonceau  River,  35. 
Chevalier,  Captain,  247. 
Cheveux  Kelevc's,  Indians,  365. 
Cliicora,  34,  note. 
Chilaga.  —  See  Hochelaga. 
Cibola,  82. 
Cointac,  25. 

Coligny,  Caspar  de,  18,  29,  138. 
Colombo,  Don  Francisco,  216. 
Company  of  New  France,  398. 
Condd,  Prince  of,  336. 
Conspiracy  of  French  in  Florida, 

60,63. 

Cortereal,  179. 
Corterealis,  Terra,  183,  note. 
Cosette,  French  captain,  103. 
Cotton,  Father,  urges  Henry  IV. 

to  send  Jesuits  to  Acadia,  251. 
Coudoungny,  187. 
Couexis,  chief  of  the  Savannah,  37. 
Cousin,  French  navigator,  169. 

DALB,  Sir  Thomas,  285. 

Daniel,   Captain,  takes   a  French 

fort,  410. 

Debr6,  Pierre,  146. 
Demons,  Isles  of,  173,  203. 
De  Monts.  —  See  Monts. 
Denis  of  Ilonflcur,  174. 
D'Entragues,  Henriette,  262. 
Desdames,  404. 
Des  Prairies,  fights  the  Iroquois, 

829. 
Dolbeau,  Jean,  Recollet  friar,  359; 

his  missionary  experience,  360. 


Donnacona,  185,  196,  198. 

Du  Pare,  lieutenant  of  Champlain, 

332. 
Du    Plessis,    Pacifique,    Recollet 

friar,  359. 
Durantal,  Huron  cliief,  877,  382, 

386. 

Du  Thet,  Jesuit,  271 ;  killed,  281. 
Duval,  mutinies  against  Champlain. 

803. 

ESPIBITC  SANTO,  Bay  of,  9. 

FERNANDINA,  33. 

Florida,    its    original    extent,    its 

claimants,   14;    Indians  of,  49; 

scenery  of,  61,  57. 
Fort  Caroline,  48;  famine  at,  71; 

its    defenceless    condition,   105; 

taken    by  the    Spaniards,   111 ; 

massacre    at,   115;    retaken  by 

Gourgues,  164. 

Fouchcr,  Frencli  captain,  403. 
Fountain  of  Youth,  6. 
Fourneaux,    his     treachery,    63; 

hanged,  67. 

France  in  the  sixteenth  century,  17. 
Francis  the  First,  176. 
Francis  of  Assisi,  St.,  358. 
Franciscans,  the,  358. 
Fundy,  Bay  of,  225. 
Fur  trade,  209. 

GAMBIB,    Pierre,    his    adventures 

and  death,  68. 

Ganabara,  Huguenot  colony  at,  22. 
Garay,  his  voyages,  7. 
Genre,  his  treachery,  60. 
Gourgues,    Dominique    de,    140; 

resolves  to  avenge  the  murdered 

French,  141;    his  speech,   143; 

lands  in  Florida,  144 ;  his  coun* 


424 


INDEX. 


cil  with  the  Indians,  145 ;  attacks 
a  Spanish  fort,  151,  152;  takes 
Fort  San  Matco,  155 ;  hangs  the 
Spaniards,  156 ;  leaves  Florida, 
158;  his  death,  159. 

Grotaut,  his  adventures,  68. 

Grotius,  160. 

Guerclieville,  Marquise  de,  her  ad- 
venture with  Henry  IV.,  258; 
her  zeal  for  conversion,  261 ;  her 
American  domain,  270. 

Guise,  Due  de,  18. 

HAWKINS,  Sir  John,  79;  relieves 
the  French,  81. 

He'bert,  first  settler  of  Quebec, 
407,  414. 

Henry  the  Fourth,  214 ;  his  assas- 
sination, 256 ;  his  passion  for 
Madame  de  Guercheville,  258. 

Hoehelaga,  River  of,  183,  note; 
town  of,  186,  188;  Indians  of, 
189,  note. 

Houcl,  friend  of  Champlain,  357. 

Hostaqua,  chief  of  Florida,  68. 

Huguenots  in  Brazil,  22. 

Huguenot  party,  character  of,  29. 

Huron  Indians,  309,  367. 

Huron,  Lake,  its  discovery,  366. 

INDIANS  of  Florida,  49.  —  See  Hu- 
ron ;  Algonquin ;  Irotjuois ;  etc. 

