THE

CONQUEST OF CANADA.

BY

THE AUTHOR OF "HOCHELAGA."

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. 1.

NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
82 CLIFF STREET.
1850.

INTRODUCTION.

England and France started in a fair race for the magnificent prize of supremacy in America. The advantages and difficulties of each were much alike, but the systems by which they improved those advantages and met those difficulties were essentially different. New France was colonized by a government, New England by a people. In Canada the men of intellect, influence, and wealth were only the agents of the mother country; they fulfilled, it is true, their colonial duties with zeal and ability, but they ever looked to France for honor and approbation, and longed for a return to her shores as their best reward. They were in the colony, but not of it. They strove vigorously to repel invasion, to improve agriculture, and to encourage commerce, for the sake of France, but not for Canada.

The mass of the population of New France were descended from settlers sent out within a short time after the first occupation of the country, and who were not selected for any peculiar qualifications. They were not led to emigrate from the spirit of adventure, disappointed ambition, or political discontent; by far the larger proportion left their native country under the pressure of extreme want or in blind obedience to the will of their superiors. They were then established in points best suited to the interests of France, not those best suited to their own. The physical condition of the humbler emigrant, however, became better than that of his countrymen in the Old World; the fertile soil repaid his labor with competence; independence fostered self-reliance, and the unchecked range of forest and prairie inspired him with thoughts of freedom. But all these elevating tendencies were fatally counteracted by the blighting influence of feudal organization. Restrictions, humiliating as well as injurious, pressed upon the person and property of the Canadian. Every avenue to wealth and influence was closed to him and thrown open to the children of Old France. He saw whole tracts of the magnificent country lavished upon the favorites and military followers of the court, and, through corrupt or capricious influences, the privilege of exclusive trade granted for the aggrandizement of strangers at his expense.

France founded a state in Canada. She established a feudal and ecclesiastical frame-work for the young nation, and into that Procrustean bed the growth of population and the proportions of society were forced. The state fixed governments at Montreal, Three Rivers, and Quebec; there towns arose. She divided the rich banks of the St. Lawrence and of the Richelieu into seigneuries; there population spread. She placed posts on the lakes and rivers of the Far West; there the fur-traders congregated. She divided the land into dioceses and parishes, and appointed bishops and curates; a portion of all produce of the soil was exacted for their support. She sent out the people at her own cost, and acknowledged no shadow of popular rights. She organized the inhabitants by an unsparing conscription, and placed over them officers either from the Old Country or from the favored class of seigneurs. She grasped a monopoly of every valuable production of the country, and yet forced upon it her own manufactures to the exclusion of all others. She squandered her resources and treasures on the colony, but violated all principles of justice in a vain endeavor to make that colony a source of wealth. She sent out the ablest and best of her officers to govern on the falsest and worst of systems. Her energy absorbed all individual energy; her perpetual and minute interference aspired to shape and direct all will and motive of her subjects. The state was every thing, the people nothing. Finally, when the power of the state was broken by a foreign foe, there remained no power of the people to supply its place. On the day that the French armies ceased to resist, Canada was a peaceful province of British America.

A few years after the French crown had founded a state in Canada, a handful of Puritan refugees founded a people in New England. They bore with them from the mother country little beside a bitter hatred of the existing government, and a stern resolve to perish or be free. One small vessel—the Mayflower—held them, their wives, their children, and their scanty stores. So ignorant were they of the country of their adoption, that they sought its shores in the depth of winter, when nothing but a snowy desert met their sight. Dire hardships assailed them; many sickened and died, but those who lived still strove bravely. And bitter was their trial; the scowling sky above their heads, the frozen earth under their feet, and sorest of all, deep in their strong hearts the unacknowledged love of that venerable land which they had abandoned forever.

But brighter times soon came; the snowy desert changed into a fair scene of life and vegetation. The woods rang with the cheerful sound of the ax; the fields were tilled hopefully, the harvest gathered gratefully. Other vessels arrived bearing more settlers, men, for the most part, like those who had first landed. Their numbers swelled to hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands. They formed themselves into a community; they decreed laws, stern and quaint, but suited to their condition. They had neither rich nor poor; they admitted of no superiority save in their own gloomy estimate of merit; they persecuted all forms of faith different from that which they themselves held, and yet they would have died rather than suffer the religious interference of others. Far from seeking or accepting aid from the government of England, they patiently tolerated their nominal dependence only because they were virtually independent. For protection against the savage; for relief in pestilence or famine; for help to plenty and prosperity, they trusted alone to God in heaven, and to their own right hand on earth.

Such, in the main, were the ancestors of the men of New England, and, in spite of all subsequent admixture, such, in the main, were they themselves. In the other British colonies also, hampered though they were by charters, and proprietary rights, and alloyed by a Babel congregation of French Huguenots, Dutch, Swedes, Quakers, Nobles, Roundheads, Canadians, rogues, zealots, infidels, enthusiasts, and felons, a general prosperity had created individual self-reliance, and self-reliance had engendered the desire of self-government. Each colony contained a separate vitality within itself. They commenced under a variety of systems; more or less practicable, more or less liberal, and more or less dependent on the parent state. But the spirit of adventure, the disaffection, and the disappointed ambition which had so rapidly recruited their population, gave a general bias to their political feelings which no arbitrary authority could restrain, and no institutions counteract. They were less intolerant and morose, but at the same time, also, less industrious and moral than their Puritan neighbors. Like them, however, they resented all interference from England as far as they dared, and constantly strove for the acquisition or retention of popular rights.

The British colonists, left at first, in a great measure, to themselves, settled on the most fertile lands, built their towns upon the most convenient harbors, directed their industry to the most profitable commerce, raised the most valuable productions. The trading spirit of the mother country became almost a passion when transferred to the New World. Enterprise and industry were stimulated to incredible activity by brilliant success and ample reward. As wealth and the means of subsistence increased, so multiplied the population. Early marriages were universal; a numerous family was the riches of the parent. Thousands of immigrants, also, from year to year swelled the living flood that poured over the wilderness. In a century and a half the inhabitants of British America exceeded nearly twenty-fold the people of New France. The relative superiority of the first over the last was even greater in wealth and resources than in population. The merchant navy of the English colonies was already larger than that of many European nations, and known in almost every port in the world where men bought and sold. New France had none.

The French colonies were founded and fostered by the state, with the real object of extending the dominion, increasing the power, and illustrating the glory of France. The ostensible object of settlement, at least that holding the most prominent place in all Acts and Charters, was to extend the true religion, and to minister to the glory of God. From the earliest time the ecclesiastical establishments of Canada were formed on a scale suited to these professed views. Not only was ample provision made for the spiritual wants of the European population, but the labors of many earnest and devoted men were directed to the enlightenment of the heathen Indians. At first the Church and the civil government leaned upon each other for mutual support and assistance, but after a time, when neither of these powers found themselves troubled with popular opposition, their union grew less intimate; their interests differed, jealousies ensued, and finally they became antagonistic orders in the community. The mass of the people, more devout than intelligent, sympathized with the priesthood; this sympathy did not, however, interfere with unqualified submission to the government.

The Canadians were trained to implicit obedience to their rulers, spiritual and temporal: these rulers ventured not to imperil their absolute authority by educating their vassals. It is true there were a few seminaries and schools under the zealous administration of the Jesuits; but even that instruction was unattainable by the general population; those who walked in the moonlight which such reflected rays afforded, were not likely to become troublesome as sectarians or politicians. Much credit for sincerity can not be given to those who professed to promote the education of the people, when no printing-press was ever permitted in Canada during the government of France.

Canada, unprovoked by Dissent, was altogether free from the stain of religious persecution: hopelessly fettered in the chains of metropolitan power, she was also undisturbed by political agitation. But this calm was more the stillness of stagnation than the tranquillity of content. Without a press, without any semblance of popular representation, there hardly remained other alternatives than tame submission or open mutiny. By hereditary habit and superstition the Canadians were trained to the first, and by weakness and want of energy they were incapacitated for the last.

Although the original charter of New England asserted the king's supremacy in matters of religion, a full understanding existed that on this head ample latitude should be allowed; ample latitude was accordingly taken. She set up a system of faith of her own, and enforced conformity. But the same spirit that had excited the colonists to dissent from the Church of England, and to sacrifice home and friends in the cause, soon raised up among them a host of dissenters from their own stern and peculiar creed. Their clergy had sacrificed much for conscience' sake, and were generally "faithful, watchful, painful, serving their flock daily with prayers and tears," some among them, also, men of high European repute. They had often, however, the mortification of seeing their congregations crowding to hear the ravings of any knave or enthusiast who broached a new doctrine. Most of these mischievous fanatics were given the advantage of that interest and sympathy which a cruel and unnecessary persecution invariably excites. All this time freedom of individual judgment was the watch-word of the persecutors. There is no doubt that strong measures were necessary to curb the furious and profane absurdities of many of the seceders, who were the very outcasts of religion. On considering the criminal laws of the time, it would also appear that not a few of the outcasts of society, also, had found their way to New England. The code of Massachusetts contained the description of the most extraordinary collection of crimes that ever defaced a statute-book, and the various punishments allotted to each.

In one grand point the pre-eminent merit of the Puritans must be acknowledged: they strove earnestly and conscientiously for what they held to be the truth. For this they endured with unshaken constancy, and persecuted with unremitting zeal.

The suicidal policy of the Stuarts had, for a time, driven all the upholders of civil liberty into the ranks of sectarianism. The advocates of the extremes of religious and political opinion flocked to America, the furthest point from kings and prelates that they could conveniently reach. Ingrafted on the stubborn temper of the Englishman, and planted in the genial soil of the West, the love of this civil and religious liberty grew up with a vigor that time only served to strengthen; that the might of armies vainly strove to overcome. Thus, ultimately, the persecution under the Stuarts was the most powerful cause ever yet employed toward the liberation of man in his path through earth to heaven.

For many years England generally refrained from interference with her American colonies in matters of local government or in religion. They taxed themselves, made their own laws, and enjoyed religious freedom in their own way. In one state only, in Virginia, was the Church of England established, and even there it was accorded very little help by the temporal authority: in a short time it ceased to receive the support of a majority of the settlers, and rapidly decayed. On one point, however, the mother country claimed and exacted the obedience of the colonists to the imperial law. In her commercial code she would not permit the slightest relaxation in their favor, whatever the peculiar circumstances of their condition might be. This short-sighted and unjust restriction was borne, partly because it could not be resisted, and partly because at that early time the practical evil was but lightly felt. Although the principle of representation was seldom specified in the earlier charters, the colonists in all cases assumed it as a matter of right: they held that their privileges as Englishmen accompanied them wherever they went, and this was generally admitted as a principle of colonial policy.

In the seventeenth century England adopted the system of transportation to the American colonies. The felons were, however, too limited in numbers to make any serious inroad upon the morals or tranquillity of the settlers. Many of the convicts were men sentenced for political crimes, but free from any social taint; the laboring population, therefore, did not regard them with contempt, nor shrink from their society. It may be held, therefore, that this partial and peculiar system of transportation introduced no distinct element into the constitution of the American nation.

The British colonization in the New World differed essentially from any before attempted by the nations of modern Europe, and has led to results of immeasurable importance to mankind. Even the magnificent empire of India sinks into insignificance, in its bearings upon the general interests of the world, by comparison with the Anglo-Saxon empire in America. The success of each, however, is unexampled in history.

In the great military and mercantile colony of the East an enormous native population is ruled by a dominant race, whose number amounts to less than a four-thousandth part of its own, but whose superiority in war and civil government is at present so decided as to reduce any efforts of opposition to the mere outbursts of hopeless petulance. In that golden land, however, even the Anglo-Saxon race can not increase and multiply; the children of English parents degenerate or perish under its fatal sun. No permanent settlement or infusion of blood takes place. Neither have we effected any serious change in the manners or customs of the East Indians; on the other hand, we have rather assimilated ours to theirs. We tolerate their various religions, and we learn their language; but in neither faith nor speech have they approached one tittle toward us. We have raised there no gigantic monument of power either in pride or for utility; no temples, canals, or roads remain to remind posterity of our conquest and dominion. Were the English rule over India suddenly cast off, in a single generation the tradition of our Eastern empire would appear a splendid but baseless dream, that of our administration an allegory, of our victories a romance.

In the great social colonies of the West, the very essence of vitality is their close resemblance to the parent state. Many of the coarser inherited elements of strength have been increased. Industry and adventure have been stimulated to an unexampled extent by the natural advantages of the country, and free institutions have been developed almost to license by general prosperity and the absence of external danger. Their stability, in some one form or another, is undoubted: it rests on the broadest possible basis—on the universal will of the nation. Our vast empire in India rests only on the narrow basis of the superiority of a handful of Englishmen: should any untoward fate shake the Atlas strength that bears the burden, the superincumbent mass must fall in ruins to the earth. With far better cause may England glory in the land of her revolted children than in that of her patient slaves: the prosperous cities and busy sea-ports of America are prouder memorials of her race than the servile splendor of Calcutta or the ruined ramparts of Seringapatam. In the earlier periods the British colonies were only the reflection of Britain; in later days their light has served to illumine the political darkness of the European Continent. The attractive example of American democracy proved the most important cause that has acted upon European society since the Reformation.

Toward the close of George II.'s reign England had reached the lowest point of national degradation recorded in her history. The disasters of her fleets and armies abroad were the natural fruits of almost universal corruption at home. The admirals and generals, chosen by a German king and a subservient ministry, proved worthy of the mode of their selection. An obsequious Parliament served but to give the apparent sanction of the people to the selfish and despotic measures of the crown. Many of the best blood and of the highest chivalry of the land still held loyal devotion to the exiled Stuarts, while the mass of the nation, disgusted by the sordid and unpatriotic acts of the existing dynasty, regarded it with sentiments of dislike but little removed from positive hostility. A sullen discontent paralyzed the vigor of England, obstructed her councils, and blunted her sword. In the cabinets of Europe, among the colonists of America, and the millions of the East alike, her once glorious name had sunk almost to a by-word of reproach. But "the darkest hour is just before the dawn:" a new disaster, more humiliating, and more inexcusable than any which had preceded, at length goaded the passive indignation of the British people into irresistible action. The spirit that animated the men who spoke at Runnymede, and those who fought on Marston Moor, was not dead, but sleeping. The free institutions which wisdom had devised, time hallowed, and blood sealed, were evaded, but not overthrown. The nation arose as one man, and with a peaceful but stern determination, demanded that these things should cease. Then, for "the hour," the hand of the All Wise supplied "the man." The light of Pitt's genius, the fire of his patriotism, like the dawn of an unclouded morning, soon chased away the chilly night which had so long darkened over the fortunes of his country.

But not even the genius of the great minister, aided as it was by the awakened spirit of the British people, would have sufficed to rend Canada from France without the concurrent action of many and various causes: the principal of these was, doubtless, the extraordinary growth of our American settlements. When the first French colonists founded their military and ecclesiastical establishments at Quebec, upheld by the favor and strengthened by the arms of the mother country, they regarded with little uneasiness the unaided efforts of their English rivals in the South. But these dangerous neighbors rose with wonderful rapidity from few to many, from weak to powerful. The cloud, which had appeared no greater than "a man's hand" on the political horizon, spread rapidly wider and wider, above and below, till at length from out its threatening gloom the storm burst forth which swept away the flag of France.

As a military event, the conquest of Canada was a matter of little or no permanent importance: it can only rank as one among the numerous scenes of blood that give an intense but morbid interest to our national annals. The surrender of Niagara and Quebec were but the acknowledgment or final symbol of the victory of English over French colonization. For three years the admirable skill of Montcalm and the valor of his troops deferred the inevitable catastrophe of the colony: then the destiny was accomplished. France had for that time played out her part in the history of the New World; during one hundred and fifty years her threatening power had served to retain the English colonies in interested loyalty to protecting England. Notwithstanding the immense material superiority of the British Americans, the fleets and armies of the mother country were indispensable to break the barrier raised up against them by the union, skill, and courage of the French.

Montcalm's far-sighted wisdom suggested consolation even in his defeat and death. In a remarkable and almost prophetic letter, which he addressed to M. de Berryer during the siege of Quebec, he foretells that the British power in America shall be broken by success, and that when the dread of France ceases to exist, the colonists will no longer submit to European control. One generation had not passed away when his prediction was fully accomplished. England, by the conquest of Canada, breathed the breath of life into the huge Frankenstein of the American republic.

The rough schooling of French hostility was necessary for the development of those qualities among the British colonists which enabled them finally to break the bonds of pupilage and stand alone. Some degree of united action had been effected among the several and widely-different states; the local governments had learned how to raise and support armies, and to consider military movements. On many occasions the provincial militia had borne themselves with distinguished bravery in the field; several of their officers had gained honorable repute; already the name of Washington called a flush of pride upon each American cheek. The stirring events of the contest with Canada had brought men of ability and patriotism into the strong light of active life, and the eyes of their countrymen sought their guidance in trusting confidence. Through the instrumentality of such men as these the American Revolution was shaped into the dignity of a national movement, and preserved from the threatening evils of an insane democracy.

The consequences of the Canadian war furnished the cause of the quarrel which led to the separation of the great colonies from the mother country. England had incurred enormous debt in the contest; her people groaned under taxation, and the wealthy Americans had contributed in but a very small proportion to the cost of victories by which they were the principal gainers. The British Parliament devised an unhappy expedient to remedy this evil: it assumed the right of taxing the unrepresented colonies, and taxed them accordingly. Vain was the prophetic eloquence of Lord Chatham; vain were the just and earnest remonstrances of the best and wisest among the colonists: the time was come. Then followed years of stubborn and unyielding strife; the blood of the same race gave sterner determination to the quarrel. The balance of success hung equally. Once again France appeared upon the stage in the Western world, and La Fayette revenged the fall of Montcalm.

However we may regret the cause and conduct of the Revolutionary war, we can hardly regret its result. The catastrophe was inevitable: the folly or wisdom of British statesmen could only have accelerated or deferred it. The child had outlived the years of pupilage; the interests of the old and the young required a separate household. But we must ever mourn the mode of separation: a bitterness was left that three quarters of a century has hardly yet removed; and a dark page remains in our annals, that tells of a contest begun in injustice, conducted with mingled weakness and severity, and ended in defeat. The cause of human freedom, perhaps for ages, depended upon the issue of the quarrel. Even the patriot minister merged the apparent interests of England in the interests of mankind. By the light of Lord Chatham's wisdom we may read the disastrous history of that fatal war, with a resigned and tempered sorrow for the glorious inheritance rent away from us forever.

The reaction of the New World upon the Old may be distinctly traced through the past and the present, but human wisdom may not estimate its influence on the future. The lessons of freedom learned by the French army while aiding the revolted colonies against England were not forgotten. On their return to their native country, they spread abroad tidings that the new people of America had gained a treasure richer a thousand-fold than those which had gilded the triumphs of Cortes or Pizarro—the inestimable prize of liberty. Then the down-trampled millions of France arose, and with avaricious haste strove for a like treasure. They won a specious imitation, so soiled and stained, however, that many of the wisest among them could not at once detect its nature. They played with the coarse bawble for a time, then lost it in a sea of blood.

Doubtless the tempest that broke upon France had long been gathering. The rays that emanated from such false suns as Voltaire and Rousseau had already drawn up a moral miasma from the swamps of sensual ignorance: under the shade of a worthless government these noxious mists collected into the clouds from whence the desolating storm of the Revolution burst. It was, however, the example of popular success in the New World, and the republican training of a portion of the French army during the American contest, that finally accelerated the course of events. A generation before the "Declaration of Independence" the struggle between the rival systems of Canada and New England had been watched by thinking men in Europe with deep interest, and the importance to mankind of its issue was fully felt. While France mourned the defeat of her armies and the loss of her magnificent colony, the keen-sighted philosopher of Ferney gave a banquet to celebrate the British triumph at Quebec, not as the triumph of England over France, but as that of freedom over despotism.[1]

The overthrow of French by British power in America was not the effect of mere military superiority. The balance of general success and glory in the field is no more than shared with the conquered people. The morbid national vanity, which finds no delight but in the triumphs of the sword, will shrink from the study of this checkered story. The narrative of disastrous defeat and doubtful advantage must be endured before we arrive at that of the brilliant victory which crowned our arms with final success. We read with painful surprise of the rout and ruin of regular British regiments by a crowd of Indian savages, and of the bloody repulse of the most numerous army that had yet assembled round our standards in America before a few weak French battalions and an unfinished parapet.

For the first few years our prosecution of the Canadian war was marked by a weakness little short of imbecility. The conduct of the troops was indifferent, the tactics of the generals bad, and the schemes of the minister worse. The coarse but powerful wit of Smollett and Fielding, and the keen sarcasms of "Chrysal," convey to us no very exalted idea of the composition of the British army in those days. The service had sunk into contempt. The withering influence of a corrupt patronage had demoralized the officers; successive defeats, incurred through the inefficiency of courtly generals, had depressed the spirit of the soldiery, and, were it not for the proof shown upon the bloody fields of La Feldt and Fontenoy, we might almost suppose that English manhood had become an empty name.

Many of the battalions shipped off to take part in the American contest were hasty levies without organization or discipline: the colonel, a man of influence, with or without other qualifications, as the case might be; the officers, his neighbors and dependents. These armed mobs found themselves suddenly landed in a country, the natural difficulty of which would of itself have proved a formidable obstacle, even though unenhanced by the presence of an active and vigilant enemy. At the same time, there devolved upon them the duties and the responsibilities of regular troops. A due consideration of these circumstances tends to diminish the surprise which a comparison of their achievements with those recorded in our later military annals might create.

Very different were the ranks of the American army from the magnificent regiments whose banners now bear the crowded records of Peninsular and Indian victory; who, within the recollection of living men, have stood as conquerors upon every hostile land, yet never once permitted a stranger to tread on England's sacred soil but as a prisoner, fugitive, or friend. In Cairo and Copenhagen; in Lisbon, Madrid, and Paris; in the ancient metropolis of China; in the capital of the young American republic, the British flag has been hailed as the symbol of a triumphant power or of a generous deliverance. Well may we cherish an honest pride in the prowess and military virtue of our soldiers, loyal alike to the crown and to the people; facing in battle, with unshaken courage, the deadly shot and sweeping charge, and, with a still loftier valor, enduring, in times of domestic troubles, the gibes and injuries of their misguided countrymen.

In the stirring interest excited by the progress and rivalry of our kindred races in America, the sad and solemn subject of the Indian people is almost forgotten. The mysterious decree of Providence which has swept them away may not be judged by human wisdom. Their existence will soon be of the past. They have left no permanent impression on the constitution of the great nation which now spreads over their country. No trace of their blood, language, or manners may be found among their haughty successors. As certainly as their magnificent forests fell before the advancing tide of civilization, they fell also. Neither the kindness nor the cruelty of the white man arrested or hastened their inevitable fate. They withered alike under the Upas-shade of European protection and before the deadly storm of European hostility. As the snow in spring they melted away, stained, tainted, trampled down.

The closing scene of French dominion in Canada was marked by circumstances of deep and peculiar interest. The pages of romance can furnish no more striking episode than the battle of Quebec. The skill and daring of the plan which brought on the combat, and the success and fortune of its execution, are unparalleled. There a broad, open plain, offering no advantages to either party, was the field of fight. The contending armies were nearly equal in military strength, if not in numbers. The chiefs of each were men already of honorable fame. France trusted firmly in the wise and chivalrous Montcalm; England trusted hopefully in the young and heroic Wolfe. The magnificent stronghold which was staked upon the issue of the strife stood close at hand. For miles and miles around, the prospect extended over as fair a land as ever rejoiced the sight of man; mountain and valley, forest and waters, city and solitude, grouped together in forms of almost ideal beauty.

The strife was brief, but deadly. The September sun rose upon two gallant armies arrayed in unbroken pride, and noon of the same day saw the ground where they had stood strewn with the dying and the dead. Hundreds of the veterans of France had fallen in the ranks, from which they disdained to fly; the scene of his ruin faded fast from Montcalm's darkening sight, but the proud consciousness of having done his duty deprived defeat and death of their severest sting. Not more than a musket-shot away lay Wolfe; the heart that but an hour before had throbbed with great and generous impulse, now still forever. On the face of the dead there rested a triumphant smile, which the last agony had not overcast; a light of unfailing hope, that the shadows of the grave could not darken.

The portion of history here recorded is no fragment. Within a period comparatively brief, we see the birth, the growth, and the catastrophe of a nation. The flag of France is erected at Quebec by a handful of hardy adventurers; a century and a half has passed, and that flag is lowered to a foreign foe before the sorrowing eyes of a Canadian people. This example is complete as that presented in the life of an individual: we see the natural sequence of events; the education and the character, the motive and the action, the error and the punishment. Through the following records may be clearly traced combinations of causes, remote, and even apparently opposed, uniting in one result, and also the surprising fertility of one great cause in producing many different results.

Were we to read the records of history by the light of the understanding instead of by the fire of the passions, the study could be productive only of unmixed good; their examples and warnings would afford us constant guidance in the paths of public and private virtue. The narrow and unreasonable notion of exclusive national merit can not survive a fair glance over the vast map of time and space which history lays before us. We may not avert our eyes from those dark spots upon the annals of our beloved land where acts of violence and injustice stand recorded against her, nor may we suffer the blaze of military renown to dazzle our judgment. Victory may bring glory to the arms, while it brings shame to the councils of a people; for the triumphs of war are those of the general and the soldier; increase of honor, wisdom, and prosperity are the triumphs of the nation.

The citizens of Rome placed the images of their ancestors in the vestibule, to recall the virtues of the dead, and to stimulate the emulation of the living. We also should fix our thoughts upon the examples which history presents, not in a vain spirit of selfish nationality, but in earnest reverence for the great and good of all countries, and a contempt for the false, and mean, and cruel even of our own.

THE CONQUEST OF CANADA.

CHAPTER I.

The philosophers of remote antiquity acquired the important knowledge of the earth's spherical form; to their bold genius we are indebted for the outline of the geographical system now universally adopted. With a vigorous conception, but imperfect execution, they traced out the scheme of denoting localities by longitude and latitude: according to their teaching, the imaginary equatorial line, encompassing the earth, was divided into hours and degrees.

Even at that distant period hardy adventurers had penetrated far away into the land of the rising sun, and many a wondrous tale was told of that mysterious empire, where one third of our fellow-men still stand apart from the brotherhood of nations. Among the various and astounding exaggerations induced by the vanity of the narrators, and the ignorance of their audience, none was more ready than that of distance. The journey, the labor of a life; each league of travel a new scene; the day crowded with incident, the night a dream of terror or admiration. Then, as the fickle will of the wanderer suggested, as the difficulties or encouragement of nature, and the hostility or aid of man impelled, the devious course bent to the north or south, was hastened, hindered, or retraced.

By such vague and shadowy measurement as the speculations of these wanderers supplied, the sages of the past traced out the ideal limits of the dry land which, at the word of God, appeared from out the gathering together of the waters.[2]

The most eminent geographer before the time of Ptolemy places the confines of Seres—the China of to-day—at nearly two thirds of the distance round the world, from the first meridian.[3] Ptolemy reduces the proportion to one half. Allowing for the supposed vast extent of this unknown country to the eastward, it was evident that its remotest shores approached our Western World. But, beyond the Pillars of Hercules, the dark and stormy waters of the Atlantic[5] forbade adventure. The giant minds of those days saw, even through the mists of ignorance and error, that the readiest course to reach this distant land must lie toward the setting sun, across the western ocean.[6] From over this vast watery solitude no traveler had ever brought back the story of his wanderings. The dim light of traditionary memory gave no guiding ray, the faint voice of rumor breathed not its mysterious secrets. Then poetic imagination filled the void; vast islands were conjured up out of the deep, covered with unheard-of luxuriance of vegetation, rich in mines of incalculable value, populous with a race of conquering warriors. But this magnificent vision was only created to be destroyed; a violent earthquake rent asunder in a day and a night the foundations of Atlantis, and the waters of the Western Ocean swept over the ruins of this once mighty empire.[7] In after ages we are told, that some Phœnician vessels, impelled by a strong east wind, were driven for thirty days across the Atlantic: there they found a part of the sea where the surface was covered with rushes and sea-weed, somewhat resembling a vast inundated meadow.[8] The voyagers ascribed these strange appearances to some cause connected with the submerged Atlantis, and even in later years they were held by many as confirmation of Plato's marvelous story.[9]

In the Carthaginian annals is found the mention of a fertile and beautiful island of the distant Atlantic. Many adventurous men of that maritime people were attracted thither by the delightful climate and the riches of the soil; it was deemed of such value and importance that they proposed to transfer the seat of their republic to its shores in case of any irreparable disaster at home. But at length the Senate, fearing the evils of a divided state, denounced the distant colony, and decreed the punishment of death to those who sought it for a home. If there be any truth in this ancient tale, it is probable that one of the Canary Islands was its subject.[10]

Although the New World in the West was unknown to the ancients, there is no doubt that they entertained a suspicion of its existence;[11] the romance of Plato—the prophecy of Seneca, were but the offsprings of this vague idea. Many writers tell us it was conjectured that, by sailing from the coast of Spain, the eastern shores of India might be reached;[13] the length of the voyage, or the wonders that might lie in its course, imagination alone could measure or describe. Whatever might have been the suspicion or belief[14] of ancient time, we may feel assured that none then ventured to seek these distant lands, nor have we reason to suppose that any of the civilized European races gave inhabitants to the New World before the close of the fifteenth century.

To the barbarous hordes of Northeastern Asia America must have long been known as the land where many of their wanderers found a home. It is not surprising that from them no information was obtained; but it is strange that the bold and adventurous Northmen should have visited it nearly five hundred years before the great Genoese, and have suffered their wonderful discovery to remain hidden from the world, and to become almost forgotten among themselves.[15]

In the year 1001 the Icelanders touched upon the American coast, and for nearly two centuries subsequent visits were repeatedly made by them and the Norwegians, for the purpose of commerce or for the gratification of curiosity. Biorn Heriolson, an Icelander, was the first discoverer: steering for Greenland, he was driven to the south by tempestuous and unfavorable winds, and saw different parts of America, without, however, touching at any of them. Attracted by the report of this voyage, Leif, son of Eric, the discoverer of Greenland, fitted out a vessel to pursue the same adventure. He passed the coast visited by Biorn, and steered southwest till he reached a strait between a large island and the main land. Finding the country fertile and pleasant, he passed the winter near this place, and gave it the name of Vinland,[16] from the wild vine which grew there in great abundance.[17] The winter days were longer in this new country than in Greenland, and the weather was more temperate.

Leif returned to Greenland in the spring; his brother Thorvald succeeded him, and remained two winters in Vinland exploring much of the coast and country.[19] In the course of the third summer the natives, now called Esquimaux, were first seen; on account of their diminutive stature the adventurers gave them the name of Skrælingar.[20] These poor savages, irritated by an act of barbarous cruelty, attacked the Northmen with darts and arrows, and Thorvald fell a victim to their vengeance. A wealthy Icelander, named Thorfinn, established a regular colony in Vinland soon after this event; the settlers increased rapidly in numbers, and traded with the natives for furs and skins to great advantage. After three years the adventurers returned to Iceland enriched by the expedition, and reported favorably upon the new country. Little is known of this settlement after Thorfinn's departure till early in the twelfth century, when a bishop of Greenland[21] went there to promulgate the Christian faith among the colonists; beyond that time scarcely a notice of its existence occurs, and the name and situation of the ancient Vinland soon passed away from the knowledge of man. Whether the adventurous colonists ever returned, or became blended with the natives,[22] or perished by their hands, no record remains to tell.[23]

Discoveries such as these by the ancient Scandinavians—fruitless to the world and almost buried in oblivion—can not dim the glory of that transcendant genius to whom we owe the knowledge of a New World.

The claim of the Welsh to the first discovery of America seems to rest upon no better original authority than that of Meridith-ap-Rees, a bard who died in the year 1477. His verses only relate that Prince Madoc, wearied with dissensions at home, searched the ocean for a new kingdom. The tale of this adventurer's voyages and colonization was written one hundred years subsequent to the early Spanish discoveries, and seems to be merely a fanciful completion of his history: he probably perished in the unknown seas. It is certain that neither the ancient principality nor the world reaped any benefit from these alleged discoveries.[24]

In the middle of the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth centuries, the Venetian Marco Polo[25] and the Englishman Mandeville[26] awakened the curiosity of Europe with respect to the remote parts of the earth. Wise and discerning men selected the more valuable portions of their observations; ideas were enlarged, and a desire for more perfect information excited a thirst for discovery. While this spirit was gaining strength in Europe, the wonderful powers of the magnet were revealed to the Western World.[27] The invention of the mariner's compass aided and extended navigation more than all the experience and adventure of preceding ages: the light of the stars, the guidance of the sea-coast, were no longer necessary; trusting to the mysterious powers of his new friend, the sailor steered out fearlessly into the ocean, through the bewildering mists or the darkness of night.

The Spaniards were the first to profit by the bolder spirit and improved science of navigation. About the beginning of the fourteenth century, they were led to the accidental discovery of the Canary Islands,[28] and made repeated voyages thither, plundering the wretched inhabitants, and carrying them off as slaves.[29] Pope Clement VI. conferred these countries as a kingdom upon Louis de la Cerda, of the royal race of Castile; he, however, was powerless to avail himself of the gift, and it passed to the stronger hand of John de Bethancourt, a Norman baron.[30] The countrymen of this bold adventurer explored the seas far to the south of the Canary Islands, and acquired some knowledge of the coast of Africa.

The glory of leading the career of systematic exploration belongs to the Portuguese:[31] their attempts were not only attended with considerable success, but gave encouragement and energy to those efforts that were crowned by the discovery of a world: among them the great Genoese was trained, and their steps in advance matured the idea, and aided the execution of his design. The nations of Europe had now begun to cast aside the errors and prejudices of their ancestors. The works of the ancient Greeks and Romans were eagerly searched for information, and former discoveries brought to light.[32] The science of the Arabians was introduced and cultivated by the Moors and Jews, and geometry, astronomy, and geography were studied as essential to the art of navigation.

In the year 1412, the Portuguese doubled Cape Non, the limit of ancient enterprise. For upward of seventy years afterward they pursued their explorations, with more or less of vigor and success, along the African coast, and among the adjacent islands. By intercourse with the people of these countries they gradually acquired some knowledge of lands yet unvisited. Experience proved that the torrid zone was not closed to the enterprise of man.[33] They found that the form of the continent contracted as it stretched southward, and that it tended toward the east. Then they brought to mind the accounts of the ancient Phoenician voyagers round Africa,[34] long deemed fabulous, and the hope arose that they might pursue the same career, and win for themselves the magnificent prize of Indian commerce. In the year 1486 the adventurous Bartholomew Diaz[35] first reached the Cape of Good Hope; soon afterward the information gained by Pedro de Covilham, in his overland journey, confirmed the consequent sanguine expectations of success. The attention of Europe was now fully aroused, and the progress of the Portuguese was watched with admiration and suspense. But during this interval, while all eyes were turned with anxious interest toward the East, a little bark, leaky and tempest-tossed, sought shelter in the Tagus.[36] It had come from the Far West—over that stormy sea where, from the creation until then, had brooded an impenetrable mystery. It bore the richest freight[37] that ever lay upon the bosom of the deep—the tidings of a New World.[38]

It would be but tedious to repeat here all the well-known story of Christopher Columbus;[39] his early dangers and adventures, his numerous voyages, his industry, acquirements, and speculations, and how at length the great idea arose in his mind, and matured itself into a conviction; then how conviction led to action, checked and interrupted, but not weakened, by the doubts of pedantic ignorance,[40] and the treachery,[41] coolness, or contempt of courts. On Friday,[42] the 3d of August, 1492, a squadron of three small, crazy ships, bearing ninety men, sailed from the port of Palos, in Andalusia. Columbus, the commander and pilot, was deeply impressed with sentiments of religion; and, as the spread of Christianity was one great object of the expedition, he and his followers before their departure had implored the blessing of Heaven[43] upon the voyage, from which they might never return.

They steered at first for the Canaries, over a well-known course; but on the 6th of September they sailed from Gomera, the most distant of those islands, and, leaving the usual track of navigation, stretched westward into the unknown sea. And still ever westward for six-and-thirty days they bent their course through the dreary desert of waters; terrified by the changeless wind that wafted them hour after hour further into the awful solitude, and seemed to forbid the prospect of return; bewildered by the altered hours of day and night, and more than all by the mysterious variation of their only guide, for the magnetic needle no longer pointed to the pole.[44] Then strange appearances in the sea aroused new fears: vast quantities of weeds covered the surface, retarding the motion of the vessels; the sailors imagined that they had reached the utmost boundary of the navigable ocean, and that they were rushing blindly into the rocks and quicksands of some submerged continent.

The master mind turned all these strange novelties into omens of success. The changeless wind was the favoring breath of the Omnipotent; the day lengthened as they followed the sun's course; an ingenious fiction explained the inconstancy of the needle; the vast fields of sea-weed bespoke a neighboring shore; and the flight of unknown birds[45] was hailed with happy promise. But as time passed on, and brought no fulfillment of their hopes, the spirits of the timid began to fail; the flattering appearances of land had repeatedly deceived them; they were now very far beyond the limit of any former voyage. From the timid and ignorant these doubts spread upward, and by degrees the contagion extended from ship to ship: secret murmurs rose to conspiracies, complaints, and mutiny. They affirmed that they had already performed their duty in so long pursuing an unknown and hopeless course, and that they would no more follow a desperate adventurer to destruction. Some even proposed to cast their leader into the sea.

The menaces and persuasions that had so often enabled Columbus to overcome the turbulence and fears of his followers now ceased to be of any avail. He gave way to an irresistible necessity, and promised that he would return to Spain, if unsuccessful in their search for three days more. To this brief delay the mutineers consented. The signs of land now brought almost certainty to the mind of the great leader. The sounding-line brought up such soil as is only found near the shore: birds were seen of a kind supposed never to venture on a long flight. A piece of newly-cut cane floated past, and a branch of a tree bearing fresh berries was taken up by the sailors. The clouds around the setting sun wore a new aspect, and the breeze became warm and variable. On the evening of the 11th of October every sail was furled, and strict watch kept, lest the ships might drift ashore during the night.

On board the admiral's vessel all hands were invariably assembled for the evening hymn; on this occasion a public prayer for success was added, and with those holy sounds Columbus hailed the appearance of that small, shifting light,[46] which crowned with certainty his long-cherished hope,[47] turned his faith into realization,[48] and stamped his name forever upon the memory of man.[49]

It was by accident only that England had been deprived of the glory of these great discoveries. Columbus, when repulsed by the courts of Portugal and Spain, sent his brother Bartholomew to London,[50] to lay his projects before Henry VII., and seek assistance for their execution. The king, although the most penurious of European princes, saw the vast advantage of the offer, and at once invited the great Genoese to his court. Bartholomew was, however, captured by pirates on his return voyage, and detained till too late, for in the mean while Isabella of Castile had adopted the project of Columbus, and supplied the means for the expedition.

Henry VII. was not discouraged by this disappointment: two years after the discoveries of Columbus became known in England, the king entered into an arrangement with John Cabot, an adventurous Venetian merchant, resident at Bristol, and, on the 5th of March, 1495, granted him letters patent for conquest and discovery. Henry stipulated that one fifth of the gains in this enterprise was to be retained for the crown, and that the vessels engaged in it should return to the port of Bristol. On the 24th of June, 1497, Cabot discovered the coast of Labrador, and gave it the name of Primavista. This was, without doubt, the first visit of Europeans to the Continent of North America,[51] since the time of the Scandinavian voyages. A large island lay opposite to this shore: from the vast quantity of fish frequenting the neighboring waters, the sailors called it Bacallaos.[53] Cabot gave this country the name of St. John's, having landed there on St. John's day. Newfoundland has long since superseded both appellations. John Cabot returned to England in August of the same year, and was knighted and otherwise rewarded by the king; he survived but a very short time in the enjoyment of his fame, and his son Sebastian Cabot, although only twenty-three years of age, succeeded him in the command of an expedition destined to seek a northwest passage to the South Seas.

Sebastian Cabot sailed in the summer of 1498: he soon reached Newfoundland, and thence proceeded north as far as the fifty-eighth degree. Having failed in discovering the hoped-for passage, he returned toward the south, examining the coast as far as the southern boundary of Maryland, and perhaps Virginia. After a long interval, the enterprising mariner again, in 1517, sailed for America, and entered the bay[54] which, a century afterward, received the name of Hudson. If prior discovery confer a right of possession, there is no doubt that the whole eastern coast of the North American Continent may be justly claimed by the English race.[55]

Gaspar Cortereal was the next voyager in the succession of discoverers: he had been brought up in the household of the King of Portugal, but nourished an ardent spirit of enterprise and thirst for glory, despite the enervating influences of a court. He sailed early in the year 1500, and pursued the track of John Cabot as far as the northern point of Newfoundland; to him is due the discovery of the Gulf of St. Lawrence,[56] and he also pushed on northward, by the coast of Labrador,[57] almost to the entrance of Hudson's Bay. The adventurer returned to Lisbon in October of the same year. This expedition was undertaken more for mercantile advantage than for the advancement of knowledge; timber and slaves seem to have been the objects; no less than fifty-seven of the natives were brought back to Portugal, and doomed to bondage. These unhappy savages proved so robust and useful, that great benefits were anticipated from trading on their servitude;[58] the dreary and distant land of their birth, covered with snow for half the year, was despised by the Portuguese, whose thoughts and hopes were ever turned to the fertile plains, the sunny skies, and the inexhaustible treasures of the East.[59]

But disaster and destruction soon fell upon these bold and merciless adventurers. In a second voyage, the ensuing year, Cortereal and all his followers were lost at sea: when some time had elapsed without tidings of their fate, his brother sailed to seek them; but he too, probably, perished in the stormy waters of the North Atlantic, for none of them were ever heard of more. The King of Portugal, feeling a deep interest in these brothers, fitted out three armed vessels and sent them to the northwest. Inquiries were made along the wild shores which Cortereal had first explored, without trace or tidings being found of the bold mariner, and the ocean was searched for many months, but the deep still keeps it secret.

Florida was discovered in 1512 by Ponce de Leon, one of the most eminent among the followers of Columbus. The Indians had told him wonderful tales of a fountain called Bimini, in an island of these seas; the fountain possessed the power, they said, of restoring instantly youth and vigor to those who bathed in its waters. He sailed for months in search of this miraculous spring, landing at every point, entering each port, however shallow or dangerous, still ever hoping; but in the weak and presumptuous effort to grasp at a new life, he wasted away his strength and energy, and prematurely brought on those ills of age he had vainly hoped to shun. Nevertheless, this wild adventure bore its wholesome fruits, for Ponce de Leon then first brought to the notice of Europe that beautiful land which, from its wonderful fertility and the splendor of its flowers, obtained the name of Florida.[60]

The first attempt made by the French to share in the advantages of these discoveries was in the year 1504. Some Basque and Breton fishermen at that time began to ply their calling on the Great Bank of Newfoundland, and along the adjacent shores. From them the Island of Cape Breton received its name. In 1506, Jean Denys, a man of Harfleur, drew a map of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Two years afterward, a pilot of Dieppe, named Thomas Aubert, excited great curiosity in France by bringing over some of the savage natives from the New World: there is no record whence they were taken, but it is supposed from Cape Breton. The reports borne back to France by these hardy fishermen and adventurers were not such as to raise sanguine hopes of riches from the bleak northern regions they had visited: no teeming fertility or genial climate tempted the settler, no mines of gold or silver excited the avarice of the soldier;[61] and for many years the French altogether neglected to profit by their discoveries.

In the mean time, Pope Alexander VI. issued a bull bestowing the whole of the New World upon the kings of Spain and Portugal.[62] Neither England nor France allowed the right of conferring this magnificent and undefined gift; it did not throw the slightest obstacle in the path of British enterprise and discovery, and the high-spirited Francis I. of France refused to acknowledge the papal decree.[63]

In the year 1523, Francis I. fitted out a squadron of four ships to pursue discovery[64] in the west; the command was intrusted to Giovanni Verazzano, of Florence, a navigator of great skill and experience, then residing in France: he was about thirty-eight years of age, nobly born, and liberally educated; the causes that induced him to leave his own country and take service in France are not known. It has often been remarked as strange that three Italians should have directed the discoveries of Spain, England, and France, and thus become the instruments of dividing the dominions of the New World among alien powers, while their own classic land reaped neither glory nor advantage from the genius and courage of her sons. Of this first voyage the only record remaining is a letter from Verazzano to Francis I., dated 8th of July, 1524, merely stating that he had returned in safety to Dieppe.

At the beginning of the following year Verazzano fitted out and armed a vessel called the Dauphine, manned with a crew of thirty hands, and provisioned for eight months. He first directed his course to Madeira; having reached that island in safety, he left it on the 17th of January and steered for the west. After a narrow escape from the violence of a tempest, and having proceeded for about nine hundred leagues, a long, low line of coast rose to view, never before seen by ancient or modern navigators. This country appeared thickly peopled by a vigorous race, of tall stature and athletic form; fearing to risk a landing at first with his weak force, the adventurer contented himself with admiring at a distance the grandeur and beauty of the scenery, and enjoying the delightful mildness of the climate. From this place he followed the coast for about fifty leagues to the south, without discovering any harbor or inlet where he might shelter his vessel; he then retraced his course and steered to the north. After some time Verazzano ventured to send a small boat on shore to examine the country more closely: numbers of savages came to the water's edge to meet the strangers, and gazed on them with mingled feelings of surprise, admiration, joy, and fear. He again resumed his northward course, till, driven by want of water, he armed the small boat and sent it once more toward the land to seek a supply; the waves and surf, however, were so great that it could not reach the shore. The natives assembled on the beach, by their signs and gestures, eagerly invited the French to approach: one young sailor, a bold swimmer, threw himself into the water, bearing some presents for the savages, but his heart failed him on a nearer approach, and he turned to regain the boat; his strength was exhausted, however, and a heavy sea washed him, almost insensible, up upon the beach. The Indians treated him with great kindness, and, when he had sufficiently recovered, sent him back in safety to the ship.[65]

Verazzano pursued his examination of the coast with untiring zeal, narrowly searching every inlet for a passage through to the westward, until he reached the great island known to the Breton fishermen—Newfoundland. In this important voyage he surveyed more than two thousand miles of coast, nearly all that of the present United States, and a great portion of British North America.

A short time after Verazzano's return to Europe, he fitted out another expedition, with the sanction of Francis I., for the establishment of a colony in the newly-discovered countries. Nothing certain is known of the fate of this enterprise, but the bold navigator returned to France no more; the dread inspired by his supposed fate[66] deterred the French king and people from any further adventure across the Atlantic during many succeeding years. In later times it has come to light that Verazzano was alive thirteen years after this period:[67] those best informed on the subject are of opinion that the enterprise fell to the ground in consequence of Francis I. having been captured by the Emperor Charles V., and that the adventurer withdrew himself from the service of France, having lost his patron's support.

The year after the failure of Verazzano's last enterprise, 1525, Stefano Gomez sailed from Spain for Cuba and Florida; thence he steered northward in search of the long-hoped-for passage to India, till he reached Cape Race, on the south-eastern extremity of Newfoundland. The further details of his voyage remain unknown, but there is reason to suppose that he entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence and traded upon its shores. An ancient Castilian tradition existed that the Spaniards visited these coasts before the French, and having perceived no appearance of mines or riches, they exclaimed frequently, "Aca nada;"[68] the natives caught up the sound, and when other Europeans arrived, repeated it to them. The strangers concluded that these words were a designation, and from that time this magnificent country bore the name of Canada.[70]

CHAPTER II.

In the year 1534, Philip Chabot, admiral of France, urged the king to establish a colony in the New World,[71] by representing to him in glowing colors the great riches and power derived by the Spaniards from their transatlantic possessions. Francis I., alive to the importance of the design, soon agreed to carry it out. Jacques Cartier, an experienced navigator of St. Malo, was recommended by the admiral to be intrusted with the expedition, and was approved of by the king. On the 20th of April, 1534, Cartier sailed from St. Malo with two ships of only sixty tons burden each, and one hundred and twenty men for their crews:[72] he directed his course westward, inclining rather to the north; the winds proved so favorable, that on the twentieth day of the voyage he made Cape Bonavista, in Newfoundland. But the harbors of that dreary country were still locked up in the winter's ice, forbidding the approach of shipping: he then bent to the southeast, and at length found anchorage at St. Catharine, six degrees lower in latitude. Having remained here ten days, he again turned to the north, and on the 21st of May reached Bird Island, fourteen leagues from the coast.

Jacques Cartier examined all the northern shores of Newfoundland, without having ascertained that it was an island, and then passed southward through the Straits of Belleisle. The country appeared every where the same bleak and inhospitable wilderness;[73] but the harbors were numerous, convenient, and abounding in fish. He describes the natives as well-proportioned men, wearing their hair tied up over their heads like bundles of hay, quaintly interlaced with birds' feathers.[74] Changing his course still more to the south, he then traversed the Gulf of St. Lawrence, approached the main-land, and on the 9th of July entered a deep bay; from the intense heat experienced there, he named it the "Baye de Chaleurs." The beauty of the country, and the kindness and hospitality of his reception, alike charmed him; he carried on a little trade with the friendly savages, exchanging European goods for their furs and provisions.

Leaving this bay, Jacques Cartier visited a considerable extent of the gulf coast; on the 24th of July he erected a cross thirty feet high, with a shield bearing the fleurs-de-lys of France, on the shore of Gaspé Bay.[75] Having thus taken possession[76] of the country for his king in the usual manner of those days, he sailed, the 25th of July, on his homeward voyage: at this place two of the natives were seized by stratagem, carried on board the ships, and borne away to France. Cartier coasted along the northern shores of the Gulf till the 15th of August, and even entered the mouth of the River St. Lawrence, but the weather becoming stormy, he determined to delay his departure no longer: he passed again through the Straits of Belleisle, and arrived at St. Malo on the 5th of September, 1534, contented with his success, and full of hope for the future.

Jacques Cartier was received with the consideration due to the importance of his report. The court at once perceived the advantage of an establishment in this part of America, and resolved to take steps for its foundation. Charles de Moncy, Sieur de la Mailleraye, vice-admiral of France, was the most active patron of the undertaking; through his influence Cartier obtained a more effective force, and a new commission, with ampler powers than before. When the preparations for the voyage were completed, the adventurers all assembled in the Cathedral of St. Malo, on Whitsunday, 1535, by the command of their pious leader; the bishop then gave them a solemn benediction, with all the imposing ceremonials of the Romish Church.

On the 19th of May Jacques Cartier embarked, and started on his voyage with fair wind and weather. The fleet consisted of three small ships, the largest being only one hundred and twenty tons burden. Many adventurers and young men of good family accompanied the expedition as volunteers. On the morrow the wind became adverse, and rose to a storm; the heavens lowered over the tempestuous sea; for more than a month the utmost skill of the mariners could only enable them to keep their ships afloat, while tossed about at the mercy of the waves. The little fleet was dispersed on the 25th of June: each vessel then made for the coast of Newfoundland as it best might. The general's vessel, as that of Cartier was called, was the first to gain the land, on the 7th of July, and there awaited her consorts; but they did not arrive till the 26th of the month. Having taken in supplies of fuel and water, they sailed in company to explore the Gulf of St. Lawrence. A violent storm arose on the 1st of August, forcing them to seek shelter. They happily found a port on the north shore, at the entrance of the Great River, where, though difficult of access, there was a safe anchorage. Jacques Cartier called it St. Nicolas, and it is now almost the only place still bearing the name he gave. They left their harbor on the 7th, coasting westward along the north shore, and on the 10th came to a gulf filled with numerous and beautiful islands.[77] Cartier gave this gulf the name of St. Lawrence, having discovered it on that saint's festival day.[78]

On the 15th of August they reached a long, rocky island toward the south, which Cartier named L'Isle de l'Assumption, now called Anticosti.[79] Thence they continued their course, examining carefully both shores of the Great River,[80] and occasionally holding communication with the inhabitants, till, on the 1st of September, they entered the mouth of the deep and gloomy Saguenay. The entrance of this great tributary was all they had leisure to survey; but the huge rocks, dense forests, and vast body of water, forming a scene of somber magnificence such as had never before met their view, inspired them with an exalted idea of the country they had discovered. Still passing to the southwest up the St. Lawrence, on the 6th they reached an island abounding in delicious filberts, and on that account named by the voyagers Isle aux Coudres. Cartier, being now so far advanced into an unknown country, looked out anxiously for a port where his vessels might winter in safety. He pursued his voyage till he came upon another island, of great extent, fertility, and beauty, covered with woods and thick, clustering vines. This he named Isle de Bacchus:[81] it is now called Orleans. On the 7th of September, Donnacona, the chief of the country,[82] came with twelve canoes filled by his train, to hold converse with the strangers, whose ships lay at anchor between the island and the north shore of the Great River. The Indian chief approached the smallest of the ships with only two canoes, fearful of causing alarm, and began an oration, accompanied with strange and uncouth gestures. After a time he conversed with the Indians who had been seized on the former voyage, and now acted as interpreters. He heard from them of their wonderful visit to the great nation over the salt lake, of the wisdom and power of the white men, and of the kind treatment they had received among the strangers. Donnacona appeared moved with deep respect and admiration; he took Jacques Cartier's arm and placed it gently over his own bended neck, in token of confidence and regard. The admiral cordially returned these friendly demonstrations. He entered the Indian's canoe, and presented bread and wine, which they ate and drank together. They then parted in all amity.

After this happy interview, Jacques Cartier, with his boats, pushed up the north shore against the stream, till he reached a spot where a little river flowed into a "goodly and pleasant sound," forming a convenient haven.[83] He moored his vessels here for the winter on the 16th of September, and gave the name of St. Croix to the stream, in honor of the day on which he first entered its waters; Donnacona, accompanied by a train of five hundred Indians, came to welcome his arrival with generous friendship. In the angle formed by the tributary stream and the Great River, stood the town of Stadacona, the dwelling-place of the chief; thence an irregular slope ascended to a lofty height of table-land: from this eminence a bold headland frowned over the St. Lawrence, forming a rocky wall three hundred feet in height. The waters of the Great River—here narrowed to less than a mile in breath—rolled deeply and rapidly past into the broad basin beyond. When the white men first stood on the summit of this bold headland, above their port of shelter, most of the country was fresh from the hand of the Creator; save the three small barks lying at the mouth of the stream, and the Indian village, no sign of human habitation met their view. Far as the eye could reach, the dark forest spread; over hill and valley, mountain and plain; up to the craggy peaks, down to the blue water's edge; along the gentle slopes of the rich Isle of Bacchus, and even from projecting rocks, and in fissures of the lofty precipice, the deep green mantle of the summer foliage hung its graceful folds. In the dim distance, north, south, east, and west, where mountain rose above mountain in tumultuous variety of outline, it was still the same; one vast leafy vail concealed the virgin face of Nature from the stranger's sight. On the eminence commanding this scene of wild but magnificent beauty, a prosperous city now stands; the patient industry of man has felled that dense forest, tree by tree, for miles and miles around, and where it stood, rich fields rejoice the eye; the once silent waters of the Great River below now surge against hundreds of stately ships; commerce has enriched this spot, art adorned it; a memory of glory endears it to every British heart. But the name Quebec[85] still remains unchanged; as the savage first pronounced it to the white stranger, it stands to-day among the proudest records of our country's story.

The chief Donnacona and the French continued in friendly intercourse, day by day exchanging good offices and tokens of regard. But Jacques Cartier was eager for further discoveries; the two Indian interpreters told him that a city of much larger size than Stadacona lay further up the river, the capital of a great country; it was called in the native tongue Hochelaga; thither he resolved to find his way. The Indians endeavored vainly to dissuade their dangerous guests from this expedition; they represented the distance, the lateness of the season, the danger of the great lakes and rapid currents; at length they had recourse to a kind of masquerade or pantomime, to represent the perils of the voyage, and the ferocity of the tribes inhabiting that distant land. The interpreters earnestly strove to dissuade Jacques Cartier from proceeding on his enterprise, and one of them refused to accompany him. The brave Frenchman would not hearken to such dissuasions, and treated with equal contempt the verbal and pantomimic warnings of the alleged difficulties. As a precautionary measure to impress the savages with an exalted idea of his power as a friend or foe, he caused twelve cannon loaded with bullets to be fired in their presence against a wood; amazed and terrified at the noise, and the effects of this discharge, they fled, howling and shrieking, away.

Jacques Cartier sailed for Hochelaga on the 19th of September; he took with him the Hermerillon, one of his smallest ships, the pinnace, and two long-boats, bearing thirty-five armed men, with their provisions and ammunition. The two larger vessels and their crews were left in the harbor of St. Croix, protected by poles and stakes driven into the water so as to form a barricade. The voyage presented few of the threatened difficulties; the country on both sides of the Great River was rich and varied, covered with stately timber, and abounding in vines. The natives were every where friendly and hospitable; all that they possessed was freely offered to the strangers. At a place called Hochelai, the chief of the district visited the French, and showed much friendship and confidence, presenting Jacques Cartier with a girl seven years of age, one of his own children.

On the 29th, the expedition was stopped in Lake St. Pierre by the shallows, not having hit upon the right channel. Jacques Cartier took the resolution of leaving his larger vessels behind and proceeding with his two boats; he met with no further interruption, and at length reached Hochelaga on the 2d of October, accompanied by De Pontbriand, De la Pommeraye, and De Gozelle, three of his volunteers. The natives welcomed him with every demonstration of joy and hospitality; above a thousand people, of all ages and sexes, come forth to meet the strangers, greeting them with affectionate kindness. Jacques Cartier, in return for their generous reception, bestowed presents of tin, beads, and other bawbles upon all the women, and gave some knives to the men. He returned to pass the night in the boats, while the savages made great fires on the shore, and danced merrily all night long. The place where the French first landed was probably about eleven miles from the city of Hochelaga, below the rapid of St. Mary.

On the day after his arrival Jacques Cartier proceeded to the town; his volunteers and some others of his followers accompanied him, arrayed in full dress; three of the natives undertook to guide them on their way. The road was well beaten, and bore evidence of having been much frequented: the country through which it passed was exceedingly rich and fertile. Hochelaga stood in the midst of great fields of Indian corn; it was of a circular form, containing about fifty large huts, each fifty paces long and from fourteen to fifteen wide, all built in the shape of tunnels, formed of wood, and covered with birch bark; the dwellings were divided into several rooms, surrounding an open court in the center, where the fires burned. Three rows of palisades encircled the town, with only one entrance; above the gate, and over the whole length of the outer ring of defense, there was a gallery, approached by flights of steps, and plentifully provided with stones and other missiles to resist attack. This was a place of considerable importance, even in those remote days, as the capital of a great extent of country, and as having eight or ten villages subject to its sway.

The inhabitants spoke the language of the great Huron nation, and were more advanced in civilization than any of their neighbors: unlike other tribes, they cultivated the ground and remained stationary. The French were well received by the people of Hochelaga; they made presents, the Indians gave fêtes; their fire-arms, trumpets, and other warlike equipments filled the minds of their simple hosts with wonder and admiration, and their beards and clothing excited a curiosity which the difficulties of an unknown language prevented from being satisfied. So great was the veneration for the white men, that the chief of the town, and many of the maimed, sick, and infirm, came to Jacques Cartier, entreating him, by expressive signs, to cure their ills. The pious Frenchman disclaimed any supernatural power, but he read aloud part of the Gospel of St. John, made the sign of the cross over the sufferers, and presented them with chaplets and other holy symbols; he then prayed earnestly that the poor savages might be freed from the night of ignorance and infidelity. The Indians regarded these acts and words with deep gratitude and respectful admiration.

Three miles from Hochelaga, there was a lofty hill, well tilled and very fertile;[86] thither Jacques Cartier bent his way, after having examined the town. From the summit he saw the river and the country for thirty leagues around, a scene of singular beauty. To this hill he gave the name of Mont Royal; since extended to the large and fertile island on which it stands, and to the city below. Time has now swept away every trace of Hochelaga; on its site the modern capital of Canada has arisen; fifty thousand people of European race, and stately buildings of carved stone, replace the simple Indians and the huts of the ancient town.

Jacques Cartier, having made his observations, returned to the boats, attended by a great concourse; when any of his men appeared fatigued with their journey, the kind Indians carried them on their shoulders. This short stay of the French seemed to sadden and displease these hospitable people, and on the departure of the boats they followed their course for some distance along the banks of the river. On the 4th of October Jacques Cartier reached the shallows, where the pinnace had been left; he resumed his course the following day, and arrived at St. Croix on the 11th of the same month.

The men who had remained at St. Croix had busied themselves during their leader's absence in strengthening their position, so as to secure it against surprise, a wise precaution under any circumstances among a savage people, but especially in the neighborhood of a populous town, the residence of a chief whose friendship they could not but distrust, in spite of his apparent hospitality.

The day after Jacques Cartier's arrival, Donnacona came to bid him welcome, and entreated him to visit Stadacona. He accepted the invitation, and proceeded with his volunteers and fifty sailors to the village, about three miles from where the ships lay. As they journeyed on, they observed that the houses were well provided and stored for the coming winter, and the country tilled in a manner showing that the inhabitants were not ignorant of agriculture; thus they formed, on the whole, a favorable impression of the docility and intelligence of the Indians during this expedition.

When the awful and unexpected severity of the winter set in, the French were unprovided with necessary clothing and proper provisions; the scurvy attacked them, and by the month of March twenty-five were dead, and nearly all were infected; the remainder would probably have also perished; but when Jacques Cartier was himself attacked with the dreadful disease, the Indians revealed to him the secret of its cure: this was the decoction of the leaf and bark of a certain tree, which proved so excellent a remedy that in a few days all were restored to health.[87]

Jacques Cartier, on the 21st of April, was first led to suspect the friendship of the natives from seeing a number of strong and active young men make their appearance in the neighboring town; these were probably the warriors of the tribe, who had just then returned from the hunting grounds, where they had passed the winter, but there is now no reason to suppose that their presence indicated any hostility. However, Jacques Cartier, fearing treachery, determined to anticipate it. He had already arranged to depart for France. On the 3d of May he seized the chief, the interpreters, and two other Indians, to present them to Francis I.: as some amends for this cruel and flagrant violation of hospitality, he treated his prisoners with great kindness; they soon became satisfied with their fate. On the 6th of May he made sail for Europe, and, after having encountered some difficulties and delays, arrived safely at St. Malo the 8th of July, 1536.

The result of Jacques Cartier's expedition was not encouraging to the spirit of enterprise in France; no mines had been discovered,[88] no rare and valuable productions found.[89] The miserable state to which the adventurers had been reduced by the rigorous climate and loathsome diseases, the privations they had endured, the poverty of their condition, were sufficient to cool the ardor of those who might otherwise have wished to follow up their discoveries. But, happily for the cause of civilization, some of those powerful in France judged more favorably of Jacques Cartier's reports, and were not to be disheartened by the unsuccessful issue of one undertaking; the dominion over such a vast extent of country, with fertile soil and healthy climate, inhabited by a docile and hospitable people, was too great an object to be lightly abandoned. The presence of Donnacona, the Indian chief, tended to keep alive an interest in the land whence he had come; as soon as he could render himself intelligible in the French language, he confirmed all that had been said of the salubrity, beauty, and richness of his native country. The pious Jacques Cartier most of all strove to impress upon the king the glory and merit of extending the blessed knowledge of a Savior to the dark and hopeless heathens of the West; a deed well worthy of the prince who bore the title of Most Christian King and Eldest Son of the Church.

Jean François de la Roque, lord of Roberval, a gentleman of Picardy, was the most earnest and energetic of those who desired to colonize the lands discovered by Jacques Cartier; he bore a high reputation in his own province, and was favored by the friendship of the king. With these advantages he found little difficulty in obtaining a commission to command an expedition to North America; the title and authority of lieutenant general and viceroy was conferred upon him; his rule to extend over Canada, Hochelaga, Saguenay, Newfoundland, Belle Isle, Carpon, Labrador, La Grand Baye, and Baccalaos, with the delegated rights and powers of the crown. This patent was dated the 15th of January, 1540. Jacques Cartier was named second in command. The orders to the leaders of the expedition enjoined them to discover more than had been hitherto accomplished, and, if possible, to reach the country of Saguenay, where, from some reports of the Indians, they still hoped to find mines of gold and silver. The port of St. Malo was again chosen for the fitting out of the expedition: the king furnished a sum of money to defray the expenses.[90]

Jacques Cartier exerted himself vigorously in preparing the little fleet for the voyage, and awaited the arrival of his chief with the necessary arms, stores, and ammunition; Roberval was meanwhile engaged at Honfleur in fitting out two other vessels at his own cost, and being urged to hasten by the king, he gave his lieutenant orders to start at once, with full authority to act as if he himself were present. He also promised to follow from Honfleur with all the required supplies. Jacques Cartier sailed on the 23d of May, 1541, having provisioned his fleet for two years. Storms and adverse winds dispersed the ships for some time, but in about a month they all met again on the coast of Newfoundland, where they hoped Roberval would join them. They awaited his coming for some weeks, but at length proceeded without him to the St. Lawrence; on the 23d of August they reached their old station near the magnificent headland of Quebec.

Donnacona's successor as chief of the Indians at Stadacona came in state to welcome the French on their return, and to inquire after his absent countrymen. They told him of the chief's death, but concealed the fate of the other Indians, stating that they were enjoying great honor and happiness in France, and would not return to their own country. The savages displayed no symptoms of anger, surprise, or distrust at this news; their countenances exhibited the same impassive calm, their manners the same quiet dignity as ever; but from that hour their hearts were changed; hatred and hostility took the place of admiration and respect, and a sad foreboding of their approaching destruction darkened their simple minds. Henceforth the French were hindered and molested by the inhabitants of Stadacona to such an extent that it was deemed advisable to seek another settlement for the winter. Jacques Cartier chose his new position at the mouth of a small river three leagues higher on the St. Lawrence;[91] here he laid up some of his vessels under the protection of two forts, one on a level with the water, the other on the summit of an overhanging cliff; these strongholds communicated with each other by steps cut in the solid rock; he gave the name of Charlesbourg Royal to this new station. The two remaining vessels of the fleet he sent back to France with letters to the king, stating that Roberval had not yet arrived.

Under the impression that the country of the Saguenay, the land of fabled wealth, could be reached by pursuing the line of the St. Lawrence, Jacques Cartier set forth to explore the rapids above Hochelaga on the 7th of September, 1541. The season being so far advanced, he only undertook this expedition with a view to being better acquainted with the route, and to being provided with all necessary preparations for a more extensive exploration in the spring. In passing up the Great River he renewed acquaintance with the friendly and hospitable chief of Hochelai, and there left two boys under charge of the Indians to learn the language. On the 11th he reached the sault or rapids above Hochelaga, where the progress of the boats was arrested by the force of the stream; he then landed and made his way to the second rapid. The natives gave him to understand that above the next sault there lay a great lake; Cartier, having obtained this information, returned to where he had left the boats; about four hundred Indians had assembled and met him with demonstrations of friendship; he received their good offices and made them presents in return, but still regarded them with distrust on account of their unusual numbers. Having gained as much information as he could, he set out on his return to Charlesbourg Royal, his winter-quarters. The chief was absent when Jacques Cartier stopped at Hochelai on descending the river; he had gone to Stadacona to hold counsel with the natives of that district for the destruction of the white men. On arriving at Charlesbourg Royal, Jacques Cartier found confirmation of his suspicions against the Indians; they now avoided the French, and never approached the ships with their usual offerings of fish and other provisions; a great number of men had also assembled at Stadacona. He accordingly made every possible preparation for defense in the forts, and took due precautions against a surprise. There are no records extant of the events of this winter in Canada, but it is probable that no serious encounter took place with the natives; the French, however, must have suffered severely from the confinement rendered necessary by their perilous position, as well as from want of the provisions and supplies which the bitter climate made requisite.

Roberval, though high-minded and enterprising, failed in his engagements with Jacques Cartier: he did not follow his adventurous lieutenant with the necessary and promised supplies till the spring of the succeeding year. On the 16th of April, 1542, he at length sailed from Rochelle with three large vessels, equipped principally at the royal cost. Two hundred persons accompanied him, some of them being gentlemen of condition, others men and women purposing to become settlers in the New World. Jean Alphonse, an experienced navigator of Saintonge, by birth a Portuguese, was pilot of the expedition. After a very tedious voyage, they entered the Road of St. John's, Newfoundland, on the 8th of June, where they found no fewer than seventeen vessels engaged in the inexhaustible fisheries of those waters.

While Roberval indulged in a brief repose at this place, the unwelcome appearance of Jacques Cartier filled him with disappointment and surprise. The lieutenant gave the hostility of the savages and the weakness of his force as reasons for having abandoned the settlement where he had passed the winter. He still, however, spoke favorably of the richness and fertility of the country, and gladdened the eyes of the adventurers by the sight of a substance that resembled gold ore, and crystals that they fancied were diamonds, found on the bold headland of Quebec. But, despite these flattering reports and promising specimens, Jacques Cartier and his followers could not be induced, by entreaties or persuasions, to return. The hardships and dangers of the last terrible winter were too fresh in memory, and too keenly felt, to be again braved. They deemed their portion of the contract already complete, and the love of their native land overcame the spirit of adventure, which had been weakened, if not quenched, by recent disappointment and suffering. To avoid the chance of an open rupture with Roberval, the lieutenant silently weighed anchor during the night, and made all sail for France. This inglorious withdrawal from the enterprise paralyzed Roberval's power, and deferred the permanent settlement of Canada for generations then unborn. Jacques Cartier died soon after his return to Europe.[92] Having sacrificed his fortune in the pursuit of discovery, his heirs were granted an exclusive privilege of trade to Canada for twelve years, in consideration of his sacrifices for the public good; but this gift was revoked four months after it was bestowed.

Roberval determined to proceed on his expedition, although deprived of the powerful assistance and valuable experience of his lieutenant. He sailed from Newfoundland for Canada, and reached Cap Rouge, the place where Jacques Cartier had wintered, before the end of June, 1542. He immediately fortified himself there, as the situation best adapted for defense against hostility, and for commanding the navigation of the Great River. Very little is known of Roberval's proceedings during the remainder of that year and the following winter. The natives do not appear to have molested the new settlers; but no progress whatever was made toward a permanent establishment. During the intense cold, the scurvy caused fearful mischief among the French; no fewer than fifty perished from that dreadful malady during the winter. Demoralized by misery and idleness, the little colony became turbulent and lawless, and Roberval was obliged to resort to extreme severity of punishment before quiet and discipline were re-established.

Toward the close of April the ice broke up, and released the French from their weary and painful captivity. On the 5th of June, 1543, Roberval set forth from Cap Rouge to explore the province of Saguenay, leaving thirty men and an officer to protect their winter-quarters: this expedition produced no results, and was attended with the loss of one of the boats and eight men. In the mean time the pilot, Jean Alphonse, was dispatched to examine the coasts north of Newfoundland, in hopes of discovering a passage to the East Indies; he reached the fifty-second degree of latitude, and then abandoned the enterprise; on returning to Europe, he published a narrative of Roberval's expedition and his own voyage, with a tolerably accurate description of the River St. Lawrence, and its navigation upward from the Gulf. Roberval reached France in 1543; the war between Francis I. and the Emperor Charles V. for some years occupied his ardent spirit, and supplied him with new occasions for distinction, till the death of the king, his patron and friend, in 1547. In the year 1549 he collected some adventurous men, and, accompanied by his brave brother, Achille, sailed once again for Canada; but none of this gallant band were ever heard of more. Thus, for many a year, were swallowed up in the stormy Atlantic all the bright hopes of founding a new nation in America:[93] since these daring men had failed, none others might expect to be successful.

In the reign of Henry II., attention was directed toward Brazil; splendid accounts of its wealth and fertility were brought home by some French navigators who had visited that distant land. The Admiral Gaspard de Coligni was the first to press upon the king the importance of obtaining a footing in South America, and dividing the magnificent prize with the Portuguese monarch. This celebrated man was convinced that an extensive system of colonization was necessary for the glory and tranquillity of France. He purposed that the settlement in the New World should be founded exclusively by persons holding that Reformed faith to which he was so deeply attached, and thus would be provided a refuge for those driven from France by religious proscription and persecution. It is believed that Coligni's magnificent scheme comprehended the possession of the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi, gradually colonizing the banks of these great rivers into the depths of the Continent, till the whole of North America, from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico, should be hemmed in by this gigantic line of French outposts. However, the first proposition was to establish a colony on the coast of Brazil; the king approved the project, and Durand de Villegagnon, vice-admiral of Brittany, was selected to command in 1555; the expedition, however, entirely failed, owing to religious differences.

Under the reigns of Francis II. and Charles IX., while France was convulsed with civil war, America seemed altogether forgotten. But Coligni availed himself of a brief interval of calm to turn attention once more to the Western World. He this time bethought himself of that country to which Ponce de Leon had given the name of Florida, from the exuberant productions of the soil and the beauty of the scenery and climate. The River Mississippi[94] had been discovered by Ferdinand de Soto,[95] about the time of Jacques Cartier's last voyage, 1543; consequently, the Spaniards had this additional claim upon the territory, which, they affirmed, they had visited in 1512, twelve years before the date of Verazzano's voyage in 1524. However, the claims and rights of the different European nations upon the American Continent were not then of sufficient strength to prevent each state from pursuing its own views of occupation. Coligni obtained permission from Charles IX. to attempt the establishment of a colony in Florida,[96] about the year 1562. The king was the more readily induced to approve of this enterprise, as he hoped that it would occupy the turbulent spirits of the Huguenots, many of them his bitter enemies, and elements of discord in his dominions. On the 18th of February, 1562, Jean de Ribaut, a zealous Protestant, sailed from Dieppe with two vessels and a picked crew; many volunteers, including some gentlemen of condition, followed his fortunes. He landed on the coast of Florida, near St. Mary's River, where he established a settlement and built a fort. Two years afterward Coligni sent out a re-enforcement, under the command of René de Laudonnière; this was the only portion of the admiral's great scheme ever carried into effect: when he fell, in the awful massacre of Saint Bartholomew, his magnificent project was abandoned. [1568.] After six years of fierce struggle with the Spaniards, the survivors of this little colony returned to France.[97]

CHAPTER III.

Little or no effort was made to colonize any part of Canada for nearly fifty years after the loss of Roberval; but the Huguenots of France did not forget that hope of a refuge from religious persecution which their great leader, Coligni, had excited in their breasts. Several of the leaders of subsequent expeditions of trade and discovery to Canada and Acadia were Calvinists, until 1627, when Champlain, zealous for the Romish faith, procured a decree forbidding the free exercise of the Reformed religion in French America.

Although the French seemed to have renounced all plan of settlement in America by the evacuation of Florida, the fishermen of Normandy and Brittany still plied their calling on the Great Bank and along the stormy shores of Newfoundland, and up the Gulf and River of St. Lawrence. By degrees they began to trade with the natives, and soon the greater gains and easier life of this new pursuit transformed many of these hardy sailors into merchants.

When, after fifty years of civil strife, the strong and wise sway of Henry IV. restored rest to troubled France, the spirit of discovery again arose. The Marquis de la Roche, a Breton gentleman, obtained from the king, in 1598, a patent granting the same powers that Roberval had possessed. He speedily armed a vessel, and sailed for Nova Scotia in the same year, accompanied by a skillful Norman pilot named Chedotel. He first reached Sable Island, where he left forty miserable wretches, convicts drawn from the prisons of France, till he might discover some favorable situation for the intended settlement, and make a survey of the neighboring coasts. When La Roche ever reached the Continent of America remains unknown; but he certainly returned to France, leaving the unhappy prisoners upon Sable Island to a fate more dreadful than even the dungeons or galleys of France could threaten. After seven years of dire suffering, twelve of these unfortunates were found alive, an expedition having been tardily sent to seek them by the king. When they arrived in France, they became objects of great curiosity; in consideration of such unheard-of suffering, their former crimes were pardoned, a sum of money was given to each, and the valuable furs collected during their dreary imprisonment, but fraudulently seized by the captain of the ship in which they were brought home, were allowed to their use. In the mean time, the Marquis de la Roche, who had so cruelly abandoned these men to their fate, harassed by lawsuits, overwhelmed with vexations, and ruined in fortune by the failure of his expedition, died miserably of a broken heart.

The misfortunes and ruin of the Marquis de la Roche did not stifle the spirit of commercial enterprise which the success of the fur trade had excited. Private adventurers, unprotected by any especial privilege, began to barter for the rich peltries of the Canadian hunters. [1600.] A wealthy merchant of St. Malo, named Pontgravé, was the boldest and most successful of these traders; he made several voyages to Tadoussac, at the mouth of the Saguenay, bringing back each time a rich cargo of rare and valuable furs. He saw that this commerce would open to him a field of vast wealth, could he succeed in obtaining an exclusive privilege to enjoy its advantages, and managed to induce Chauvin, a captain in the navy, to apply to the king for powers such as De la Roche had possessed: the application was successful, a patent was granted to Chauvin, and Pontgravé admitted to partnership. [1602.] It was, however, in vain that they attempted to establish a trading post at Tadoussac:[98] after having made two voyages thither without realizing their sanguine expectations of gain, Chauvin died while once more preparing to try his fortune.

At this time the great object of colonization was completely forgotten in the eager pursuit of the fur trade, till De Chatte, the governor of Dieppe, who succeeded to the privileges of Chauvin, founded a company of merchants at Rouen, for the further development of the resources of Canada. [1603.] An armament was fitted out under the command of the experienced Pontgravé; he was commissioned by the king to make further discoveries in the St. Lawrence, and to establish a settlement upon some suitable position on the coast. Samuel de Champlain, a captain in the navy, accepted a command in this expedition at the request of De Chatte; he was a native of Saintonge, and had lately returned to France from the West Indies, where he had gained a high name for boldness and skill. Under the direction of this wise and energetic man the first successful efforts were made to found a permanent settlement in the magnificent province of Canada, and the stain of the errors and disasters of more than seventy years was at length wiped away.

Pontgravé and Champlain sailed for the St. Lawrence in 1603. They remained a short time at Tadoussac, where they left their ships; then, trusting themselves to a small, open boat, with only five sailors, they boldly pushed up the Great River to the sault St. Louis, where Jacques Cartier had reached many years before. By this time Hochelaga, the ancient Indian city, had, from some unknown cause, sunk into such insignificance that the adventurers did not even notice it, nor deem it worthy of a visit; but they anchored for a time under the shade of the magnificent headland of Quebec. On the return of the expedition to France, Champlain found, to his deep regret, that De Chatte, the worthy and powerful patron of the undertaking, had died during his absence. Pierre du Guast, sieur de Monts, had succeeded to the powers and privileges of the deceased, with even a more extensive commission.

De Monts was a Calvinist, and had obtained from the king the freedom of religious faith for himself and his followers in America, but under the engagement that the Roman Catholic worship should be established among the natives. Even his opponents admitted the honesty and patriotism of his character,[99] and bore witness to his courage and ability; he was, nevertheless, unsuccessful; many of those under his command failed in their duty, and the jealousy excited by his exclusive privileges and obnoxious doctrines[100] involved him in ruinous embarrassments.

The trading company established by De Chatte was continued and increased by his successor. With this additional aid De Monts was enabled to fit out a more complete armament than had ever hitherto been engaged in Canadian commerce. He sailed from Havre on the 7th of March, 1604, with four vessels. Of these, two under his immediate command were destined for Acadia. Champlain, Poutrincourt, and many other volunteers, embarked their fortunes with him, purposing to cast their future lot in the New World. A third vessel was dispatched under Pontgravé to the Strait of Canso, to protect the exclusive trading privileges of the company. The fourth steered for Tadoussac, to barter for the rich furs brought by the Indian hunters from the dreary wilds of the Saguenay.

On the 6th of May De Monts reached a harbor on the coast of Acadia, where he seized and confiscated an English vessel, in vindication of his exclusive privileges. Thence he sailed to the Island of St. Croix, where he landed his people, and established himself for the winter. In the spring of 1605 he hastened to leave this settlement, where the want of wood and fresh water, and the terrible ravages of the scurvy, had disheartened and diminished the number of his followers. In the mean time Champlain had discovered and named Port Royal, now Annapolis, a situation which presented many natural advantages. De Monts removed the establishment thither, and erected a fort, appointing Pontgravé to its command. Soon afterward he bestowed Port Royal and a large extent of the neighboring country upon De Poutrincourt, and the grant was ultimately confirmed by letters patent from the king. This was the first concession of land made in North America since its discovery.

When De Monts returned to France in 1605, he found that enemies had been busily and successfully at work in destroying his influence at court. Complaints of the injustice of his exclusive privileges poured in from all the ports in the kingdom. It was urged that he had interfered with and thwarted the fisheries, under the pretense of securing the sole right of trading with the Indian hunters. These statements were hearkened to by the king, and all the Sieur's privileges were revoked. De Monts bore up bravely against this disaster. He entered into a new engagement with De Poutrincourt, who had followed him to France, and dispatched a vessel from Rochelle on the 13th of May to succor the colony in Acadia. The voyage was unusually protracted, and the settlers at Port Royal, at length reduced to great extremities, feared that they had been abandoned to their fate. The wise and energetic Pontgravé did all that man could do to reassure them; but, finally, their supplies being completely exhausted, he was constrained to yield to the general wish, and embark his people for France. He had scarcely sailed, however, when he heard of the arrival of Poutrincourt and the long-desired supplies. He then immediately returned to Port Royal, where he found his chief already landed. Under able and judicious management,[101] the colony increased and prospered until 1614, when it was attacked and broken up by Sir Samuel Argall with a Virginian force.[102]

The enemies of De Monts did not relax in their efforts till he was deprived of his high commission. A very insufficient indemnity was granted for the great expenses he had incurred. Still he was not disheartened: in the following year, 1607, he obtained a renewal of his privileges for one year, on condition that he should plant a colony upon the banks of the St. Lawrence. The trading company did not lose confidence in their principal, although his courtly influence had been destroyed; but their object was confined to the prosecution of the lucrative commerce in furs, for which reason they ceased to interest themselves in Acadia, and turned their thoughts to the Great River of Canada, where they hoped to find a better field for their undertaking. They equipped two ships at Honfleur, under the command of Champlain and Pontgravé, to establish the fur trade at Tadoussac. De Monts remained in France, vainly endeavoring to obtain an extension of his patent. Despite his disappointments, he fitted out some vessels in the spring of 1608, with the assistance of the company, and dispatched them to the River St. Lawrence on the 13th of April, under the same command as before.

Champlain reached Tadoussac on the 3d of June; his views were far more extended than those of a mere merchant; even honest fame for himself, and increase of glory and power for his country, were, in his eyes, objects subordinate to the extension of the Catholic faith. After a brief stay, he ascended the Great River, examining the shore with minute care, to seek the most fitting place where the first foundation of French empire might be laid. On the 3d of July he reached Quebec, where, nearly three quarters of a century before, Jacques Cartier had passed the winter. This magnificent position was at once chosen by Champlain as the site of the future capital of Canada: centuries of experience have proved the wisdom of the selection; admirably situated for purposes of war or commerce, and completely commanding the navigation of the Great River, it stands the center of a scene of beauty that can nowhere be surpassed.

On the bold headland overlooking the waters of the basin, he commenced his work by felling the trees, and rooting up the wild vines and tangled underwood from the virgin soil. Some rude huts were speedily erected for shelter; spots around them were cultivated to test the fertility of the land: this labor was repaid by abundant production. The first permanent work undertaken in the new settlement was the erection of a solid building as a magazine for their provisions. A temporary barrack on the highest point of the position, for the officers and men, was subsequently constructed. These preparations occupied the remainder of the summer. The first snow fell on the 18th of November, but only remained on the ground for two days: in December it again returned, and the face of nature was covered till the end of April, 1609. From the time of Jacques Cartier to the establishment of Champlain, and even to the present day, there has been no very decided amelioration of the severity of the climate; indeed, some of the earliest records notice seasons milder than many of modern days.

The town of Stadacona, like its prouder neighbor of Hochelaga, seems to have dwindled into insignificance since the time when it had been an object of such interest and suspicion to Jacques Cartier. Some Indians still lived in huts around Quebec, but in a state of poverty and destitution, very different from the condition of their ancestors. During the winter of 1608, they suffered dire extremities of famine; several came over from the southern shores of the river, miserably reduced by starvation, and scarcely able to drag along their feeble limbs, to seek aid from the strangers. Champlain relieved their necessities and treated them with politic kindness. The French suffered severely from the scurvy during the first winter of their residence.

On the 18th of April, 1609, Champlain, accompanied by two Frenchmen, ascended the Great River with a war party of Canadian Indians. After a time, turning southward up a tributary stream, he came to the shores of a large and beautiful lake, abounding with fish; the shores and neighboring forests sheltered, in their undisturbed solitude, countless deer and other animals of the chase. To this splendid sheet of water he gave his own name, which it still bears. To the south and west rose huge snow-capped mountains, and in the fertile valleys below dwelt numbers of the fierce and hostile Iroquois. Champlain and his savage allies pushed on to the furthest extremity of the lake, descended a rapid, and entered another smaller sheet of water, afterward named St. Sacrement. On the shore they encountered two hundred of the Iroquois warriors; a battle ensued; the skill and the astonishing weapons of the white men soon gave their Canadian allies a complete victory. Many prisoners were taken, and, in spite of Champlain's remonstrances, put to death with horrible and protracted tortures. The brave Frenchman returned to Quebec, and sailed for Europe in September, leaving Captain Pierre Chauvin, an experienced officer, in charge of the infant settlement. Henry IV. received Champlain with favor, and called him to an interview at Fontainebleau:[103] the king listened attentively to the report of the new colony, expressing great satisfaction at its successful foundation and favorable promise. But the energetic De Monts, to whom so much of this success was due, could find no courtly aid: the renewal of his privilege was refused, and its duration had already expired. By the assistance of the Merchant Company, he fitted out two vessels in the spring of 1610, under the tried command of Champlain and Pontgravé: the first was destined for Quebec, with some artisans, settlers, and necessary supplies for the colony; the second was commissioned to carry on the fur trade at Tadoussac. Champlain sailed from Honfleur on the 8th of April, and reached the mouth of the Saguenay in eighteen days, a passage which even all the modern improvements in navigation have rarely enabled any one to surpass in rapidity. He soon hastened on to Quebec, where, to his great joy, he found the colonists contented and prosperous; the virgin soil had abundantly repaid the labors of cultivation, and the natives had in no wise molested their dangerous visitors. He joined the neighboring tribes of Algonquin and Montagnez Indians, during the summer, in an expedition against the Iroquois. Having penetrated the woody country beyond Sorel for some distance, they came upon a place where their enemies were intrenched; this they took, after a bloody resistance. Champlain and another Frenchman were slightly wounded in the encounter.

In 1612 Champlain found it necessary to revisit France; some powerful patron was wanted to forward the interests of the colony, and to provide the supplies and resources required for its extension. The Count de Soissons readily entered into his views, and delegated to him the authority of viceroy, which had been conferred upon the count.[104] Soissons died soon after, and the Prince of Condé became his successor. Champlain was wisely continued in the command he had so long and ably held, but was delayed in France for some time by difficulties on the subject of commerce with the merchants of St. Malo.

Champlain sailed again from St. Malo on the 6th of March, 1613, in a vessel commanded by Pontgravé, and anchored before Quebec on the 7th of May. He found the state of affairs at the settlement so satisfactory that his continued presence was unnecessary; he therefore proceeded at once to Montreal, and, after a short stay at that island, explored for some distance the course of the Ottawa, which there pours its vast flood into the main stream of the St. Lawrence. The white men were filled with wonder and admiration at the magnitude of this great tributary, the richness and beauty of its shores, the broad lakes and deep rapids, and the eternal forests, clothing mountain, plain, and valley for countless leagues around. As they proceeded they found no diminution in the volume of water; and when they inquired of the wandering Indian for its source, he pointed to the northwest, and indicated that it lay in the unknown solitudes of ice and snow, to which his people had never reached. After this expedition Champlain returned with his companion Pontgravé to St. Malo, where they arrived in the end of August.

Having engaged some wealthy merchants of St. Malo, Rouen, and Rochelle in an association for the support of the colony, through the assistance of the Prince of Condé, viceroy of New France, he obtained letters patent of incorporation for the company [1614]. The temporal welfare of the settlement being thus placed upon a secure basis, Champlain, who was a zealous Catholic, next devoted himself to obtain spiritual aid. By his entreaties four Recollets were prevailed upon to undertake the mission. These were the first[105] ministers of religion settled in Canada. They reached Quebec in the beginning of April, 1615, accompanied by Champlain, who, however, at once proceeded to Montreal.

On arriving at this island, he found the Huron and other allied tribes again preparing for an expedition against the Iroquois. With a view of gaining the friendship of the savages, and of acquiring a knowledge of the country, he injudiciously offered himself to join a quarrel in which he was in no wise concerned. The father Joseph Le Caron accompanied him, in the view of preparing the way for religious instruction, by making himself acquainted with the habits and language of the Indians. Champlain was appointed chief by the allies, but his savage followers rendered slight obedience to this authority. The expedition proved very disastrous: the Iroquois were strongly intrenched, and protected by a quantity of felled trees; their resistance proved successful; Champlain was wounded, and the allies were forced to retreat with shame and with heavy loss.

The respect of the Indians for the French was much diminished by this untoward failure; they refused to furnish Champlain with a promised guide to conduct him to Quebec, and he was obliged to pass the winter among them as an unwilling guest. He, however, made the best use of his time; he visited many of the principal Huron and Algonquin towns, even those as distant as Lake Nipissing, and succeeded in reconciling several neighboring nations. At the opening of the navigation, he gained over some of the Indians to his cause, and, finding that another expedition against the Iroquois was in preparation, embarked secretly and arrived at Quebec on the 11th of July, 1616, when he found that he and the father Joseph were supposed to have been dead long since. They both sailed for France soon after their return from among the Hurons.