Iroquois,  the,  308;  their  armor, 
321 ;  routed  by  Champlain,  321 ; 
again  routed,  329 ;  attacked  a 
third  time  by  Champlain,  373 ; 
attack  the  Re'collet  convent,  391. 

JAMESTOWN,  284. 
Jamet,  Denis,  Re'collet  friar,  359. 
Jesuits,  264 ;  in  Acadia,  265  ;  quar- 
rel with  Biencourt,   271 ;    their 


domain  in  America,  270 ;  plan  of 
colonization,  273,  274 ;  land  at 
Quebec,  392;  their  position  at 
Quebec,  416. 

Jordan,  a  river  of  Florida,  7,  34, 
note. 

KIRK,    David,    402;    defeats    tho 

French  fleet,  405. 
Kirk,  Louis,  402;  occupies  Quebec, 

407. 
Kirk,  Thomas,  402 ;  takes  a  French 

ship,  407 ;  yields  up  Quebec,  414. 

LABRADOR,  172,  183,  note,  197. 
La  Caille,  Francois  de,  54,  62,  129, 

133. 
La:  Chcre,  banished  by  Albert,  38 ; 

killed  by  his  companions,  40. 
La  Grange,  French  captain,  104, 121. 
Lalemant,  Charles,  Jesuit,  392. 
La  Roche,  Marquis  de,  210,  211, 

212. 
La  Roche  Ferricre,  his  adventures, 

68. 

La  Routte,  pilot  of  Champlain,  311. 
Laudonniere,   Rene'   de,  42 ;    robs 

Satouriona  of  his  prisoners,  56; 

imprisoned  by  his  followers,  63 ; 

removed  from  command,  83;  es 

capes  from  Fort  Caroline,  112. 
Laudonniere,  Vale  of,  47. 
Le  Breton,  Christoplie,  133. 
Le  Caron,  Joseph,  Re'collet  friar, 

359 ;   his  missionary  enterprise, 

361;   ascends  the  Ottawa,  363; 

says   mass  among  the   llurons, 

368 ;  at  Quebec,  402. 
Le  Jeune,  Paul,  Jesuit,  414,  415. 
Le  Moyne,  artist  of  Laudonniere, 

104 ;  escapes  from  Fort  Caroline:, 

112,  114,  117. 


INDEX. 


425 


LeYy,  Baron  de,  174. 

Le'ry,  Jean  de,  Calvinist  minister, 
24,  note,  27. 

Lescarbot,  Marc,  234 ;  his  masque- 
rade at  Port  Royal,  241 ;  his  win- 
ter employments,  242. 

Lorraine,  Cardinal  of,  18. 

MALLARD,  Captain,  117. 

Marguerite,  story  of,  203. 

Marais,  son-in-law  of  Pontgrave', 
308,  811. 

Masse,  Father,  262;  sails  for  Aca- 
dia,  263 ;  his  attempts  at  conver- 
sion, 267 ;  lands  at  Quebec,  392. 

May,  River  of,  32. 

Medicine-lodge  of  the  Algonquins, 
315. 

Mcdicis,  Catherine  de,  18. 

Memberton,  chief  of  Acadia,  238, 
247,  254,  255,  267. 

Mendoza,  chaplain  of  Menendez, 
94-96,  107-109,  119,  126. 

Menendez,  Pedro,  de  Avilc's,  his 
history  and  character,  86 ;  peti- 
tions for  the  conquest  of  Florida, 
88;  the  scope  of  his  plan,  92; 
attacks  Ribnut's  ships,  98 ; 
marches  against  Fort  Caroline, 
107,  108;  his  desperate  position, 
110;  takes  Fort  Caroline,  112; 
his  piety,  114,  116;  meets  the 
shipwrecked  French,  122;  his 
cruelty  and  treachery,  124 ;  mas- 
sacres the  French,  127 ;  meeting 
with  Hibaut,  129;  slaughters  him 
and  his  followers,  131 ;  his  de- 
spatch to  the  King,  135;  his 
plans,  136 ;  in  favor  at  court, 
160 ;  his  death,  161. 

Menendez,  Bartholomew,  119. 

Mercceur,  Due  de,  212. 


Merrimac  Rivtr,  called  La  Rivien 
dti  Gas,  232. 