In the following year, a signal service was rendered to the colony by a worthy priest named Duplessys: he had been engaged for some time at Three Rivers in the instruction of the savages, and had happily so far gained their esteem, that some of his pupils informed him of a conspiracy among all the neighboring Indian tribes for the utter destruction of the French; eight hundred chiefs and warriors had assembled to arrange the plan of action. Duplessys contrived, with consummate ability, to gain over some of the principal Indians to make advances toward a reconciliation with the white men, and, by degrees, succeeded in arranging a treaty, and in causing two chiefs to be given up as hostages for its observance.

For several years Champlain was constantly obliged to visit France for the purpose of urging on the tardily provided aids for the colony. The court would not interest itself in the affairs of New France since a company had undertaken their conduct, and the merchants, always limited in their views to mere commercial objects, cared but little for the fate of the settlers so long as their warehouses were stored with the valuable furs brought by the Indian hunters. These difficulties would doubtless have smothered the infant nation in its cradle, had it not been for the untiring zeal and constancy of its great founder. At every step he met with new trials from the indifference, caprice, or contradiction of his associates, but, with his eye steadily fixed upon the future, he devoted his fortune and the energies of his life to the cause, and rose superior to every obstacle.

In 1620, the Prince of Condé sold the vice-royalty of New France to his brother-in-law, the Marshal de Montmorenci, for eleven thousand crowns. The marshal wisely continued Champlain as lieutenant governor, and intrusted the management of colonial affairs in France to M. Dolu, a gentleman of known zeal and probity. Champlain being hopeful that these changes would favorably affect Canada, resolved now to establish his family permanently in that country. Taking them with him, he sailed from France in the above-named year, and arrived at Quebec in the end of May. In passing by Tadoussac, he found that some adventurers of Rochelle had opened a trade with the savages, in violation of the company's privileges, and had given the fatal example of furnishing the hunters with fire-arms in exchange for their peltries.

A great danger menaced the colony in the year 1621. The Iroquois sent three large parties of warriors to attack the French settlements. This savage tribe feared that if the white men obtained a footing in the country, their alliance with the Hurons and Algonquins, of which the effects had already been felt, might render them too powerful. The first division marched upon Sault St. Louis, where a few Frenchmen were established. Happily, there was warning of their approach; the defenders, aided by some Indian allies, repulsed them with much loss, and took several prisoners. The Iroquois had, however, seized Father Guillaume Poulain, one of the Recollets, in their retreat; they tied him to a stake, and were about to burn him alive, when they were persuaded to exchange the good priest for one of their own chiefs, who had fallen into the hands of the French. Another party of these fierce marauders dropped down the river to Quebec in a fleet of thirty canoes, and suddenly invested the Convent of the Recollets, where a small fort had been erected; they did not venture to attack this little stronghold, but fell upon some Huron villages near at hand, and massacred the helpless inhabitants with frightful cruelty; they then retreated as suddenly as they had come. Alarmed by this ferocious attack, which weakness and the want of sufficient supplies prevented him from avenging, Champlain sent Father Georges le Brebeuf as an agent, to represent to the king the deplorable condition of the colony, from the criminal neglect of the company. The appeal was successful; the company was suppressed, and the exclusive privilege transferred to Guillaume and Emeric de Caen, uncle and nephew.

The king himself wrote to his worthy subject Champlain, expressing high approval of his eminent services, and exhorting him to continue in the same career. This high commendation served much to strengthen his hands in the exercise of his difficult authority. He was embarrassed by constant disputes between the servants of the suppressed company, and those who acted for the De Caens; religious differences also served to embitter these dissensions, as the new authorities were zealous Huguenots.

This year Champlain discovered that his ancient allies, the Hurons, purposed to detach themselves from his friendship, and unite with the Iroquois for his destruction. To avert this danger, he sent among them Father Joseph la Caron and two other priests, who appear to have succeeded in their mission of reconciliation. The year after, he erected a stone fort[108] at Quebec for the defense of the settlement, which then only numbered fifty souls of all ages and sexes. As soon as the defenses were finished, Champlain departed for France with his family, to press for aid from the government for the distressed colony.

On his arrival, he found that Henri de Levi, duke de Ventadour, had purchased the vice-royalty of New France from the Marshal de Montmorenci, his uncle, with the view of promoting the spiritual welfare of Canada, and the general conversion of the heathen Indians to the Christian faith. He had himself long retired from the strife and troubles of the world, and entered into holy orders. Being altogether under the influence of the Jesuits, he considered them as the means given by heaven for the accomplishment of his views. The pious and exemplary Father Lallemant, with four other priests and laymen of the Order of Jesus, undertook the mission, and sailed for Canada in 1625. They were received without jealousy by their predecessors of the Recollets, and admitted under their roof on their first arrival.[109] The following year three other Jesuit fathers reached Quebec in a little vessel provided by themselves; many artisans accompanied them. By the aid of this re-enforcement, the new settlement soon assumed the appearance of a town.

The Huguenot De Caens used their powerful influence to foment the religious disputes now raging in the infant settlement;[110] they were also far more interested in the profitable pursuit of the fur trade than in promoting the progress of colonization; for these reasons, the Cardinal de Richelieu judged that their rule was injurious to the prosperity of the country; he revoked their privileges, and caused the formation of a numerous company of wealthy and upright men; to this he transferred the charge of the colony. This body was chartered under the name of "The Company of One Hundred Associates:"[111] their capital was 100,000 crowns; their privileges as follows: To be proprietors of Canada; to govern in peace and war; to enjoy the whole trade for fifteen years (except the cod and whale fishery), and the fur trade in perpetuity; untaxed imports and exports. The king gave them two ships of 300 tons burden each, and raised twelve of the principal members to the rank of nobility. The company, on their part, undertook to introduce 200 or 300 settlers during the year 1628, and 16,000 more before 1643, providing them with all necessaries for three years, and settling them afterward on a sufficient extent of cleared land for their future support. The articles of this agreement were signed by the Cardinal de Richelieu on the 19th of April, 1627, and subsequently approved by the king.

At this time the Indians were a constant terror to the settlers in Canada: several Frenchmen had been assassinated by the ruthless savages, and their countrymen were too feeble in numbers to demand the punishment of the murderers. Conscious of their strength, the natives became daily more insolent; no white man could venture beyond the settlement without incurring great danger. Building languished, and much of the cleared land remained uncultivated. Such was the disastrous state of the colony.

The commencement of the company's government was marked by heavy misfortune. The first vessels sent by them to America fell into the hands of the English, at the sudden breaking out of hostilities. In 1628, Sir David Kertk, a French Calvinist refugee in the British service, reached Tadoussac with a squadron, burned the fur houses of the free traders, and did other damage; thence he sent to Quebec, summoning Champlain to surrender. The brave governor consulted with Pontgravé and the inhabitants; they came to the resolution of attempting a defense, although reduced to great extremities, and sent Kertk such a spirited answer that he, ignorant of their weakness, did not advance upon the town. He, however, captured a convoy under the charge of De Roquemont, with several families on board, and a large supply of provisions for the settlement. This expedition against Canada was said to have been planned and instigated by De Caen, from a spirit of vengeance against those who had succeeded to his lost privileges.

In July, 1629, Lewis and Thomas, brothers of Sir David Kertk, appeared with an armament before Quebec. As soon as the fleet had anchored, a white flag with a summons to capitulate was sent ashore. This time the assailants were well informed of the defenders' distress, but offered generous terms if Champlain would at once surrender the fort. He, having no means of resistance, was fain to submit. The English took possession the following day, and treated the inhabitants with such good faith and humanity, that none of them left the country. Lewis Kertk remained in command at Quebec; Champlain proceeded with Thomas to Tadoussac, where they met the admiral, Sir David, with the remainder of the fleet. In September they sailed for England, and Champlain was sent on to France, according to treaty.[112]

When the French received the news of the loss of Canada, opinion was much divided as to the wisdom of seeking to regain the captured settlement.[113] Some thought its possession of little value in proportion to the expense it caused, while others deemed that the fur trade and fisheries were of great importance to the commerce of France, as well as a useful nursery for experienced seamen. Champlain strongly urged the government not to give up a country where they had already overcome the principal difficulties of settlement, and where, through their means, the light of religion was dawning upon the darkness of heathen ignorance. His solicitations were successful, and Canada was restored to France at the same time with Acadia and Cape Breton, by the treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye[114] [1632]. At this period the fort of Quebec, surrounded by a score of hastily-built dwellings and barracks, some poor huts on the island of Montreal, the like at Three Rivers and Tadoussac, and a few fishermen's log-houses elsewhere on the banks of the St. Lawrence, were the only fruits of the discoveries of Verazzano, Jacques Cartier, Roberval, and Champlain, the great outlay of La Roche and De Monts, and the toils and sufferings of their followers, for nearly a century.[115]

By the treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye the company were restored to all their rights and privileges, and obtained compensation for the losses they had sustained, but it was some time before the English could be effectually excluded from the trade which they had established with the Indians during their brief possession of the country. In 1633 Champlain was reappointed governor of New France, and on his departure for the colony took with him many respectable settlers: several Protestants were anxious to join him; this, however, was not permitted. Two Jesuits, Fathers de Brebeuf and Enemond Masse, accompanied the governor: they purposed to devote themselves to the conversion of the Indians to Christianity, and to the education of the youth of the colony. The Recollets had made but little progress in proselytism; as yet, very few of the natives had been baptized, nor were the Jesuits at first[116] much more successful: these persevering men were, however, not to be disheartened by difficulties, and they were supported by the hope that when they became better acquainted with the language and manners of their pupils, their instructions would yield a richer harvest.[117]

As New France advanced in population and prosperity, the sentiments of religion became strengthened among the settlers. On the first arrival of the Jesuits, Rénè Rohault, the eldest son of the Marquis de Gamache, and himself one of the order, adopted the idea of founding a college at Quebec for the education of youth and the conversion of the Indians, and offered 6000 crowns of gold as a donation to forward the object. The capture of the settlement by the English had, for a time, interrupted the execution of this plan; but Rohault at length succeeded in laying the foundation of the building in December, 1635, to the great joy of the French colonists.

In the same month, to the deep regret of all good men, death deprived his country of the brave, high-minded, and wise Champlain. He was buried in the city of which he was the founder, where, to this day, he is fondly and gratefully remembered among the just and good. Gifted with high ability, upright, active, and chivalrous, he was, at the same time, eminent for his Christian zeal and humble piety. "The salvation of one soul," he often said, "is of more value than the conquest of an empire." To him belongs the glory of planting Christianity and civilization among the snows of those northern forests; during his life, indeed, a feeble germ, but, sheltered by his vigorous arm—nursed by his tender care—the root struck deep. Little more than two centuries have passed since the faithful servant went to rest upon the field of his noble toils. And now a million and a half of Christian people dwell in peace and plenty upon that magnificent territory, which his zeal and wisdom first redeemed from the desolation of the wilderness.

CHAPTER IV.

Having followed the course of discovery and settlement in New France up to the death of the man who stamped the first permanent impression upon that country, it is now time to review its character and condition at the period when it became the abode of a civilized people. Champlain's deputed commission of governor gave him authority over all that France possessed or claimed on the continent and islands of North America; Newfoundland, Isle Royale, and Acadia, were each portions of this vast but vague territory; and those unknown, boundless solitudes of ice and snow, lying toward the frozen north, whose very existence was a speculation, were also, by the shadowy right of a European king, added to his wide dominion. Of that portion, however, called Canada, it is more especially the present subject to treat.

Canada is a vast plain, irregular in elevation and feature, forming a valley between two ranges of high land; one of these ranges divides it, to the north, from the dreary territories of Hudson's Bay; the other, to the south, from the republic of the United States and the British province of New Brunswick. None of the hills rise to any great height; with one exception, Man's Hill, in the State of Maine, 2000 feet is their greatest altitude above the sea. The elevated districts are, however, of very great extent, broken, rugged, and rocky, clothed with dense forests, intersected with rapid torrents, and varied with innumerable lakes. The great plain of Canada narrows to a mere strip of low land by the side of the St. Lawrence, as it approaches the eastern extremity. From Quebec to the gulf on the north side, and toward Gaspé on the south, the grim range of mountains reaches almost to the water's edge; westward of that city the plain expands, gradually widening into a district of great beauty and fertility; again, westward of Montreal, the level country becomes far wider and very rich, including the broad and valuable flats that lie along the lower waters of the Ottawa. The rocky, elevated shores of Lake Huron bound this vast valley to the west; the same mountain range extends along the northern shore of Lake Superior; beyond lie great tracts of fertile soil, where man's industrious hand has not yet been applied.

Canada may be described as lying between the meridians of 57° 50' and 90° west; from the mouth of the Esquimaux River on the confines of Labrador, to the entrance of the stream connecting the waters of Lake Superior and the Rainy Lake, bordering on Prince Rupert's Land. The parallels of 42° and 52° inclose this country to the south and north. The greatest length is about 1300 miles, the breadth 700. A space of 348,000 square miles is inclosed within these limits.

The great lakes in Canada give a character to that country distinct from any other in the Old World or the New. They are very numerous; some far exceed all inland waters elsewhere in depth and extent; they feed, without apparent diminution, the great river St. Lawrence; the tempest plows their surface into billows that rival those of the Atlantic,[118] and they contain more than half of all the fresh water upon the surface of the globe.[119]

Superior[120] is the largest and most elevated of these lakes: it is crescent-shaped, convex to the north; to the southeast and southwest its extremities are narrow points: the length through the curve is 360 geographical miles, the breadth in the widest part 140, the circumference 1500. The surface of this vast sheet of fresh water is 627 feet above the level of the Atlantic; from various indications upon the shores, there is good reason to conclude that at some remote period it was forty or fifty feet higher. The depth of Lake Superior varies much in different parts, but is generally very great; at the deepest it is probably 1200 feet. The waters are miraculously pure and transparent; many fathoms down, the eye can distinctly trace the rock and shingle of the bottom, and follow the quick movements of the numerous and beautiful fish inhabiting these crystal depths. No tides vary the stillness of this inland sea, but when a strong prevailing wind sweeps over the surface, the waves are lashed to fury, and the waters, driven by its force, crowd up against the leeward shore. When in the spring the warm sun melts the mountain snows, and each little tributary becomes an impetuous torrent pouring into this great basin, the level of the surface rises many feet. Although no river of any magnitude helps to supply Lake Superior, a vast number of small streams fall in from among clefts and glens along the rugged shores;[121] there are also many large islands; one, Isle Royale, is more than forty miles in length. In some places lofty hills[122] rise abruptly from the water's edge; in others there are intervals of lower lands for sixty or seventy miles, but every where stands the primeval forest, clothing height and hollow alike. At the south-eastern extremity of this lake, St. Mary's Channel carries the superabundant waters for nearly forty miles, till they fall into Lake Huron; about midway between, they rush tumultuously down a steep descent, with a tremendous roar, through shattered masses of rock, filling the pure air above with clouds of snowy foam.

Lake Huron is the next in succession and the second in magnitude of these inland seas. The outline is very irregular, to the north and east formed by the Canadian territory, to the southwest by that of the United States. From where the Channel of St. Mary enters this lake to the furthest extremity is 240 miles, the greatest breadth is 220, the circumference about 1000; the surface is only 32 feet lower than that of Superior; in depth and in pure transparency the waters of this lake are not surpassed by its great neighbor. Parallel to the north shore runs a long, narrow peninsula called Cabot Head, which, together with a chain of islands, shuts in the upper waters so as almost to form a separate and distinct lake. The Great Manitoulin Island, the largest of this chain, is seventy-five miles in length. In the Indian tongue the name denotes it the abode of the Great Spirit,[123] and the simple savages regard these woody shores with reverential awe.

To the north and west of Lake Huron the shores are generally rugged and precipitous; abrupt heights of from 30 to 100 feet rise from the water's edge, formed of clay, huge stones, steep rocks, and wooded acclivities; further inland, the peaks of the Cloche Mountains ascend to a considerable height. To the east, nature presents a milder aspect; a plain of great extent and richness stretches away toward the St. Lawrence. Many streams pour their flood into this lake; the principal are the Maitland, Severn, Moon, and French Rivers; they are broad and deep, but their sources lie at no great distance. By far the largest supply of water comes from the vast basin of Lake Superior, through the Channel of St. Mary. Near the northwestern extremity of Huron, a narrow strait[124] connects it with Lake Michigan in the United States; there is a slight difference of level between these two great sheets of water, and a current constantly sets into the southern basin: this lake is also remarkable for its depth and transparency.[125]

At the southern extremity of Lake Huron, its overflow pours through a river about thirty miles in length into a small lake; both lake and river bear the name of St. Clair.[126] Thence the waters flow on, through the broad but shallow stream of the Detroit, until they fall into Lake Erie thirty miles below; on either side, the banks and neighboring districts are rich in beauty and abundantly fertile.

Lake Erie is shallow and dangerous, the anchorage is bad, the harbors few and inconvenient. Long, low promontories project for a considerable distance from the main land, and embarrass the navigation; but the coasts, both on the Canadian and American side, are very fertile.[127] Lake Erie is about 265 miles long, and 63 wide at its greatest breadth; the circumference is calculated at 658 miles; its surface lies 30 feet below the level of Lake Huron.[128] The length of the lake stretches northeast, almost the same direction as the line of the River St. Lawrence.

The Niagara River flows from the northeastern extremity of Lake Erie to Lake Ontario in a course of 33 miles, with a fall of not less than 334 feet. About twenty miles below Lake Erie is the grandest sight that nature has laid before the human eye—the Falls of Niagara. A stream three quarters of a mile wide, deep and rapid, plunges over a rocky ledge 150 feet in height; about two thirds of the distance across from the Canadian side stands Goat Island, covered with stately timber: four times as great a body of water precipitates itself over the northern or Horse-shoe Fall as that which flows over the American portion. Above the cataract the river becomes very rapid and tumultuous in several places, particularly at the Ferry of Black Rock, where it rushes past at the rate of seven miles an hour; within the last mile there is a tremendous indraught to the Falls. The shores on both sides of the Niagara River are of unsurpassed natural fertility, but there is little scenic beauty around to divert attention from the one object. The simplicity of this wonder adds to the force of its impression: no other sight over the wide world so fills the mind with awe and admiration. Description may convey an idea of the height and breadth[129]—the vast body of water[130]—the profound abyss—the dark whirlpools—the sheets of foam[131]—the plumy column of spray[132] rising up against the sky—the dull, deep sound that throbs through the earth, and fills the air for miles and miles with its unchanging voice[133]—but of the magnitude of this idea, and the impression, stamped upon the senses by the reality, it is vain to speak to those who have not stood beside Niagara.

Tho descent of the land from the shores of Lake Erie to those of Ontario is general and gradual,[134] and there is no feature in the neighborhood of the Falls to mark its locality. From the Erie boundary the river flows smoothly through a level but elevated plain, branching round one large and some smaller islands. Although the deep, tremulous sound of Niagara tells of its vicinity, there is no unusual appearance till within about a mile, when the waters begin to ripple and hasten on; a little further it dashes down a magnificent rapid, then again becomes tranquil and glassy, but glides past with astonishing swiftness. There are numberless points whence the fall of this great river may be well seen: the best is Table Rock, at the top of the cataract; the most wonderful is the recess between the falling flood and the cliff over which it leaps.

For some length below Niagara the waters are violently agitated; however, at the distance of half a mile, a ferry plies across in safety. The high banks on both sides of the river extend to Queenston and Lewiston, eight miles lower, confining the waters to a channel of no more than a quarter of a mile in breadth, between steep and lofty cliffs; midway is the whirlpool,[135] where the current rushes furiously round within encircling heights. Below Queenston the river again rolls along a smooth stream, between level and cultivated banks, till it pours its waters into Lake Ontario.

Ontario is the last[136] and the most easterly of the chain of lakes.[137] The greatest length is 172 miles; at the widest it measures 59 miles across; the circumference is 467 miles, and the surface is 334 feet below the level of Lake Erie. The depth of Ontario varies very much along the coast, being seldom more than from three to 50 fathoms; and in the center, a plummet, with 300 fathoms of line, has been tried in vain for soundings. A sort of gravel, small pieces of limestone, worn round and smooth by the action of water, covers the shores, lying in long ridges sometimes miles in extent. The waters, like those of the other great lakes, are very pure and beautiful, except where the shallows along the margin are stirred up by violent winds: for a few days in June a yellow, unwholesome scum covers the surface at the edge every year. There is a strange phenomenon connected with Ontario, unaccounted for by scientific speculation; each seventh year, from some inscrutable cause, the waters reach to an unusual height, and again subside, mysteriously as they arose. The beautiful illusion of the mirage spreads its dreamy enchantment over the surface of Ontario in the summer calms, mixing islands, clouds, and waters in strange confusion.[138]

The outline of the shores is much diversified: to the northeast lie low lands and swampy marshes; to the north and northeast extends a bold range of elevated grounds; southward the coast becomes again flat for some distance inland, till it rises into the ridge of heights that marks the position of Niagara. The country bordering the lake is generally rich and productive, and was originally covered with forest. A ridge of lofty land runs from the beautiful Bay of Quinté, on the northwest of the lake, westward along the shore, at a distance of nine or more miles: from these heights innumerable streams flow into Ontario on one side, and into the lakes and rivers of the back country on the other. At Toronto the ridge recedes to the distance of twenty-four miles northeast from the lake, separating the tributary waters of Lakes Huron and Ontario; thence merging in the Burlington Heights, it continues along the southwest side from four to eight miles distant from the shore to the high grounds about Niagara.

Besides the great stream of Niagara, many rivers flow into Ontario both on the Canadian and American sides. The bays and harbors are also very numerous, affording great facilities for navigation and commerce: in this respect the northern shore is the most favored—the Bays of Quinté and Burlington are especially remarkable for their extent and security.[139]

The northeast end of Lake Ontario, where its waters pour into the St. Lawrence, is a scene of striking beauty;[140] numerous wooded islands, in endless variety of form and extent, divide the entrance of the Great River[141] into a labyrinth of tortuous channels, for twelve miles in breadth from shore to shore: this width gradually decreases as the stream flows on to Prescot, fifty miles below; a short distance beyond that town the rapids commence,[142] and thence to Montreal the navigation is interrupted for vessels of burden; boats, rafts, and small steamers, however, constantly descend these tumultuous waters, and not unfrequently are lost in the dangerous attempt. The most beautiful and formidable of these rapids is called the Cedars, from the rich groves of that fragrant tree covering numerous and intricate islands, which distort the rushing stream into narrow and perilous channels: the water is not more than ten feet deep in some places, and flows at the rate of twelve miles an hour. The river there widens into Lake St. Francis, and again into Lake St. Louis, which drains a large branch of the Ottawa at its south-western extremity. The water of this great tributary is remarkably clear and of a bright emerald color; that of the St. Lawrence at this junction is muddy, from having passed over deep beds of marl for several miles above its entrance to Lake St. Louis: for some distance down the lake the different streams can be plainly distinguished from each other. From the confluence of the first branches above Montreal these two great rivers seem bewildered among the numerous and beautiful islands, and, hurrying past in strong rapids, only find rest again in the broad, deep waters many miles below.

The furthest sources of the Ottawa River are unknown.[143] It rises to importance at the outlet from Lake Temiscaming, 350 miles west of its junction with the St. Lawrence.[144] Beyond the Falls and Portage des Allumettes, 110 miles above Hull, this stream has been little explored. There it is divided into two channels by a large island fifteen miles long: the southernmost of these expands into the width of four or five miles, and communicates by a branch of the river with the Mud and Musk Rat Lakes. Twelve miles further south the river again forms two branches, including an extensive and beautiful island twenty miles in length; numerous rapids and cascades diversify this wild but lovely scene; thence to the foot of the Chenaux, wooded islands in picturesque variety deck the bosom of the stream, and the bright blue waters here wind their way for three miles through a channel of pure white marble. Nature has bestowed abundant fertility as well as beauty upon this favored district. The Gatineau River joins the Ottawa near Hull, after a course of great length. This stream is navigated by canoes for more than 300 miles, traversing an immense valley of rich soil and picturesque scenery.

At the foot of the Chenaux the magnificent Lake des Chats opens to view, in length about fifteen miles; the shores are strangely indented, and numbers of wooded islands stud the surface of the clear waters. At the foot of the lake there are falls and rapids;[145] thence to Lake Chaudière, a distance of six miles, the channel narrows, but expands again to form that beautiful and extensive basin. Rapids again succeed, and continue to the Chaudière Falls. The boiling pool into which these waters descend is of great depth: the sounding-line does not reach the bottom at the length of 300 feet. It is supposed that the main body of the river flows by a subterraneous passage, and rises again half a mile lower down. Below the Chaudière Falls the navigation is uninterrupted to Grenville, sixty miles distant. The current is scarcely perceptible; the banks are low, and generally over-flowed in the spring; but the varying breadth of the river, the numerous islands, the magnificent forests, and the crystal purity of the waters, lend a charm to the somewhat monotonous beauty of the scene. At Grenville commences the Long Sault, a swift and dangerous rapid, which continues with intervals till it falls into the still Lake of the Two Mountains. Below the heights from whence this sheet of water derives its name, the well-known Rapids of St. Anne's discharge the main stream into the waters of the St. Lawrence.[146]

Below the island of Montreal the St. Lawrence continues, in varying breadth and considerable depth, to Sorel, where it is joined by the Richelieu River from the south; thence opens the expanse of Lake St. Peter, shallow and uninteresting; after twenty-five miles the Great River contracts again, receives in its course the waters of the St. Maurice, and other large streams; and 180 miles below Montreal the vast flood pours through the narrow channel that lies under the shadow of Quebec.[147] Below this strait lies a deep basin, nearly four miles wide, formed by the head of the Island of Orleans: the main channel continues by the south shore. It would be wearisome to tell of all the numerous and beautiful islands that deck the bosom of the St. Lawrence from Quebec to the Gulf. The river gradually expands till it reaches a considerable breadth at the mouth of the Saguenay. There is a dark shade for many miles below where this great tributary pours its gloomy flood into the pure waters of the St. Lawrence: 120 miles westward it flows from a large, circular sheet of water, called Lake St. John; but the furthest sources lie in the unknown regions of the west and north. For about half its course, from the lake to Tadoussac at the mouth, the banks are rich and fertile; but thence cliffs rise abruptly out of the water to a lofty height—sometimes 2000 feet—and two or three miles apart. The depth of the Saguenay is very great, and the surrounding scenery is of a magnificent but desolate character.

Below the entrance of the Saguenay the St. Lawrence increases to twenty miles across, at the Bay of Seven Islands to seventy, at the head of the large and unexplored island of Anticosti to ninety, and at the point where it may be said to enter the Gulf between Gaspé and the Labrador coast, reaches the enormous breadth of 120 miles. In mid-channel both coasts can be seen; the mountains on the north shore rise to a great height in a continuous range, their peaks capped with eternal snows.

Having traced this vast chain of water communication from its remotest links, it is now time to speak of the magnificent territory which it opens to the commerce and enterprise of civilized man.

Upper or Western Canada[148] is marked off from the eastern province by the natural boundary of the Ottawa or Grand River. It consists almost throughout of one uniform plain. In all those districts hitherto settled or explored, there is scarcely a single eminence that can be called a hill, although traversed by two wide ridges, rising above the usual level of the country. The greater of these elevations passes through nearly the whole extent of the province from southeast to northwest, separating the waters falling into the St. Lawrence and the great lakes from those tributary to the Ottawa: the highest point is forty miles north of Kingston, being also the most elevated level on that magnificent modern work, the Rideau Canal;[149] it is 290 feet above the Ottawa at Bytown, and 160 feet higher than the surface of Lake Ontario. Toward these waters the plain descends at the gradient of about four feet in the mile; this declivity is imperceptible to the eye, and is varied by gently undulating slopes and inequalities. Beyond the broad, rich valley lying to the north of this elevation there is a rocky and mountainous country; still farther north are seen snow-covered peaks of a great but unknown height; thence to the pole extends the dreary region of the Hudson Bay territory.

The lesser elevation begins near the eastern extremity of Ontario, and runs almost parallel with the shores of the lake to a point about twenty-four miles northwest from Toronto, where it separates the streams flowing into Lakes Huron and Ontario: it then passes southeast between Lakes Erie and Ontario, and terminates on the Genesee in the United States. This has a more perceptible elevation than the southern ridge, and in some places rises into bold heights.

The only portion of the vast plain of Western Canada surveyed or effectually explored is included by a line drawn from the eastern coast of Lake Huron to the Ottawa River, and the northern shores of the great chain of lake and river; this is, however, nearly as large as the whole of England.

The natural features of Lower or Eastern Canada are unsurpassed by those of any other country in grace and variety: rivers, lakes, mountains, forests, prairies, and cataracts are grouped together in endless combinations of beauty and magnificence. The eastern districts, beginning with the bold sea-coast and broad waters of the St. Lawrence, are high, mountainous, and clothed with dark forests on both sides, down to the very margin of the river. To the north, a lofty and rugged range of heights runs parallel with the shore as far westward as Quebec; thence it bends west and southwest to the banks of the Ottawa. To the south, the elevated ridge, where it reaches within sixty miles of Quebec, turns from the parallel of the St. Lawrence southwest and south into the United States; this ridge, known by the name of the Alleganies, rises abruptly out of the Gulf of St. Lawrence at Percé, between the Baye de Chaleur and Gaspé Cape, and is more distant from the Great River than that upon the northern shore. Where the Alleganies enter the United States they divide the plains of the Atlantic coast from the basin of the Ohio; their greatest height is about 4000 feet above the level of the sea.

The Valley of the St. Lawrence, lying between these two ranges of heights, is marked by great diversities of hill, plain, and valley. Both from the north and south numerous rivers pour their tributary flood into the great waters of Canada; of those eastward of the Saguenay little is known beyond their entrance; they flow through cliffs of light-colored sand, rocky, wooded knolls, or, in some places, deep, swampy moss-beds nearly three feet in depth. From the Saguenay to Quebec the mountain ridge along the shore of the St. Lawrence is unbroken, save where streams find their way to the Great River, but beyond this coast-border the country is in some places level, in others undulating, with hills of moderate height, and well-watered valleys. From Quebec westward to the St. Maurice, which joins the St. Lawrence at Three Rivers, the land rises in a gentle ascent from the banks of the Great River, and presents a rich tract of fertile plains and slopes: in the distance, a lofty chain of mountains protects this favored district from the bitter northern blast. Along the north bank of the St. Lawrence, from the St. Maurice, the country toward the Ottawa is slightly elevated into table ridges, with occasional abrupt declivities and some extensive plains. In this portion of Canada are included the islands of Montreal, Jesus, and Perrot, formed by the various branches of the Great River and the Ottawa, where their waters unite. Montreal is the largest and most fertile of these islands; its length is thirty-two miles and breadth ten; the general shape is triangular. Isle Jesus is twenty-one miles by six in extent, and also very rich; there are, besides, several other smaller islands of considerable fertility. Isle Perrot is poor and sandy. The remote country to the north of the Ottawa is but little known.

On the south shore of the St. Lawrence, the peninsula of Gaspé is the most eastern district; this large tract of country has been very little explored: so far as it has been examined, it is uneven, mountainous, and intersected with deep ravines; but the forests, rivers, and lakes are very fine, and the valleys fertile. The sea-beach is low and hard,[150] answering the purposes of a road; at the Cape of Gaspé, however, there are some bold and lofty cliffs. Behind the beach the land rises into high, round hills, well wooded; sheltered from the Gaspé district to the Chaudière River, the country is not so stern as on the northern side of the St. Lawrence; though somewhat hilly, it abounds in large and fertile valleys. The immediate shores of the river are flat; thence irregular ridges arise, till they reach an elevated table-land fifteen or twenty miles from the beach. From the Chaudière River westward extends that rich and valuable country now known by the name of the Eastern Townships. At the mouth of the Chaudière the banks of the St. Lawrence are bold and lofty, but they gradually lower to the westward till they sink into the flats of Baye du Febre, and form the marshy shores of Lake St. Peter, whence a rich plain extends to a great distance. This district contains several high, isolated mountains, and is abundantly watered by lakes and rivers. To the south lies the territory of the United States.

CHAPTER V.

Upon the surface of Canada are found manifest indications of that tremendous deluge, the effects of which are so plainly visible in the Old World. Huge bowlder stones[151] abound in almost every part of the province; sometimes they are seen rounded, piled in high heaps on extensive horizontal beds of limestone, swept together by the force of some vast flood. Masses of various kinds of shells lie in great quantities in hollows and valleys, some of them hundreds of feet above the level of Lake Ontario. Near to great rivers, and often where now no waters are at hand, undulations of rocks are seen like those found in the beds of rapids where the channels are waved. These have evidently, at some remote period, been the courses of floods now no longer existing. On the shores of the Gulf of St. Lawrence detached bowlder stones appear, some of enormous size, many tons in weight; they must have come from a great distance, for nowhere in that region is there any rock of similar material. In the upper strata of the country are abundant fossil remains of distinct animal existences now unknown; they are blended with the limestone in which they lie.

It seems certain that the whole of Canada has been violently convulsed by some effort of nature since the floods of the deluge passed away; the mountains are abrupt and irregular in outline, and in some places cleft with immense chasms; the rivers also show singular contortions. North of Quebec and in St. Paul's Bay are many traces of volcanic eruptions, and vast masses of alluvial rocks, bearing marks of vitrification, frequently appear on the surface of the earth. There is, besides, strong evidence that the American Continent has lain for unknown ages beneath the great deep, or that it is of later formation than Europe or Asia.

As far as it has been explored, the general geological structure of Canada exhibits a granite country, with some calcareous rocks of a soft texture in horizontal strata. The lower islands in the St. Lawrence are merely inequalities of the vast granite strata which occasionally stand above the level of the waters; the whole neighboring country appears as if the Great River had at one time covered it. The banks of the St. Lawrence are in many places formed of a schistus substance in a decaying state, but still granite is every where found in strata, inclined, but never parallel to the horizon. In the Gaspé District, many beautiful quartz, and a great variety of cornelians, agates, copals, and jaspers have been found, and traces of coal have also been observed.[152]

The north shore of the St. Lawrence, from thirty miles below Quebec eastward, and along the coast of Labrador, is generally of the primitive formations. Except in the marshes and swamps, rocks obtrude upon the surface in all quarters; in many places, deep fissures of from six inches to two feet wide are seen bearing witness to volcanic violence; the Indians describe some of these rents as several miles long, and forty or fifty deep; when covered with the thick underwood, they are, at times, very dangerous to the traveler. These chasms are probably owing to some great subterranean action; there is a manuscript in the Jesuits' College at Quebec which records the occurrence of an earthquake on the 5th of February, 1663, at about half past 5 P.M., felt through the whole extent of Canada: trees in the forests were torn up and dashed against each other with inconceivable violence; mountains were raised from their foundations and thrown into valleys, leaving awful chasms behind; from the openings issued dense clouds of smoke, dust, and sand; many rivers disappeared, others were diverted from their course, and the great St. Lawrence became suddenly white as far down as the mouth of the Saguenay. The first shock lasted for more than half an hour, but the greatest violence was only for fifteen minutes. At Tadoussac, a shower of volcanic ashes descended upon the rivers, agitating the waters like a tempest. This tremendous earthquake extended simultaneously over 180,000 square miles of country, and lasted for nearly six months almost without intermission.[153]

In the neighborhood of Quebec, a dark clay slate generally appears, and forms the bed of the St. Lawrence as far as Lake Ontario, and even at Niagara; bowlders and other large masses of rock, however, of various kinds, occur in detached portions at many different places. The great elevated ridge of broken country running toward the Ottawa River, at the distance of from fifty to one hundred miles from the north shore of Lake Ontario, and the course of the St. Lawrence, is rich in silver, lead, copper, and iron. On the north shore of the Saguenay, the rugged mountains abound in iron to such an extent as to influence the mariner's compass. The iron mines of St. Maurice[154] have been long known, and found abundantly productive of an admirable metal, inferior to none in the world; it is remarkably pliant and malleable, and little subject to oxydation. In 1667, Colbert sent M. de la Potardière, an experienced mineralogist, to examine these mines; he reported the iron very abundant, and of excellent quality, but it was not till 1737 that the forges were established by the French: they failed to pay the expenses of the speculation; the superintendent and fourteen clerks, however, gained fortunes by the losses of their employers.

There is no doubt that immense mineral resources remain undiscovered among the rocky solitudes of Lower Canada. Marble of excellent quality, and endless variety of color, is found in different parts of the country, and limestone is almost universal. Labrador produces a beautiful and well-known spar of rich and brilliant tints, ultra-marine, greenish yellow, red, and some of a fine pearly gray.

In Upper Canada, the country north of Lake Ontario is generally characterized by a limestone subsoil resting on granite. The rocks about Kingston are usually a very compact limestone, of a bluish-gray color, having a slight silicious admixture, increasing as the depth increases, with occasional intrusions of quartz or hornstone. The limestone strata are horizontal, with the greatest dip when nearest to the elder rock on which it rests; their thickness, like the depths of the soil, varies from a few feet to a few inches: in these formations many minerals are observed; genuine granite is seldom or never found.

West of Lake Ontario, the chasm at the Falls of Niagara shows the strata of the country to be limestone, next slate, and lowest sandstone. Limestone and sandstone compose the secondary formations of a large portion of Canada, and of nearly all that vast extent of country in the United States drained by the Mississippi. At Niagara the interposing structure of slate is nearly forty feet thick, and fragile, like shale crumbling away from under the limestone, thus strengthening the opinion that there has been for many ages a continual retrocession of the Great Falls. Around Lake St. Clair, masses of granite, mica slate, and quartz are found in abundance. The level shores of Lake Huron offer little geological variety; secondary limestone, filled with the usual reliquiæ, is the general structure of the coast, but detached blocks of granite and other primitive rocks are occasionally found: this district appears poor in minerals. The waters of Lakes Huron, Michigan, and Superior have evidently, at some remote period, formed one vast sheet, which probably burst its bounds by a sudden action of nature, and subsided into the present divisions, all lower than the former general level: the separating ridges of these waters are but slightly elevated; great masses of rock and huge bowlders of granite are found rolled at least 100 miles from their original situations, and immense alluvial beds of fresh-water shells, apparently formed since the deluge, but when the waters were still of a vast depth and extent, are found in the east of Lake Huron.

Little or nothing is known of the dreary solitudes beyond Lake Superior; enormous muddy ponds and marshes are succeeded by open, dry, sandy plains; then forests of hemlock and spruce arise, again swamp, bog, windfalls, and stagnant water succeed; in the course of many miles there may not be one dry spot found for a resting-place. The cold is intense in this desolate region; in winter spirits freeze into a consistency like honey; and even in the height of summer the thermometer only shows thirty-six degrees at sunrise. Part of the north and east shore of this greatest of the lakes present old formations—sienite, stratified greenstone, more or less chloritic, and alternating five times with vast beds of granite—the general direction east, with a north or perpendicular dip. Great quantities of the older shell limestone are found strewn in rolled masses on the beach. Amygdaloid occupies also a very large tract to the north, mingled with porphyries, conglomerates, and various other substances. From Thunder Mountain westward, trappose greenstone is the prevailing rock: it gives rise to some strange pilastered precipices near Fort William. Copper[155] abounds in this region to an extent, perhaps, unsurpassed any where in the world. At the Coppermine River, three hundred miles from the Sault de St. Marie, this metal, in a pure state, nearly covers the face of a serpentine rock, and is also found within the stone in solid masses. Iron is abundant in many parts of Upper Canada; at Charlotteville, eight miles from Lake Erie, the metal produced is of a very fine quality. The Marmora Iron Works, about thirty-two miles north of the Bay of Quinté, on the River Trent, are situated on an extensive white rocky flat, apparently the bed of some dried-up river; the ore is found on the surface, and is very rich, yielding ninety-two per cent.: the necessary assistants, lime and fuel, abound close at hand. Various other minerals have also been found there; among the rest, small specimens of a metal like silver.

There are many strong mineral springs in different parts of Canada; the most remarkable of these is the Burning Spring above Niagara; its waters are black, hot and bubbling, and emit, during the summer, a gas that burns with a pure bright flame; this sulphureted hydrogen is used to light a neighboring mill. Salt springs are also numerous; gypsum is obtained in large quantities, with pipe and potter's clay; yellow ocher sometimes occurs; and there are many kinds of valuable building stones. It is gathered from the Indians that there are incipient volcanoes in several parts of these regions, particularly toward the Chippewa hunting grounds.

The soil of Lower Canada is generally fertile; about Quebec it is light and sandy in some parts, in others it is a mixture of loam and clay. Above the Richelieu Rapids, where the great valley of the St. Lawrence begins to widen, the low lands consist of a light and loose dark earth, with ten or twelve inches of depth, lying on a stratum of cold clay, all apparently of alluvial formation. Along the banks of the Ottawa there is a great extent of rich alluvial soil; each year develops large districts of fertile land, before unknown. The soils of Upper Canada are various; brown clay and loam, intermixed with marl, predominates, particularly in the rich district between the St. Lawrence and the Ottawa: north of Ontario it is more clayey and extremely fertile. A rich black mold prevails in the district between Lakes Ontario and Erie. There is in this upper country an almost total absence of stone or gravel for building and other common purposes. So great is the fertility of the soil in Canada, that fifty bushels of wheat an acre are frequently produced, even where the stumps of trees still occupy a considerable portion of the ground: near Toronto one hundred bushels of wheat have been grown upon a single acre, and in some districts the land has yielded rich crops of that grain for twenty successive years, without being manured.

The quality of the soil in wild lands may be known by the timber growing upon it. Hard-wood trees, those that shed their leaves during winter, show the best indication, such as maple, bass-wood, elm, black walnut, hickory, butternut, iron-wood, hemlock, and a giant species of nettle. A mixture of beech is good, but where it stands alone the soil is generally light. Oak is uncertain as an indication, being found on various bottoms. Soft or evergreen wood, such as pine, fir, larch, and others of the species, are considered decisive of a very light soil. The larch or tamarack on wide, flat plains, indicates sand upon a substratum of marly clay, which the French Canadians hold in high estimation. It is, however, right to add, that some very respectable authorities dispute that the nature of the timber can be fully relied on as a guide to the value of the land. The variety of trees found in the Canadian forest is astonishing, and it is supposed that many kinds still remain unknown. Of all these, none is more beautiful and useful than the maple; its brilliant foliage, changing with each season of the year, is the richest ornament of the forest. The timber is valuable for many purposes, and from the sap might be produced an immense quantity of excellent sugar. A great deal is at present made, but, like all the other resources of this magnificent country, it is very partially turned to the use of man: the sap of the maple is valuable also for distillation.

There is a considerable variety of climate in Canada, from the northeast, chilled by the winds of the Atlantic,[156] to the southwest, five degrees lower, and approaching the center of the continent; the neighborhood of ranges of bare and rugged mountains,[157] has also a marked effect upon the temperature of different localities. However, in all parts the winters are very severe, while the heat of summer is little inferior to that of the tropics. But, on the whole, the clear blue sky, unobscured by fog or mist, and the pure elastic air, bespeak the salubrity of these provinces in all seasons.

In Lower Canada the extreme severity of the winter is, in a measure, caused by the vicinity of the range of lofty and rugged mountains, as well as by its more northern position. The fall of snow commences in November, but seldom remains long on the ground till December; in that month constantly successive falls of snow rapidly cover the whole surface of the country. Toward the end of December the heavy clouds disperse, and the rude storm is followed by a perfect calm; the air becomes pure and frosty, and the skies of a clear and beautiful azure. The River St. Lawrence[158] is frozen over every winter from Montreal to the Richelieu Rapids, but from thence to Quebec only once in about five years; at other times, however, enormous fields and masses of ice drift up and down with the changing tides, increasing or diminishing with the severity or mildness of the weather; where the Island of Orleans divides the Great River into two branches, the northern channel is narrow and less acted upon by tides; here these huge frozen masses are forced together by the winds and waters, and form an enormous bridge from shore to shore. The greatest degree of cold prevails toward the end of January, for a few days occasionally so intense that the human frame can scarcely endure exposure to it for any length of time. When winter has set in nearly every bird disappears, and few wild animals are any longer to be seen; some, like the bear, remain torpid, others change their color to a snowy white, and are rarely observed. Rocks of the softer kinds are often rent asunder, as if with the explosion of gunpowder, by the irresistible expansive power of the frost.[159] Dogs become mad from the severity of the cold, and polished iron or other metal, when exposed in the air for a little time, burns the hand at the touch as if it were red hot.[160] During the still nights of intense frost the woods send forth a creaking sound, like the noise of chopping with thousands of hatchets. Sometimes a brief thaw occurs in the middle of winter, when a very extraordinary effect, called by the Canadians ver glas, is occasionally produced upon the bare trees: they are covered with an incrustation of pure ice from the stem to the extremities of the smallest branches; the slight frost of the night freezes the moisture that covered the bark during the day; the branches become at last unable to bear their icy burden, and when a strong wind arises, the destruction among trees of all kinds is immense. When the sun shines upon the forest covered with this brilliant incrustation, the effect is indescribably beautiful.

The months of March and April are usually very hot, and the power of the sun's rays is heightened by the reflection of the ice and snows. Toward the end of April or the beginning of May, the dreary winter covering has altogether disappeared; birds of various kinds return from their wintery exile; the ice accumulated in the great lakes and streams that are tributary to the St. Lawrence breaks up with a tremendous noise, and rushes down in vast quantities toward the ocean, till again the tides of the Gulf drive them back. Sometimes the Great River is blocked up from shore to shore with these frozen masses; the contending currents force them together with terrible violence, and pile them over each other in various fantastic forms. The navigation of the river is not fairly practicable till all these have disappeared, which is generally about the 10th of May.

When the young summer fairly sets in, nothing can be more charming than the climate—during the day bright and genial, with the air still pure and clear; the transition from bare brown fields and woods to verdure and rich green foliage is so rapid, that its progress is almost perceptible. Spring has scarcely begun before summer usurps its place, and the earth, awakened from nature's long, wintery sleep, gives forth her increase with astonishing bounty. This delightful season is usually ushered in by moderate rains, and a considerable rise in the meridian heat; but the nights are still cool and refreshing. In June, July, and August, the heat becomes great, and for some days intense; the roads and rocks at noon are so hot as to be painful to the touch, and the direct rays of the sun possess almost tropical power; but the night brings reinvigorating coolness, and the breezes of the morning are fresh and tempered as in our own favored land. September is usually a delightful month, although at times oppressively sultry. The autumn or fall rivals the spring in healthy and moderate warmth, and is the most agreeable of the seasons. The night-frosts destroy the innumerable venomous flies that have infested the air through the hot season, and, by their action on the various foliage of the forest, bestow an inconceivable richness of coloring to the landscape.

During the summer there is a great quantity of electric fluid in the atmosphere, but storms of thunder and lightning are not of very frequent occurrence. When they do take place, their violence is sometimes tremendous, and serious damage often occurs. These outbursts, however, usually produce a favorable effect upon the weather and temperature.

The most remarkable meteoric phenomenon that has occurred in Canada since the country became inhabited by civilized man, was first seen in October, 1785, and again in July, 1814. At noonday a pitchy darkness, of a dismal and sinister character, completely obscured the light of the sun, continuing for about ten minutes at a time, and being frequently repeated during the afternoon. In the interval between each mysterious eclipse dense masses of black clouds, streaked with yellow, drove athwart the darkened sky, with fitful gusts of wind; thunder, lightning, black rain, and showers of ashes added to the terrors of the scene; and, when the sun appeared, its color was a bright red. The Indians ascribe this wonderful phenomenon to a vast volcano in the unknown regions of Labrador. The testimony of M. Gagnon gives corroboration to this idea. In December, 1791, when at St. Paul's Bay, in the Saguenay country, he saw the flames of an immense volcano, mingled with black smoke, rising to a great height in the air. Several violent shocks, as of an earthquake, accompanied this strange appearance.

The prevailing winds of Lower Canada are the northeast, northwest, and southwest, and these exercise considerable influence on the temperature of the atmosphere and the state of the weather. The southwest wind, the most prevalent, is generally moderate, accompanied by clear, bright skies; the northeast and east wind bring rain in summer, and snow in winter, from the dreary regions of Labrador; and the northwest blast is keen and dry, from its passage over the vast frozen solitudes that lie between the Rocky Mountains[161] and Hudson's Bay. Winds from the north, south, or west are seldom felt: the currents of the neighboring air are often affected by the direction of the tidal streams, which act as far as 400 miles from the mouth of the Great River.

The effect of a long continuance of snow upon the earth is favorable to vegetation; were the surface exposed to the intense severity of wintery frosts, unprotected by this ample covering, the ground could not regain a proper degree of heat, even under a Canadian sun, before the autumn frosts had again chilled the energies of nature. The natural heat of the earth is about 42°; the surface waters freeze at 32°, and thus present a non-conducting incrustation to the keen atmosphere; then the snow becomes a warm garment till the April sun softens the air above; the latent heat of the earth begins to be developed; the snow melts, and penetrates the ground through every pore, rendering friable the stiffest soil. For a month or more before the visible termination of the Canadian winter, vegetation is in active progress on the surface of the earth, even under snow several feet thick.

In Upper Canada the climate does not present such extremes of heat and cold as in the Lower Province. In the Newcastle District, between latitude 44° and 45°, the winter is little more severe than in England, and the warmth of summer is tempered by a cool and refreshing southwest breeze, which blows throughout the day from over the waters of the great lakes. In spring and autumn the southwest wind brings with it frequent rains; the northwest wind prevails in winter, and is dry, cold, and elastic; the south-eastern breezes are generally accompanied by thaw and rain: from the west, south, or north, the wind rarely blows. The most sudden changes of weather consequent upon varying winds are observed from the northwest, when the air becomes pure and cool; thunder storms generally clear away with this wind: the heaviest falls of snow, and the most continued rains, come with the eastern breezes.

The great lakes are never frozen in their centers, but a strong border of thick ice extends for some distance from the shore: in severe weather, a beautiful evaporation in various fantastic shapes ascends from the vast surfaces of these inland seas, forming cloudy columns and pyramids to a great height in the air: this is caused by the water being of a higher temperature than the atmosphere above. The chain of shallow lakes from Lake Simco toward the midland district are rarely frozen over more than an inch in thickness till about Christmas, and are free from ice again by the end of March. The earth in Upper Canada is seldom froze more than twelve or eighteen inches deep, and the general covering of the snow is about a foot and a half in thickness.

In Canada the Indian summer is perhaps the most delightful period of the year. During most of November the weather is mild and serene; a soft, dry haze pervades the air, thickening toward the horizon; in the evenings the sun sets in a rich crimson flush, and the temperature is mild and genial: the birds avail themselves of the Indian summer for their migration. A phenomenon called the "tertian intervals" has excited much interest, and is still unexplained: at the end of the third day the greatest intensity of frost is always remittent, and succeeded by several days of mild weather. The climate is so dry that metals rarely are rusted by exposure to the air. This absence of humidity prevents the extremes of heat and cold from being so powerful here in their effect upon the sensations of the human frame as in other countries.

The Aurora Borealis, or northern lights,[162] appear with great brilliancy in the clear Canadian sky, especially during the winter nights. Starting from behind the distant horizon, they race up through the vault of heaven, spreading over all space one moment, shrinking to a quivering streak the next, shooting out again where least expected, then vanishing into darkness deeper than before; now they seem like vast floating banners of variegated flame, then as crescents, again as majestic columns of light, ever changing in form and color. It is said that a rustling sound like that of silk accompanies this beautiful appearance.

The climate of Canada has undergone a slight change since the discovery of the country; especially from the year 1818, an amelioration has been perceptible, partly owing to the motion of the magnetic poles, and partly to the gradual cultivation and clearing of the country. The winters are somewhat shorter and milder, and less snow falls than of old; the summers are also hotter.[163] The felling of the forests, the draining of the morasses, partial though it may still be, together with the increasing population, have naturally some effect. The thick foliage, which before interposed its shade between the sun and the earth, intercepting the genial warmth from the lower atmosphere, has now been removed in many extensive tracts of country: the cultivated soil imbibes the heat, and returns it to the surrounding air in warm and humid vapors. The exhalations arising from a much increased amount of animal life, together with the burning of so many combustibles, are not altogether without their influence in softening the severity of the climate.[164]

Canada abounds in an immense and beautiful variety of trees[165] and shrubs. Among the timber trees, the oak, pine, fir, elm, ash, birch, walnut, beech, maple, chestnut, cedar, and aspen, are the principal. Of fruit-trees and shrubs there are walnut, chestnut, apple, pear, cherry, plum, elder, vines,[166] hazel, hickory, sumach, juniper, hornbeam, thorn, laurel, whortleberry, cranberry, gooseberry, raspberry, blackberry, blueberry, sloe, and others; strawberries of an excellent flavor are luxuriantly scattered over every part of the country. Innumerable varieties of useful and beautiful herbs and grasses enrich the forests, whose virtues and peculiarities are as yet but little known to Europeans.[167] In many places, pine-trees grow to the height of 120 feet and upward, and are from nine to ten feet in circumference.[170] Of this and of the fir species there are many varieties, some of them valuable from their production of pitch, tar, and turpentine. The American oak[171] is quicker in its growth and less durable than that of England; one species, however, called the live oak, grown in the warmer parts of the continent, is said to be equal, if not superior, to any in Europe for ship-building. The white oak is the best found in the Canadian settlements, and is in high repute. Another description is called the scrubby oak—it resembles the British gnarled oak, and is remarkably hard and durable. The birch[173] tribe is very numerous: the bark is much used by the Indians in making canoes,[174] baskets, and roofings; the wood is of a useful quality, and the sap, when extracted in the spring, produces by fermentation a pleasant but weak wine. The maple[175] is one of the most variable and beautiful of all the forest trees, and is adopted as the emblem of Canadian nationality.

Two plants, formerly of great importance in these counties, are now almost extirpated, or little noticed as articles of commerce—ginseng[176] and capillaire. The first was found in great abundance by the French in their earlier settlement of the colony, and large quantities were exported to Europe, from whence it was forwarded to China. The high value it then possessed in that distant market induced the Canadians to collect the roots prematurely; and the Indians also gathered them wherever they could be found; consequently, this useful production was soon exhausted, and is now rarely seen. The capillaire[177] is now either become rare or neglected for other objects; a small quantity is, however, still exported. In the woods there is a vast variety of wild plants and flowers, many of them very beautiful. The sweet garlic especially deserves notice: two large pale-green leaves arise from the root; between them stands the delicate stem, about a foot in height, bearing a cluster of graceful flowers, resembling blue-bells in shape and color. The wild turnip is also very beautiful. There are, besides, many valuable herbs and roots, which the Indians use for various purposes. The reindeer moss[178] often serves for support and refreshment to the exhausted hunter; when boiled down into a liquid, it is very nourishing; and an herb called Indian tea produces a pleasant and wholesome draught, with a rich aromatic flavor. Wild oats and rice[179] are found in some of the marshy lands. The soil and climate are also favorable to the production of hops and a mild tobacco, much esteemed for the manufacture of snuff. Hemp[180] and flax are both indigenous in America. Father Hennepin, in the seventeenth century, found the former growing wild in the country of the Illinois; and Sir Alexander Mackenzie, in his travels to the western coast, met with flax in the interior, where no European was ever known to have been before. The Indian hemp[181] is seen in abundance upon the Canadian soil, particularly in light and sandy places; the bark is so strong that the natives use it for bow-strings; the pod bears a substance that rivals down in softness and elasticity; the culture is easy; the root, penetrating deep into the earth, survives the frosts of winter, and shoots out fresh stalks every spring. When five or six years old it attains the greatest perfection. It may be added that in these favored provinces all European plants, fruits, vegetables, grain,[182] legumes, and every other production of the earth required for the subsistence or luxury of man, yield their increase even more abundantly than in the old continents.

The animals originally belonging to America appear to be of an inferior race—neither so robust, fierce, or numerous as those of the other continents: some are peculiar to the New World; but there is reason to suppose that several species have become utterly extinct, and the spread of cultivation, and increase of the human race rapidly extirpate many of those that still remain. America gives birth to no creature of equal bulk to the elephant and rhinoceros, or of equal strength and ferocity to the lion and tiger. The particular qualities in the climate, stinting the growth and enfeebling the spirit of the native animals, have also proved injurious to such as have been transported to the Canadas by their present European inhabitants. The soil, as well as temperature, of the country seems to be rather unfavorable to the development of strength and perfection in the animal creation.[183] The general quality of the natural grasses covering those boundless pastures is not good or sufficiently nutritious.[184]

The native animals of Canada are the buffalo, bison, and musk bull, belonging to the ox kind. The buffalo is still found in herds of immense numbers upon the prairies of the remote western country, where they have wandered from the hated neighborhood of civilized man: the skin[185] is invaluable to the Canadians as a protection from the keen wintery air, and is abundantly supplied to them by the hunters of the Hudson's Bay Company.[186] This animal is about the size of an ox, with the head disproportionably large; he is of a lighter color, less ferocious aspect, and inferior strength to those of the Old World. Both the bison and musk ox are varieties of the domestic cow, with a covering of shaggy hair; they possess considerable strength and activity. There are different descriptions of deer: the black and gray moose or elk, the caribou or reindeer,[187] the stag[188] and fallow deer.[189] The moose deer[190] is the largest wild animal of the continent; it is often seen upward of ten feet high, and weighing twelve hundred weight; though savage in aspect, the creature is generally timid and inoffensive even when attacked by the hunter, and, like the sheep, may be easily domesticated: the flesh and skin are both of some value.

The black and brown bear[191] is found in various parts of America, but chiefly in the northwest: some few are seen in the forests to the north of Quebec. This animal chooses for his lurking-place the hollow trunk of an old tree, which he prepares with sticks and branches, and a coating of warm moss; on the approach of the cold season he retires to his lair, and sleeps through the long winter till the return of spring enables him again to seek his prey. The bear is rather shy than fierce, but very powerful and dangerous when driven to extremities; he displays a strong degree of instinct, and is very dexterous and cunning in procuring food: the flesh is considered a delicacy, and the skin highly prized for beauty and warmth. Foxes[192] are numerous; they are of various colors and very cunning. Hares[193] are abundant, and turn white in winter like those of Norway. The wolverine or carcajou is called by the hunters beaver-eater, and somewhat resembles a badger; the skin is soft and handsome. A species of porcupine or urchin is found to the northward, and supplies the Indians with quills about four inches long, which, when dyed, are worked into showy ornaments. Squirrels[194] and various other small quadrupeds with fine furs are abundant in the forests. The animals of the cat kind are the cougar or American lion, the loup-cervier, the catamount, and the manguay or lynx.

Beavers[195] are numerous in North America; these amphibious animals are about two feet nine inches in length, with very short fore feet and divided toes, while the hinder are membranous, and adapted for swimming; the body is covered with a soft, glossy, and valuable fur; the tail is oval, scaly, destitute of hair, and about a foot long. These industrious creatures dam up considerable streams, and construct dwellings of many compartments, to protect them from the rigor of the climate, as well as from their numerous enemies; their winter food, consisting of poplar logs, pieces of willows, alder, and fragments of other trees, is collected in autumn, and sunk in the water near the habitation. The beaver exhibits an extraordinary degree of instinct, and may be easily tamed; when caught or surprised by the approach of an enemy, it gives warning to its companions by striking the water with the flat of its tail. The musk rat and otter resemble the beaver in some of their habits, but are inferior in ingenuity, and of less value to the hunter.

The walrus has now disappeared from the frequented waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, but is still found on the northern coasts of Labrador; in shape he somewhat resembles the seal, but is of much greater size, sometimes weighing 4000 pounds; when protecting their young, or when wounded, they are dangerous from their immense tusks; when out of the water, however, they are very helpless.

Nearly all these wild animals are pursued by the Indians, and the hunters of the Hudson's Bay Company,[196] for their skins; they are consequently growing rarer, and their haunts become more remote each succeeding year: probably, at no distant time, they will be altogether extinct.

The birds of Canada differ little from those of the same names in Europe, but the severe climate is generally uncongenial to them. There are eagles, vultures, hawks, falcons, kites, owls, ravens, crows, rooks, jays, magpies, daws, cuckoos, woodpeckers, hoopers, creepers, humming-birds, thrushes, blackbirds, linnets, finches, sparrows, fly-catchers, pigeons, turkeys, ducks, geese, swans, grouse, ptarmigans, snipes, quails, and many others. The plumage of the American birds is very brilliant; but the sweet voices that fill the European woods with melody are never heard. Many of the birds of Lower Canada are migratory; the water-fowl seek the cooler north during the heat of summer, and other species fly to the south to shun the wintery frosts. In the milder latitudes of Upper Canada, birds are more numerous. They are known by the same names as those of corresponding species in England, but differ from them to some extent in plumage and character.

In Lower Canada the reptiles are few and innocuous, and even these are not met with in the cultivated parts of the country. In the Upper Province, however, they are more numerous; some species are very dangerous, others harmless and exquisitely beautiful. Two kinds of rattlesnakes[197] are found here: one of a deep brown and yellow color, and seldom more than thirty inches in length; it frequents marshes and low meadows, and is very dangerous to cattle, often fastening its fangs upon their lips while grazing. The other is a bright greenish yellow clouded with brown, and twice the size of the former. These reptiles are thicker in proportion to their length than any others; the rattle is at the end of the tail, and consists of a number of dry, horny shells inclosed within each other. When wounded or enraged, the skin of the rattlesnake assumes a variety of beautiful colors; the flesh is white as that of the most delicate fish, and is esteemed a great luxury by the Indians. Cold weather weakens or destroys their poisonous qualities. In the spring, when they issue from their place of winter concealment, they are harmless till they have got to water, and at that time emit a sickening smell so as to injure those who hunt them. In some of the remoter districts they are still numerous, but in the long-settled parts of the country they are now rarely or never seen.

Several varieties of lizards and frogs abound; the latter make an astonishing noise in marshy places during the summer evening by their harsh croaking. The land crab is found on the northern shore of Lake Erie. A small tortoise, called a terrapin,[198] is taken in some rivers, creeks, and swampy grounds, and is used as an article of food. Seals have been occasionally seen on the islands in Lake Ontario.

Insects[199] are very numerous and various, some of them both troublesome and mischievous: locusts or grasshoppers have been known to cause great destruction to the vegetable world. Musquitoes and sand-flies infest the woods, and the neighborhood of water, in incredible numbers, during the hot weather. There are many moths and butterflies resembling those seen in England. The beautiful fire-fly is very common in Canada, their phosphorescent light shining with wonderful brightness through the shady forests in the summer nights.

The lakes and rivers of Upper Canada abound in splendid fish of almost every variety known in England, and others peculiar to the country: sturgeon of 100 lbs. weight are frequently taken, and a giant species of pike, called the maskenongi, of more than 60 lbs. The trout of the upper lakes almost rivals the sturgeon in size, but not in flavor. The delicious white-fish, somewhat resembling a shad, is very plentiful, as is also the black bass, which is highly prized. A fresh-water herring abounds in great shoals, but is inferior in delicacy to the corresponding species of the salt seas. Salmon are numerous in Lake Ontario, but above the Falls of Niagara they are never seen.

CHAPTER VI.

Perhaps the saddest chapter in the history of the sons of Adam is furnished by the Red Man of America. His origin is unknown; no records tell the tale of his ancient deeds. A foundling in the human family, discovered by his stronger brethren wandering wild through the forests and over the prairies of the western desert, no fraternal welcome greeted this lost child of nature; no soothing voice of affection fell upon his ear; no gentle kindness wooed him from his savage isolation. The hand of irresistible power was stretched out, not to raise him from his low estate and lead him into the brotherhood of civilized man, but to thrust him away with cruel and unjust disdain.

Little more than three centuries and a half have elapsed since the Indian first gazed with terror and admiration upon the white strangers, and already three fourths of his inheritance are rent away, and three fourths of his race have vanished from the earth; while the sad remnant, few and feeble, faint and weary, "are fast traveling to the shades of their fathers, toward the setting sun."[200] Year by year they wither away; to them the close breath of civilized man is more destructive than the deadliest blight.[202] The arts and appliances which the accumulated ingenuity of ages has provided to aid the labor and enhance the enjoyments of others, have been but a curse to these children of the wilderness. That blessed light which shines to the miserable of this world through the vista of the "shadowy valley," cheering the fainting spirit with the earnest of a glorious future, sheds but a few dim and distorted rays upon the outskirts of the Red Man's forest land.

All the relations of Europeans to the Indian have been alike fatal to him, whether of peace or war; as tyrants or suppliants; as conquerors armed with unknown weapons of destruction; as the insidious purchasers of his hunting-grounds, betraying him into an accursed thirst for the deadly fire-water; as the greedy gold-seekers, crushing his feeble frame under the hated labors of the mine; as shipwrecked and hungry wanderers, while receiving his simple alms, marking the fertility and defenselessness of his lands; as sick men enjoying his hospitality, and, at the same time, imparting that terrible disease[203] which has swept off whole nations; as woodmen in his forest, and intrusive tillers of his ground, scaring away to the far West those animals of the chase given by the Great Spirit for his food: there is to him a terrible monotony of result. In the delicious islands of the Caribbean Sea, and in the stern and magnificent regions of the northeast, scarcely now remains a mound, or stone, or trace even of tradition, to point out the place where any among the departed millions sleep.

The discovery of the American Indians brought to light not only a new race, but also a totally new condition of men. The rudest form of human society known in the Old World was far advanced beyond that of the mysterious children of the West, in arts, knowledge, and government. Even among the simplest European and Asiatic nations the principle of individual possession was established; the beasts of the field were domesticated to supply the food and aid the labors of man, and large bodies of people were united under the sway of hereditary chiefs. But the Red Man roamed over the vast forests and prairies of his undiscovered continent, accompanied by few of his fellows, unassisted by beasts of burden,[204] and trusting alone to his skill and fortune in the chase for a support. The first European visitors to the New World were filled with such astonishment at the appearance and complexion of the Red Man, that they hastily concluded he belonged to a different species from themselves. As the native nations became better known, their warriors, statesmen, and orators commanded the admiration of the strangers. Especially in the northern people, every savage virtue was conspicuous; they were gentle in peace, but terrible in war; of a proud and noble bearing, honest, faithful, and hospitable, loving order though without laws, and animated by the strongest and most devoted loyalty to their tribe. At the same time, while willingly recording their high and admirable qualities, pity for the devoted race must not blind us to their ferocious and degrading vices.

It was not until the end of the seventeenth century that the manners and characteristics of this strange race attracted to any considerable degree the attention of philosophers and theorists; a chasm in human history then seemed about to be filled. Eager to throw light upon the subject, but too impatient to inquire into the facts necessary for the formation of opinions, the conclusions formed were often unjust to the native dignity of the Red Indian,[205] and have been proved erroneous by subsequent and more perfect information. On the other hand, one of the most gifted but dangerous of modern philosophers would exalt these untutored children of nature to a higher degree of honor and excellence than civilization and knowledge can confer. He deemed that the elevation and independence of mind, resulting from the rude simplicity of savage life, is sought in vain among the members of refined and organized societies.[206]

Every thing tended to render inquiry into the state of the rude tribes of America difficult and obscure. In the generality of cases they presented characteristics of a native simplicity, elsewhere unknown; and even in the more favored districts, where a degree of civilization appeared, it had assumed a form and direction totally different from that of the Old World.[207]

The origin of this mysterious people has been the subject of an immense variety of speculations, and has involved the question, whether all men are the sons of Adam, or whether the distinctions of the human race were owing to the several sources from whence its members sprung? The skeptic supposition that each portion of the globe gave its own original type of man to the human family at once solves the difficulty of American population; but as both Christianity and philosophy alike forbid acceptance of this view,[208] it becomes necessary to consider the relative probabilities in favor of the other different theories which enthusiasm, ingenuity, and research have contributed to lay before the world.

Without referring to the most sacred and ancient of authorities, we may find existing natural evidence abundantly sufficient to establish the belief of the common descent of our race. There are not in the human form differences such as distinguish separate species of the brute creation. All races of men are nearly of like stature and size, varying only by the accidents of climate and food favorable or adverse to their full development. The number, shape, and uses of limbs and extremities are alike, and internal construction is invariably the same. These are circumstances the least acted upon by situation and temperature, and therefore the surest tests of a particular species. Color is the most obvious and the principal indication of difference in the human families, and is evidently influenced to a great extent by the action of the sun,[209] as the swarthy cheek of the harvest laborer will witness. Under the equator we find the jet black of the negro; then the olive-colored Moors of the southern shores of the Mediterranean; again, the bronzed face of the Spaniard and Italian; next, the Frenchman, darker than those who dwell under the temperate skies of England; and, last, the bleached and pallid visages of the north. Along the arctic circle, indeed, a dusky tint again appears: that, however, may be fairly attributed to the scorching power of the sun, constantly over the horizon, through the brief and fiery summer. The natives remain generally in the open air during this time, fishing, or in the chase; and the effect of exposure stamps them with a complexion which even the long-continued snows can not remove. In the rigorous winter season, the people of those dreary countries pass most of their time in wretched huts or subterranean dwellings, where they heap up large fires to warm their shivering limbs. The smoke has no proper vent in these ill-constructed abodes; it fills the confined air, and tends to darken the complexions of those constantly exposed to its influence.

The difference of color in the human race is doubtless influenced by many causes, modifying the effect of position with regard to the tropics. The great elevation of a particular district, its proximity to the sea, the shades of a vast forest, the exhalations from extensive marshes, all tend to diminish materially the power of a southern sun.[210] On the other hand, intensity of heat is aggravated by the neighborhood of arid and sandy deserts, or rocky tracts. The action of long-continued heat creates a more permanent effect than the mere darkening of the outer skin: it alters the character of those subtile juices that display their color through the almost transparent covering.[211] We see that, from a constitutional peculiarity in individuals, the painful variety of the albino is sometimes produced in the hottest countries. Certain internal diseases, and different medicines, change the beautiful bloom of the young and healthy into repulsive and unnatural tints. A peculiar secretion of the carbon abounding in the human frame produces the jet black of the negro's skin, and enables him to bear without inconvenience the terrible sultriness of his native land.[212] The dark races, inferior in animal and intellectual powers to the white man, are yet nearly free from the deformities he so often exhibits, perhaps on account of a less susceptible and delicate structure. The Caucasian or European races, born and matured under a temperate climate, manifestly enjoy the highest gifts of man. Wherever they come in contact with their colored brother, he ultimately yields to the irresistible superiority, and becomes, according to the caprice of their haughty will, the victim, the dependent, or the slave.[213]

There are other characteristics different from, but generally combined with color, which are influenced by constitutional varieties. The hair usually harmonizes with the complexion, and, like it, shows the influence of climate. In cold countries, the natural covering of every animal becomes rich and soft; the plentiful locks and manly beard of the European show a marked contrast to the coarse and scanty hair of the inhabitants of tropical countries. The development of mental power and refined habits of life have also a strong but slow effect upon the outward form.[214] Certain African nations of a higher intelligence and civilization than their rude neighbors, show much less of the peculiarities of the negro features. The refined Hindoo displays a delicate form and expression under his dark complexion. The black color and the negro features are accidentally not necessarily connected, and it seems to require both climate and inferiority of intellect to unite them in the same race.

When circumstances of climate or situation have effected peculiar appearances in a nation or tribe, the results will long survive the causes when people are removed to widely-different latitudes: a dark color is not easily effaced, even under the influence of moderate temperature and heightened civilization. For these reasons, there appear many cases where the complexion of the inhabitants and the climate of the country do not correspond, but the original characteristics will be found undergoing the process of gradual change, ultimately adapting themselves to their new country and situation.[215] The marked and peculiar countenances of the once "chosen people" vary, in color at least, wherever they are seen over the world, although uninfluenced by any admixture of alien blood. In England the children of Israel and the descendant of the Saxon are alike of a fair complexion, and on the banks of the Nile the Jew and the Egyptian show the same swarthy hue.[216]

At first sight this American race would appear to offer evidence against the supposed influence of climate upon color, as one general form and complexion prevail in all latitudes of the New World, from the tropics to the frozen regions of the north. Great varieties, however, exist in the shade of the red or copper[217] color of the Indians. There are two extremes of complexion among mankind—those of the northern European and the African negro; between these there is a series of shades, that of the American Indian being about midway. The structure of the New World, and the circumstances of its inhabitants, may account for the generally equal color of their skin. The western Indian never becomes black, even when dwelling directly under the equator. He lives among stupendous mountain ranges, where cool breezes from the snowy heights sweep through the valleys and over the plains below. The vast rivers springing from under those lofty peaks inundate a great extent of country, and turn it into swamps, whence perpetual exhalations arise and lower the temperature. There are no fiery deserts to heat the passing wind and reflect the rays of the sun; a continual forest, with luxuriant foliage, and a dense underwood, spreads a pleasant shade over the surface of the earth. America, under the same latitudes, especially on the eastern coast, is every where colder than the Old World. The nearest approach to a black complexion is seen in the people of Brazil, a country comparatively low, and immediately under the equator. The inhabitants of the lofty Mexican table-land are also very dark, and on those arid plains the sun pours down its scorching rays upon a surface almost devoid of sheltering vegetation.

The habits of savage life, and the constant exposure to the elements, seem sufficient to cause a dark tint upon the human skin even in the temperate regions of America, where the cold is far greater than in the same latitude in Europe. The inhabitants of those immense countries are badly clothed, imperfectly defended against the weather, miserably housed; wandering in war or in the chase, exposed for weeks at a time to the mercy of the elements, they soon darken into the indelible red or copper color of their race. On the northwest coasts, about latitude 50°, in Nootka Sound, and a number of other smaller bays, dwell a people more numerous and better provided with food and shelter than their eastern neighbors. They are free from a great part of the toils and hardships of the hunter, and from the vicissitudes of the season. When cleansed from their filthy and fantastic painting, it appears that their complexion and features resemble those of the European.[218]

Modern discoveries have to a great extent dispelled the mystery of the Indian origin, and proved the fallacy of the numerous and ingenious theories formerly advanced with so much pertinacity and zeal. Since the northwest coasts of America and the northeast of Asia have been explored, little difficulty remains on this subject. The two continents approach so nearly in that direction that they are almost within sight of each other, and small boats can safely pass the narrow strait. Ten degrees further south, the Aleutian and Fox Islands[219] form a continuous chain between Kamtschatka and the peninsula of Alaska, in such a manner as to leave the passage across a matter of no difficulty. The rude and hardy Tschutchi, inhabiting the northeast of Asia, frequently sail from one continent to the other.[220] From the remotest antiquity, this ignorant people possessed the wonderful secret of the existence of a world hidden from the wisest and most adventurous of civilized nations. They were unconscious of the value of their vast discovery; they passed over a stormy strait from one frozen shore to another, as stern and desolate as that they had left behind, and knew not that they had crossed one of the great boundaries of earth. When they first entered upon the wilderness of America, probably the most adventurous pushed down toward the genial regions of the south, and so through the long ages of the past the stream of population flowed slowly on, wave by wave, to the remotest limits of the east and south. The Indians resemble the people of northeastern Asia in form and feature more than any other of the human race. Their population is most dense along the districts nearest to Asia; and among the Mexicans, whose records of the past deserve credence, there is a constant tradition that their Aztec and Toultec chiefs came from the northwest. Every where but to the north, America is surrounded with a vast ocean unbroken by any chain of islands that could connect it with the Old World. Most probably no living man ever crossed this immense barrier before the time of Columbus. It is certain that in no part of America have any authentic traces been found of European civilization; the civilization of America, such as it was, arose, as it flourished, in the fertile plains of Mexico[221] and in the delightful valleys of Peru;[222] there, where the bounty of nature supplied an abundance of the necessaries of life, the population rapidly multiplied, and the arts became objects of cultivation.

There is something almost mysterious in the total difference between the languages of the Old and New World.[223] All the tongues of civilized nations spring from a few original roots, somewhat analogous to each other; but it would seem that, among wandering tribes, dispersed over a vast extent of country, carrying on but little intercourse, and having no written record or traditionary recital to preserve any fixed standard, language undergoes a complete change in the course of ages. The great varieties of tongues in America, and their dissimilarity to each other, tend to confirm this supposition.

In various parts of America, remains are found which place beyond a doubt the ancient existence of a people more numerous, powerful, and civilized than the present race of Indians; but the indications of this departed people are not such as to bespeak their having been of very remote antiquity: the ruined cities of Central America, concealed by the forest growth of centuries, and the huge mounds of earth[224] in the Valley of the Mississippi and upon the table-lands of Mexico, their dwellings and mausoleums, although long swept over by the storm of savage conquest, afford no proofs of their having existed very far back into those dark ages when the New World was unknown to Europe. The history of these past races of men will probably forever remain a sealed book, but there is no doubt that a great population once covered those rich countries which the first English visitors found the wild hunting-grounds for a few savage tribes.[225] Probably the existing race of Red Men were the conquerors and exterminators of the feeble but civilized aboriginal nations, and as soon as they possessed the land they split into separate and hostile communities, waging perpetual war with each other so as constantly to diminish their numbers.

Far up the Mississippi and the Missouri the exploration of the country brings to light incontestable proofs of the existence of the mysterious aboriginal race: wells artificially walled, and various other structures for convenience or defense, are frequently seen; ornaments of silver, copper, and even brass are found, together with various articles of pottery and sculptured stone; sepulchers filled with vast numbers of human bones have often been discovered, and human bodies in a state of preservation are sometimes exhumed. On one of these the hair was yellow or sandy, and it is well known that an unvarying characteristic of the present red race is the lank black hair. A splendid robe of a kind of linen, made apparently from nettle fibers, and interwoven with the beautiful feathers of the wild turkey, encircled this long-buried mummy. The number and the magnitude of the mounds bear evidence that the concurrent labors of a vast assembly of men were employed in their construction.[226]

In the progress of early discovery and settlement, striking views were presented of savage life among the Red Men inhabiting the Atlantic coast; but later researches along the banks of the Mississippi and its tributaries, and by the great Canadian lakes, exhibited this people under a still more remarkable aspect. The most prominent among the natives of the interior for power, policy, and courage, were the Iroquois or Five Nations.[227] Their territory extended westward from Lake Champlain, to the farthest extremity of Ontario, along the southern banks of the St. Lawrence, and of the Great Lake. Although formed by the alliance of five independent tribes, they always presented a united front to their foes, whether in defense or aggression. Their enemies, the Algonquins, held an extensive domain on the northern bank of the St. Lawrence; these last were at one time the masters of all that portion of America, and were the most polished and mildest in manners of the northern tribes. They depended altogether for subsistence on the produce of the chase, and disdained those among their neighbors who attempted the cultivation of the soil. The Hurons[228] were a numerous nation, generally allied with the Algonquins, inhabiting the immense and fertile territory extending westward to the Great Lake, from which they take their name: they occupied themselves with a rude husbandry, which the fertile soil of the west repaid, by affording them an abundant subsistence; but they were more effeminate and luxurious than their neighbors, and inferior in savage virtue and independence. The above-named nations were those principally connected with the events of Canadian history.

Man is less affected by climate in his bodily development than any other animal; his frame is at the same time so hardy and flexible, that he thrives and increases in every variety of temperature and situation, from the tropic to the pole; nevertheless, in extremes such as these, his complexion, size, and vigor usually undergo considerable modifications.[229] Among the Red Men of America, however, there is a remarkable similarity of countenance, form, manners, and habits, in every part of the continent. No other race can show people speaking different languages, inhabiting widely different climates, and subsisting on different food, who are so wonderfully alike.[231] There are, indeed, varieties of stature, strength, intellect, and self-respect to be found among them; but the savage of the frozen north, and the Indian of the tropics, have the same stamp of person, and the same instincts.[232] There is a language of signs common to all, conveying similar ideas, and providing a means of mutual intelligence to every Red Man from north to south.

The North American Indians are generally of a fair height and proportion. Deformities or personal defects[233] are rare among them; and they are never seen to fall into corpulency. Their features, naturally pleasing and regular, are often distorted by absurd attempts to improve their beauty, or render their appearance more terrible. They have high cheek bones, sharp and rather aquiline noses, and good teeth. Their skin is generally described as red or copper-colored, approaching to the tint of cinnamon bark, a complexion peculiar to the inhabitants of the New World. The hair of the Americans, like that of their Mongolian ancestors, is coarse, black, thin, but strong, and growing to a great length. Many tribes of both these races remove it from every part of the head except the crown, where a small tuft is left, and cherished with care. It is a universal habit among the tribes of the New World to eradicate every symptom of beard: hence the early travelers were led to conclude that the smoothness of their faces resulted from a natural deficiency. One reason for the adoption of this strange custom was to enable them to paint themselves with greater ease. Among old men, who have become indifferent to their appearance, the beard is again seen to a small extent.[234]

On the continent, especially toward the north, the natives were of robust and vigorous constitution. Their sole employment was the chase of the numerous wild animals of the forest and prairies: from their continual activity, their frame acquired firmness and strength;[235] but in the islands, where game was rare, and the earth supplied spontaneously an abundant subsistence, the Indians were comparatively feeble, being neither inured to the exertions of the chase nor the labors of cultivation. Generally, the Americans were more remarkable for agility than strength, and are said to have been more like beasts of prey than animals formed for labor. Toil was hateful, and even destructive to them; they broke down and perished under tasks that would not have wearied a European. Experience proves that the physical strength of civilized man exceeds that of the savage.[236] Hand to hand in war, in wrestling, leaping, and even in running for a short distance, this superiority usually appears. In a long journey, however, the endurance of the Indian has no parallel among Europeans. A Red Man has been known to travel nearly eighty miles between sunrise and sunset, without apparent fatigue. He performs a long journey, bearing a heavy burden, and indulging in no refreshment or repose; an enemy can not escape his persevering pursuit, even when mounted on a strong horse.

It has been already observed that the Americans are rarely or never deformed, or defective in their senses, while in their wild state, but in those districts where the restraints of law are felt, an extraordinary number of blind, deaf, dwarfs, and cripples, are observed. The terrible custom among the savage tribes of destroying those children who do not promise a vigorous growth, accounts for this apparent anomaly. Infancy is so long and helpless that it weighs as a heavy burden upon a wandering people; food is scanty and uncertain of supply, hunters and their families must range over extensive countries, and often remove from place to place. Judging that children of feeble or defective formation are not likely to survive the hardships of this errant life, they destroy all such unpromising offspring,[237] or desert them to a slower and more dreadful fate. The lot of all is so hard that few born with any great constitutional defect could long survive, and arrive at maturity.

In the simplicity of savage life, where labor does not oppress, nor luxury enervate the human frame, and where harassing cares are unknown, we are led to expect that disease and suffering should be comparatively rare, and that the functions of nature should not reach the close of their gradual decay till an extreme old age. The decrepit and shriveled forms of many American Indians would seem to indicate that they had long passed the ordinary time of life. But it is difficult or impossible to ascertain their exact age, as the art of counting is generally unknown among them, and they are strangely forgetful and indifferent to the past. Their longevity, however, varies considerably, according to differences of climate and habits of life. These children of nature are naturally free from many of the diseases afflicting civilized nations; they have not even names in their language to distinguish such ills, the offspring of a luxury to them unknown. The diseases of the savage, however, though few, are violent and fatal; the severe hardships of his mode of life produce maladies of a dangerous description. From improvidence they are often reduced for a considerable time to a state bordering on starvation. When successful in the chase, or in the seasons when earth supplies her bounty, they indulge in enormous excesses. These extremes of want and abundance prove equally pernicious, for, although habit and necessity enable them at the time to tolerate such sudden transitions, the constitution is ultimately injured: disorders arising from these causes strike down numbers in the prime and vigor of youth, and are so common that they appear the necessary consequences of their mode of life. The Indian is likewise peculiarly subject to consumption, pleurisy, asthma, and paralysis, engendered by the fatigues and hardships of the chase and war, and constant exposure to extremes of heat and cold. Experience supports the conclusion that the average life is greater among people in an advanced condition of society than among those in a state of nature; among savages, all are affected by circumstances of over-exertion, privation, and excess, but in civilized societies the diseases of luxury only affect the few.

CHAPTER VII.

The Indian is endowed with a far greater acuteness of sense than the European. Despite the dazzling brightness of the long-continued snows, and the injurious action of the smoke of burning wood to which he is constantly exposed, he possesses extraordinary quickness of sight. He can also hear and distinguish the faintest sounds, alike through the gentle rustling of the forest leaves and in the roar of the storm; his power of smell is so delicate that he scents fire long before it becomes visible. By some peculiar instinct the Indian steers through the trackless forests, over the vast prairies, and even across wide sheets of water with unerring certainty. Under the gloomiest and most obscure sky, he can follow the course of the sun[238] as if directed by a compass. These powers would seem innate in this mysterious race; they can scarcely be the fruit of observation or practice, for children who have never left their native village can direct their course through pathless solitudes as accurately as the experienced hunter.

In the early stages of social progress, when the life of man is rude and simple, the reason is little exercised, and his wants and wishes are limited within narrow bounds; consequently, his intellect is feebly developed, and his emotions are few but concentrated. These conditions were generally observable among the rudest tribes of the American Indians.

There are, however, some very striking peculiarities in the intellectual character of the Red Men. Without any aid from letters or education, some of the lower mental faculties are developed in a remarkable degree. As orators, strategists, and politicians, they have frequently exhibited very great power.[240] They are constantly engaged in dangerous and difficult enterprises, where ingenuity and presence of mind are essential for their preservation. They are vigorous in the thought which is allied to action, but altogether incapable of speculation, deduction, or research. The ideas and attention of a savage are confined to the objects relating to his subsistence, safety, or indulgence: every thing else escapes his observation or excites little interest in his mind. Many tribes appear to make no arrangement for the future; neither care nor forethought prevents them from blindly following a present impulse, regardless of its consequences.

The natives of North America were divided into a number of small communities; in the relation of these to each other, war or negotiation was constantly carried on; revolutions, conquests, and alliances frequently occurred among them. To raise the power of his tribe, and to weaken or destroy that of his enemy, was the great aim of every Indian. For these objects schemes were profoundly laid, and deeds of daring valor achieved: the refinements of diplomacy were employed, and plans arranged with the most accurate calculation. These peculiar circumstances also developed the power of oratory to an extraordinary degree.[241] Upon all occasions of importance, speeches were delivered with eloquence, and heard with deep attention. When danger threatened, or opportunity of aggrandizement or revenge offered itself, a council of the tribe was called, where those most venerable from age and illustrious for wisdom deliberated for the public good. The composition of the Indian orator is studied and elaborate; the language is vigorous, and, at the same time, highly imaginative; all ideas are expressed by figures addressed to the senses; the sun and stars, mountains and rivers, lakes and forests, hatchets of war and pipes of peace, fire and water, are employed as illustrations of his subject with almost Oriental art and richness. His eloquence is unassisted by action or varied intonation, but his earnestness excites the sympathy of the audience, and his persuasion sinks into their hearts.[242]

The want of any written or hieroglyphic records of the past among the Northern Indians was, to some extent, supplied by the accurate memories of their old men; they were able to repeat speeches of four or five hours' duration, and delivered many years before, without error or even hesitation, and to hand them down from generation to generation with equal accuracy, their recollection being only assisted by small pieces of wood corresponding to the different subjects of discourse. On great and solemn occasions, belts of wampum were used as aid to recollection whenever a conference was held with a neighboring tribe, or a treaty or compact is negotiated. One of these belts, differing in some respects from any other hitherto used, was made for the occasion; each person who speaks holds this in his hand by turns, and all he says is recorded in the "living books" of the by-standers' memory in connection with the belt. When the conference ends, this memorial is deposited in the hands of the principal chief. As soon as any important treaty is ratified, a broad wampum belt of unusual splendor is given by each contracting party to the other, and these tokens are deposited among the other belts, that form, as it were, the archives of the nation. At stated intervals they are reproduced before the people, and the events which they commemorate are circumstantially recalled. Certain of the Indian women are intrusted with the care of these belts: it is their duty to relate to the children of the tribe the circumstances of each treaty or conference, and thus is kept alive the remembrance of every important event.

On the matters falling within his limited comprehension, the Indian often displays a correct and solid judgment; he pursues his object without hesitation or diversion. He is quickly perceptive of simple facts or ideas, but any artificial combination, or mechanical contrivance he is slow to comprehend, especially as he considers every thing beneath his notice which is not necessary to his advantage or enjoyment. It is very difficult to engage him in any labor of a purely mental character, but he often displays vivacity and ardor in matters that interest him, and is frequently quick and happy in repartee.[243]

The Red Man is usually characterized by a certain savage elevation of soul and calm self-possession, that all the aid of religion and philosophy can not enable his civilized brethren to surpass. Master of his emotions, the expression of his countenance rarely alters for a moment even under the most severe and sudden trials. The prisoner, uncertain as to the fate that may befall him, preparing for his dreadful death, or racked by agonizing tortures, still raises his unfaltering voice in the death song, and turns a fearless front toward his tormentors.[245]

The art of numbering was unknown in some American tribes, and even among the most advanced it was very imperfect; the savage had no property to estimate, no coins to count, no variety of ideas to enumerate. Many nations could not reckon above three, and had no words in their language to distinguish a greater number; some proceeded as far as ten, others to twenty; when they desired to convey an idea of a larger amount, they pointed to the hair of the head, or declared that it could not be counted. Computation is a mystery to all rude nations; when, however, they acquire the knowledge of a number of objects, and find the necessity of combining or dividing them, their acquaintance with arithmetic increases; the state of this art is therefore, to a considerable extent, a criterion of their degree of progress. The wise and politic Iroquois had advanced the farthest, but even they had not got beyond one thousand; the smaller tribes seldom reached above ten.

The first ideas are suggested to the mind of man by the senses: the Indian acquires no other. The objects around him are all important; if they be available for his present purposes, they attract his attention, otherwise they excite no curiosity: he neither combines nor arranges them, nor does he examine the operations of his own mind upon them; he has no abstract or universal ideas, and his reasoning powers are generally employed upon matters merely obvious to the senses. In the languages of the ruder tribes there were no words to express any thing that is not material, such as faith, time, imagination, and the like. When the mind of the savage is not occupied with matters relating to his animal existence, it is altogether inactive. In the islands, and upon the exuberant plains of the south, where little exertion of ingenuity was required to obtain the necessaries of life, the rational faculties were frequently dormant, and the countenance remained vacant and inexpressive. Even the superior races of the north loiter away their time in thoughtless indolence, when not engaged in war or the chase, deeming other objects unworthy of their consideration. Where reason is so limited in a field for exertion, the mind can hardly acquire any considerable degree of vigor or enlargement. In civilized life men are urged to activity and perseverance by a desire to gratify numerous artificial wants; but the necessities of the Indian are few, and provided for by nature almost spontaneously. He detests labor, and will sometimes sit for whole days together without uttering a word or changing his posture. Neither the hope of reward nor the prospect of future want can overcome this inveterate indolence.