Michel,  Captain,  402;  his  quarrel 
with  Bre'beuf,  409;  his  death, 
410. 

Mollua,  chief  on  the  St.  John's,  53 

Montagnais  Indians,  299,  305. 

Montluc,  Blaise  dc,  142. 

Montmorenci,  Due  de,  389. 

Montreal,  visited  by  Cartier,  189; 
natives  of,  189,  note;  Mountain 
of,  183. 

Monts,  Pierre  du  Guast,  Sieur  de, 
220;  sails  for  Acadia,  223;  set- 
tles at  St.  Croix,  227 ;  his  plans 
of  settlement  on  the  St.  Law- 
rence, 296,  325. 

Moscosa,  183,  note. 

Mount  Desert,  230;  Saussaye  ar- 
rives at,  275;  French  colony  at, 
277 ;  destroyed  by  Argall,  280. 

NARVAEZ,  his  expedition  to  Flor- 
ida, 7. 

Natel,  Antoine,  discloses  a  plan  of 
mutiny  to  Champlain,  303. 

New  France,  183,  note. 

Company  of,  398. 

Newfoundland,  fisheries  of,  170 
172,  208. 

Nipissing  Indians,  351. 

Nipissing  Lake,  364. 

Normans,  the,  170.         . 

Norumbega,  or  Norembega,  183, 
note,  197,  note,  230,  2ol,  note. 

None,  Anne  de  la,  Jesuit,  393,  414. 

OATIICAQUA,  chief  of  Florida,  69. 
Olotoraca,  Indian  warrior,  148, 150, 

163,  154. 

Orleans,  Island  of,  184,  note. 
Ortelius,  his  map,  183,  note. 


426 


LS!DEX. 


Ottawa  River,  341. 

Ottigny,  Laudonniere's  lieutenant, 
46 ;  his  voyage  up  the  St.  John's, 
61 ;  releases  Laudonniere,  64 ; 
attacks  Potanou,  70;  his  battle 
with  the  Thimagoa,  76. 

Ouadc,  chief  of  the  Savannah,  37. 

Outina,  chief  of  the  Thimagoa,  63, 
66,  70;  made  prisoner  by  Lau- 
donniere, 73. 

PANUCO  River,  12. 

Patiiio,  officer  of  Menendez,  101. 

Paul  the  Fifth,  Pope,  160. 

Pedro  de  Santander,  his  memorial 
to  Philip  II.,  13,  note. 

Penobscot  River,  230. 

Pentagoet.  —  See  Penobscot. 

Philip  the  Second,  17,  86,  138. 

Pierria,  Albert  de,  left  at  Port 
Royal,  35. 

Pinzon,  109. 

Piracy  of  French  in  Florida.  61,  64. 

Place  Royale,  333. 

Pommeraye,  Charles  de  la,  183. 

Ponce  de  Leon,  6 ;  his  death,  7. 

Pontbriand,  Claude  de,  183. 

Pontgrave,  merchant  of  St.  Malo, 
213,  215,  219,  230;  his  son  quar- 
rels with  Poutrincourt,  265;  his 
second  voyage  with  Champlain, 
298. 

Popham,  his  colony  on  the  Ken- 
nebec,  2G6. 

Port  Royal,  N.S.,  226;  French  es- 
tablishment at,  242;  winter  em- 
ployments at,  243;  abandoned, 
247. 

Port  Royal,  S.C.,  Ribaut's  visit  to, 
83. 

Potanou,  King,  49;  attacked  by 
the  French.  56 . 


Poutrincourt,  Baron  de,  221,  225, 
228,  251,  253;  his  attempts  at 
conversion,  254 ;  quarrels  with 
the  Jesuits,  265,  270;  his  death, 
294. 

Puritans,  their  despotic  enactments, 
396,  note. 

QUEBEC,  Carrier's  visit  to,  185; 
origin  of  the  name,  301,  note; 
founded  by  Champlain,  302 ;  win- 
ter at,  307;  its  condition,  387; 
famine  at,  405;  taken  by  the 
English,  406 ;  re-occupied  by  the 
French,  414 ;  piety  of  its  inmates 
416. 

Quentin,  Jesuit,  274,  290. 

RECOLLETS,  the,  358. 

Ribaut,  Jean,  sails  for  Florida,  30 ; 
again  sails  for  Florida,  82 ;  sails 
from  Fort  Caroline,  105;  wrecked, 
121;  meets  Menendez,  129;  his 
death,  134. 