Among the northern tribes, however, dwelling under a rigorous climate, some efforts are employed, and some precautions taken, to procure subsistence; but the necessary industry is even there looked upon as a degradation: the greater part of the labor is performed by women, and man will only stoop to those portions of the work which he considers least ignominious. This industry, so oppressive to one half of the community, is very partial, and directed by a limited foresight. During one part of the year they depend upon fishing for a subsistence, during another upon the chase, and the produce of the ground is their resource for the third. Regardless of the warnings of experience, they neglect to apportion provision for their wants, or can so little restrain their appetites, that, from imprudence or extravagance, they often are exposed to the miseries of famine like their ruder neighbors. Their sufferings are soon forgotten, and the horrors of one year seem to teach no lesson of providence for the next.

The Indians, for the most part, are very well acquainted with the geography of their own country. When questioned as to the situation of any particular place, they will trace out on the ground with a stick, if opportunity offer, a tolerably accurate map of the locality indicated. They will show the course of the rivers, and, by pointing toward the sun, explain the bearings of their rude sketch. There have been recorded some most remarkable instances of the accuracy with which they can travel toward a strange place, even when its description had only been received through the traditions of several generations, and they could have possessed no personal knowledge whatever of the surrounding country.

The religion of the natives of America can not but be regarded with an interest far deeper than the gratification of mere curiosity. The forms of faith, the rites, the ideas of immortality; the belief in future reward, in future punishment; the recognition of an invisible Power, infinitely surpassing that of the warrior or the chief; the dim traditions of a first parent, and a general deluge—all these, among a race so long isolated from the rest of the human family, distinct in language, habits, form, and mind, and displaying, when societies began to exist, a civilization utterly dissimilar from any before known, afford subject for earnest thought and anxious inquiry. Those who in the earlier times of American discovery supplied information on these points, were generally little qualified for the task. Priests and missionaries alone had leisure or inclination to pursue the subject; and their minds were often so preoccupied with their own peculiar doctrines, that they accommodated to them all that fell under their observation, and explained it by analogies which had no existence but in their own zealous imaginations. They seldom attempted to consider what they saw or heard in relation to the rude notions of the savages themselves. From a faint or fancied similarity of peculiar Indian superstitions to certain articles of Christian faith, some missionaries imagined they had discovered traces of an acquaintance with the divine mysteries of salvation: they concluded that the savage possessed a knowledge of the doctrine of the Trinity,[247] of the Incarnation, of the sacrifice of a Saviour, and of sacraments, from their own interpretation of certain expressions and ceremonies.[248] But little confidence can be placed in any evidence derived from such sources.

The earlier travelers in the interior of the New World received the impression that the Indians had no religious belief; they saw neither priests, temples, idols, nor sacrifices among any of the various and numerous tribes. A further knowledge of this strange people disproved the hastily-formed opinion, and showed that their whole life and all their actions were influenced by a belief in the spiritual world.[249] It is now known that the American Indians were pre-eminent among savage nations for the superior purity of their religious faith,[250] and, indeed, over even the boasted elegance of poetical mythology. From the reports of all those worthy of credence, who have lived intimately among these children of the forest, it is certain that they firmly believe in the power and unity of the Most High God, and in an immortality of happiness or misery. They worship the Great Spirit, the Giver of life, and attribute to him the creation of the world, and the government of all things with infinite love, wisdom, and power. Of the origin of their religion they are altogether ignorant. In general they believe that, after the world was created and supplied with animal life by the Great Spirit, he formed the first red man and woman, who were very large of stature, and lived to an extreme old age; that he often held council with his creatures, gave them laws and instructed them, but that the red children became rebels against their Great Father, and he then withdrew himself in sorrowful anger from among them, and left them to the vexations of the Bad Spirit. But still this merciful Father, from afar off, where he may be seen no more, showers down upon them all the blessings they enjoy. The Indians are truly filial and sincere in their devotions; they pray for what they need, and return hearty thanks for such mercies as they have enjoyed.[251] They supplicate him to bestow courage and skill upon them in the battle; the endurance which enables them to mock the cruel tortures of their enemies is attributed to his aid; their preparation for war is a long-continued religious ceremony; their march is supposed to be under omnipotent guidance, and their expeditions in the chase are held to be not unworthy of divine superintendence. They reject all idea of chance on the fortune of war, and believe firmly that every result is the decision of a Superior Power.[252] Although this elevated conception of the One God[253] is deeply impressed upon the Indian's mind, it is tainted with some of the alloy which ever must characterize the uninspired faith. Those who have inquired into the religious opinions of the uneducated and laborious classes of men, even in the most enlightened and civilized communities, find that their system of belief is derived from instruction, and not from instinct or the results of their own examination: in savage life it is vain to expect that men should reason accurately, from cause to effect, and form a just idea of the Creator from the creation. The Indian combines the idea of the Great Spirit with others of a less perfect nature. The word used by him to indicate this Sovereign Being does not convey the notion of an immaterial nature; it signifies with him some one possessed of lofty and mysterious powers, and in this sense may be applied to men and even to animals.

To the first inquirers into the religious faith of the native Americans, the subject of their mythology presented very great difficulties and complications; those Indians who attempted to explain it to Europeans had themselves no distinct or fixed opinions. Each man put forward peculiar notions, and was constantly changing them, without attempting to reconcile his self-contradictions.

Some of the southern tribes, who were more settled in their religious faith, exhibited a remarkable degree of bigotry and spiritual pride. They called the Europeans "men of the accursed speech," while they styled themselves "the beloved of the Great Spirit." The Canadian and other northern nations, however, were less intolerant, and at any time easily induced to profess the recantation of their heathen errors for some small advantage. Among these latter, the hare was deemed to possess some mystic superiority over the rest of the animal creation; it was even raised to be an object of worship, and the Great Hare was confounded in their minds with the Great Spirit. The Algonquins believed in a Water God, who opposes himself to the benevolent designs of the Great Spirit; it is strange that the name of the Great Tiger should be given to this Deity, as the country does not produce such an animal, and from this it appears probable that the tradition of his existence had come from elsewhere. They have also a third Deity, who presides over their winter season. The gods of the Indians have bodies like the sons of men, and subsist in like manner with them, but are free from the pains and cares of mortality; the term "spirit" among them only signifies a being of a superior and more excellent nature than man. However, they believe in the omnipresence of their deities, and invoke their aid in all times and places.

Besides the Great Spirit and the lesser deities above mentioned, every Indian has his own Manitou, Okki, or guardian power; this divinity's presence is represented by some portable object, often of the most insignificant nature, such as the head, beak, or claw of a bird, the hoof of a deer or cow. No youth can be received among the brotherhood of warriors till he has placed himself, in due form, under the care of this familiar. The ceremony is deemed of great importance: several days of strict fasting are always observed in preparation for the important event, and the youth's dreams are carefully noted during this period. While under these circumstances, some object usually makes a deep impression upon his mind; this is then chosen for his Manitou or guardian spirit, and a specimen, of it is procured. He is next placed for some time in a large vapor bath, and having undergone the process of being steamed, is laid on the ground, and the figure of the Manitou is pricked on his breast with needles of fish-bone dipped in vermilion; the intervals between the scars are then rubbed with gunpowder, so as to produce a mixture of red and blue. When this operation is performed, he cries aloud to the Great Spirit, invoking aid, and praying to be received as a warrior.

The Indian submits with resignation to the chastening will of the Great Spirit. When overtaken by any disaster, he diligently examines himself to discover what omission of observance or duty has called down the punishment, and endeavors to atone for past neglect by increased devotion. But if the Manitou be deemed to have shown want of ability or inclination to defend him, he upbraids the guardian power with bitterness and contempt, and threatens to seek a more effectual protector. If the Manitou continue useless, this threat is fulfilled. Fasting and dreaming are again resorted to in the same manner as before, and the vision of another Manitou is obtained. The former representation is then, as much as possible, effaced, and the figure of the newly-adopted amulet painted in its place. All the veneration and confidence forfeited by the first Manitou is now transferred to the successor.[254]

It is also part of the Indian's religious belief that there are inferior spirits to rule over the elements, under the control of the Supreme Power, he being so great that he must, like their chiefs, have attendants to execute his behests. These inferior spirits see what passes on earth, and report it to their Great Ruler: the Indian, trusting to their good offices, invokes those spirits of the air in times of peril, and endeavors to propitiate them by throwing tobacco or other simple offerings to the winds or upon the waters. But, amid all these corrupt and ignorant superstitions, the One Spirit, the Creator and Ruler of the World, is the great object of the Red Man's adoration. On him they rest their hopes; to him they address their daily prayers, and render their solemn sacrifice.

The worship of the Indians, although frequently in private, is generally little regulated either by ceremonies or stated periodical devotions. But there are, at times, great occasions, when the whole tribe assembles for the purpose,[255] such as in declaring war or proclaiming peace, or when visited by storms or earthquakes. Their great feasts all partake of a religious character; every thing provided must be consumed by the assembly, as being consecrated to the Great Spirit. The Ottawas seem to have had a more complicated mythology than any other tribe: they held a regular festival in honor of the sun; and, while rendering thanks for past benefit, prayed that it might be continued to the future. They have also been observed to erect an idol in their village, and offer it sacrifice: this ceremony was, however, very rare. Many Western tribes visit the spring whence they have been supplied with water during the winter, at the breaking up of the ice, and there offer up their grateful worship to the Great Spirit for having preserved them in health and safety, and having supplied their wants. This pious homage is performed with much ceremony and devotion.

Among this rude people, who were at one time supposed to have been without any religion, habitual piety may be considered the most remarkable characteristic: every action of their lives is connected with some acknowledgment of a Superior Power. Many have imagined that the severe fasts sometimes endured by the Indians were only for the purpose of accustoming themselves to support hunger; but all the circumstances connected with these voluntary privations leave no doubt that they were solemn religious exercises. Dreams and visions during these fasts were looked upon as oracular, and respected as the revelations of Heaven. The Indian frequently propitiates the favor of the inferior spirits by vows; when for some time unsuccessful in the chase, or suffering from want in long journeys, he promises the genius of the spot to bestow upon one of his chiefs, in its honor, a portion of the first fruits of his success;[256] if the chief be too distant to receive the gift, it is burned in sacrifice.

The belief of the Indian in a future state, although deeply cherished and sincere, can scarcely be regarded as a defined idea of the immortality of the soul.[257] There is little spiritual or exalted in his conception. When he attempts to form a distinct notion of the spirit, he is blinded by his senses; he calls it the shadow or image of his body, but its acts and enjoyments are all the same as those of its earthly existence. He only pictures to himself a continuation of present pleasures. His Heaven is a delightful country, far away beyond the unknown Western seas, where the skies are ever bright and serene, the air genial, the spring eternal, and the forests abounding in game; no war, disease, or torture are known in that happy land; the sufferings of life are endured no more, and its sweetest pleasures are perpetuated and increased; his wife is tender and obedient, his children dutiful and affectionate. In this country of eternal happiness, the Indian hopes to be again received into the favor of the Great Spirit, and to rejoice in his glorious presence.[258] But in his simple mind there is a deep and enduring conviction that admission to this delightful country of souls can only be attained by good and noble actions in this mortal life. For the bad men there is a fate terribly different—endless afflictions, want, and misery; a land of hideous desolation; barren, parched, and dreary hunting-grounds, the abode of evil and malignant spirits, whose office is to torture, whose pleasure is to enhance the misery of the condemned. It is also almost universally believed that the Great Spirit manifests his wrath or his favor to the evil and the good in their journey to the land of souls. After death the Indian believes that he is supplied with a canoe; and if he has been a virtuous warrior, or otherwise worthy, he is guided across the vast deep to a haven of eternal happiness and peace by the hand of the Great Spirit; but if his life be stained with cowardice, vice, or negligence of duty, he is abandoned to the malignity of evil genii, driven about by storms and darkness over that unknown sea, and at length cast ashore on the barren land, where everlasting torments are his portion.[259]

The Indians generally believe in the existence of a Spirit of Evil, and occasionally pray to him in deprecation of his wrath. They do not doubt his inferiority to the Great Spirit, but they believe that he has the power to inflict torments and punishments upon the human race, and that he has a malignant delight in its exercise.

The souls of the lower animals are also held by the Red Man to be immortal: he recognizes a certain portion of understanding in them, and each creature is supposed to possess a guardian spirit peculiar to itself. He only claims a superiority in degree of intelligence and power over the beasts of the field, Man is but the king of animals. In the world of souls are to be found the shades of every thing that breathes the breath of life. However, he takes little pains to arrange or develop these strange ideas. The enlightened heathen philosophers of antiquity were not more successful.

To penetrate the mysteries of the future has always been a favorite object of superstition,[260] and has been attempted by a countless variety of means. The Indian trusts to his dreams for this revelation, and invariably holds them sacred. Before he engages in any important undertaking, particularly in war, diplomacy, or the chase, the dreams of his principal chiefs are carefully watched and examined; by their interpretation his conduct is guided. In this manner the fate of a whole nation has often been decided by the chance visions of a single man. The Indian considers that dreams are the mode by which the Great Spirit condescends to hold converse with man; thence arises his deep veneration for the omens and warnings they may shadow forth.[261]

Many other superstitions, besides those of prognostics from dreams, are cherished among the Indians. Each remarkable natural feature, such as a great cataract, a lake, or a difficult and dangerous pass, possesses a spirit of the spot, whose favor they are fain to propitiate by votive offerings: skins, bones, pieces of metal, and dead dogs are hung up in the neighborhood, and dedicated to its honor. Supposed visions of ghosts are sometimes, but rarely, spoken of: it is, however, generally believed that the souls of the dead continue for some time to hover round the earthly remains: dreading, therefore, that the spirits of those they have tortured watch near them to seek opportunity of vengeance, they beat the air violently with rods, and raise frightful cries to scare the shadowy enemy away.

Among some of the Indian tribes, an old man performed the duty of a priest at their religious festivals; he broke the bread and cast it in the fire, dedicated the different offerings, and officiated in the sacrifice. It was also his calling to declare the omens from dreams and other signs, as the warnings of Heaven. These religious duties of the priest were totally distinct from the office of the juggler, or "medicine-man," although some observers have confounded them together. There were also vestals in many nations of the continent who were supposed to supply by their touch a precious medicinal efficacy to certain roots and simples.

The "medicine-men," or jugglers, undertook the cure of diseases, the interpretation of omens, the exorcising of evil spirits, and magic in all its branches. They were men of great consideration in the tribe, and were called in and regularly paid as physicians; but this position could only be attained by undergoing certain ordeals, which were looked upon as a compact with the spirits of the air. The process of the vapor bath was first endured; severe fasting followed, accompanied by constant shouting, singing, beating a sort of drum, and smoking. After these preliminaries the jugglers were installed by extravagant ceremonies, performed with furious excitement and agitation. They possessed, doubtless, some real knowledge of the healing art; and in external wounds or injuries, the causes of which are obvious, they applied powerful simples, chiefly vegetable, with considerable skill. With decoctions from ginseng, sassafras, hedisaron, and a tall shrub called bellis, they have been known to perform remarkable cures in cases of wounds and ulcers. They scarified the seat of inflammation or rheumatic pain skillfully with sharp-pointed bones, and accomplished the cupping process by the use of gourd shells as substitutes for glasses. For all internal complaints, their favorite specific was the vapor bath, which they formed with much ingenuity from their rude materials. This was doubtless a very efficient remedy, but they attached to it a supernatural influence, and employed it in the ceremonies of solemn preparation for great councils.

All cases of disease, when the cause could not be discovered, were attributed to the influence of malignant spirits. To meet these, the medicine-man, or juggler, invested himself with his mysterious character, and endeavored to exorcise the demon by a great variety of ceremonies, a mixture of delusion and imposture. For this purpose, he arrayed himself in a strange and fanciful dress, and on his first arrival began to sing and dance round the sufferer, invoking the spirits with loud cries. When exhausted with these exertions, he attributed the hidden cause of the malady to the first unusual idea that suggested itself to his mind, and in the confidence of his supposed inspiration, proclaimed the necessary cure. The juggler usually contrived to avoid the responsibility of failure by ordering a remedy impossible of attainment when the patient was not likely to recover. The Iroquois believed that every ailment was a desire of the soul, and, when death followed, it was from the desire not having been accomplished.

Among many of the Indian tribes, the barbarous custom of putting to death those who were thought past recovery, existed, and still exists. Others abandoned these unfortunates to perish of hunger and thirst, or under the jaws of the wild beasts of the forest. Some nations put to death all infants who had lost their mother, or buried them alive in her grave, under the impression that no other woman could rear them, and that they must perish by hunger. But the dreadful custom of deserting the aged and emaciated among the wandering tribes is universal.[262] When these miserable creatures become incapable of walking or riding, and there is no means of carrying them, they themselves uniformly insist upon being abandoned to their fate, saying that they are old and of no further use—they left their fathers in the same manner—they wish to die, and their children must not mourn for them. A small fire and a few pieces of wood, a scanty supply of meat, and perhaps a buffalo skin, are left as the old man's sole resources. When in a few months the wandering tribe may revisit the spot where he was deserted, a skull and a few scattered bones will be all that the wolves and vultures have left as tokens of his dreadful fate.

The Indian father and mother display great tenderness for their children,[263] even to the weakness of unlimited indulgence; this affection, however, appears to be merely instinctive, for they use no exertion whatever to lead their offspring to the paths of virtue. Children, on their part, show very little filial affection, and frequently treat their parents, especially their father, with indignity and violence. This vicious characteristic is strongly exemplified in the horrible custom above described.

When the Indian believes that his death is at hand, his conduct is usually stoical and dignified. If he still retain the power of speech, he harangues those who surround him in a funeral oration, advising and encouraging his children, and bidding them and all his friends farewell. During this time, the relations of the dying man slay all the dogs they can catch, trusting that the souls of these animals will give notice of the approaching departure of the warrior for the world of spirits; they then take leave of him, wish him a happy voyage, and cheer him with the hope that his children will prove worthy of his name. When the last moment arrives, all the kindred break into loud lamentations, till some one high in consideration desires them to cease. For weeks afterward, however, these cries of grief are daily renewed at sunrise and sunset. In three days after death the funeral takes place, and the neighbors are invited to a feast of all the provisions that can be procured, which must be all consumed. The relations of the deceased do not join in the banquet; they cut off their hair, cover their heads, blacken their faces, and for a long time deny themselves every amusement.[264]

The deceased is buried with his arms and ornaments, and a supply of provisions for his long journey; the face is painted, and the body arrayed in the richest robes that can be obtained; it is then laid in the grave in an upright posture, and skins are carefully placed around, that it may not touch the earth. At stated intervals of eight, ten, or twelve years, the Indians celebrate the singular ceremony of the Festival of the Dead; till this has been performed, the souls of the deceased are supposed still to hover round their earthly remains. At this solemn festival, the people march in procession to the burial-ground, open the tombs, and continue for a time gazing on the moldering relics in mournful silence. Then, while the women raise a loud wailing, the bones of the dead are carefully collected, wrapped in fresh and valuable robes, and conveyed to the family cabin.[265] A feast is then held for several days, with dances, games, and prize combats. The relics are next carried to the council-house of the nation, where they are publicly displayed, with the presents destined to be interred with them. Sometimes the remains are even carried on bearers from village to village. At length they are laid in a deep pit, lined with rich furs; tears and lamentations are again renewed, and for some time fresh provisions are daily laid, by this simple people, upon the graves of their departed friends.

CHAPTER VIII.

In the warmer and milder climates of America, none of the rude tribes were clothed; for them there was little need of defense against the weather, and their extreme indolence indisposed them to any exertion not absolutely necessary for their subsistence. Others were satisfied with a very slight covering, but all delighted in ornaments. They dressed their hair in different forms, stained their skins, and fastened bits of gold, or shells, or bright pebbles in their noses and cheeks. They also frequently endeavored to alter their natural form and feature; as soon as an infant was born, it was subjected to some cruel process of compression, by which the bones of the skull while still soft, were squeezed into the shape of a cone, or flattened, or otherwise distorted.[266] But in all efforts to adorn or alter their persons, the great object was to inspire terror and respect. The warrior was indifferent to the admiration of woman, whom he enslaved and despised, and it was only for war or the council that he assumed his choicest ornaments, and painted himself with unusual care. The decorations of the women were few and simple; all those that were precious and splendid were reserved for their haughty lords. In several tribes, the wives had to devote much of their time to adorning their husbands, and could bestow little attention upon themselves. The different nations remaining unclothed show considerable sagacity in anointing themselves in such a manner as to provide against the heat and moisture of the climate. Soot, the juices of herbs having a green, yellow, or vermilion tint, mixed with oil and grease, are lavishly employed upon their skin to adorn it and render it impervious. By this practice profuse perspiration is checked, and a defense is afforded against the innumerable and tormenting insects that abound every where in America.[268] Black and red are the favorite colors for painting the face. In war, black is profusely laid on, the other colors being only used to heighten its effect, and give a terrible expression to the countenance.[269] The breast, arms, and legs of the Indian are tattooed with sharp needles or pointed bones, the colors being carefully rubbed in. His Manitou, and the animal chosen as the symbol of his tribe, are first painted, then all his most remarkable exploits, and the enemies he has slain or scalped, so that his body displays a pictorial history of his life.[270]

In the severe climate of the north the Indian's dress is somewhat more ample. Instead of shoes he wears a strip of soft leather wrapped round the foot, called the moccasin. Upward to the middle of the thigh, a piece of leather or cloth, fitting closely, serves instead of pantaloons and stockings: it is usually sewed on to the limb, and is never removed. Two aprons, each about a foot square, are fastened to a girdle round the waist, and hang before and behind. This is their permanent dress. On occasions of ceremony, however, and in cold weather, they also wear a short shirt, and over all a loose robe, closed or held together in front. Now, an English blanket is generally used for this garment; but, before the produce of European art was known among them, the skins of wild animals furnished all their covering. The chiefs usually wear a sort of breast-plate, covered with shells, pebbles, and pieces of glittering metal. Those who communicate with Europeans display beads, rings, bracelets, and other gauds instead. The ear, too, is cumbrously ornamented with showy pendents, and the tuft of hair on the crown of the head is interwoven with feathers, the wings of birds, shells, and many fantastic ornaments. Sometimes the Indian warrior wears buffalo horns,[271] reduced in size and polished, on his head: this, however, is a distinction only for those renowned in war or in the council. The dress of the women varies but little from that of the men, except in being more simple. They wear their hair long and flowing, and richly ornamented, whenever they can procure the means.

The dwellings of the Indians usually receive much less attention than their personal appearance. Even among tribes comparatively far advanced in civilization, the structure of their houses or cabans was very rude and simple. They were generally wretched huts, of an oblong or circular form, and sometimes so low that it was always necessary to preserve a sitting or lying posture while under their shelter. There were no windows; a large hole in the center of the roof allowed the smoke to escape; and a sort of curtain of birch bark occupied the place of the door. These dwellings are sometimes 100 feet long, when they accommodate several families. Four cabans generally form a quadrangle, each open to the inside, with the fire in the center common to all. The numerous and powerful tribes formerly inhabiting Canada and its borders usually dwelt in huts of a very rude description. In their expeditions, both for war and the chase, the Indians erect temporary cabans in a remarkably short space of time. A few poles, raised in the shape of a cone, and covered with birch bark, form the roof, and the tops of pine branches make a fragrant bed. In winter the snow is cleared out of the place where the caban is to be raised, and shaped into walls, which form a shelter from the wind. The permanent dwellings were usually grouped in villages, surrounded with double and even triple rows of palisades, interlaced with branches of trees, so as to form a compact barrier, and offering a considerable difficulty to an assailing foe.

The furniture in these huts was very scanty. The use of metal being unknown, the pots or vessels for boiling their food were made of coarse earthen-ware, or of soft stone hollowed out with a hatchet. In some cases they were made of wood, and the water was boiled by throwing in a number of heated stones.

The Indian displays some skill in the construction of canoes, and they are admirably adapted for his purpose. They are usually made of the bark of a single tree, strengthened by ribs of strong wood. These light and buoyant skiffs float safely on stormy or rapid waters under the practiced guidance of the Indian, and can with ease be borne on his shoulder from one river or lake to another. Canoes formed out of the trunk of a large tree are also sometimes used, especially in winter, for the purpose of crossing rivers when there is floating ice, their great strength rendering them capable of enduring the collision with the floating masses, to which they are liable.

Even among the rudest Indian tribes a regular union between man and wife was universal, although not attended with ceremonials. The marriage contract is a matter of purchase. The man buys his wife of her parents; not with money, for its value is unknown, but with some useful and precious article, such as a robe of bear or other handsome skin, a horse, a rifle, powder and shot. When the Indian has made the bargain with his wife's parents, he takes her home to his caban, and from that time she becomes his slave. There are several singular modes of courtship among some of the tribes, but generally much reserve and consideration are exhibited.[272] In many respects, however, the morals and manners of the Indians are such as might be expected in communities where the precepts of Christianity are unknown, and where even the artificial light of civilization is wanting. There are occasionally instances of a divorce being resorted to from mere caprice; but, usually, the marriage tie is regarded as a perpetual covenant. As the wife toils incessantly, and procures a great part of the subsistence, she is considered too valuable a servant to be lightly lost. Among the chiefs of the tribes to the west and south, polygamy is general, and the number of these wife-servants constitute the principal wealth; but among the northern nations this plurality is very rarely possessed. The Indian is seldom seen to bestow the slightest mark of tenderness upon his wife or children: he, however, exerts himself to the utmost for their welfare, and will sacrifice his life to avenge their wrongs. His indomitable pride prompts him to assume an apparent apathy, and to control every emotion of affection, suffering, or sorrow.

Parents perform few duties toward their children beyond procuring their daily bread. The father is by turns occupied in war and the chase, or sunk in total indolence, while the mother is oppressed by the toils of her laborious bondage, and has but little time to devote to her maternal cares. The infant is fastened to a board, cushioned with soft moss, by thongs of leather, and is generally hung on the branch of a tree, or, in traveling, carried on the mother's back.[273] When able to move, it is freed from this confinement, and allowed to make its way about as it pleases. It soon reaches some neighboring lake or river, and sports itself in the water all day long. As the child advances in years it enjoys perfect independence; it is rarely or never reproved or chastised. The youths are early led to emulate the deeds of their fathers; they practice with the bow, and other weapons suited to a warrior's use; and, as manhood approaches, they gradually assume the dignified gravity of the elders. In some tribes the young men must pass through a dreadful ordeal when they arrive at the age of manhood, which is supposed to prepare them for the endurance of all future sufferings, and enables the chiefs to judge of their courage, and to select the bravest among them to lead in difficult enterprises.

During four days previous to this terrible torture the candidates observe a strict fast, and are denied all sleep. When the appointed day arrives, certain strange ceremonies of an allegorical description are performed, in which all the inhabitants of the village take part. The candidates then repair to a large caban, where the chiefs and elders of the tribe are assembled to witness the ordeal. The torture commences by driving splints of wood through the flesh of the back and breasts of the victim: he is next hoisted off the ground by ropes attached to these splints, and suspended by the quivering flesh, while the tormentors twist the hanging body slowly round, thus exquisitely enhancing the agony, till a death-faint comes to the relief of the candidate: he is then lowered to the ground and left to the care of the Great Spirit. When he recovers animation, he rises and proceeds on his hands and feet to another part of the caban: he there lays the little finger of the left hand upon a buffalo skull, as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit, and another Indian chops it off. The fore-finger is also frequently offered up in the same manner: this mutilation does not interfere with the use of the bow, the only weapon for which the left hand is required. Other cruel tortures are inflicted for some time, and at length the wretched victim, reeling and staggering from the intensity of his suffering, reaches his own dwelling, where he is placed under the care of his friends. Some of the famous warriors of the tribe pass through this horrible ordeal repeatedly, and the oftener it is endured, the greater is their estimation among their people. No bandages are applied to the wounds thus inflicted, nor is any attention paid to their cure; but, from the extreme exhaustion and debility caused by want of sustenance and sleep, circulation is checked, and sensibility diminished; the bleeding and inflammation are very slight, and the results are seldom injurious.

The native tribes are engaged in almost perpetual hostility against each other. War is the great occupation of savage life, the measure of merit, the high road of ambition, and the source of its intensest joy—revenge.[274] In war the Indian character presents the darkest aspect; the finer and gentler qualities are vailed or dormant, and a fiendish ferocity assumes full sway. It is waged to exterminate, not to reduce. The enemy is assailed with treachery, and, if conquered, treated with revolting cruelty. The glory and excitement of war are dear to the Indian, but when the first drop of blood is shed, revenge is dearer still. He thirsts to offer up the life of an enemy to appease the departed spirit of a slaughtered friend. Thus each contest generates another even more embittered than itself. The extension or defense of the hunting-grounds is often a primary cause of hostility among the native nations, and the increase of the power of their tribe by incorporating with them such of the vanquished as they may spare from a cruel death is another frequent motive. The savage pines and chafes in long-continued peace, and the prudence of the aged can with difficulty restrain the fierce impetuosity of the young. Individual quarrels and a thirst for fame often lead a single savage to invade a hostile territory against the counsels of his tribe; but, when war is determined by the general voice, more enlarged views, and a desire of aggrandizement guide the proceedings.

As soon as the determination of declaring war is formed, he who is chosen by the nation as the chief enters on a course of solemn preparation, entreating the aid and guidance of the Great Spirit. As a signal of the approaching strife, he marches three times round his winter dwelling, bearing a large blood-red flag, variegated with deep tints of black. When this terrible emblem is seen, the young warriors crowd around to hearken to the words of their chief. He then addresses them in a strain of impassioned, but rude and ferocious eloquence, calling upon them to follow him to glory and revenge. When he concludes his oration, he throws a wampum belt on the ground, which is respectfully lifted up by some warrior of high renown, who is judged worthy of being second in command. The chief now paints himself black, and commences a strict fast, only tasting a decoction of consecrated herbs to assist his dreams, which are strictly noted and interpreted by the elders. He then washes off the black paint. A huge fire is lighted in a public place in the village, and the great war-caldron set to boil: each warrior throws something into this vessel, and the allies who are to join the expedition also send offerings for the same purpose. Lastly, the sacred dog is sacrificed to the God of War, and boiled in the caldron to form the chief dish at a festival, to which only the warriors and men great in council are admitted.

During these ceremonies the elders watch the omens with deep anxiety, and if the promise be favorable, they prepare for immediate departure. The chief then paints himself in bright and varied colors, to render his appearance terrible, and sings his war song, announcing the nature of the projected enterprise. His example is followed by all the warriors, who join a war-dance, while they proclaim with a loud voice the glory of their former deeds, and their determination to destroy their enemies. Each Indian now seizes his arms: the bow and quiver hang over the left shoulder, the tomahawk from the left hand, and the scalping-knife[275] is stuck in the girdle. A distinguished chief is appointed to take charge of the Manitous or guardian powers of each warrior; they are collected, carefully placed in a box, and accompany the expedition as the ark of safety. Meanwhile the women incite the warriors to vengeance, and eagerly demand captives for the torture, to appease the spirits of their slaughtered relatives, or sometimes, indeed, to supply their place. When the war party are prepared to start, the chief addresses his followers in a short harangue; they then commence the march, singing, and shouting the terrible war-whoop. The women proceed with the expedition for some distance; and when they must return, exchange endearing names with their husbands and relations, and express ardent wishes for victory. Some little gift of affection is usually exchanged at parting.

Before striking the first blow the Indians make open declaration of war. A herald, painted black, is sent, bearing a red tomahawk, on one side of which are inscribed figures representing the causes of hostilities. He reaches the enemy's principal village at midnight, throws down the tomahawk in some conspicuous place, and disappears silently. When once warning is thus given, every stratagem that cunning can suggest is employed for the enemy's destruction.

As long as the expedition continues in friendly countries, the warriors wander about in small parties for the convenience of hunting, still, however, keeping up communication by means of sounds imitating the cries of birds and beasts. None ever fail to appear at the appointed place of meeting upon the frontier, where they again hold high festival, and consult the omens of their dreams. When they enter the hostile territory a close array is observed, and a deep silence reigns. They creep on all fours, walk through water, or upon the stumps of trees, to avoid leaving any trace of their route. To conceal their numbers they sometimes march in a long single file, each stepping on the foot-print of the man before him. They sometimes even wear the hoofs of the buffalo or the paws of the bear, and run for miles in a winding course to imitate the track of those animals. Every effort is made to surprise the foe, and they frequently lure him to destruction by imitating from the depths of the forest the cries of animals of the chase.

If the expedition meet with no straggling party of the enemy, it advances with cautious stealth toward some principal village; the warriors creep on their hands and feet through the deep woods, and often even paint themselves the color of dried leaves to avoid being perceived by their intended victims. On approaching the doomed hamlet, they examine it carefully, but rapidly, from some tree-top or elevated ground, and again conceal themselves till nightfall in the thickest covert. Strange to say, these subtle warriors neglect altogether the security of sentinels, and are satisfied with searching the surrounding neighborhood for hidden foes; if none be discovered, they sleep in confidence, even when hostile forces are not far off. They weakly trust to the protecting power of their Manitous. When they have succeeded in reaching the village, and concealing themselves unobserved, they wait silently, keeping close watch till the hour before dawn, when the inhabitants are in the deepest sleep. Then crawling noiselessly, like snakes, through the grass and underwood, till they are upon the foe, the chief raises a shrill cry, and the massacre begins. Discharging a shower of arrows, they finish the deadly work with the club and tomahawk. The great object, however, of the conquerors is to take the enemy alive, and reserve him to grace their triumph and rejoice their eyes by his torture. When resistance is attempted, this is often impossible, and an instant death saves the victim from the far greater horrors of captivity and protracted torment. When an enemy is struck down, the victor places his foot upon the neck of the dead or dying man, and with a horrible celerity and skill tears off the bleeding scalp.[276] This trophy is ever preserved with jealous care by the Indian warriors.

After any great success the war party always return to their villages, more eager to celebrate the victory than to improve its advantages. Their women and old men await their return in longing expectation. The fate of the war is announced from afar off by well-known signs; the bad tidings are first told. A herald advances to the front of the returning party, and sounds a death-whoop for each of their warriors who has fallen in the fray. Then, after a little time, the tale of victory is told, and the number of prisoners and of the slain declared. All lamentations are soon hushed, and congratulations and rejoicing succeed. During the retreat, if the war party be not hard pressed by the enemy, prisoners are treated with some degree of humanity, but are very closely guarded. When the expedition has returned to the village, the old men, women, and children form themselves into two lines; the prisoners are compelled to pass between them, and are cruelly bruised with sticks and stones, but not vitally injured by their tormentors.

A council is usually held to decide the fate of the prisoners: the alternatives are, to be adopted into the conquering nation, and received as brothers, or to be put to death in the most horrible torments, thus either to supply the place of warriors fallen in battle, or to appease the spirits of the departed by their miserable end. The older warriors among the captives usually meet the hardest fate; the younger are most frequently adopted by the women, their wounds are cured, and they are thenceforth received in every respect as if they belonged to the tribe. The adopted prisoners go out to war against their former countrymen, and the new tie is held even more binding than the old.

The veteran warrior, whose tattooed skin bears record of slaughtered enemies, meets with no mercy: his face is painted, his head crowned with flowers as if for a festival, black moccasins are put upon his feet, and a flaming torch is placed above him as the signal of condemnation. The women take the lead in the diabolical tortures to which he is subjected, and rage around their victim with horrible cries. He is, however, allowed a brief interval to sing his death-song, and he often continues it even through the whole of the terrible ordeal. He boasts of his great deeds, insults his tormentors, laughing at their feeble efforts, exults in the vengeance that his nation will take for his death, and pours forth insulting reproaches and threats. The song is then taken up by the woman to whose particular revenge he has been devoted. She calls upon the spirit of her husband or son to come and witness the sufferings of his foe. After tortures too various and horrible to be particularized, some kind wound closes the scene in death, and the victim's scalp is lodged among the trophies of the tribe. To endure with unshaken fortitude[277] is the greatest triumph of an Indian warrior, and the highest confusion to his enemies, but often the proud spirit breaks under the pangs that rack the quivering flesh, and shouts of intolerable agony reward the demoniac ingenuity of the tormentors.

Many early writers considered that the charge of cannibalism[278] against the Indians was well founded: doubtless, in moments of fury, portions of an enemy's flesh have been rent off and eaten. To devour a foeman's heart is held by them to be an exquisite vengeance. They have been known to drink draughts of human blood, and, in circumstances of scarcity, they do not hesitate to eat their captives. It is certain that all the terms used by them in describing the torture of prisoners relate to this horrible practice; yet, as they are so figurative in every expression, these may simply mean the fullest gratification of revenge. The evidence upon this point is obscure and contradictory; the Indian can not be altogether acquitted or found guilty of this foul imputation.

The brief peace that affords respite amid the continual wars of the Indian tribes is scarcely more than a truce. Nevertheless, it is concluded with considerable form and ceremony. The first advance toward a cessation of hostilities is usually made through the chief of a neutral power. The nation proposing the first overture dispatches some men of note as embassadors, accompanied by an orator, to contract the negotiation. They bear with them the calumet[279] of peace as the symbol of their purpose, and a certain number of wampum belts[280] to note the objects and conditions of the negotiation. The orator explains the meaning of the belts to the hostile chiefs, and if the proposition be received, the opposite party accept the proffered symbols, and the next day present others of a similar import. The calumet is then solemnly smoked, and the burial of a war hatchet for each party and for each ally concludes the treaty. The negotiations consist more in presents, speeches, and ceremonies, than in any demands upon each other; there is no property to provide tribute, and the victors rarely or never require the formal cession of any of the hunting-grounds of the vanquished. The unrestrained passions of individuals, and the satiety of long continued peace, intolerable to the Indian, soon again lead to the renewal of hostility.

The successful hunter ranks next to the brave warrior in the estimation of the savage. Before starting on his grand expeditions, he prepares himself by a course of fasting, dreaming, and religious observances, as if for war. He hunts with astonishing dexterity and skill, and regards this pursuit rather as an object of adventure and glory than as an industrious occupation.

With regard to cultivation and the useful arts, the Indians are in the very infancy of progress.[283] Their villages are usually not less than eighteen miles apart, and are surrounded by a narrow circle of imperfectly-cleared land, slightly turned up with a hoe, or scraped with pointed sticks,[284] scarcely interrupting the continuous expanse of the forest. They are only acquainted with the rudest sorts of clay manufactures, and the use of the metals (except by European introduction) is altogether unknown.[285] Their women, however, display considerable skill in weaving fine mats, in staining the hair of animals, and working it into brilliant colored embroideries. The wampum belts are made with great care and some taste. The calumet is also elaborately carved and ornamented; and the painting and tattooing of their bodies sometimes presents well-executed and highly descriptive pictures and hieroglyphics. They construct light and elegant baskets from the swamp cane, and are very skillful in making bows and arrows; some tribes, indeed, were so rude as not to have attained even to the use of this primitive weapon, and the sling was by no means generally known.

Most of the American nations are without any fixed form of government whatever. The complete independence of every man is fully recognized. He may do what he pleases of good or evil, useful or destructive, no constituted power interferes to thwart his will. If he even take away the life of another, the by-standers do not interpose. The kindred of the slain, however, will make any sacrifice for vengeance. And yet, in the communities of these children of nature there usually reigns a wonderful tranquillity. A deadly hostility exists between the different tribes, but among the members comprising each the strictest union exists. The honor and prosperity of his nation is the leading object of the Indian. This national feeling forms a link to draw him closely to his neighbor, and he rarely or never uses violence or evil speech against a countryman. Where there is scarcely such a thing as individual property, government and justice are necessarily very much simplified. There exists almost a community of goods. No man wants while another has enough and to spare. Their generosity knows no bounds. Whole tribes, when ruined by disasters in war, find unlimited hospitality among their neighbors; habitations and hunting-grounds are allotted to them, and they are received in every respect as if they were members of the nation that protects them.

As there is generally no wealth or hereditary distinction among this people, the sole claim to eminence is founded on such personal qualities as can only be conspicuous in war, council, or the chase. During times of tranquillity and inaction all superiority ceases. Every man is clothed and fares alike. Relations of patronage and dependence are unknown. All are free and equal, and they perish rather than submit to control or endure correction. During war, indeed, or in the chase, they render a sort of obedience to those who excel in character and conduct, but at other times no form of government whatever exists. The names of magistrate and subject are not in their language. If the elders interpose between man and man, it is to advise, not to decide. Authority is only tolerated in foreign, not in domestic affairs.

Music and dancing express the emotions of the Indian's mind. He has his songs of war and death, and particular moments of his life are appointed for their recital. His great deeds and the vengeance he has inflicted upon his enemies are his subjects; the language and music express his passions rudely but forcibly. The dance[286] is still more important: it is the grand celebration at every festival, and alternately the exponent of their triumph, anger, or devotion. It is usually pantomimic, and highly descriptive of the subject to which it is appropriate.

The Indians are immoderately fond of play as a means of excitement and agitation. While gaming, they, who are usually so taciturn and indifferent, become loquacious and eager. Their guns, arms, and all that they possess are freely staked, and at times where all else is lost, they will trust even their personal safety to the hazard of the die.[287] The most barbarous of the tribes have unhappily succeeded in inventing some species of intoxicating liquor: that from the root of the maize was in general use; it is not disagreeable to the taste, and is very powerful. When the accursed fire-water is placed before the Indians, none can resist the temptation. The wisest, best, and bravest succumb alike to this odious temptation: and when their unrestrained passions are excited by drinking, they are at times guilty of enormous outrages, and the scenes of their festivities often become stained with kindred blood. The women are not permitted to partake of this fatal pleasure; their duty is to serve the guests, and take care of their husbands and friends when overpowered by the debauch. This exclusion from a favorite enjoyment is evidence of the contempt in which females are held among the Indians.

In the present day, he who would study the character and habits of these children of Nature must travel far away beyond the Rocky Mountains, where the murrain of perverted civilization has not yet spread. There he may still find the virtues and vices of the savage, and lead among those wild tribes that fascinating life of liberty which few have ever been known to abandon willingly for the restraints and luxuries of civilization and refinement.

CHAPTER IX.

While the French were busied in establishing themselves upon the banks of the St. Lawrence, their ancient rivals steadily progressed in the occupation of the Atlantic coasts of North America.

Generally speaking, the oldest colonies of England were founded by private adventurers, at their own expense and risk. In most cases, the soil of the new settlements was granted to powerful individuals or companies of merchants, and by them made over in detail to the actual emigrants for certain considerations. Where, however, as often occurred, the emigrants had settled prior to the grant, or were in a condition to disregard it, they divided the land according to their own interests and convenience. These unrecognized proprietors prospered more rapidly than those who were trammeled by engagements with non-resident authorities. The right of government, as well as the nominal possession of the soil, was usually granted in the first instance, and the new colonies were connected with the crown of Great Britain by little more than a formal recognition of sovereignty. But the disputes invariably arising between the nominal proprietors and the actual settlers speedily caused, in most cases, a dissolution of the proprietary government, and threw the colonies one by one under royal authority.

The system then usually adopted was to place the colony under the rule of an English governor, assisted by an upper House of Parliament, or Council, appointed by himself, and a Lower House, possessing the power of taxation, elected by the people. All laws, however, enacted by these local authorities were subject to the approbation of the British crown. This was the outline of colonial constitutions in every North American settlement, except in those established under peculiar charters. The habit of self-government bore its fruit of sturdy independence and self-reliance among our transatlantic brethren, and the prospect of political privileges offered a special temptation to the English emigrant to embark his fortunes in the New World. At their commencement trade was free in all, and religion in most of the new colonies; and it was only by slow degrees that their fiscal regulations were brought under the subordination of the mother country.

Although a general sketch of British colonization in North America is essential to the illustration of Canadian history, it is unnecessary to detail more than a few of the leading features of its nature and progress, and of the causes which placed its interests in almost perpetual antagonism with those of French settlement. This subject is rendered not a little obscure and complicated by the contradictory claims and statements of proprietors, merchant adventurers, and settlers; the separation of provinces; the abandonment of old, and the foundation of new settlements.[288]

Sir Humphrey Gilbert,[289] of Compton, in Devonshire, formed the first plan of British colonization in America. Queen Elizabeth, who then wore the crown, willingly granted a patent conveying most ample gifts and powers to her worthy and distinguished subject. He was given forever all such "heathen and barbarous countries" as he might discover, with absolute authority therein, both by sea and land. Only homage, and a fifth part of the gold and silver that might be obtained, was reserved for the crown.

The first expedition of Sir Humphrey Gilbert failed in the very commencement. The adventurers were unfortunately selected; many deserted the cause, and others engaged in disastrous quarrels among themselves. The chief was ultimately obliged to set out with only a few of his own tried friends.[290] He encountered very adverse weather, and was driven back with the loss of a ship and one of his trustiest companions[291] [1580]. This disaster was a severe blow to Sir Humphrey Gilbert, as most of his property was embarked in the undertaking. However, with unshaken determination, and aided by Sir George Peckham, Sir Walter Raleigh,[292] and other distinguished men, he again equipped an expedition, and put to sea in the year 1583.

The force with which this bold adventurer undertook to gain possession of a new continent was miserably small. The largest vessel was but of 200 tons burden: the Delight, in which he himself sailed, was only 120 tons, and the three others composing the little fleet were even much smaller. The crew and adventurers numbered altogether 260 men, most of them tradesmen, mechanics, and refiners of metal. There was such difficulty in completing even this small equipment, that some captured pirates were taken into the service.

The expedition sailed from Concert Bay on the 11th of May, 1583. Three days afterward, the Raleigh,[293] the largest ship of the fleet, put back to land, under the plea that a violent sickness had broken out on board, but, in reality, from the indisposition of the crew to risk the enterprise. The loss of this vessel was a heavy discouragement to the brave leaders. After many delays and difficulties from the weather and the misconduct of his followers, Sir Humphrey Gilbert reached the shores of Newfoundland, where he found thirty-six vessels engaged in the fisheries. He, in virtue of his royal patent, immediately assumed authority over them, demanding and obtaining all the supplies of which he stood in need: he also proclaimed his own and the queen's possession of the country. Soon, however, becoming sensible that this rocky and dreary wilderness offered little prospect of wealth, he proceeded with three vessels, and a crew diminished by sickness and desertion, to the American coast. Owing to his imprudence in approaching the foggy and dangerous shore too closely, the largest vessel[294] struck, and went to pieces. The captain and many of the crew were lost; some of the remainder reached Newfoundland in an open boat, after having endured great hardships.

Sir Humphrey Gilbert altogether failed in reaching any part of the main land of America. The weather became very bad, the winter approached, and provisions began to fail: there was no alternative but to return, and with bitter regret and disappointment he adopted that course. The two remaining vessels proceeded in safety as far as the meridian of the Azores; there, however, a terrible tempest assailed them. On the afternoon of the 9th of September the smaller of the two boats was observed to labor dangerously. Sir Humphrey Gilbert stood upon her deck, holding a book in his hand, encouraging the crew. "We are as near to heaven by sea as by land," he called out to those on board the other vessel, as it drifted past just before nightfall. Darkness soon concealed his little bark from sight; but for hours one small light was seen to rise and fall, and plunge about among the furious waves. Shortly after midnight it suddenly disappeared, and with it all trace of the brave chief and his crew. One maimed and storm-tossed ship returned to England of that armament which so short a time before had been sent forth to take possession of a New World.[295]

The English nation was not diverted from the pursuit of colonial aggrandizement by even this disastrous failure. The queen, however, was more ready to assist by grants and patents than by pecuniary supplies. Many plausible schemes of settlement were put forward; but the difficulty of obtaining sufficient means of carrying them into effect, prevented their being adopted. At length the illustrious Sir Walter Raleigh undertook the task of colonization at his own sole charge, and easily obtained a patent similar to that conferred upon Sir Humphrey Gilbert. He soon sent out two small vessels, under skillful naval officers, to search for his new government. Warned by the disasters of their predecessors, they steered a more southerly course. When soundings indicated an approach to land, they already observed that the breeze from the shore was rich with delicious odors of fruits and flowers. They proceeded very cautiously, and presently found that they had reached a long, low coast, without harbors. The shore was flat and sandy; but softly undulating green hills were seen in the interior, covered with a great profusion of rich grapes. This discovery proved to be the island of Okakoke, off North Carolina. [1584.] The English were well received by the natives, and obtained from them many valuable skins in exchange for trinkets. Some limited explorations were made, after which the expedition returned to England, bearing very favorable accounts of the new country,[296] which filled Raleigh with joy, and raised the expectations of the whole kingdom. In honor of England's maiden queen, the name of Virginia was given to this land of promise.

Sir Walter Raleigh now embarked nearly all his fortune in another expedition, consisting of seven small ships, which he placed under the able command of Sir Richard Greenville, surnamed "the Brave." The little fleet reached Virginia on the 29th of June, 1585, and the colony was at once landed. The principal duties of settlement were intrusted to Mr. Ralph Lane, who proved unequal to the charge. The coast, however, was explored for a considerable distance, and the magnificent Bay of Chesapeake discovered.

Lane penetrated to the head of Roanoke Sound; there, without provocation, he seized a powerful Indian chief and his son, and retained the latter a close prisoner, in the hope, through him, of ruling the father. The natives, exasperated at this injury, deceived the English with false reports of great riches to be found in the interior. Lane proceeded up the river for several days with forty men, but, suffering much from the want of provisions, and having been once openly attacked by the savages, he returned disheartened to the coast, where he found that the Indians were prepared for a general rising against him, in a confederacy formed of the surrounding tribes, headed by a subtle chief called Pemisapan. In the mean time, however, the captive became attached to the English, warning them of the coming danger, and naming the day for the attack. Lane, resolving to strike the first blow, suddenly assailed the Indians and dispersed them; afterward, at a parley, he destroyed all the chiefs with disgraceful treachery. Henceforth the hatred of the savages to the English became intense, and they ceased to sow any of the lands near the settlement, with the view of starving their dangerous visitors.

The colonists were much embarrassed by the hostilities of the Indians; the time appointed by Raleigh and Greenville for sending them supplies had passed; a heavy despondency fell upon their minds, and they began earnestly to wish for a means of returning home. But, suddenly, notice was given that a fleet of twenty-three sail was at hand, whether friendly or hostile no one could tell: to their great joy, it proved to be the armament of Sir Francis Drake. Lane and his followers immediately availed themselves of this opportunity, and with the utmost haste embarked for England, totally abandoning the settlement. [1586.] A few days after this unworthy flight, a vessel of 100 tons, amply provided with aid for the colony, arrived upon its deserted shores; the crew in vain searched the coast and neighborhood for their fellow-countrymen, and then steered for England. A fortnight after Sir Richard Greenville arrived with three well-appointed ships, and found a lonely desert where he had expected a flourishing colony: he also returned to England in deep disappointment, leaving, however, a small party to hold possession of the country till he should return with ampler resources.

The noble Raleigh was not discouraged by this unhappy complication of errors and disasters; he immediately dispatched another expedition, with three ships under the command of John White. But a terrible sight presented itself on their arrival: the fort razed to the ground, the houses ruined and overgrown with grass, and a few scattered bones, told the fate of their countrymen. The little settlement had been assailed by 300 Indians, and all the colonists destroyed or driven into the interior to an unknown fate. By an unfortunate error, White attacked one of the few tribes that were friendly to the English, in the attempt to revenge the cruel massacre. After this unhappy exploit, he was compelled, by the discontent of his followers, to return to England, for the purpose of procuring them supplies.[297] From various delays, it was not till 1590 that another expedition reached Virginia. But again silence and desolation reigned upon that fatal shore. The colony left by White had been destroyed like its predecessor. Raleigh at last abandoned the scheme of settlement that had proved ruinously disastrous to him and all concerned, and the brave Sir Richard Greenville was soon after slain. [1591.][298]

The interest of the public in Virginia remained suspended till the year 1602, when Captain Bartholomew Gosnold undertook a voyage thither, and brought back such brilliant reports of the beauty and fertility of the country, that the dormant attention of the English toward this part of the world was again aroused. In 1606, Arundel, Lord Wardour, sent out a vessel under the command of Captain Weymouth, to make further discoveries. The report of this voyage more than confirmed that of the preceding.

The English nation were now at length prepared to make an efficient attempt to colonize the New World. In London, and at Plymouth and Bristol, the principal maritime cities of the kingdom, the scheme found numerous and ardent supporters. James I., however, only granted such powers to the adventurers as suited his own narrow and arbitrary views: he refused to sanction any sort of representative government in the colony, and vested all power in a council appointed by himself.[299] Virginia was, about that time, divided somewhat capriciously into two parts: the southern portion was givens to a merchant company of London, the northern to a merchant company of Bristol and Plymouth.[301]

The southern, or London Company, were the first to commence the work of colonization with energy. On the 19th of December, 1606, they dispatched an expedition of three vessels, commanded by Captain Newport, comprising a number of people of rank and distinction. Among these was Captain John Smith, whose admirable qualities were afterward so conspicuously and usefully displayed. The expedition met with such delays and difficulties that it was at one time on the point of returning to England. At length, however, they descried an unknown cape, and soon afterward entered Chesapeake Bay, where the beauty and fertility of the shores even surpassed their expectations.[302] On first landing, they met the determined hostility of the savages, but when the fleet proceeded to Cape Comfort, they there received a more friendly reception, and were invited ashore. The Indians spread their simple stores of dainties before the strangers, smoked with them the calumet of peace, and entertained them with songs and dances. As the expedition moved higher up the bay, where no English had been before seen, it met with a still more cordial welcome.

Jamestown was the first permanent English settlement established in America, although it has not since risen to very great importance. The site was chosen by this expedition about forty miles above the entrance, upon the banks of James River, where the emigrants at once proceeded to establish themselves. They suffered great distress from the commencement on account of the bad quality of the provisions, furnished under contract by Sir Thomas Smith, one of the leading members of the company. Disease soon followed want, and in a short time fifty of the settlers died. Under these difficult circumstances, the energy and ability of Captain John Smith pointed him out as the only person to command, and by the consent of all he was invested with absolute authority. He arranged the internal affairs of the colony as he best could, and then set out to collect supplies in the neighboring country. The Indians met him with derision, and refused to trade with him; he therefore, urged by necessity, drove them away, and took possession of a village well stocked with provisions. The Indians soon returned in force and attacked him furiously, but were easily repulsed. After their defeat they opened a friendly intercourse, and furnished the required supplies. Smith made several further excursions. On returning to the colony, he found that a conspiracy had been formed among his turbulent followers to break up the settlement and sail for England; this he managed to suppress, and soon again started to explore the country. In this expedition he rashly exposed himself unprotected to the assaults of the Indians, and was taken prisoner after a most gallant attempt at escape. He was led about in triumph for some time from village to village, and at length sentenced to die. His head was laid upon a stone, and the executioner stood over him with a club, awaiting the signal to slay, when Pocahontas, daughter of the Indian chief, implored her father's mercy for the white man. He was inexorable, and ordered the execution to proceed; but the generous girl laid her head upon that of the intended victim, and vowed that the death blow should strike her first. The savage chief moved by his daughter's devotion, spared the prisoner's life.[303] Smith was soon afterward escorted in safety to Jamestown, and given up on a small ransom being paid to the Indians.[304] [1608.]

Smith found, on his arrival, that the colonists were fitting out a pinnace to return to England. He, with ready decision, declared that the preparations should be discontinued immediately, or he would sink the little vessel. His prompt determination was successful, and the people agreed to remain. Through the generous kindness of Pocahontas, supplies of provisions were furnished to the settlement, till the arrival of a vessel from England, replenished its stores. Soon after his happy escape from the hands of the savages, Smith again started fearlessly upon an expedition to explore the remainder of Chesapeake Bay. He sailed in a small barge, accompanied only by twelve men, and with this slender force completed a voyage of 3000 miles along an unknown coast, among a fierce and generally hostile people, and depending on accident and his own ingenuity for supplies. During several years Pocahontas continued to visit the English, but her father was still hostile, and once endeavored to surprise Smith and slay him in the woods; but again the generous Indian girl saved his life at the hazard of her own: in a dark night she ran for many miles through the forest, evading the vigilance of her fierce countrymen, and warned him of the threatened danger. An open war now ensued between the English and the Indians, and was continued with great mutual injury, till a worthy gentleman named Thomas Rolfe, deeply interested by the person and character of Pocahontas, made her his wife; a treaty was then concluded with the Indian chief, which was henceforth religiously observed. [1613.]

The colony[305] meanwhile proceeded with varied fortunes. The emigrants had been very badly selected for their task: "poor gentlemen, tradesmen, serving-men, libertines, and such like, ten times more fit to spoil a commonwealth than either to begin or maintain one." These men were tempted into the undertaking by hopes of sudden wealth, and were altogether disinclined to even the slight labor of tilling that exuberant soil, when only a subsistence was to be their reward. In 1619 James commenced the system of transporting malefactors, by sending 100 "dissolute persons" to Virginia. These men were used as laborers, or rather slaves, but tended seriously to lower the character of the voluntary emigration.[306] In 1625 only 1800 convicts remained alive out of 9000 who had been transported at a cost of £15,000.[308] The contracted and arbitrary system of the exclusive company was felt as a great evil in the colony.[309] This body was at length superseded by the forfeiture of its charter, and the crown assumed the direction of affairs. Many years of alternate anarchy and tyranny followed. During the rebellion of Bacon in 1676, the most remarkable event in this early period of Virginian history, English troops were first introduced into the American colonies. Sir William Berkeley, who was appointed governor in 1642, visited the insurrectionists with a terrible vengeance, when the death of the leader, Bacon, left them defenseless. "The old fool," said Charles II. (with truth), "has taken away more lives in that naked country than I for the murder of my father." But, though the complaints of the oppressed were heard in England with impartiality, and Berkeley was hunted to death by public opinion on his return there to defend himself, the permanent results of Bacon's rebellion were disastrous to Virginia: all the measures of reform which had been attempted during its brief success were held void, and every restrictive feature that had been introduced into legislation by the detested governor was perpetuated.

Among the first settlers in Virginia, gold was the great object, it was every where eagerly sought, but in vain. Several ships were loaded with a sort of yellow clay, and sent to England under the belief that it contained the most precious of metals, but it was found to be utterly worthless. The colonists next turned their attention to the cultivation of tobacco.[310] This speedily became so profitable that it was pursued even to the exclusion of all other industry.

There yet remains to be told one terrible incident in the earlier story of Virginia, an incident that resulted in the total destruction of the Indian race. The successor to the father of Pocahontas had conceived a deadly enmity against the English: this was embittered from day to day, as he saw the hated white men multiplying and spreading over the hunting grounds of his fathers. Then a fierce determination took possession of his savage heart. For years he matured his plans, and watched the favorable moment to crush every living stranger at a blow. He took all his people into counsel, and such was their fidelity, and so deep the wile of the Indian chief, that, during four years of preparation, no warning reached the intended victims. To the last fatal moment, a studied semblance of cordial friendship was observed; some Englishmen, who had lost their way in the woods were kindly and carefully guided back again.

One Friday morning (March 22d, 1622) the Indians came to the town in great numbers, bearing presents, and finding their way into every house. Suddenly the fierce shout of the savages broke the peaceful silence, and the death-shriek of their victims followed. In little more than a minute, three hundred and forty-seven, of all ages and sexes, were struck down in this horrid massacre. The warning of an Indian converted to Christianity saved Jamestown. The surviving English assembled there, and began a war of extermination against the savages. By united force, superior arms, and, it must be added, by treachery as black as that of their enemies, the white men soon swept away the Indian race forever from the Virginian, soil.[311]

As has been before mentioned, the northern part of Virginia was bestowed by royal grant upon a Merchant Company of Plymouth, and other southern and western sea-ports. The first effort to take possession of the new territory was feeble and disastrous. Twenty-nine Englishmen and two Indians were sent out in a little bark of only fifty-five tons burden [1606]; they were taken by the Spaniards off the coast of Hispaniola, who treated them with great cruelty. Some time after this ill-fated expedition had failed, another colony of 100 men, led by Captains Popham and Gilbert, settled on the River Sagadahock, and built a fort called by them St. George. [1607.] They abandoned the settlement, however, the following year, and returned to England. The next project of British North American colonization was set on foot by Captain John Smith, already so highly distinguished in transatlantic history. [1614.] After much difficulty, he effected the equipment of two vessels, and sailed for the Virginian shore; but, although successful as a trading speculation, the only permanent fruits of the voyage was a map of the coast, which he presented to Charles I. The king, always interested in maritime affairs, listened favorably to Smith's accounts of the New World, but proved either unable or unwilling to render him any useful assistance. The next year this brave adventurer again crossed the seas in a small vessel containing only sixteen emigrants. The little expedition was captured by the French, and the leader, with great difficulty, effected his return to England.

Meanwhile, a man named Hunt, who had been left in charge of one of the ships in Smith's first expedition, committed an outrage upon the natives that led to deplorable results [1616]; he inveigled thirty of them on board, carried them suddenly away, and sold them into slavery. The savages rose against the next English party that landed upon their coast, and killed and wounded several in revenge. Captain Dormer, a prudent and conciliatory person, with one of the betrayed natives, was sent by the company to explain to the furious Indians that Hunt's crime was the act of an individual, and not of the nation: this commission was well and wisely executed. For about two years Dormer frequently repeated his visits with advantage to his employers, but finally was attacked by strange savages and wounded fatally.

But still, through all these difficulties and disasters, adventurers pressed on to the fertile Western desert, allured by liberal grants of land from the chartered companies. The undefined limits of these concessions led to constant and mischievous quarrels among the settlers, often attended with violence and bloodshed; from these causes the early progress of the colony was very slow. One hundred and twenty years after England had discovered North America, she only possessed a few scattered fishing huts along the shore. But events were now at hand which at once stamped a peculiar character upon the colonization of this part of the New World,[312] and which were destined to exercise an influence upon the human race of an importance even yet incalculable.

CHAPTER X.

The Protestant Reformation was eminently suited to the spirit of the English people, although forced upon them in the first instance by the absolute power of a capricious king, and unaccompanied by any acknowledgment of those rights of toleration and individual judgment upon which its strength seemed mainly to depend. The monarch, when constituted the head of the Church, exacted the same spiritual obedience from his subjects as they had formerly rendered to the Pope of Rome. Queen Elizabeth adopted her father's principles: she favored the power of the hierarchy, and the pomp and ceremony of external religious observances. But the English people, shocked by the horrors of Mary's reign, and terrified by the papal persecutions on the Continent, were generally inclined to favor the extremes of Calvinistic simplicity, as a supposed security against another reaction to the Romish faith. The stern and despotic queen, encouraged by the counsels of Archbishop Whitgift, assumed the groundless right of putting down the opinions of the Puritans by force. [1583.] Various severities were exercised against those who held the obnoxious doctrines; but, despite the storm of persecution, the spirit of religious independence spread rapidly among the sturdy people of England. At length a statute was passed of a nature now almost incredible—secession from the Church was punishable by banishment, and by death in case of refusal on return.[314] [1593.]

The Puritans were thus driven to extremity.[315] The followers of an enthusiastic seceder named Brown[316] formed the first example of an independent system: each congregation was in itself a Church, and the spiritual power was wholly vested in its members. This sect was persecuted to the uttermost: the leader was imprisoned in no less than thirty-two different places, and many of his followers suffered death itself for conscience' sake. Some of the Brownists took refuge in Holland[317] [1598]; but, impelled by a longing for an independent home, or perhaps urged by the mysterious impulse of their great destiny, they cast their eyes upon that stern Western shore, where the untrodden wilderness offered them at least the "freedom to worship God." They applied to the London Company for a grant of land, declaring that they were "weaned from the delicate milk of their native country, and knit together in a strict and sacred band, whom small things could not discourage, nor small discontents cause to wish themselves home again." After some delay they accomplished their object; however, the only security they could obtain for religious independence was a promise that, as long they demeaned themselves quietly, no inquiry should be made.[318]

Much of the history of nations may be traced through the foundation and progress of their colonies. Each particular era has shown, in the settlements of the time, types of the several mother countries, examples of their systems, and the results of their exigencies. At one time this type is of an adventurous, at another of a religious character; now formed by political, again by social influences. The depth and durability of this impress may be measured by the strength of the first motives, and the genius of the people from whom the emigration flows.[319] The ancient colonies of Asia Minor displayed the original characteristics of the mother country long after her states had become utterly changed. The Roman settlements in Italy raised upon the ruins of a subjugated nation a fabric of civilization and power that can never be forgotten. The proud and adventurous, but ruthless spirit that distinguished the Spanish nation at the time of their wonderful conquests in the New World, is still exhibited in the haughty tyranny of Cuba, and the sanguinary struggles of the South American republics. The French Canadian of to-day retains most or many of the national sentiments of those who crossed the Atlantic to extend the power of France and of her proudest king. And still, in that great Anglo-Saxon nation of the West, through the strife of democratic ambition, and amid the toils and successes of an enormous commerce, we trace the foundations, overgrown perhaps, but all unshaken, of that stern edifice of civil and religious liberty[322] which the Pilgrim fathers raised with their untiring labor, and cemented with their blood.

The peculiar nature of the first New England emigration was the result of those strong tendencies of the British people soon afterward strengthened into a determination sufficiently powerful to sacrifice the monarch and subvert the Church and State.

The Brownists, or, as they are more happily called, the Pilgrim fathers, set sail on the 12th of July, 1620, in two small vessels. There were in all 120 souls, with a moderate supply of provisions and goods. On the 9th of November they reached Cape Cod, after a rough voyage; they had been obliged to send one of their ships back to England. From ignorance of the coast and from the lateness of the season, they could not find any very advantageous place of settlement; they finally fixed upon New Plymouth,[323] where they landed on the 21st of December. During the remainder of the winter they suffered terribly from cold, want, and sickness; no more than fifty remained alive when spring came to mitigate their sufferings. The after progress of the little colony was for some time slow and painful. The system of common property[324] had excited grievous discontent; this tended to create an aversion to labor that was to be productive of no more benefit to the industrious than to the idle; in a short time it became necessary to enforce a certain degree of exertion by the punishment of whipping. They intrusted all religious matters to the gifted among their brethren, and would not allow of the formation of any regular ministry. However, the unsuitableness of these systems to men subject to the usual impulses and weakness of human nature soon became obvious, and the first errors wore gradually corrected. In the course of ten years the population reached to 300, and the settlement prospered considerably.

King James was not satisfied with the slow progress of American colonization. [1620.] In the same year that the Pilgrim fathers landed at Plymouth, he formed a new company under the title of the Grand Council of Plymouth,[325] and appointed many people of rank and influence to its direction. Little good, however, resulted from this step. Though the council itself was incapable of the generous project of planting colonies, it was ever ready to make sale of patents, which sales, owing to Parliamentary opposition to their claims, soon became their only source of revenue.[326] They sold to some gentlemen of Dorchester a belt of land stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and extending three miles south of the River Charles, and three miles north of every part of the River Merrimac. Other associates in the enterprise were sought and found in and about London: Winthrop, Johnson, Pinchon, Eaton, Saltonstall, Billingham, famous in colonial annals. Endicott, the first governor of the new colony, was one of the original purchasers of the patent. They were all kindred spirits, men of religious fervor, uniting the emotions of enthusiasm with unbending resolution in action.

The first winter brought to these colonists the usual privation, suffering, and death, but a now rapidly-increasing emigration more than filled up the places of all casualties. From this period, many men of respectability and talent,[327] especially ministers of the Gospel, sought that religious freedom[328] in America which was denied them at home. A general impulse was given among the commercial and industrious classes; vessels constantly crowded from the English ports across the Atlantic, till at length the court took the alarm. A proclamation was issued "to restrain the disorderly transportation of his majesty's subjects, because of the many idle and refractory humors, 'whose only or principal end is to live beyond the reach of authority.'" It has long been a popular story that eight emigrant ships were seized when on the point of sailing for America, and the passengers forced to land; among whom were John Hampden,[329] Sir Arthur Hazlerig, and Oliver Cromwell. This tale has, however, been proved untrue by modern historians.[330]

Notwithstanding these unjust and mischievous prohibitions, a considerable number of emigrants still found their way across the Atlantic. But when the outburst of popular indignation swept away all the barriers raised by a short-sighted tyranny against English freedom, many flocked hack again to their native country to enjoy its newly-acquired liberty. [1648.] The odious and iniquitous persecution of the Puritans resulted in a great benefit to the human race, and gave the first strong impulse to the spirit of resistance that ultimately overthrew oppression. It caused, also, the colonization of New England to be effected by a class of men far superior in industry, energy, principle, and character to those who usually left their English homes to seek their fortunes in new countries. That religion, for which they had made so great a sacrifice, was the main-spring of all their social and political systems. They were, however, too blindly zealous to discriminate between the peculiar administration of a theocracy and the catholic and abiding principles of the Gospel. If they did not openly profess that the judicial law of Moses was still in force, they at any rate openly practiced its stern enactments.

The intolerance of these martyrs of intolerance is a sad example of human waywardness.[331] In their little commonwealth, seceders from the established forms of faith were persecuted with an unholy zeal. Imprisonment, banishment, and even death itself, were inflicted for that free exercise of religious opinions which the Pilgrim fathers had sacrificed all earthly interests to win for themselves. In those dark days of fanatic faith or vicious skepticism, the softening influence of true Christianity was but little felt. The stern denunciations and terrible punishments of the Old Testament were more suited to the iron temper of the age than the gentle dispensations of the New—the fiery zeal of Joshua than the loving persuasiveness of St. John.

As the tenets of each successive sect rose into popularity and influenced the majority, they became state questions,[332] distracted the Church, and threatened the very existence of the colony. The first schism that disturbed the peace of the settlements was raised by Roger Williams at Salem. [1635.] This worthy and sincere enthusiast held many just and sound views among others that were wild and injurious: he stoutly upheld freedom of conscience, and inconveniently contested the right of the British crown to bestow Indian lands upon Englishmen. On the other hand, he contrived to raise a storm of fanatic hatred against the red cross in the banner of St. George, which seriously disturbed the state,[333] and led to violent writings and altercations. At length Williams was banished as a distractor of the public peace, but a popular uproar attended his departure, and the greater part of the inhabitants were with difficulty dissuaded from following him. He retired to Providence, Rhode Island[334] [1636], where a little colony soon settled round him, and he there lived and died in general esteem and regard.[335]

The Antinomian sect shortly after excited a still more dangerous commotion in the colony. [1637.] Mrs. Hutchinson, a Lincolnshire lady of great zeal and determination, joined by nearly the whole female population, adopted these views in the strongest manner. The ministers of the church, although decided Calvinists, and firmly opposed to the Romish doctrines of salvation by works, earnestly pressed the reformation of heart and conduct as a test of religion. Mrs. Hutchinson and her followers held that to inculcate any rule of life or manners was a crime against the Holy Spirit; in their actual deportment, however, it must be confessed that their bitterest enemies could not find grounds of censure. With the powerful advocacy of female zeal, these doctrines spread rapidly, and the whole colony was soon divided between "the covenant of works and the covenant of grace;" the ardor and obstinacy of the disputants being by no means proportioned to their full understanding of the point[336] in dispute. Sir Harry Vane,[337] whose rank and character had caused him to be elected governor in spite of his youth, zealously adopted Antinomian opinions, and, in consequence, was ejected from office by the opposite party at the ensuing election, Mrs. Hutchinson having failed to secure in the country districts that superiority which she possessed in the town of Boston.[338] After some ineffectual efforts to reconcile the seceders to the Church, the new governor and the ministers summoned a general synod of the colonial clergy to meet at Cambridge, where, after some very turbulent proceedings, the whole of the Antinomian doctrines were condemned.

As might have been supposed, this condemnation had but little effect. The obnoxious principles were preached as widely and zealously as before, till the civil authority resorted to the rude argument of force, banished Mr. Wheelwright, one of the leaders, with two of his followers, from the colony, and fined and disfranchised others. Mrs. Hutchinson was ultimately accused, condemned, and ordered to leave the colony in six months. Although she made a sort of recantation of her errors, her inexorable judges insisted in carrying out the sentence.[339] The unhappy lady removed to Rhode Island, where her husband, through her influence, was elected governor, and where she was followed by many of her devoted adherents. [1638.] Thus the persecutions in the old settlement of Massachusetts had the same effect as those in England—of elevating a few stubborn recusants into the founders of states and nations. After her husband's death Mrs. Hutchinson removed into a neighboring Dutch settlement, where she and all her family met with a dreadful fate; they were surprised by the Indians, and every one destroyed. [1643.]

Although by these violent and unjust punishments, and by disarming the disaffected, the Antinomian spirit was for a time put down, unity was by no means restored. Pride and the love of novelty continually gave birth to new sects. Ministers, who had possessed the highest reputation in England, saw with sorrow that their colonial churches were neglected for the sake of ignorant and mischievous enthusiasts. Even common profligates and rogues, when other lesser villainies had failed, assumed the hypocritical semblance of some peculiar religion, and enjoyed their day of popularity.

The Anabaptists next carried away the fickle affections of the multitude, and excited the enmity of their rulers. [1643.] This schism first became perceptible by people leaving the church when the rites of baptism were being administered; but at length private meetings for worship were held, attended by large congregations. The magistrates, as usual, practiced great severities against these seceders, first by fine, imprisonment, and even whipping; finally by banishment. The Anabaptists were, however, not put down by the arm of power, but were speedily forgotten in the sudden appearance of a stranger sect than any that had hitherto appeared even in New England.

The people called Quakers had lately made their appearance in the north of England. [1648.] They soon found their way to America, where they were received with bitter hostility from the commencement. [1656.] The dangerous enthusiasts who first went forth to preach the doctrines of this strange sect were very different men from those who now command the respect and good will of all classes by their industry, benevolence, and love of order. The original propagandists believed that the divine government was still administered on earth by direct and special communication, as in the times chronicled by Holy Writ: they therefore despised and disregarded all human authorities. To actual force, indeed, they only opposed a passive resistance; and their patience and obstinacy in carrying out this principle must excite astonishment, if not admiration. But their language was most violent and abusive against all priests and ministers, governors and magistrates.[340] The women of this novel persuasion were even more fanatic than the men. Several leaving their husbands and children in England, crossed the seas to bear witness to their inspiration at Boston. They were, however, rudely received, their books burned, and themselves either imprisoned or scourged and banished. Nowise intimidated by these severities, several other women brought upon themselves the vengeance of the law by frantic and almost incredible demonstrations; and a man named Faubord endeavored to sacrifice his first-born son under a supposed command from Heaven.

The ministers and magistrates came to the conclusion that the colony could never enjoy peace while the Quakers continued among them. These sectarians were altogether unmanageable by the means of ordinary power or reason; they would neither pay fines nor work in prison, nor, when liberated, promise to amend their conduct. The government now enacted still more violent laws against them, one, among others, rendering them liable to have their ears cut off for obstinacy; and yet this strange fanaticism increased from day to day. At length the Quakers were banished from the colony, under the threat of death in case of return. They were, however, scarcely beyond the borders when a supposed inspiration prompted them to retrace their steps to Boston: scarcely had their absence been observed, when their solemn voices were again heard denouncing the city of their persecutors.

The horrible law decreeing the punishment of death against the Quakers had only been carried by a majority of thirteen to twelve in the Colonial Court of Deputies, and after a strong opposition; but, to the eternal disgrace of the local government, its atrocious provisions were carried into effect, and four of the unhappy fanatics were judicially murdered. The tidings of these executions filled England with horror. Even Charles II. was moved to interpose the royal power for the protection of at least the lives of the obnoxious sectarians. He issued a warrant on the 9th of September, 1661, absolutely prohibiting the punishment of death against Quakers, and directing that they should be sent to England for trial. In consequence of this interference, no more executions took place, but other penalties were continued with unabated severity.

While the persecution of the Quakers and Anabaptists raged in New England, an important addition to the numbers of the colonists was gained, a large body of Nonconformists having fled across the Atlantic from a fresh assault commenced against their liberties by Charles II. This Puritan emigration was regarded with great displeasure by the king. He speedily took an opportunity of arbitrarily depriving the colony of its charter, and sent out Sir Edmund Andros to administrate as absolute governor. The country soon felt painfully the despotic tyranny of their new ruler; and the establishment of an English Church, with the usual ritual, spread general consternation. When James ascended the throne, a proclamation of tolerance somewhat allayed the fears of the settlers; but the administration of temporal affairs became ruinously oppressive. On the pretense that the titles of all land obtained under the old charter had become void by its abrogation, new and exorbitant fees were exacted, heavy and injudicious taxes arbitrarily imposed, and all right of representation denied to the colonists. At length, in the year 1689, a man, named Winslow, brought from Virginia the joyful news of the Prince of Orange's proclamation; he was immediately arrested for treason; but the people rose tumultuously, imprisoned the governor, and re-established the authority of their old magistrates. On the 26th of May, a vessel arrived with the intelligence that William and Mary had been proclaimed in England. Although the new monarch declared himself favorably disposed toward the colonists, he did not restore their beloved charter. He, however, granted them a Constitution nearly similar to that of the mother country, which rendered the people of New England tolerably contented.

The colony was now fated to suffer from a delusion more frantic and insane than any it had hitherto admitted, and which compromised its very existence. The New Englanders had brought with them the belief in witchcraft prevalent among the early reformers, and the wild and savage wilderness where their lot was now cast tended to deepen the impressions of superstition upon their minds. Two young girls, of the family of Mr. Paris, minister of Salem, were suddenly afflicted with a singular complaint, probably of an hysterical character, which baffled the united skill of the neighboring physicians; till one, more decided than the rest, declared that the sufferers were bewitched. From this time prayers and fasting were the remedies adopted, and the whole town of Salem at length joined in a day of humiliation. The patients, however, did not improve, till an Indian servingwoman denounced another, named Tituba, as the author of the evil. Mr. Paris assailed the accused, and tortured her in the view of extracting a confession of guilt, which she at length made, with many absurd particulars, hoping to appease her persecutor. From this time the mischievous folly spread wider; a respectable clergyman, Mr. Burroughs, was tried for witchcraft on the evidence of five women, and condemned to death, his only defense being that he was accused of that which had no existence, and was impossible. New charges multiplied daily; the jails of Salem were full of the accused, and prisoners were transferred to other towns, where the silly infection spread, and filled the whole colony with alarm.

Nothing could afford stronger proof of the hold which this sad delusion had taken of the popular mind than the readiness so constantly displayed by the accused to confess the monstrous imputation, whose punishment was infamy and death. Many detailed long consultations held with Satan for the purpose of overthrowing the kingdom of heaven. In some cases these confessions were the result of distempered understandings; but, generally, they may be attributed to the hope of respite and ultimate reprieve, as none but the supposed impenitent sorcerers were executed. Thus only the truthful and conscientious suffered from the effects of this odious insanity. Some among the wretched people who had confessed witchcraft showed a subsequent disposition to retract. A man named Samuel Wardmell, having solemnly recanted his former statement, was tried, condemned, and executed. Despite this terrible warning, a few others followed the conscientious but fatal example. Every one of the sufferers during this dreadful period protested their innocence to the last. It seems difficult to discover any adequate motives for these atrocious and constant accusations. There is too much reason to believe that the confiscation of the condemned persons' property, malice against the accused, a desire to excite the public mind, and gain the notice and favor of those in power, were generally the objects of the witnesses.

The evil at length attained such a frightful magnitude that the firmest believers in witchcraft began to waver. In two months nineteen unhappy victims had been executed, eight more remained under sentence of death, 150 accused were still in prison, and there was no more room for the crowds daily brought in. No character or position was a shield against these absurd imputations; all lay at the mercy of a few mad or malignant beings. The first mitigation of the mischief was effected by the governor assembling the ministers to discuss whether what was called specter evidence should be held sufficient for the condemnation of the accused. The assembly decided against that particular sort of evidence being conclusive; but, at the same time, exhorted the governor to persevere in the vigorous prosecution of witchcraft, "according to the wholesome statutes of the English nation."[341] Public opinion, however, soon began to run strongly against those proceedings, and finally the governor took the bold step of pardoning all these under sentence for witchcraft, throwing open all the prisons, and turning a deaf ear to every accusation (January, 1693). From that time the troubles of the afflicted were heard of no more. Those who had confessed came forward to retract or disclaim their former statements, and the most active judges and persecutors publicly expressed contrition for the part they had taken in the fatal and almost incredible insanity. In the reaction that ensued, many urged strict inquiry into the fearful prejudices that had sacrificed innocent lives; but so general had been the crime, that it was deemed wisest to throw a vail of oblivion over the whole dreadful scene.[342]

While the settlers of New England were distracted by their own madness and intolerance, they had to contend with great external difficulties from the animosity of the Indians. The native races in this part of the continent appear to have been in some respects superior to those dwelling by the shores of the St. Lawrence and the Great Lake. They acknowledged the absolute power of a sachem or king, which gave a dangerous vigor and unity to their actions. They at first received the English with hospitality and kindness, and the colonists, on their part, passed laws to protect not only the persons of the natives, but to insure them an equitable price for their lands. The narrowed limits of their hunting-grounds, however, and the rapid advance of the white men, soon began to alarm the Indians.[343] When their jealousy was thus aroused, occasions of quarrel speedily presented themselves; the baneful influence of strong liquors, largely furnished in spite of the strictest prohibitions, increased their excitement. Some Englishmen were slain; the murderers were seized, tried, and executed by the colonial government, according to British law. These proceedings kindled a deep resentment among the savages, and led to measures of retaliation at their hands.

It has been an unfortunate feature of European settlement in America, that the border population, those most in contact with the natives, have been visually men of wild and desperate character, the tainted foam of the advancing tide of civilization. Those reckless adventurers were little scrupulous in their dealings with the simple savage; they utterly disregarded those rights which his weakness could not defend, and by intolerable provocation excited him to a bloody but futile resistance. The Indians naturally confounded the whole English race with these contemptuous oppressors, and commenced a war that resulted in their own extermination. They did not face the English in the field, but hovered round the border, and, with sudden surprise, overwhelmed detached posts and settlements in a horrible destruction. The astute colonists soon adopted the policy of forming alliances, and taking advantage of ancient enmities to stir up hostilities among them. By this means they accomplished the destruction of the warlike Pequods,[344] their bitterest foes. Other enemies, however, soon came into the field, and at length, the original allies of the English, jealous of the encroaching power of the white strangers, also took arms against them. The Indian chiefs, after a time, began to adopt European tactics of war, and for many years kept the colony in alarm by their formidable attacks: they were, however, finally driven altogether from the field.

The New England settlers showed more sincerity than other adventurers in endeavoring to accomplish their principal professed object of colonization, that of teaching Christianity to the Indians.[345] They appointed zealous and pious ministers for the mission,[346] and established a seminary for the education of the natives, whence some scholars were to be selected to preach the Gospel among their savage countrymen. Great obstacles were encountered in this good work; the Indians showed a bigoted attachment to their own strange religious conceits, and their priests and conjurers used all their powerful influence against Christianity, denouncing in furious terms all who forsook their creed for the English God. Despite these difficulties, a number of savages were induced to form themselves in villages, and lead a civilized[347] and Christian life, under the guidance of ministers of their own race.[348] In a few years thirty congregations of "praying Indians,"[349] their numbers amounting to 3000, were established in Massachusetts.

CHAPTER XI.

The principal characteristics of that colonization by which the vast republic of the West was formed, have been exhibited in the settlement of Virginia and Massachusetts. The other states were stamped with the impress of the two first, and in a great measure peopled from them. Rhode Island and the rest of the New England states were founded by those who had fled from the religious persecutions of Massachusetts, with the exception of Connecticut, which owes its origin chiefly to the spirit of adventure and the search for unoccupied lands. The first settlers divided this last-named state among themselves without the sanction of any authority, and then proceeded to form a constitution of unexampled liberality. They had to bear the chief burden in the Indian war, on account of their advanced and exposed position; but Connecticut prospered in spite of every obstacle. Several Puritans of distinction sought its shore from England. Charles II., on his restoration granted a most liberal charter, and it continued to enjoy the benefits of complete self-government till Massachusetts was deprived of her charter by James II., when Connecticut shared the same fate. At the Revolution, the younger state, more fortunate than her neighbor, was restored to all the privileges formerly enjoyed.

The states of New Hampshire and Maine were originally founded on Loyalist and Church of England principles. Sir Ferdinand Gorges and John Mason, the most energetic member of the Council of Plymouth, undertook the colonization of these districts, but their tyrannical and injudicious conduct stunted the growth of the infant colonies, and little progress was made till the religious dissensions of Boston swelled their population. Violent and even fatal dissensions, however, distracted this incongruous community, till the government of Massachusetts assumed the sway over it, and re-established order and prosperity. Gorges and Mason disputed for many years the rights of authority with the new rulers; nor was the question finally settled till Massachusetts was deprived of her charter, when a royal government was established in New Hampshire.

The important state of New York was founded under very different auspices from those of its neighbors. In 1609, Henry Hudson, while sailing in the service of the Dutch East India Company, discovered the magnificent stream which now bears his name. A small colony was soon sent out from Holland[350] to settle the new country, and a trading post established at the mouth of the river. Sir Samuel Argall, governor of Virginia, conceived that this foreign settlement trenched upon the rights granted by the English crown to its subjects, and by a display of superior force constrained the Dutch colony to acknowledge British sovereignty [1613];[351] but this submission became a dead letter some years later, when large bodies of emigrants arrived from the Low Countries [1620];[352] the little trading post soon rose into a town, and a fort was erected for its defense. The site of this establishment was on the island of Manhattan;[353] the founders called it New Amsterdam. When it fell into the possession of England, the name was changed to New York. Albany[354] was next built, at some distance up the Hudson, as a post for the Indian trade, and thence a communication was opened for the first time with the Northern Indian confederacy of the Iroquois, or the Five Nations.

Charles II., from hatred to the Dutch, as well as from the desire of aggrandizement, renewed the claims of England upon the Hudson settlements, and in 1664 dispatched an armament of 300 men to enforce this claim. Stuyvesant, the Dutch governor,[355] was totally unprepared to resist the threatened attack, and after a short parley agreed to surrender. The settlers were, however, secured in property and person, and in the free exercise of their religion, and the greater part remained under their new rulers. In the long naval war subsequently carried on between England and Holland, the colony again passed for a time under the sway of the Dutch, but at the peace was finally restored to Great Britain. James, then Duke of York, had received from his brother a grant of the district which now constitutes the State of New York. On assuming authority, he appointed governors with arbitrary power, but the colonists in assertion of their rights as Englishmen, stoutly resisted, and even sent home Dyer, the collector of customs, under a charge of high treason, for attempting to levy taxes without legal authority. [1681.] The duke judged it expedient to conciliate his sturdy transatlantic subjects, and yielded them a certain form of representative government. In 1682, Mr. Dongan was sent out with a commission to assemble a council of ten, and a house of assembly of eighteen popular deputies. The new governor soon rendered himself beloved and respected by all, although at first distrusted and disliked, as professing the Romish faith. New York was not allowed to enjoy these fortunate circumstances for any length of time; the capricious and arbitrary duke, on his accession to the crown, abrogated the colonial constitution; shortly afterward the state was annexed to Massachusetts, the beloved governor recalled, and the despotic Andros established in his stead. [1686.] At the first rumor of the Revolution of 1688, the inhabitants, led by a merchant of the name of Leisler, rose in arms, proclaimed William and Mary, and elected a house of representatives. The new monarch sent out a Colonel Slaughter as governor, whose authority was disputed by Leisler; however, the bold merchant was soon overcome, and with quick severity tried and executed. [1691.] The English Parliament, more considerate of his useful services, subsequently reversed his attainder, and restored the forfeited estates to his family. [1695.] With the view of aiding the resources and progress of the colony, 3000 German Protestants, called Palatines, were subsequently conveyed to the banks of the Hudson, and subsisted for three years, at a great expense, by England. These sober and industrious men proved a most valuable addition to the population.[356]

New Jersey was formed from a part of the original territory of New York. Lord Berkeley and Sir George Carteret were the proprietors, by grant from James [1664]: they founded the new state with great judgment and liberality, establishing the power of self-government and taxation. The Duke of York, however, on the reconquest of the country from the Dutch, took the opportunity of abrogating the Constitution: the colonists boldly appealed against this tyranny, and with such force, that the duke was led to refer the question to the judgment of the learned and upright Sir William Jones, who gave it against him. [1681.] James was obliged to acquiesce in this decision till he ascended the throne, when he swept away all the rights of the colony, and annexed it, like its neighbors, to the government of Massachusetts. After the accession of William, New Jersey was entangled for ten years in a web of conflicting claims but was finally established under its own independent Legislature.

The State of Maryland was so named in honor of Henrietta Maria, the beautiful queen of Charles I., to whose influence the early settlers were much indebted. Religious persecution in England drove forth the founders of the colony; but in this case the Protestants were the instigators, and the cruel laws of Queen Elizabeth's reign against the Roman Catholics were the instruments. Lord Baltimore, an Irish peer, and other men of distinction in the popish body, obtained from Charles I., as an asylum in the New World, a grant of that angle of Virginia lying on both sides of the River Chesapeake, a district rich in soil, genial in climate, and admirably situated for commerce. An expedition of 200 Roman Catholics, many among them men of good birth, was sent under Mr. Calvert, Lord Baltimore's brother, to take possession of this favored tract. [1634.] Their first care was to conciliate the Indians, in which they eminently succeeded. The natives were even prevailed upon to abandon their village and their cleared lands around to the strangers, and to remove themselves contentedly to another situation.