Ribaut,  Jacques,  116,  118. 

Richelieu,  Cardinal,  397;  assumes 
control  of  New  France,  398 ;  his 
policy,  401,  413. 

Rio  Janeiro,  Huguenot  colony  at, 
22. 

Roberval,  Viceroy  of  Canada,  197 ; 
sails  for  Canada,  202 ;  his  colony, 
205 ;  his  death,  207. 

Rochelle,  disorders  at,  235 ;  revolt 
of,  401. 

Roquemont,  French  naval  com- 
mander, 404. 

Roquette,  his  conspiracy,  60. 

Rossignol,  224. 

SABLE  ISLAND,  convicts  on,  211 
Sagard,  Franciscan  friar,  223. 


INDEX. 


427 


Saguenay,  country  of,  183,  note; 
river  of,  184. 

San  Mateo,  Fort.  —  See  Fort  Caro- 
line. 

San  Agustin,  its  foundation,  101. 

San  Pelayo,  flag-ship  of  Menendez, 
93. 

Sarrope,  Island  of,  70. 

Satouriona,  chief  of  the  St.  John's, 
44 ;  visits  Fort  Caroline,  48 ;  his 
war-party,  55 ;  his  meeting  with 
Gourgues,  145. 

Saussaye  sails  for  Acadia,  274 ;  at- 
tacked by  Argall,  280. 

Scalping,  antiquity  of  the  practice, 
322,  note. 

Seloy,  Indian  chief  of  Florida,  101. 

Seneca  Indians,  373. 

Siincoe,  Lake,  371. 

Soissons,  Corate  de,  lieutenant- 
general  in  New  France,  336. 

Soli's  de  las  Meras,  122. 

Soto,  Hernando  de,  his  expedition 
to  Florida,  9 ;  his  death,  12. 

Spain  in  the  sixteenth  century,  16, 
86.  . 

Spainards  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
5. 

Stadacono.  —  See  Quebec. 

St.  Augustine.  —  See  San  Agustin. 

St.  Charles  River,  186. 

St.  Croix,  226. 

St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  858. 

St.  John,  River  of,  226. 

St.  John's  River,  83,  45;  scenery 
of,  51. 

St.  John's  Bluff,  46. 

St.  Lawrence,  Bay  of,  183. 

St.  Louis,  rapids  of,  334,  335,  note. 

St.  Malo,  181. 

St.  Mary's  Bay,  224.' 

Sully,  minister  of  Henry  IV.,  221.    I 


TADOUSSAC,  213,  299. 
Tessouat,  Indian  chief,  849. 
Thevet,  Andre",  24,  note,  173,  185 

note,  203,  205,  note,  206. 
Thimagoa  Indians  of  Florida,  52. 
Tobacco,  nation  of,  383. 
Trenchant,  pilot  of  Laudonniore, 

64,  66. 

Trent  River,  871. 
Turnel,  lieutenant  of  Argall,  291. 


VASQUEZ  DE  ATLLOW,  his  voyages, 
7. 

Vasseur,  his  voyage  up  the  St. 
John's,  63 ;  attacks  Potanou,  67. 

Ventadour,  Due  de,  892. 

Verdier,  captain  of  Laudonnibre, 
82.  • 

Verrazano,  175;  his  voyage  to 
America,  176 ;  his  subsequent 
life,  180. 

Vicente,  officer  of  Menendez,  101. 

Viel,  Nicolas,  Re'collet  friar,  393. 

Vignan,  Nicolas  de,  his  pretended 
discovery,  339;  his  imposition 
exposed,  353. 

Villafane,  his  voyage  to  Florida,  14. 

Villaroel,  Gonzalo  de,  156,  note. 

Villegagnon,  Nicolas  Durand  de, 
his  adventures,  his  character,  1'J; 
his  quarrels,  20 ;  his  scheme  of 
Huguenot  colonization,  21 ;  his 
expedition  to  Brazil,  22 ;  his  des- 
potic rule,  22 ;  his  polemics,  23 ; 
his  reception  of  the  ministers, 
23 ;  his  reconversion  to  Roman- 
ism, 25;  his  tyranny,  26;  his 
controversy  with  Calvin,  27. 


WAMPUM,  885,  note. 


Partatn,  Francis 

5057     France  and  England  in  North 
P24     America 

1869 

v.l 

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