Maryland was most honorably distinguished in the earliest times by perfect freedom of religious opinion. Many members of the Church of England, as well as Roman Catholics, fled thither from the persecutions of the Puritans. The Baltimore family at first displayed great liberality and judgment in their rule; but, as they gained confidence from the secret support of the king to their cherished faith, their wise moderation seems to have diminished. However, the principal grievance brought against them was, that they had not provided by public funds for Church of England clergymen as fully as for those of their own faith, although by far the larger portion of the population belonged to the flock of the former. The unsatisfactory state of morals, manners, and religion in the colony was attributed to this neglect. At the Revolution, the inhabitants of Maryland rose with tumultuous zeal against their Roman Catholic lords, and published a manifesto in justification of their proceedings, accusing Lord Baltimore's government of intolerable tyranny. These statements, whether true or false, afforded King William an opportunity to assume the colonial power in his own hands, 1691, and to deprive the Calverts of all rights over the country, except the receipt of some local taxes.[357]

For a long time but few settlers had established themselves in that part of North America now called Carolina;[358] of these, some were men who had fled from the persecutions of New England, and formed a little colony round Cape Fear [1661]; others were Virginians, attracted by the rich unoccupied lands. After the restoration of Charles, however, the energies of the British nation, no longer devoted to internal quarrels, turned into the fields of foreign and colonial adventure. Charles readily bestowed upon his followers vast tracts of an uncultivated wilderness which he had never seen; and Monk, duke of Albemarle, the Earl of Clarendon, Lords Berkeley and Ashley, Sir George Carteret, and a few others, were created absolute lords of the new province of Carolina. [1663.] Great exertions were then made to attract settlers; immunity from prosecution for debt was secured to them for five years, and, at the same time, a liberal Constitution was granted, with a popular House of Assembly. The proprietors, anxious to perfect the work of colonization, prevailed upon the celebrated Locke to draw up a system of government for the new state, which, however excellent in theory, proved practically a signal failure.[359] The principal characteristic of the scheme was the establishment of an aristocracy with fantastic titles of nobility,[360] who met with the deputies in a Parliament, where, however, the council solely possessed the power of proposing new laws. The whole colonial body was subject to the Court of Proprietors in England, which was presided over by a chief called the Palatine,[361] possessing nearly supreme power. The sturdy colonists neglected, or deferred for future consideration, every portion of this new Constitution that appeared unsuitable to their condition, alleging that its provisions were in violation of the promises that had induced them to adopt the country.

Carolina for a long time progressed but slowly. The colonists had no fixed religion,[362] and their general morals and industry were very indifferent. They drew largely upon the resources of the proprietors without giving any return, and when at length that supply was stopped, they resorted to every idle and iniquitous mode of raising funds. They hunted the Indians, and sold them as slaves to the West Indies, and their sea-ports became the resort of pirates. These atrocious and ruinous pursuits soon reduced them to a state of miserable poverty, and the baneful influence of a series of profligate governors completed the mischief. One of these, named Sette Sothel,[363] was especially conspicuous for rapacity and injustice. [1683.] His misrule at length goaded the people into insurrection; they seized him, and were about to send him as a prisoner to England, but released him on a promise of renouncing the government, and leaving the colony for a time. After these and some other commotions, they succeeded in re-establishing their ancient charter in its original simplicity.

Carolina now began to improve rapidly, from the influx of a large and valuable immigration. The religious freedom that had been secured under the old charter was continued unrestricted even under Mr. Locke's complicated Constitution. Many Puritans flocked in from Britain to seek refuge from the persecutions of Charles II., and by their steadiness and industry soon attained considerable wealth. New England had also furnished her share to the new settlement of useful and energetic men who had been expelled by her Calvinistic intolerance. But the narrow-minded jealousy of the original emigrants soon interrupted the prosperity of the colony. Under the hypocritical plea of zeal for the Church of England, to which their conduct and morals were a scandal, they obtained, by violent means, a majority of one in the Assembly, and expelled all dissenters from the Legislature and government. They even passed a law to depose all sectarian clergy, and devote their churches to the services of the established religion. The oppressed Dissenters appealed to the British Parliament for protection. In the year 1705, an address was voted to the queen by the House of Commons, declaring the injustice of these acts, but nothing was done to relieve the colony till in 1721, when the people rose in insurrection, established a provisional government, and prayed that the king, George I., would himself undertake their rule. He granted their petition, and soon afterward purchased the rights of the proprietors. [1727.][364]

In the year 1732 a plan was formed for relieving the distress then severely pressing upon England by colonizing the territory still remaining unoccupied to the south of the Savannah. Twenty-three trustees, men of rank and influence, were appointed for this purpose, and the sum of £15,000 was placed at their disposal by Parliament and by voluntary subscription. With the aid of these funds about 500 people were forwarded to the new country, and some others went at their own expense. In honor of the reigning king, the name of Georgia was given to the new settlement. The lands were granted to the emigrants on conditions of military service, and a large proportion, of them were selected from among the hardy Scottish Highlanders and the veterans of some German regiments. Besides being the advance guard of civilization in the Indian country, the colony was threatened with the rival claims of the Spaniards in Florida, the boundaries of whose territory were very vague and uncertain. Happily for Georgia, Mr. Oglethorpe, the original founder of the settlement, succeeded in establishing a lasting friendship with the powerful Creek Indians, the natives of the country; but the Spaniards never ceased to alarm and threaten the colony till British arms had won the whole Atlantic coast. Owing to this disadvantage, and still more to certain humane restrictions upon the Indian trade,[365] no great influx of population took place until 1763, when peace restored confidence, and men and money were freely introduced from England.

One of the most important of the great American states that declared their independence in 1783, was, with the exception of Georgia, the latest in its origin. Under the wise and gentle influence of the founders, however, it progressed more rapidly than any other. When time and reflection had cooled the ardor and softened the fanaticism of the early Quakers, the sect attracted general and just admiration by the mild and persevering philanthropy of its most distinguished members. The pure benevolence and patient courage of William Penn was a tower of strength to this new creed; well born, and enjoying a competent fortune, he possessed the means as well as the will powerfully to aid in its advancement. He endured with patience, but with unflinching constancy, a continual series of legal persecutions, and even the anger of his father, until the unspotted integrity of his life and his practical wisdom at length triumphed over prejudice and hostility, and he was allowed the privilege of pleading before the British Parliament in the cause of his oppressed brethren.

William Penn inherited from his father a claim against the government for £16,000, which King Charles gladly paid by assigning to him the territory in the New World now called Pennsylvania,[367] in honor of the first proprietor.[368] This was a large and fertile expanse of inland country partly taken from New York, New Jersey, and Maryland. It was included between the 40th and 43d degrees of latitude, and bounded on the east by the Delaware River. The enlightened and benevolent proprietor bestowed upon the new state a Constitution that secured, as far as human ordinance was capable, freedom of faith, thought, and action. He formed some peculiar institutions for the promotion of peace and good will among his brethren, and for the protection of the widow and the orphan. By his wise and just dealings with the Indians,[369] he gained their important confidence and friendship: he sent commissioners to treat with them for the sale of their lands, and in the year 1682 met the assembled chiefs near the spot where Philadelphia now stands. The savages advanced to the place of meeting in great numbers and in warlike guise, but as the approach of the English was announced, they laid aside their weapons and seated themselves in quiet groups around their chiefs.[370] Penn came forward fearlessly with a few attendants, all unarmed, and in their usual grave and simple attire; in his hand he held a parchment on which were written the terms of the treaty. He then spoke in a few plain words of the friendship and justice that should rule the actions of all men, and guide him, and them, and their children's children. The Indians answered that they would live in peace with him and his white brothers as long as the sun and moon shall endure. And in the Quaker's parchment and the Indian's promise was accomplished the peaceful conquest of that lovely wilderness, a conquest more complete, more secure and lasting, than any that the ruthless rigor of Cortes or the stern valor of the Puritans had ever won.

The prosperity of Pennsylvania advanced with unexampled rapidity.[371] The founder took out with him two thousand well-chosen emigrants, and a considerable number had preceded him to the new country. The orderly freedom that prevailed,[372] and the perpetual peace with the Indians,[373] gave a great advantage to this colony; emigration flowed thither more abundantly than to any other settlement, and thus, although of such recent origin, this state soon equaled the most successful of its older neighbors.

CHAPTER XII.

Having noticed the principal features of the origin and progress of the English colonies—the powerful and dangerous neighbors of the French settlements in the New World—it is now time to return to the course of Canadian history subsequent to the death of the illustrious founder of Quebec.

Monsieur de Montmagny succeeded Champlain as governor, and entered with zeal into his plans, but difficulties accumulated on all sides. Men and money were wanting, trade languished, and the Associated Company in France were daily becoming more indifferent to the success of the colony. Some few merchants and inhabitants of the outposts, indeed, were enriched by the profitable dealings of the fur-trade, but their suddenly-acquired wealth excited the jealousy rather than increased the general prosperity of the settlers. The work of religious institutions was alone pursued with vigor and success in those times of failure and discouragement. At Sillery, one league from Quebec, an establishment was founded for the instruction of the savages and the diffusion of Christian light. [1637.] The Hôtel Dieu owed its existence to the Duchesse d'Aiguillon two years afterward, and the Convent of the Ursulines was founded by the pious and high-born Madame de la Peltrie.[374]

The partial success and subsequent failure of Champlain and his Indian allies in their encounters with the Iroquois had emboldened these brave and politic savages. They now captured several canoes belonging to the Hurons, laden with furs, which that friendly people were conveying to Quebec. Montmagny's military force was too small to allow of his avenging this insult; he, however, zealously promoted an enterprise to build a fort and effect a settlement on the island of Montreal, which he fondly hoped would curb the audacity of his savage foes. The Associated Company would render no aid whatever to this important plan, but the religious zeal of the Abbé Olivier overcame all difficulties. He obtained a grant of Montreal from the king, and dispatched the Sieur de Maisonneuve and others to take possession. On the 17th of May, 1641, the place destined for the settlement was consecrated by the superior of the Jesuits.[375]

At the same time the governor erected a fort at the entrance of the River Richelieu, then called the Iroquois. The workmen employed at this labor were constantly exposed to the harassing warfare of the Indians, but at length completely repulsed them. A garrison, such as could be spared from the scanty militia of the colony, was placed in the little stronghold for its defense. Although the minds of the fierce Iroquois were fixed upon the utter destruction of the French, and in their confident boastings they declared that they could drive the white men into the sea, they indicated from time to time a desire for peace. Montmagny was compelled by weakness and the difficulties of his situation, to accept overtures which he could not but dread as insidious and treacherous, and he assumed an air of confidence which he by no means felt. His native allies were also eagerly anxious for the blessings of peace, and, through their means, an opportunity for opening negotiations soon offered. The governor and the friendly native chiefs met the deputies of the Iroquois nation at Three Rivers to arrange the terms of the proposed treaty. [1645.] After various orations, songs, dances, and exchanges of presents, peace was concluded to the satisfaction of both parties; and for the time at least, with apparent good faith, for the following winter the French and their new allies joined together in the chase, and mixed fearlessly in friendly intercourse.

M. de Montmagny was superseded as governor of Canada by M. d'Ailleboust in the year 1647. He had proved himself a man of judgment, courage, and virtue, and had gained the love of the settlers and Indians, as well as the approval of the court. But, in consequence of the governor of the American islands having recently refused to surrender office to a person appointed by the king, it was decreed that no one should hold the government of a colony for more than three years. M. d'Ailleboust was a man of ability and worth, and, having held the command at Three Rivers for some time, was also experienced in colonial affairs, but he received no more support from home than his predecessor; and, despite his best efforts, New France continued to languish under his rule.

The colony, however, was now free from the scourge of savage hostility. The Indians turned their subtle craft and terrible energy to the chase instead of war. From the far-distant hunting-grounds of the St. Maurice and of the gloomy Saguenay, they crowded to Three Rivers and Tadoussac with the spoils of the forest animals. At those settlements the trade went briskly on, and many of the natives became domesticated among their white neighbors. The worthy priests were not slow to take advantage of this favorable opportunity; many of the hunters from the north, who were attracted to the French villages by the fur trade, were told the great tidings of redemption; and usually, when they returned the following year, they were accompanied by others, who desired, with them, to receive the rites of baptism.[376]

The most numerous and pious of the proselytes were of the Huron tribe, an indolent and unwarlike race, against whom the bold and powerful Iroquois held deadly feud, which the existing peace only kept in abeyance till opportunity might arise for effective action. The little settlement of St. Joseph was the place where first an Indian congregation assembled for Christian worship; the Father Antoine Daniel was the pastor; the flock were of the Huron tribe. Faith in treaties and long-continued tranquillity had lulled this unhappy people into a fatal security, and all cautions were forgotten,[377] when, on the morning of the 4th of July, 1648, while the missionary was performing service, there suddenly arose a cry of terror that the Iroquois were at hand. None but old men, women, and children were in the village at the time; of this the crafty enemy were aware; they had crept silently through the woods, and lain in ambush till morning gave them light for the foul massacre. Not one of the inhabitants escaped, and last of all, the good priest was likewise slain.

During this year the first communication passed between the French and British North American colonies. An envoy arrived at Quebec from New England, bearing proposals for a lasting peace with Canada, not to be interrupted even by the wars of the mother countries. M. d'Ailleboust gladly entertained the wise proposition, and sent a deputy to Boston with full powers to treat, providing only that the English would consent to aid him against the Iroquois. But the cautious Puritans would not compromise themselves by this stipulation. They were sufficiently remote from the fierce and formidable savages of the Five Nations to be free from present apprehension, and to their steady and industrious habits the plow was more suitable than the sword. The negotiation, therefore, totally failed, which was probably of little consequence, for it is difficult to perceive how these remote and feeble colonies could have preserved a neutrality in the contentions of England and France, which was impossible even to powerful states.

After a treacherous calm of some six months' duration, the unhappy Hurons again relapsed into a fatal security; the terrible lessons of the past were forgotten in the apparent tranquillity of the present. Watch and ward were relaxed, and again they lay at the mercy of their ruthless enemies. When least expected, 1000 Iroquois warriors started up from the thick coverts of a neighboring forest, and fell fiercely upon the defenseless Hurons, burned two of their villages, exterminated the inhabitants, and put two French missionaries to death with horrible tortures. Then the remnant of the defeated tribe despaired; the alliance of the French had only embittered the hostility of their enemies without affording protection; therefore they arose and deserted their villages and hunting grounds, wandering away, some into the northern forests, others as suppliants among neighboring nations.

The greater body of the Hurons, however, attached themselves to the fortunes of the missionaries, and under them formed a settlement on the island of St. Joseph, but they neglected to cultivate the land. As the autumn advanced, the resources of the chase became exhausted, and the horrors of famine commenced. They were shortly reduced to the most dreadful extremities of suffering; every direst expedient that starvation could prompt and despair execute was resorted to for a few days' prolonging of life. Then came the scourge of contagious fever, sweeping numbers away with desolating fury. While these terrible calamities raged among the Hurons, the Iroquois seized the opportunity of again invading them. The village of St. John, containing nearly 3000 souls, was the first point of attack. The feeble inhabitants offered no resistance, and, with their missionary, were totally destroyed. Most of the remnant of this unhappy tribe then took the resolution of presenting themselves to their conquerors, and were received into the Iroquois nation. The few who still remained wandering in the forests were hunted down like wolves, and soon exterminated.

The terror of the Iroquois name now spread rapidly along the shores of the great lakes and rivers of the north. The fertile banks of the Ottawa, once the dwelling-place of numerous and powerful tribes, became suddenly deserted, and no one could tell whither the inhabitants had fled.

About this time was introduced among the Montagnez, and the other tribes of the Saguenay country, an evil more destructive than even the tomahawk of the Iroquois—the "accursed fire-water;" despite the most earnest efforts of the governor, the fur traders at Tadoussac supplied the Indians with this fatal luxury. In a short time, intoxication and its dreadful consequences became so frequent, that the native chiefs prayed the governor to imprison all drunkards. At Three Rivers, however, the wise precautions of the authorities preserved the infant settlement from this monstrous calamity.

In the year 1650 M. d'Ailleboust was worthily succeeded by M. de Lauson, one of the principals of the Associated Company. The new governor found affairs in a very discouraging condition, the colony rapidly declining, and the Iroquois, flushed by their sanguinary triumphs, more audacious than ever. These fierce savages intruded fearlessly among the French settlements, despising forts and intrenchments, and insulting the inhabitants with impunity. The island of Montreal suffered so much from their incursions, that M. de Maisonneuve, the governor, was obliged to repair to France to seek succors, for which he had vainly applied by letter. He returned in the year 1653 with a timely re-enforcement of 100 men.

Although the Iroquois had now overcome or destroyed all their native enemies, and proved their strength even against the Europeans, some of their tribes were more than ever disposed to a union with the white men. The Onnontagués dispatched an embassy to Quebec to request that the governor would send a colony of Frenchmen among them. He readily acceded to the proposition, and fifty men were chosen for the establishment, with the Sieur Dupuys for their commander. Four missionaries were appointed to found the first Iroquois church; and to supply temporal wants, provisions for a year, and sufficient seed to sow the lands about to be appropriated, were sent with the expedition. This design excited the jealousy of the other Iroquois tribes; the Agniers even tried to intercept the colonists with a force of 400 warriors; they, however, only succeeded in pillaging a few of the canoes that had fallen behind. The same war party soon after made an onslaught upon ninety Hurons, working on the Isle of Orleans under French protection, slew six, and carried off the rest into captivity. As they passed before Quebec they made their unhappy prisoners sing aloud, insultingly attracting the attention of the garrison. The marauders were not pursued; they dragged the prisoners to their villages, burned the chiefs, and condemned the rest to a cruel bondage. M. de Lauson can hardly be excused for thus suffering his allies to be torn from under his protection without an effort to save them from their merciless enemies. These unfortunates had been converted to Christianity, which increased the rage and ferocity of the captors against them. One brave chief, whose tortures had been prolonged for three days as a worshiper of the God of the white men, bore himself faithfully to the last, and died with the Saviour's blessed name upon his quivering lip.

In the mean time the expedition to the country of the Onnontagués suffered great privations, and only escaped starvation by the generosity of the natives. Their spiritual mission was, however, at first eminently successful, the whole nation seeming disposed to adopt the Christian faith. But the allied tribes having carried their insolence to an intolerable degree, and massacred three Frenchmen near Montreal, the commandant at Quebec seized all the Iroquois within his reach, and demanded redress. The answer of the haughty savages was, to prepare for war. Dupuys and his little colony were now in a most perilous position: there was no hope of aid from Quebec, and but little chance of being able to escape from among their dangerous neighbors. They labored diligently and secretly to construct a sufficient number of canoes to carry them away in case some happy opportunity might arise, and found means to warn the people of Quebec of the coming danger. By great industry and skill the canoes were completed, and stored with the necessary provisions; through an ingenious stratagem, the French escaped in safety, while the savages slept soundly after one of their solemn feasts. In fifteen days the fugitives arrived at Montreal, where they found alarm on every countenance. The Iroquois swarmed over the island, and committed great disorders, although still professing a treacherous peace. The savages soon, however, threw off the mask, and broke into open war.

On the 11th of July, 1658, the Viscompte d'Argenson landed at Quebec as governor. The next morning the cry "to arms" echoed through the town. The Iroquois had made a sudden onslaught upon some Algonquins under the very guns of the fortress, and massacred them without mercy. Two hundred men were instantly dispatched to avenge this insult, but they could not overtake the wily marauders. In the same year, however, a party of the Agniers met with a severe check in a treacherous attempt to surprise Three Rivers. The lesson was not lost, and the colony for some time enjoyed a much-needed repose. The missionaries seized this interval of tranquillity to recommence their sacred labors: they penetrated into many remote districts where Europeans had never before reached, and discovered several routes to the dreary shores of Hudson's Bay. In the year 1659, the exemplary François de Laval, abbé de Montigny, arrived at Quebec to preside over the Canadian Church as the first American bishop.[378]

The temporal affairs of the colony were falling into a lamentable condition; no supplies arrived from France, and the local production was far from sufficient. Terror of the Indians kept the settlers almost blockaded in the forts, and cultivation was necessarily neglected. It was proposed by many that all the settlements should be abandoned, and that they should again seek the peaceful shores of their native country. Many individuals were massacred by the savages, and two armed parties, one of thirty and the other of twenty-six men, were totally destroyed. But some of the Indians, too, began to weary of this murderous war, and to long again for Christian instruction and peaceful commerce. The new governor was at first little inclined to negotiate with his fierce and capricious enemies; but, influenced by the miserable state of the colony, which even a brief truce might improve, he at length agreed to an exchange of prisoners and a peace.

In 1662 the King of France was at last induced to hearken to the prayers of his Canadian subjects. M. de Monts[379] was sent out to inquire into the condition of the country, and 400 troops added to the strength of the garrison. But these encouraging circumstances were more than neutralized on account of the permission then granted by the new governor, Baron d'Avaugour, for the sale of ardent spirits.[380] The disorder soon rose to a lamentable height, and the clergy in vain opposed their utmost influence to its pernicious progress. At length the worthy bishop hastened to France, and represented to the king the dreadful evil that afflicted the colony. His remonstrances were effectual; he succeeded in obtaining such powers as he deemed necessary to stop the ruinous commerce.

The year 1663 was rendered memorable by a tremendous earthquake, spoken of in a preceding chapter. In the same year the Associated Company remitted to the crown all their rights over New France, which the king again transferred to the West India Company.[381] Courts of law were for the first time established, and many families of valuable settlers found their way to the colony. Up to this period extreme simplicity and honesty seems to have prevailed in the little community, and it was not till then that a Council of State was appointed by the crown to co-operate with the governor in the conduct of affairs.[382] The king sent out the Sieur Gaudais to inquire into the state of his newly-acquired dependency, and to investigate certain complaints preferred against the Baron d'Avaugour, who had himself prayed to be recalled. The sieur performed his invidious task to the satisfaction of all parties: he made valuable reports as to the general character of the colonial clergy, of the advantages and disadvantages of the local administration of government, and imputed no fault to the Baron d'Avaugour, but a somewhat too rigid and stern adherence to the letter of the law, and the severity of justice. The baron then joyfully returned to France, but soon afterward fell in the defense of the fort of Serin against the Turks, while, with the permission of the French king, serving the emperor.

M. de Mésy succeeded as governor, upon the recommendation of the Bishop of Canada, whose complaints on the subject of the sale of spirituous liquors had been the principal cause of the Baron d'Avaugour's recall. The new appointment proved far from satisfactory to those by whose influence it was made. M. de Mésy at once raised up a host of enemies by his haughty and despotic bearing. He thwarted the Jesuits to the utmost extent of his power; the council supported them, alleging that their influence over the native race was essential to the well-being of the colony. Various representations of these matters were made to the court of France, and the final result was, that the governor was recalled.

Alexandre de Prouville, marquis de Tracy, was next appointed viceroy in America by the king, with ample powers to establish, destroy, or alter the institutions of the Canadian colony. Daniel de Remi, seigneur de Courcelles, the new governor, and M. Talon, the intendant, were conjoined with the viceroy in a commission to examine into the charges against M. de Mésy. [1665,] M. de Tracy was the first to arrive at Quebec; he bore with him the welcome re-enforcement of some companies of the veteran regiment of Carignan-Salières.[383] He sent a portion of this force at once against the Iroquois, accompanied by the allied savages. The country was speedily cleared of every enemy, and the harvest gathered in security. The remaining part of the regiment arrived soon after, with the viceroy's colleagues; a large number of families, artisans, and laborers; the first horses that had ever been sent to New France; cattle, sheep; and, in short, a far more complete colony than that which they came to aid.

Being now established in security, and confident in strength, the viceroy led a sufficient force to the mouth of Richelieu River, where he erected three forts[384] to overawe the turbulent Iroquois.[385] These works were rapidly and skillfully executed, and for a time answered their purpose; but the wily savages soon perceived that there were other routes by which they could enter the settlements. In the mean time M. Talon remained at Quebec, collecting much valuable information concerning the country and its native inhabitants. He was spared, however, the task of inquiring into the conduct of M. de Mésy, for that gentleman died before the news of his recall reached Canada.

Toward the end of December, 1665, three tribes of the Iroquois nation dispatched envoys to the viceroy at Quebec with proposals for peace and for an exchange of prisoners. The terms were readily complied with. M. de Tracy received the Indians with politic kindness and attention, and sent them back with valuable presents. But the formidable tribes of the Agniers and Onneyouths still kept sullenly apart from the French alliance; it was, therefore, determined to give them a severe lesson for their former insolence and treachery, and make them feel the supremacy of France. M. de Courcelles and M. de Sorel were sent with two corps to humble the haughty savages. The hostile Indians, alarmed at the preparations for their destruction, now sent deputies to Quebec to avert the threatening storm, although some of their war parties still infested the settlements, and had lately put to death three French officers, among them M. de Chasy, the viceroy's nephew. One of the Indian deputies boasted at M. de Tracy's table that he had slain the French officers with his own hands. He was immediately seized and strangled, and the negotiations broken off.

The two French expeditions found the hostile country altogether deserted, and returned without effecting any thing, having suffered great fatigue and hardship. M. de Tracy then took the field in person, at the head of 1200 French and 600 friendly Indians, with two pieces of cannon. As he was setting out on the march, chiefs again came from the Agniers and Onneyouths to pray for peace; but he would hear of no accommodation, and even imprisoned the deputies. The French army marched on the 14th of September, 1666; provisions soon failed in the solitary desert through which they had to pass; in their greatest necessity, however, they entered a wood abounding in chestnut-trees, whose fruit supplied them with sustenance till they gained the first village of the enemy. The warriors had abandoned the old men, women, and children, and ample stores of food, and retired through the forest. The French found the Indian cabans larger and better than any they had seen elsewhere, and in ingeniously contrived magazines, sunk under the ground, sufficient grain was discovered to supply the whole colony for two years. The invaders burned and utterly destroyed all the villages, and carried away, as captives, all the inhabitants that remained, but they could not succeed in overtaking the warriors to force them to action. They then retraced their steps, strengthening the settlements on the River St. Lawrence as they passed. When M. de Tracy reached Quebec, he caused some of the prisoners to be put to death as a warning, and dismissed the remainder. Having established the authority of the West India Company instead of that of "The Hundred Associates," he returned to France the following spring.

The humiliation of the Iroquois restored profound peace to New France. Then the wisdom and energy of M. Talon were directed to the development of the resources of the country. Scientific men were sent to examine the mineral resources of several districts where promising indications had been observed. The clearing of land proceeded rapidly, and invariably discovered a rich and productive soil. The population increased in numbers, and enjoyed abundant plenty: all were in a condition to live in comfort. According to the perhaps partial authority of the Jesuit missionaries, the progress in morality and attention to religious observances kept pace with the temporal prosperity of this happy colony.

Although M. de Courcelles showed little activity in conducting the internal government of the colony, which was principally directed by M. Talon, he was highly energetic and vigorous in his relations with the Indians. Having learned that the Iroquois were intriguing with the Ottawas to direct their fur trade to the English colonies, thus probably to ruin the commerce of New France, he resolved to visit the Iroquois, and impress them with an idea of his power. For this purpose he took the route of the deep and rapid St. Lawrence, making his way in bateaux for 130 miles above Montreal. His health, however, suffered so much in this difficult expedition that he was obliged to demand his recall.

On his return to Quebec he found that several atrocious murders and robberies had been committed upon Iroquois and Mahingan Indians by Frenchmen, which filled the savages with indignation, and roused them to a fury of revenge. They attacked and burned a house in open day, and a woman perished in the flames. Numbers of the two injured nations and their savage allies hovered round Montreal, awaiting an opportunity for vengeance. M. de Courcelles, with his wonted vigor in emergencies, hastened to the threatened settlement, and called upon the Indian chiefs to hold parley. They assembled, and hearkened with attention while he enumerated the advantages that both parties derived from the existing peace. He then caused those among the murderers who had been convicted of the crime to be led out and executed on the spot. The Indians were at once appeased by this prompt administration of justice, and even lamented over the malefactors' wretched fate; they were also fully indemnified for the stolen property. The assembly then broke up with mutual satisfaction.

But soon again, the repose of the country was threatened by the Iroquois and Ottawas, who had begun to make incursions upon each other. M. de Courcelles promptly interfered to quell this growing animosity, declaring that he would punish with the greatest severity either party that would not submit to reasonable conditions. He required them to send deputies to state their wrongs, and the grounds of dispute, and took upon himself to do justice to both parties. He was obeyed: the chiefs of the contending tribes repaired to Quebec, and by the firmness and judgment of the governor, the breach was healed, and peace secured.

At this time a scourge more terrible than even savage war visited the red race of Canada. The small-pox first appeared among the northern tribe of the Attikamegues, and swept them totally away: many of their neighbors shared the same fate. Tadoussac, where 1200 Indians usually assembled to barter their rich furs at the end of the hunting season, was deserted. Three Rivers, once crowded with the friendly Algonquins, was now never visited by a red man, and a few years after the frightful plague first appeared, the settlement of Sillery, near Quebec, was attacked; 1500 savages took the fatal contagion, and not one survived. The Hurons, who had been always most intimately associated with the French, suffered least among the native nations from the malady. In 1670 Father Chaumonat assembled the remnant of this once powerful tribe in the neighborhood of Quebec, and established them in the village of Lorette,[386] where a mixed race of their descendants remains to this day.

Even the presence of the dreadful infliction of the small-pox and the fear of French power could not long restrain the savage impulse for war. The most distant tribe of the Iroquois became engaged in a sanguinary quarrel with a neighboring nation, and took a number of prisoners. The governor immediately sent to warn these turbulent savages that if they did not desist from war, and return their prisoners, he would destroy their villages as he had those of the Agniers. This peremptory message raised the indignation of the Iroquois, they at first proudly disclaimed the right of the French to dictate to the free people of the forest, and vowed that they would perish rather than bow down to the strangers' will; but, finally, the wisdom of the old men prevailed in the council: they knew that they were not prepared to meet the power of the Europeans; it was therefore decided that they should send a portion of their prisoners to the governor. He either believed, or pretended to believe, that they had fully complied with his demands, deeming it prudent not to drive the Indians to extremities.

CHAPTER XIII.

Taking advantage of the profound peace which now blessed New France,[387] M. Talon, the intendant, dispatched an experienced traveler, named Nicholas Perrot, to the distant northern and western tribes, for the purpose of inducing them to fix a meeting at some convenient place with a view of discussing the rights of the French crown. This bold adventurer penetrated among the nations dwelling by the great lakes, and with admirable address induced them all to send deputies to the Falls of St. Mary, where the waters of Lake Superior pour into Lake Huron. The Sieur de St. Lusson met the assembled Indian chiefs at this place in May, 1671; he persuaded them to acknowledge the sovereignty of his king, and erected a cross bearing the arms of France.

M. de Courcelles was succeeded by the able and chivalrous Louis de Buade, comte de Frontenac. The new governor was a soldier of high rank, and a trusty follower of the great Henry of Navarre; his many high qualities were, however, obscured by a capricious and despotic temper. His plans for the advancement of the colony were bold and judicious, his representations to the government of France fearless and effectual, his personal conduct and piety unimpeachable, but he exhibited a bitterness and asperity to those who did not enter into his views little suited to the better points of his character, and it is said that ambition and the love of authority at times overcame his zeal for the public good.[388]

M. Talon, the intendant, was at this time recalled by his own wish, but before he departed from the scenes of his useful labors he planned a scheme of exploration more extensive than any that had yet been accomplished in New France. From the rumors and traditions among the savages of the far West, with which the meeting at St. Mary's had made the French acquainted, it was believed that to the southwest of New France there flowed a vast river, called by the natives Mechasèpè, whose course was neither toward the great lakes to the north, nor the Atlantic to the east. It was therefore surmised that this unknown flood must pour its waters either into the Gulf of Mexico or the Pacific Ocean. The wise intendant was impressed with the importance of possessing a channel of navigation to the waters of the south and west, and before his departure from America made arrangements to have the course of the mysterious stream[389] explored. He intrusted the arduous duty to Father Marquette, a pious priest, who was experienced in Indian travel, and an adventurous and able merchant of Quebec, named Jolyet. [1673.] The Comte de Frontenac gave hearty aid to this expedition, and in the mean time he himself extended the line of French settlement to the shores of Lake Ontario,[390] built there the fort that still bears his name, and opened communication with the numerous tribes westward of the Allegany Mountains.

The exploring party, led by Marquette[391] and Jolyet, consisted of only six men, in two little bark canoes: at the very outset the Indians of the lakes told them that great and terrible dangers would beset their path, and recounted strange tales of supernatural difficulties and perils for those who had ventured to explore the mysterious regions of the West. Hearkening carefully to whatever useful information the natives could bestow, but despising their timid warnings, these adventurous men hastened on over the great lakes to the northwestern extremity of the deep and stormy Michigan, now called Green Bay. Numerous Indian tribes wandered over the surrounding country; among others, the Miamis, the most civilized and intelligent of the native race that they had yet seen. Two hunters of this nation undertook to guide the expedition to one of the tributaries of the great river of which they were in search. The French were struck with wonder at the vast prairies that lay around their route on every side, monotonous, and apparently boundless as the ocean.

The Fox River was the stream to which the Miamis first led them. Although it was broad at its entrance into the lake the upper portion was divided by marshes into a labyrinth of narrow channels; as they passed up the river, the wild oats grew so thickly in the water that the adventurers appeared to row through fields of corn. After a portage of a mile and a half, they launched their canoes in the Wisconsin River, a tributary of the Mississippi, and the guides left them to find their way into the unknown solitudes of the West. Their voyage down the tributary was easy and prosperous, and at length, to their great joy, they reached the magnificent stream of the Mississippi. The banks were rich and beautiful, the trees the loftiest they had yet seen, and wild bulls and other animals roamed in vast herds over the flowery meadows.[393]

For more than 200 miles Marquette and his companions continued their course through verdant and majestic solitudes, where no sign of human life appeared. At length the foot-prints of men rejoiced their sight, and, by following up the track, they arrived at a cluster of inhabited villages, where they were kindly and hospitably received. Their hosts called themselves Illinois, which means "men" in the native tongue, and is designed to express their supposed superiority over their neighbors. Marquette considered them the most civilized of the native American nations.

Neither fear for the future nor the enjoyment of present comfort could damp the ardor of the French adventurers; they soon again launched their little canoes on the Father of Waters, and followed the course of the stream. They passed a number of bold rocks that rose straight up from the water's edge; on one of these, strange monsters were curiously painted in brilliant colors. Soon after they came to the place where the great Missouri pours its turbid and noisy flood into the Mississippi; and next they reached a lofty range of cliffs, that stretched nearly across from bank to bank, breasting the mighty stream. With great difficulty and danger they guided their little canoes through these turbulent waters. They passed the entrance of the Ohio,[394] and were again astonished at the vast size of the tributaries which fed the flood of the mysterious river. The inhabitants of the villages on the banks accepted the calumet of peace, and held friendly intercourse with the adventurers; and although, after passing the mouth of the Arkansas River, a proposition was made in the council of one tribe to slay and rob them, the chief indignantly overruled the cruel suggestion, and presented them with the sacred pipe.

At the village where they were threatened with this great danger they were inaccurately informed that the sea was only distant five days' voyage. From this the travelers concluded that the waters of the Mississippi poured into the Gulf of Mexico, and not, as they had fondly hoped, into the Pacific Ocean. Fearing, therefore, that by venturing further they might fall into the hands of the Spaniards, and lose all the fruits of their toils and dangers, they determined to re-ascend the stream and return to Canada. After a long and dreary voyage, they reached Chicago, on Lake Michigan, where the adventurers separated. Father Marquette remained among the friendly Miamis, and Jolyet hastened to Quebec to announce their discoveries. Unfortunately, their enlightened patron, M. Talon, had already departed for France.

There chanced, however, to be at Quebec at that time a young Frenchman, of some birth and fortune, named Robert Cavalier, sieur de la Salle, ambitious, brave, and energetic. He had emigrated to America with a hope of gaining fame and wealth in the untrodden paths of a new world. The first project that occupied his active mind was the discovery of a route to China[395] and Japan, by the unexplored regions of the west of Canada. The information brought by Jolyet to Quebec excited his sanguine expectations. Impressed with the strange idea that the Missouri would lead to the Northern Ocean, he determined to explore its course, and having gained the sanction of the governor, sailed for France to seek the means of fitting out an expedition. In this he succeeded by the favor of the Prince of Conti. The Chevalier de Tonti, a brave officer, who had lost an arm in the Sicilian wars, was associated with him in the enterprise.

On the 14th of July, 1678, La Salle and Tonti embarked at Rochelle with thirty men, and in two months arrived at Quebec. They took Father Hennepin with them, and hastened on to the great lakes,[396] where they spent two years in raising forts and building vessels of forty or fifty tons burden, and carrying on the fur trade with the natives. The party then pushed forward to the extremity of Michigan. Their friendly relations with the Indians were here interrupted by a party of the Outagamis having robbed them of a coat. The French held a council to devise means of deterring the savages from such depredations, and it was somewhat hastily determined to demand restitution of the coat under the threat of putting the offending chief to death. The Outagamis, having divided the stolen garment into a number of small pieces for general distribution, found it impossible to comply with this requisition, and thinking that no resource remained, presented themselves to the French in battle array. However, through the wise mediation of Father Hennepin, the quarrel was arranged, and a good understanding restored.

La Salle now set out with a party of forty-four men and three Recollets, to pursue his cherished object of exploring the course of the Mississippi. He descended the stream of the Illinois, and was charmed with the beauty and fertility of the banks: large villages rose on each side; the first, containing 500 wooden huts, they found deserted, but in descending the river they suddenly perceived that two large bodies of Indians were assembled on opposite banks, in order of battle. After a parley, however, the Indians presented the calumet of peace, and entertained the strangers at a great feast.

The discontents among his own followers proved far more dangerous to La Salle than the caprice or hostility of the savages. They murmured at being led into unknown regions, among barbarous tribes, to gratify the ambition of an adventurer, and determined to destroy him and return to France. They were base enough to tell the natives that La Salle was a spy of the Iroquois, their ancient enemies, and it required all his genius and courage to remove this idea from the minds of the ignorant savages. Failing in this scheme, they endeavored to poison him and all his faithful adherents at a Christmas dinner; by the use of timely remedies, however, the intended victims recovered, and the villains, having fled, were in vain pursued over the trackless deserts.

La Salle was obliged to return to the forts for aid, on account of the desertion of so many of his followers; but he sent Father Hennepin, with Dacan and three other Frenchmen, to explore the sources of the Mississippi, and left Tonti in the command of a small fort, erected on the Illinois, which he, however, was soon obliged to desert, in consequence of the hostility of the Iroquois. La Salle collected twenty men, with the necessary arms and provisions, and, unshaken by accumulated disasters, determined at once to make his way to the Gulf of Mexico down the course of the Mississippi. He passed the entrance of the swollen and muddy Missouri, and the beautiful Ohio, and, still descending, traversed countries where dwelt the numerous and friendly Chickasaw and Arkansaw Indians. Next he came to the Taencas, a people far advanced beyond their savage neighbors in civilization, and obeying an absolute prince. Farther on, the Natchez received him with hospitality; but the Quinipissas, who inhabited the shores more to the south, assailed him with showers of arrows. He wisely pursued his important journey without seeking to avenge the insult. Tangibao, still lower down the stream, had just been desolated by one of the terrible irruptions of savage war: the bodies of the dead lay piled in heaps among the ruins of their former habitations. For leagues beyond, the channel began to widen, and at length became so vast that one shore was no longer visible from the other. The water was now brackish, and beautiful sea-shells were seen strewn along the shore. They had reached the mouth of the Mississippi, the Father of Rivers.

La Salle celebrated the successful end of his adventurous voyage with great rejoicings. Te Deum was sung, a cross was suspended from the top of a lofty tree, and a shield, bearing the arms of France, was erected close at hand. They attempted to determine the latitude by an observation of the sun, but the result was altogether erroneous.

The country immediately around the outlet of this vast stream was desolate and uninteresting. Far as the eye could teach, swampy flats and inundated morasses filled the dreary prospect. Under the ardent rays of the tropical sun, noisome vapors exhaled from the rank soil and sluggish waters, poisoning the breezes from the southern seas, and corrupting them into the breath of pestilence. Masses of floating trees, whose large branches were scathed by months of alternate immersion and exposure, during hundreds of leagues of travel, choked up many of the numerous outlets of the river, and, cemented together by the alluvial deposits of the muddy stream, gradually became fixed and solid, throwing up a rank vegetation.[397] Above this dreary delta, however, the country was rich and beautiful, and graceful undulations succeeded to the monotonous level of the lower banks.

After a brief repose, La Salle proceeded to re-ascend the river toward Canada, eager to carry the important tidings of his success to France. His journey was beset with difficulties and dangers. The course of the stream, though not rapid, perpetually impeded his progress. Provisions began to fail, and dire necessity drove him to perilous measures for obtaining supplies. Having met with four women of the hostile tribe of the Quinipissas, he treated them with great kindness, loading them with such gifts as might most win their favor. The chief of the savages then came forward and invited the French to his village, offering them the much-needed refreshments which they sought. But a cruel treachery lurked under this friendly seeming, and the adventurers were only saved from destruction by the careful vigilance of their leader. At daybreak the following morning, the Indians made a sudden attack upon their guests; the French, however, being thoroughly on the alert, repulsed the assailants, and slew several of the bravest warriors. Infuriated by the treachery of the savages, the victors followed the customs of Indian warfare, and scalped those of the enemy who fell into their power.

As they ascended the river they were again endangered by the secret hostility of the Natchez,[398] from the effects of which a constant front of preparation alone preserved them. After several months of unceasing toil and watchfulness, with many strange and romantic adventures, but no other serious obstruction, the hardy travelers at length joyfully beheld the headland of Quebec.

Immediately after his arrival, La Salle hastened to France to announce his great discovery,[399] and reap the distinction justly due to his eminent merits. [1682.] He was received with every honor, and all his plans and suggestions were approved by the court. Under his direction and command, an expedition was fitted out, consisting of four vessels and 280 men, for the purpose of forming a settlement at the mouth of the Mississippi, and thence establishing a regular communication with Canada, along the course of the Great River. At the same time, he received the commission of governor over the whole of the vast country extending between the lakes and the Gulf of Mexico. The little squadron sailed from La Rochelle on the 24th of July, 1684, along with the West India fleet, and having touched at St. Domingo and Cuba by the way, arrived in safety on the coast of Florida.

La Salle was involved in great perplexity by ignorance of the longitude of the river's mouth. Not having descended so far in his former expedition as to be able to judge of its appearance from the sea, he passed the main entrance of the Mississippi unawares, and proceeded 200 miles to the westward, where he found himself in a bay, since called St. Bernard's. Attracted by the favorable appearance of the surrounding country, La Salle here founded the fort which was to be the basis of his future establishment. But difficulties and misfortunes crowded upon him; the vessel containing his stores and utensils was sunk through the negligence or treachery of her commander, and a great portion of the cargo lost or seized by the Indians. The violent measures he adopted to compel restitution of the plundered goods kindled a deep resentment in the minds of this fierce and haughty tribe, the Clamcoets by name. They made a sudden midnight attack upon the settlement, slew two of the French, and wounded several, and whenever opportunity offered afterward, repeated their assaults. The tropical climate, however, proved a far deadlier foe than even the savage, and at length the spirit of the colonists gave way under accumulated difficulties.

Meanwhile Tonti, who had descended the Mississippi to join La Salle, sought him in vain at the mouth of the river, and along the coast for twenty leagues at either side. Having found no trace or tidings of the expedition, he relinquished the search in despair, and sailed upward again to the Canadian Lakes.

La Salle bore up with noble courage and energy against the difficulties that surrounded him. His subordinates thwarted him on every occasion, and at length broke out into a violent mutiny, which he, however, vigorously suppressed. But when he discovered that the settlement founded and sustained by his unceasing labors was not, as he had fondly supposed, at the mouth of the Great River, he experienced the bitterest disappointment. The surrounding country, though fertile, offered no brilliant prospect of sudden wealth or hopes of future commerce. He determined, therefore, once again to explore the vast streams of the Mississippi and Illinois, and to endeavor to gain a greater knowledge of the interior of the continent. He took with him on this expedition his nephew, a worthy but impetuous youth, named Moranger, and about twenty men. This young man's haughty spirit excited a savage thirst of vengeance in the minds of his uncle's lawless followers; they watched their opportunity, and in a remote and dreary solitude in the depths of the new continent, La Salle and Moranger were both slain by their murderous hands. Thus sadly perished, in a nameless wilderness, one of the most daring and gifted among those wonderful men to whom the discovery of the New World had opened a field of glory. His temper was, doubtless, at times, violent and overbearing,[400] but he was dearly loved by his friends, respected by his dependents, and fondly revered by those among the Indians who came within his influence. His greatest difficulties arose from those who were placed under his command, abandoned and ungovernable men, the very refuse of society, and amenable to no laws, human or divine.

It has been already mentioned that La Salle had sent Dacan and Father Hennepin to explore the Mississippi, on his first return from the Illinois to Lake Michigan. They descended that great river almost to the sea; but their followers, becoming alarmed at the idea of falling into the hands of the Spaniards, compelled them to return without having perfected their expedition. They re-ascended the stream, and passed the mouths of the Illinois and Wisconsin, and even reached beyond those magnificent falls to which the adventurous priest has given the name of St. Anthony. Continual danger threatened these travelers, from the caprice or hostility of the Indians; they were held for a long time in a cruel captivity, forced to accompany their captors through the most difficult countries, at a pace of almost incredible rapidity, till, with their feet and limbs cut and bleeding, they were well-nigh incapable of moving any further. After some time Hennepin was adopted by a chief as his son, and treated with much kindness; when winter came on, however, and a great scarcity of provisions arose, the Indians, being unable any longer to support their captives, allowed them to depart. The father and his companions used this liberty to continue their explorations down the Mississippi. After many other perils and adventures, they at length met the Sieur de Luth, who commanded a party sent in search of them, and with further instructions to form a settlement on the Great River. Hennepin at first turned back with the sieur, but found so many obstacles and difficulties that he determined for the present to return to Canada.

The disasters attending the expeditions of La Salle and Hennepin for some time deterred others from venturing to explore the dangerous regions of the West, and the government totally neglected to occupy the splendid field which the adventure of those men had opened to French enterprise. It was left to the love of gain or glory, or the religious zeal of individuals, to continue the explorations of this savage but magnificent country. The Baron la Hontan was one of the first and most conspicuous of these dauntless travelers.[401] He had gone to Canada in early life with a view of retrieving the broken fortunes of his ancient family, and had obtained employment upon the lakes under the French government. While thus occupied, he became intimately acquainted with the life and customs of the savages, and, from his intercourse with them, formed the idea of penetrating into the interior of their country, where the white man's foot had never before trodden. His actual discoveries were probably not very important, and his record of them is confused and imperfect; but he was the first to learn the existence of the Rocky Mountains, and of that vast ocean which separates the western coast of North America from the continent of Asia.[402]

CHAPTER XIV.

An embittered disagreement between the governor general, Comte de Frontenac, and the intendant, M. de Cheneau, M. Talon's successor, rendered it necessary to recall both those officers from the colony. The French court attributed the greater share of blame to the governor, but the haughty and unbending disposition of the intendant was probably a principal cause of those untoward disputes. M. le Févre de la Barre and M. de Meules succeeded them in their respective offices, with special recommendation from the king to cultivate friendly relations with each other, and with M. de Blénac, the governor general of the French American islands.

New France had for many years remained in a state of great confusion, and had made but little progress in prosperity or population, and now the prospects of a disastrous war darkened the future of the colonists. Various causes had united to revive the hostility of the Iroquois, their ancient and powerful foes. Since New York had fallen into English hands, the savages found it more advantageous to carry their trade thither than to barter their furs with the privileged company of France. The falling off of commercial intercourse soon led to further alienation, which the death of an Iroquois chief by the hands of an Illinois, in the territory of the Ottawas, then allies of the white men, soon turned into open hostility. The Comte de Frontenac had failed in his attempts to negotiate with the savages; and on the arrival of his successor, an invasion of the colony was hourly expected. M. de la Barre at once perceived the dangerous state of affairs; he therefore summoned an assembly of all the leading men in the country, ecclesiastical, civil, and military, and demanded counsel from them in the emergency.

The assembly was of opinion that the Iroquois aimed at the monopoly of all the trade of Canada, by the instigation of the English and Dutch of New York, who were also supposed to incite them to enmity against the French, and that, consequently, those nations should be held hostile. It was also believed that the savages had only endeavored to gain time by their negotiations, while they either destroyed the tribes friendly to the colonists, or seduced them from their alliance. With this view they had already assailed the Illinois, and it was therefore the duty of the French to save that nation from this attack, whatever might be the cost or danger of the enterprise. For that purpose the colony could only furnish 1000 men; and to procure even this number, it was necessary that the labors of husbandry should be suspended. Re-enforcements of troops and a supply of laborers were therefore urgently required for the very existence of the settlements; and an earnest appeal for such assistance was forwarded to the king, as the result of the deliberations of the assembly. This application was immediately answered by the dispatch of 200 soldiers to New France, and by a remonstrance addressed to the King of Great Britain, who instructed Colonel Dongan, the English governor of New York, to encourage more friendly relations with his French neighbors.

While M. de la Barre pushed on his preparations for war against the Iroquois, he still kept up the hope of treating with them for peace in such a manner as not to forfeit the dignity of his position. In the mean time, however, he received intimation that a formidable expedition of 1500 warriors had assembled, ostensibly to wage war with the Illinois, but in reality for the destruction of the Miamis and Ottawas, both allies of the French. The governor promptly dispatched an envoy, who arrived at the village where the Iroquois had mustered on the evening of the day appointed for the beginning of their campaign. The envoy was received with dignity and kindness; and he succeeded in obtaining a promise that the expedition should be deferred, and that they would send deputies to Montreal to negotiate with the French chief. But the wily savages had promised only to deceive; and in the month of May following, the governor received intelligence that 700 of these fierce warriors were on their march to attack his Miami and Ottawa allies, while another force was prepared to assail the settlements of the French themselves. He attributed these dangerous hostilities to the instigation of the English.

The governor made urgent representations to the minister at home as to the necessity of crushing two of the Iroquois tribes, the most hostile and the most powerful. For this purpose, he demanded that a re-enforcement of 400 men should be sent to him from France as soon as possible, and that an order should be obtained from the Duke of York, to whom New York then belonged, to prevent the English from interfering with or thwarting the expedition.

The Iroquois found the free trade with the English and Dutch more advantageous than that with the French, which was paralyzed by an injudicious monopoly; but they were still unwilling to come to an open rupture with their powerful neighbors. They therefore sent deputies to Montreal to make great but vague professions of attachment and good will. For many reasons, De la Barre placed but little confidence in these addresses: their object was obviously to gain time, and to throw the French off their guard. He, however, received the deputies with great distinction, and sent them back enriched with presents. But a few months after this, however, a small detachment of Frenchmen was assailed by the Iroquois, and plundered of merchandise which they were bearing to traffic with the Illinois.

After this flagrant outrage, nothing remained for M. de la Barre but war. He had received intelligence that the Iroquois were making great preparations for an onslaught upon the French settlements, and that they had sent embassadors to the Indians of the south for the purpose of insuring peace in that quarter, while they threw all their power into the struggle with the hated pale faces. The governor promptly determined to adopt the bolder but safer course of striking the first blow, and making the cantons of his savage enemies the field of battle. As yet, few and small were the aids he had received from France, and a considerable time must elapse ere the further supplies he anticipated could arrive: he was, therefore, unwillingly compelled to avail himself of the assistance of his Indian allies. The native tribes dwelling around the shores of Lake Michigan entertained a deep and ancient jealousy of the powerful confederacy of the Iroquois or Five Nations, who aspired to universal dominion over the Northern Continent; they, therefore, held themselves equally interested with the French in the destruction of those formidable warriors. M. de la Durantaye, who commanded the fort on the far-distant shores of Lake Michigan, announced to his Indian neighbors that his countrymen were about to march against the Iroquois, and requested that all the native warriors friendly to the white men should meet them in the middle of August at Niagara. He was not, however, very successful in making levies, and with difficulty led 500 warriors to the place of meeting, where, to his dismay, he found that the French had not arrived: his followers were not easily reconciled to this disappointment.

In the mean time, M. de la Barre had, on the 9th of July, 1683, marched from Quebec to Montreal, where he appointed the troops to assemble for the expedition. No precautions to insure success were neglected. He dispatched a message to the English governor of New York to invite him to join in the attack, or, at least, to secure his neutrality. He also sent belts and presents to three of the Iroquois tribes, to induce them to refrain from joining in the quarrel of those among their confederates who alone had injured him and his nation. He arrived at Montreal on the 21st, with 700 Canadians, 130 soldiers, and 200 Indians: his force was organized in three divisions. After a brief stay he continued his march westward.

The governor had not proceeded far when he received intelligence that the other Iroquois tribes had obliged the Tsonnonthouans, his especial enemies, to accept of their mediation with the French, and that they demanded the Sieur le Moyne, in whom they placed much confidence, to conduct the negotiation. At the same time, he learned that the tribe he proposed to assail had put all their provisions into a place of security, and were prepared for a protracted and harassing resistance. His appeals both to the remaining Iroquois tribes and to the English had also failed, for the former would assuredly make common cause against him in case of his refusing their mediation, and the latter had actually offered to aid his enemies with 400 horse, and a like force of infantry. Influenced by these untoward circumstances, he dispatched M. le Moyne to treat, and agreed to await the Iroquois deputies on the shores of Lake Ontario. In the mean time, M. de la Barre and his army underwent great privations from the scarcity and bad quality of their provisions; they could with difficulty hold their ground till the arrival of the savages, and such was their extremity that the name of the Bay of Famine was given to the scene of their sufferings.

The savage deputies met the French chief with great dignity, and, well aware of the advantage given them by the starvation and sickness of the white men, carried their negotiations with a high hand. They guaranteed that the Tsonnonthouans should make reparation, for the injuries inflicted on the French, but at the same time insisted that the governor and his army should retire the very next day. With this ignoble stipulation M. de la Barre was fain to agree. On his return to Quebec, he found, to his chagrin, that considerable re-enforcements had just arrived from France, which would have enabled him to dictate instead of submitting to dictation. The new detachment was commanded by MM. Monterlier and Desnos, captains of marine, who were commissioned by the king to proceed to the most advanced and important posts, and to act independently of the governor's authority. They were further instructed to capture as many of the Iroquois as possible, and to send them to France to labor in the galleys. In this same year the Chevalier de Callières, an officer of great merit, was sent from France to assume the duties of governor of the Montreal district, as successor to M. Perrot, who had embroiled himself with the members of the powerful Order of St. Sulpicius.

In the year 1685, the Marquis de Dénonville arrived at Quebec as governor general in succession to M. de la Barre, whose advanced age and failing health unfitted him for the arduous duties of the office. The new governor was selected by the king for his known valor and prudence; a re-enforcement of troops was placed at his disposal, and it was determined to spare no effort to establish the colony in security and peace. Dénonville lost not a moment in proceeding to the advanced posts on the lakes, and, at the same time, he devoted himself to a diligent study of the affairs of Canada and the character of the Indians. His keen perception promptly discovered the impossibility of the Iroquois being reconciled and assimilated to the French, and he at once saw the necessity of extirpating, or at least thoroughly humbling, these haughty savages. But beyond the present dangers and difficulties of Indian hostility, this clear-sighted politician discerned the far more formidable evils that threatened the power of his country from the advancing encroachments of the hardy traders and fearless adventurers of the English colonies. He urged upon the king the advantage of building and garrisoning a fort at Niagara to exclude the British from the traffic of the lakes, and interrupt their communications with the Iroquois, and also to check the desertion of the French, who usually escaped by that route, and transferred the benefits of their experience and knowledge of the country to the rival colonies. The Northwest Company of merchants at Quebec earnestly desired this establishment, and engaged to pay an annual rent of 30,000 livres to the crown for the privilege of exclusive trade at the proposed station.

The suspicions of the Marquis de Dénonville as to English encroachments were soon confirmed. He received a letter from the governor of New York, dated 29th of May, 1686, demanding explanations of the preparations which were being made against the Iroquois—the subjects of England—as any attack upon them would be a breach of the peace then existing between England and France. The British governor also expressed surprise that the French should contemplate erecting a fort at Niagara, "because it should be known in Canada that all that country was a dependency of New York." M. de Dénonville, in reply, denied the pretensions of the English to sovereignty in New France, and pointed out the impropriety of hostile communications between inferiors, while the kings whom they served remained on amicable terms. He rendered, however, some sort of evasive explanation on the subject of his preparations against the Iroquois.

The following year the governor general received from the court the notification of a most important agreement between England and France, that, "notwithstanding any rupture between the mother countries, the colonies on the American continent should remain at peace." Unfortunately, however, the force of national prejudice, and the clashing of mutual interests, rendered this wise and enlightened provision totally fruitless.

In the summer of 1687, M. de Dénonville marched toward Lake Ontario with a force of 2000 French and 600 Indians, having already received all the supplies and re-enforcements which he had expected from France. His first act of aggression was one that no casuistry can excuse, no necessity justify—one alike dishonorable and impolitic. He employed two missionaries, men of influence among the savages, to induce the principal Iroquois chiefs to meet him at the fort of Cataracouy, under various pretenses; he there treacherously seized the unsuspecting savages, and instantly dispatched them to Quebec, with orders that they should be forwarded to France to labor in the galleys. The missionaries who had been instrumental in bringing the native chiefs into this unworthy snare were altogether innocent of participation in the outrage, never for a moment doubting the honorable intentions of their countrymen toward the Indian deputies. One, who dwelt among the Onneyouths, was immediately seized by the exasperated tribe, and condemned to expiate the treachery of his nation, and his own supposed guilt, in the flames. He was, however, saved at the last moment by the intervention of an Indian matron, who adopted him as her son. The other—Lamberville by name—was held in great esteem among the Onnontagués, to whose instruction he had devoted himself. On the first accounts of the outrage at Cataracouy, the ancients assembled and called the missionary before them. They then declared their deep indignation at the wrong which they had suffered; but, at the moment when their prisoner expected to feel the terrible effects of their wrath, a chief arose, and with a noble dignity addressed him:

"Thou art now our enemy—thou and thy race. We have held counsel, and can not resolve to treat thee as an enemy. We know thy heart had no share in this treason, though thou wert its tool. We are not unjust; we will not punish thee, being innocent, and hating the crime as much as we do ourselves. But depart from among us; there are some who might seek thy blood; and when our young men sing the war-song, we may be no longer able to protect thee." The magnanimous savages then furnished him with guides, who were enjoined to convey him to a place of safety.

M. de Dénonville halted for some time at Cataracouy, and sent orders to the commanders of the distant western posts to meet him on the 10th of July at the River Des Sables, to the eastward of the country of the Tsonnonthouans, against whom they were first to act. The governor marched upon this point with his army, and, by an accident of favorable presage, he and the other detachments arrived at the same time. They immediately constructed an intrenchment, defended by palisades, in a commanding situation over the river, where their stores and provisions were safely deposited. M. d'Orvilliers, with a force of 400 men, was left for the protection of this dépôt, and to insure the rear of the advancing army.

On the 13th the French pushed into the hostile country, and passed two deep and dangerous defiles without opposition, but at a third they were suddenly assailed by 800 of the Iroquois, who, after the first volley, dispatched 200 of their number to outflank the invaders, while they continued the front attack with persevering courage. The French were at first thrown into some confusion by this fierce and unexpected onslaught; but the allied savages, accustomed to the forest warfare, boldly held their ground, and effectually covered the rallying of the troops. The Iroquois, having failed in overpowering their enemies by surprise, and conscious of their inferiority in numbers and arms, after a time broke their array and dispersed among the woods. The French lost five men killed and twenty wounded; the Iroquois suffered far more—forty-five were left dead upon the field, and sixty more disabled in the conflict. The Ottawas, serving under M. de Dénonville, who had been by no means forward in the strife, with savage ferocity mangled and devoured the bodies of the slain. The Hurons, and the Iroquois Christians following the French standard, fought with determined bravery.

The army encamped in one of the four great villages of the Tsonnonthouans, about eight leagues from the fort at the River Des Sables: they found it totally deserted by the inhabitants, and left it in ashes. For ten days they marched through the dense forest with great hardship and difficulty, and met with no traces of the enemy, but they marked their progress with ruin: they burned about 400,000 bushels of corn, and destroyed a vast number of hogs. The general, fearing that his savage allies would desert him if he continued longer in the field, was then constrained to limit his enterprise. He, however, took this opportunity of erecting a fort at Niagara, and left the Chevalier de la Troye with 100 men in garrison. Unfortunately, a deadly malady soon after nearly destroyed the detachment, and the post was abandoned and dismantled. The constant and harassing enmity of the savages combined with the bad state of the provisions left in the fort, to render the disease which had broken out so fatal in its results.

The French had erected a fort called Chambly,[403] in a strong position on the left bank of the important River Richelieu.[404] This little stronghold effectually commanded the navigation of the stream, and through it, the communication between Lake Champlain and the southern districts with the waters of the St. Lawrence. On the 13th of November, 1687, a formidable party of the Iroquois suddenly attacked the fort; the little garrison made a stout defense, and the assailants abandoned the field with the morning light; the settlement which had grown up in the neighborhood was, however, ravaged by the fierce Indians, and several of the inhabitants carried away into captivity. The French attributed this unexpected invasion to the instigation of their English neighbors, and it would appear with reason, for, on the failure of the assault, the governor of New York put his nearest town into a state of defense, as if in expectation of reprisals.

In this same year there fell upon Canada an evil more severe than Indian aggression or English hostility. Toward the end of the summer a deadly malady visited the colony, and carried mourning into almost every household. So great was the mortality, that M. de Dénonville was constrained to abandon, or rather defer, his project of humbling the pride and power of the Tsonnonthouans. He had also reason to doubt the faith of his Indian allies; even the Hurons of the far West, who had fought so stoutly by his side on the shores of Lake Ontario, were discovered to have been at the time in treacherous correspondence with the Iroquois.

While doubt and disease paralyzed the power of the French, their dangerous enemies were not idle. Twelve hundred Iroquois warriors assembled at Lake St. Francis, within two days' march of Montreal, and haughtily demanded audience of the governor, which was immediately granted. Their orator proclaimed the power of his race and the weakness of the white men with all the emphasis and striking illustration of Indian eloquence. He offered peace on terms proposed by the governor of New York, but only allowed the French four days for deliberation.

This high-handed diplomacy was backed by formidable demonstrations. The whole country west of the River Sorel, or Richelieu, was occupied by a savage host, and the distant fort of Cataracouy, on the Ontario shore, was with difficulty held against 800 Iroquois, who had burned the farm stores with flaming arrows, and slain the cattle of the settlers. The French bowed before the storm they could not resist, and peace was concluded on conditions that war should cease in the land, and all the allies should share in the blessings of repose. M. de Dénonville further agreed to restore the Indian chiefs who had been so treacherously torn from their native wilds, and sent to labor in the galleys of France.

But, in the mean time, some of the savage allies, disdaining the peaceful conclusions of negotiation, waged a merciless war. The Abenaquis, always the fiercest foes of the Iroquois confederacy, took the field while yet the conferences pended, and fell suddenly upon the enemy by the banks of the Sorel. They left death behind them on their path, and pushed on even into the English settlements, where they slew some of the defenseless inhabitants, and carried away their scalps in savage triumph. On the other hand, the Iroquois of the Rapids of St. Louis and the Mountain, made a deadly raid into the invaders' territories.

The Hurons of Michillimakinack were those among the French allies who most dreaded the conclusion of a treaty of which they feared to become the first victims. Through the extraordinary machinations and cunning of their chief, Kondiaronk, or the Rat, they continued to reawaken the suspicions of the Iroquois against the French, and again strove to stir up the desolating flames of war.

In the midst of these renewed difficulties M. de Dénonville was recalled to Europe, his valuable services being required in the armies of his king. In colonial administration he had shown an ardent zeal for the interests of the sovereign and the country under his charge, and his plans for the improvement of Canada were just, sound, and comprehensive, but he was deficient in tenacity of purpose, and not fortunate or judicious in the selection of those who enjoyed his confidence. His otherwise honorable and useful career can, however, never be cleansed from the fatal blot of one dark act of treachery. From the day when that evil deed was done, the rude but magnanimous Indian scorned as a broken reed the sullied honor of the French.

The Comte de Frontenac was once again selected for the important post of governor of New France, and arrived at Montreal on the 27th of October, 1689, where his predecessor handed over the arduous duties of office. The state of New France was such as to demand the highest qualities in the man to whose rule it was intrusted: trade languished, agriculture was interrupted by savage aggression, and the very existence of the colony threatened by the growing power of the formidable Iroquois confederacy. At the same time, a plan for the reduction of New York was being organized in Paris, which would inevitably call for the co-operation of the colonial subjects of France, and, in the event of failure, leave them to bear the brunt of the dangerous quarrel. M. de Frontenac was happily selected in this time of need.

Impelled by the treacherous machinations of the Huron chief Kondiaronk, the Iroquois approached the colony in very different guise from that expected. While M. de Dénonville remained in daily hopes of receiving a deputation of ten or twelve of the Indians to treat for peace, he was astounded by the sudden descent of 1200 warriors upon the island of Montreal.[405] Terrible indeed was the devastation they caused; blood and ashes marked their path to within three leagues of the territory, where they blockaded two forts, after having burned the neighboring houses. A small force of 100 soldiers and 50 Indians, imprudently sent against these fierce marauders, was instantly overpowered, and taken or destroyed. When the work of destruction was completed, the Iroquois re-embarked for the Western lakes, their canoes laden with plunder, and 200 prisoners in their train.

This disastrous incursion filled the French with panic and astonishment. They at once blew up the forts of Cataracouy and Niagara, burned two vessels built under their protection, and altogether abandoned the shores of the Western lakes. The year was not, however, equally unfortunate in all parts of New France. While the island of Montreal was swept by the storm of savage invasion, M. d'Iberville supported in the north the cause of his country, and the warlike Abenaquis avenged upon the English settlers the evils which their Iroquois allies had inflicted upon, Canada. Upon his arrival, the Comte de Frontenac determined to restore the falling fortunes of his people by means of his great personal influence among the triumphant Iroquois, backed as he was with the presence of those prisoners who had been so treacherously seized by his predecessor, but whose entire confidence and good-will he had acquired while bringing them back to their native country. A chief named Oureouharé, the most distinguished among the captives, undertook to negotiate with his countrymen—a duty which was performed more honestly than efficiently: an exchange of prisoners took place, but nothing further was accomplished.

The Northern Indians, allies of the French, had long desired to share the benefits of English commerce with the Iroquois; it had, however, been the policy of the Canadian government to keep these red tribes continually at war, with the view of interrupting the communications of traffic through their country. But the allied savages soon began to see the necessity of making peace with the Iroquois, in order to establish relations with the traders of the British settlements. With this view the Ottawas sent embassadors to the cantons of the Five Nations, restoring the prisoners captured in the war, and proffering peace and amity. The agents and missionaries of the French strongly remonstrated against these proceedings, but in vain; their former allies replied by insulting declarations of independence, and contemptuous scoffs at their want of power and courage to meet the enemy in the field; their commerce, too, was spoken of as unjust, injurious, and inferior to that of the English, of which they had endeavored to deprive those whom they could not protect in war; the French were also accused of endeavoring to shelter themselves under a dishonorable treaty, regardless of the safety and interests of the Indians who had fought and bled in their cause.

When M. de Frontenac became aware of this formidable disaffection, he boldly determined to strike a blow at the English power that should restore the military character of France among the savages, and deprive the recreant Indians of their expected succor. He therefore organized three expeditions to invade the British settlements by different avenues. The first, consisting of 110 men, marched from Montreal, destined for New York, but only resulted in the surprise and destruction of the village of Corlar,[407] or Schenectady, and the massacre and capture of some of the inhabitants. They retreated at noon the following day, bearing with them forty prisoners; after much suffering from want of provisions, they were obliged to separate into small parties, when they were attacked by their exasperated enemies, and sustained some loss. Many would have perished from hunger in this retreat, but that they found a resource in living upon horse flesh: their cavalry, from fifty, was reduced to six by the time they regained the shelter of Montreal.

The second invading division was mustered at Three Rivers, and only numbered fifty men, half being Indians. They reached an English settlement, called Sementels (Salmon Falls), after a long and difficult march and succeeded in surprising and destroying the village, with most of its defenders. In their retreat they were sharply attacked, but succeeded in escaping, through the aid of an advantageous post, which enabled them to check the pursuers at a narrow bridge. They soon after fell in with M. de Mamerval, governor of Acadia, with the third party, and, thus re-enforced, assailed the fortified village of Kaskebé upon the sea-coast, which surrendered after a heavy loss of the defenders.

To regain the confidence of his Indian allies, M. de Frontenac saw the necessity of rendering them independent of English commerce, and safe from the hostility of the Iroquois. To accomplish these objects, he dispatched a large convoy to the west, escorted by 143 men, and bearing presents to the savage chiefs. On the way they encountered a party of the Five Nations, and defeated them after a sanguinary engagement.

All these vigorous measures produced a marked effect: the convoy arrived at Michillimackinack at the time when the embassadors of the French allies were on the point of departing to conclude a treaty with the Iroquois. When, however, the strength of the detachment was seen, and the valuable presents and merchandise were displayed, the French interests again revived with the politic savages, and they hastened to give proofs of their renewed attachment: 110 canoes, bearing furs to the value of 100,000 crowns, and manned by 300 Indians, were dispatched soon after for Montreal, to be laid before the governor general. He dismissed the escort with presents, and exhorted them and their nation to join with him in humbling their mutual and deadly foe. They departed well pleased with their reception, and renewed professions of friendship for the French.

In the mean time the terrible war-cry of the Iroquois was never silent in the Canadian settlements. Bands of these fierce and merciless warriors suddenly emerged from the dense forests when least expected, and burst upon isolated posts and villages with more or less success, but always with great loss of life to the assailants and assailed,[408] and with great destruction of the fruits of industry. These disastrous events caused much disquietude to the governor. He called to his counsels the Iroquois chief Oureouharé, who still remained attached to him by the closest bonds of friendship and esteem, and complained of the bitter hostility of his nation: "You must either not be a true friend," said M. de Frontenac, "or you must be powerless in your nation, to permit them to wage this bitter war against me." The generous chief was mortified at this discourse, and answered that his remaining with the French, instead of returning to his own hunting grounds, where he was ardently beloved, was a proof of his fidelity, and that he was ready to do any thing that might be required of him, but that it would certainly need time and the course of circumstances to allay the fury of his people against those who had treacherously injured them. The governor could not but acknowledge the justice of Oureouharé's reply; he gave him new marks of esteem and friendship, and determined more than before to confide in this wise and important ally.[409]

But now the greatest danger that had ever yet menaced the power of France upon the American continent hung over the Canadian shores. The men of New England were at last aroused to activity by the constant inroads and cruel depredations of their northern neighbors, and in April, 1690, dispatched a small squadron from Boston, which took possession of Port Royal and all the province of Acadia. In a month the expedition returned, with sufficient plunder to repay its cost. Meanwhile the British settlers deputed six commissioners to meet at New York in council for their defense. On the first of May, 1690, these deputies assembled, and promptly determined to set an expedition on foot for the invasion of Canada. Levies of 800 men were ordered for the purpose, the contingents of the several states fixed, and general rules appointed for the organization of their army. A fast-sailing vessel was dispatched to England with strong representations of the defenseless state of the British colonies, and with an earnest appeal for aid in the projected invasion of New France; they desired that ammunition and other warlike stores might be supplied to their militia for the attempt by land, and that a fleet of English frigates should be directed up the River St. Lawrence to co-operate with the colonial force. But at that time England was still too much weakened by the unhealed wounds of domestic strife to afford any assistance to her American children, and they were thrown altogether on their own resources.

New York and New England boldly determined, unaided, to prosecute their original plans against Canada. General Winthrop, with 800 men, was marched by the way of Lake Champlain, on the shores of which he was to have met 500 of the Iroquois warriors; but, through some unaccountable jealousy, only a small portion of the politic savages came to the place of muster. Other disappointments also combined to paralyze the British force: the Indians had failed to provide more than half the number of canoes necessary for the transport of the troops across the lake, and the contractor of the army had imprudently neglected to supply sufficient provisions. No alternative remained for Winthrop but to fall back upon Albany for subsistence.

In the mean time, Major Schuyler, who had before crossed Lake Champlain with a smaller British force, pushed on against the French post of La Prairie de la Madeleine, and attacked it with spirit. He soon overcame the handful of Canadian militia and Indians who formed the garrison, and compelled them to fall back upon Chambly, a fort further to the north. Having met M. de Sanermes and a considerable force advancing to their relief, they turned and faced their pursuers. Schuyler rashly ventured to attack this now superior enemy; he was soon forced to retire, with the loss of nearly thirty men. The French, however, suffered much more severely in this affair, no less than thirteen officers and nearly seventy of their men having been killed and wounded.

The naval expedition against Quebec was assembled in Nantasket Road, near Boston, and consisted of thirty-five vessels of various size, the largest being a 44-gun frigate. Nearly 2000 troops were embarked in this squadron, and the chief command was confided by the people of New England to their distinguished countryman, Sir William Phipps, a man of humble birth, whose own genius and merit had won for him honor, power, and universal esteem. The direction of the fleet was given to Captain Gregory Sugars. The necessary preparations were not completed, and the fleet did not get under way till the season was far advanced; contrary winds caused a still further delay; however, several French posts on the shores of Newfoundland and of the Lower St. Lawrence were captured without opposition, and the British force arrived at Tadoussac, on the Saguenay, before authentic tidings of the approaching danger had reached Quebec.

When the brave old Frontenac learned from his scouts that Winthrop's corps had retreated, and that Canada was no longer threatened by an enemy from the landward side, he hastened to the post of honor at Quebec, while by his orders M. de Ramsey and M. de Callières assembled the hardy militia of Three Rivers and the adjoining settlements to re-enforce him with all possible dispatch. The governor found that Major Provost, who commanded at Quebec before his arrival, had made vigorous preparation to receive the invaders;[410] it was only necessary, therefore, to continue the works, and confirm the orders given by his worthy deputy. A party, under the command of M. de Longueuil, was sent down the river to observe the motions of the British, and, if possible, to prevent their landing. At the same time, two canoes were dispatched by the shallow channel north of the island of Orleans to seek for some ships with supplies, which were daily expected from France, and to warn them of the presence of the hostile fleet.

The Comte de Frontenac continued the preparations for defense with unwearied industry. The regular soldiers and militia were alike constantly employed upon the works, till in a short time Quebec was tolerably secure from the chances of a sudden assault. Lines of strong palisades, here and there armed with small batteries, were formed round the crown of the lofty headland, and the gates of the city were barricaded with massive beams of timber and casks filled with earth. A number of cannon were mounted on advantageous positions, and a large wind-mill of solid masonry was fitted up as a cavalier. The lower town was protected by two batteries each of three guns, and the streets leading up the steep, rocky face of the height were embarrassed with several intrenchments and rows of "chevaux de frise." Subsequently during the siege two other batteries were erected a little above the level of the river. The commanding natural position of the stronghold, however, offered far more serious obstacles to the assailants than the hasty and imperfect fortifications.

At daylight on the 5th of October the white sails of the British fleet were seen rounding the headland of Point Levi, and crowding to the northern shore of the river, near the village of Beauport; at about ten o'clock they dropped anchor, lowered their canvas, and swung round with the receding tide. There they remained inactive till the following morning. On the 6th, Sir William Phipps sent a haughty summons to the French chief, demanding an unconditional surrender in the name of King William of England, and concluding with this imperious sentence: "Your answer positive in an hour, returned with your own trumpet, with the return of mine, is required upon the peril that will ensue."

The British officer who bore the summons was led blind-fold through the town, and ushered into the presence of Comte Frontenac in the council-room of the castle of Quebec. The bishop, the intendant, and all the principal officers of the government surrounded the proud old noble. "Read your message," said he. The Englishman read on, and when he had finished, laid his watch upon the table with these words: "It is now ten; I await your answer for one hour." The council started from their seats, surprised out of their dignity by a burst of sudden anger. The comte paused for a time ere he could restrain his rage sufficiently to speak, and then replied, "I do not acknowledge King William, and I well know that the Prince of Orange is a usurper, who has violated the most sacred rights of blood and religion ... who wishes to persuade the nation that he is the saviour of England and the defender of the faith, though he has violated the laws and privileges of the kingdom, and overturned the Church of England: this conduct, the Divine Justice to which Phipps appeals will one day severely punish."

The British officer, unmoved by the storm of indignation which his message had aroused, desired that this fierce reply should be rendered to him in writing for the satisfaction of his chief. "I will answer your master by the mouth of my cannon," replied the angry Frenchman, "that he may learn that a man of my rank is not to be summoned in this manner." Thus ended the laconic conference.

On the return of the messenger, Sir William Phipps called a council of war: it was determined at once to attack the city. At noon, on the 8th, 1300 men were embarked in the boats of the squadron, under the command of Major Walley, and landed without opposition at La Canardière, a little to the east of the River St. Charles. While the main body was being formed on the muddy shore, four companies pushed on toward the town, in skirmishing order, to clear the front; they had scarcely begun the ascent of the sloping banks when a sharp fire was poured upon them by 300 of the Canadian militia, posted among the rocks and bushes on either flank, and in a small hamlet to the right. Some of the British winced under this unexpected volley, fired, and fell back; but the officers, with prompt resolution, gave the order to charge, and themselves gallantly led the way; the soldiers followed at a rapid pace, and speedily cleared the ground. Major Walley then advanced with his whole force to the St. Charles River, still, however, severely harassed by dropping shots from the active light troops of the French: there he bivouacked for the night, while the enemy retreated into the garrison.

Toward evening of the same day the four largest vessels of Phipps's squadron moved boldly up the river, and anchored close against the town. They opened a spirited but ineffectual fire; their shot, directed principally against the lofty eminence of the Upper Town, fell almost harmless, while a vigorous cannonade from the numerous guns of the fortress replied with overwhelming power. When night interrupted the strife, the British ships had suffered severely, their rigging was torn by the hostile shot, and the crews had lost many of their best men. By the first light of morning, however, Phipps renewed the action with pertinacious courage, but with no better success. About noon the contest became evidently hopeless to the stubborn assailants; they weighed anchor, and, with the receding tide, floated their crippled vessels down the stream, beyond the reach of the enemy's fire.[411]

The British troops, under Major Walley, although placed in battle array at daylight, remained inactive, through some unaccountable delay, while the enemy's attention was diverted by the combat with Phipps's squadron. At length, about noon, they moved upon the formidable stronghold along the left bank of the River St. Charles. Some allied savages plunged into the bush in front to clear the advance, a line of skirmishers protected either flank, and six field-pieces accompanied the march of the main body. After having proceeded for some time without molestation, they were suddenly and fiercely assailed by 200 Canadian volunteers under M. de Longueuil; the Indians were at once swept away, the skirmishers overpowered, and the British column itself was forced back by their gallant charge. Walley, however, drew up his reserve in some brushwood a little in the rear, and finally compelled the enemy to retreat. During this smart action, M. de Frontenac, with three battalions, placed himself upon the opposite bank of the river, in support of the volunteers, but showed no disposition to cross the stream. That night, the English troops, harassed, depressed, diminished in numbers, and scantily supplied, again bivouacked upon the marshy banks of the stream: a severe frost, for which they were but ill prepared, chilled the weary limbs of the soldiers and enhanced their sufferings.

On the 10th, Walley once more advanced upon the French positions, in the hope of breaching their palisades by the fire of his field pieces; but this attempt was altogether unsuccessful. His flanking parties fell into ambuscades, and were very severely handled, and his main body was checked and finally repulsed by a heavy fire from a fortified house on a commanding position which he had ventured to attack. Utterly dispirited by this failure, the British fell back in some confusion to the landing-place, yielding up in one hour what they had so hardly won. That night many of the soldiers strove to force their way into the boats, and order was with great difficulty restored; the next day they were harassed by a continual skirmish. Had it not been for the gallant conduct of "Captain March, who had a good company, and made the enemy give back," the confusion would probably have been irretrievable. When darkness put an end to the fire on both sides, the English troops received orders to embark in the boats, half a regiment at a time. But all order was soon lost; four times as many as the boats could sustain crowded down at once to the beach, rushed into the water, and pressed on board. The sailors were even forced to throw some of these panic-stricken men into the river, lest all should sink together. The noise and confusion increased every moment, despite the utmost exertions of the officers, and daylight had nearly revealed the dangerous posture of affairs before the embarkation was completed. The guns were abandoned, with some valuable stores and ammunition. Had the French displayed, in following up their advantages, any portion of the energy and skill which had been so conspicuous in their successful defense, the British detachment must infallibly have been either captured or totally destroyed.

Sir William Phipps, having failed by sea and land, resolved to withdraw from the disastrous conflict. After several ineffectual attempts to recover the guns and stores which Major Walley had been forced to abandon, he weighed anchor and descended the St. Lawrence to a place about nine miles distant from Quebec, whence he sent to the Comte de Frontenac to negotiate for an exchange of prisoners. Humbled and disappointed, damaged in fortune and reputation, the English chief sailed from the scene of his defeat; but misfortune had not yet ceased to follow him, for he left the shattered wrecks of no less than nine of his ships among the dangerous shoals of the St. Lawrence. The government of Massachusetts was dismayed at the disastrous news of which Phipps was himself the bearer. He arrived at Boston on the 19th of November, with the remains of his fleet and army, his ships damaged and weather beaten, and his men almost in a state of mutiny from having received no pay. In these straits the colonial government found it impracticable to raise money, and resorted to "bills of credit," the first paper money which had ever been issued on the American continent.

Great indeed was the joy and triumph of the French when the British fleet disappeared from the beautiful basin of Quebec. With a proud heart the gallant old Comte de Frontenac penned the dispatch which told his royal master of the victory. He failed not to dwell upon the distinguished merit of the colonial militia, by whose loyalty and courage the arms of France had been crowned with success. In grateful memory of this brave defense, the French king caused a medal to be struck, bearing the inscription, "FRANCIA IN NOVO ORBE VICTRIX: KEBECA LIBERATA.—A.D., M.D.C.X.C." In the lower town a church was built by the inhabitants to celebrate their deliverance from the British invaders, and dedicated to "Nôtre Dame de la Victoire."

On the 12th of November, the vessels, long expected from France, arrived in safety at Quebec, having escaped the observation of the English fleet by ascending for some distance the land-locked waters of the Saguenay. Their presence, however, only tended to increase a scarcity then pressing upon the colony, the labor of the fields in the preceding spring having been greatly interrupted by the harassing incursions of the Iroquois. The troops were distributed into those parts of the country where supplies could most easily be obtained, and were cheerfully received by those who had through their valor been protected from the hated dominion of the stranger.

CHAPTER XV.

In May, 1691, the Iroquois, to the number of about 1000 warriors, again poured down upon the settlements near Montreal, and marked their course with massacre and ruin. Other bands, less numerous, spread themselves over the fertile and beautiful banks of the Richelieu River, burning the happy homesteads and rich store-yards of the settlers. At length, the Sieur de la Mine, with a detachment of militia, surprised a party of these fierce marauders at Saint Sulpice, and slew them without mercy. Twelve of the Iroquois escaped into a ruinous house, where they held out for a time with courage and success; but the French set fire to the building, and they were obliged to abandon it: some were killed in their efforts to escape, but five fell alive into the hands of their exasperated enemies, and were burned, with a savage cruelty such as they themselves would have exhibited.

Intelligence now arrived that a formidable force of English, Iroquois, and Mahingan Indians were advancing upon Montreal by the River Richelieu or Sorel; 800 men led by the Chevalier de Callières, were sent to oppose their progress, and encamped on the Prairie de la Madeleine,[412] by the borders of the St. Lawrence. Before daylight, the following morning, the invaders carried an important position by surprise, slaying several of the defenders, and finally retreated in good order and with little loss. On falling back into the woods, they met and destroyed a small French detachment, and boldly faced a more considerable force under M. de Valrenes. For an hour and half these formidable warriors withstood the fire, and repelled the charges of the Canadian troops; but at length they were overpowered and dispersed, not, however, before inflicting a loss of no less than 120 men upon their conquerors. An Englishman captured in the engagement declared that the invaders had purposed to destroy the harvest, which would have reduced the colony to the last extremity. The design, in a great measure, failed, and an abundant crop repaid the industry and successful courage of the French.

At the first news of this alarming inroad, M. de Frontenac hastened to the post of danger, but tranquillity had already been restored, and the toils of the husbandman were again plied upon the scene of strife. At Montreal he found a dispatch from the governor of New England, proposing an exchange of prisoners and a treaty of neutrality with Canada, notwithstanding the war then carried on between the mother countries. The Canadian governor mistrusted the sincerity of the English proposals, and they were not productive of any result. During the remainder of the year the Iroquois continued to disturb the repose of the colony by frequent and mischievous irruptions, and many valuable lives were lost in repelling those implacable savages.

The war continued with checkered results and heavy losses on both sides in the two following years. An invasion of the canton of the Agniers, by the French, was at first successful, but in the retreat the colonists suffered great privation, and most of their prisoners escaped, while any of their number that strayed or fell in the rear were immediately cut off by their fierce pursuers. The fur trade was also much injured by these long-continued hostilities, for the vigilant enmity of the Iroquois closed up the communication with the Western country by the waters of the St. Lawrence and its magnificent tributaries.

We have seen that for a long period the history of the colony is a mere chronicle of savage and resultless combats, and treacherous truces between the French and the formidable Iroquois confederacy. This almost perpetual warfare gave a preponderance to the military interests among the settlers, not a little injurious to their advance in material prosperity. The Comte de Frontenac had, by his vigorous administration, and haughty and unbending character, rendered himself alike respected and feared by his allies and enemies. But, while all acknowledged his courage and ability, his system of internal government bore upon the civil inhabitants with almost intolerable severity; upon them fell all the burden and labor of the wars; they were ruined by unprofitable toil, while the soldiers worked the lands for the benefit of the military officers whom he desired to conciliate. He also countenanced, or at least tolerated, the fatal trade in spirituous liquors, which his authority alone could have suppressed. Owing to these causes, the colony made but little progress, commerce languished, and depression and discontent fell upon the hearts of the Canadian people.

In the year 1695, M. de Frontenac re-established the fort of Catarocouy, despite the universal disapprobation of the settlers and the positive commands of the king. The object was, however, happily and ably accomplished by M. de Crisasy in a very short time, and without the loss of a man. This brave and active officer made good use of his powerful position. He dispatched scouts in all directions, and, by a judicious arrangement of his small forces, checked the hostilities of the Iroquois upon the Canadian settlements.

The Sieur de Révérin, a man of enlightened and enterprising mind, had long desired to develop the resources of the Canadian waters, and in 1697 at length succeeded in associating several merchants with himself, and establishing a fishery at the harbor of Mount Louis, among the mountains of Nôtre Dame, half way between Quebec and the extremity of the Gulf of St. Lawrence on the southern side. The situation was well chosen, the neighboring soil fertile, and the waters abounded in fish. But, where nature had provided every thing that industry could require, the hand of man interfered to counteract her bounty. The hostility of the English embarrassed the infant settlement and alarmed its founders. Despite of these difficulties, a plentiful harvest and successful fishing at first rewarded the adventurers; subsequently, however, they were less fortunate, and the place was for some time neglected and almost forgotten.[413]

Louis de Buade, comte de Frontenac, died in the seventy-eighth year of his age, 1698, having to the last preserved that astonishing energy of character which had enabled him to overcome the difficulties and dangers of his adventurous career. He died as he had lived, beloved by many, respected by all; with the unaided resources of his own strong mind, he had preserved the power of France on the American continent undiminished, if not increased, through years of famine, disaster, and depression. He loved patronage and power, but disdained the considerations of selfish interest. It must, however, be acknowledged that a jealous, sullen, and even vindictive temper obscured in some degree the luster of his success, and detracted from the dignity of his nature. The Chevalier de Callières, governor of Montreal, was appointed his successor, to the satisfaction of all classes in the colony.

The new governor[414] applied himself vigorously to the difficult task of establishing the tranquillity of his territories. He endeavored to procure the alliance of all the Indian tribes within reach of French intercourse or commerce, but the high price charged by the Canadian merchants for their goods proved a constant difficulty in the way of negotiation, and ever afforded the savages a pretext for disaffection and complaint. In the midst of his useful labors, this excellent chief was suddenly cut off by death; his upright and judicious administration won the esteem of all the colonists, and the truth and honesty of his dealings with the native tribes gave him an influence over them which none of his predecessors had ever won. On the petition of the inhabitants of Canada, the king willingly appointed the Marquis de Vaudreuil to the vacant government. Soon after his accession a deputation of the Iroquois arrived at Quebec, and for the first time formally acknowledged the sovereignty of France, and claimed the protection of her flag.

M. de Raudot, the intendant, introduced various important judicial and fiscal improvements in the affairs of the colony at this time; by his influence and mediation he effectually checked a litigious spirit which had infused itself among the Canadians to a ruinous extent, and by strong representations induced the king to remove the cruel restrictions placed upon colonial industry by the jealousy of the mother country.

In the spring of 1708 a council was held at Montreal to deliberate upon the course to be pursued in checking the intrigues of the English among the allied savages: the chiefs of all the Christian Indians and the faithful and warlike Abenaquis were present on the occasion. It was resolved that a blow should be struck against the British colonies, and a body of 400 men, including Indians, was formed for the expedition, the object of which was kept secret. After a march of 150 leagues across an almost impracticable country, the French attacked the little fort and village of Haverhill, garrisoned by thirty New Englandmen, and carried them after a sharp struggle; many of the defenders were killed or captured, and the settlement destroyed. The neighboring country was, however, soon aroused, and the assailants with difficulty effected a retreat, losing thirty of their men.

Intelligence reached the French in the following year that Colonel Vetch, who, during a residence of several years at Quebec, had contrived to sound all the difficult passages of the River St. Lawrence, had successfully instigated the Queen of England to attempt the conquest of New France; that a fleet of twenty ships was being prepared for the expedition, and a force of 6000 regular troops were to sail under its protection, while 2000 English and as many Indians, under the command of General Nicholson, were to march upon Montreal by the way of Lake Champlain. M. de Vaudreuil immediately assembled a council of war to meet the emergency, where some bold measures were planned, but a misunderstanding between the governor general and one of his principal officers paralyzed their execution. Finally, indeed, a considerable force was marched to anticipate the British attack; but the dissensions of the leaders, the insubordination of the troops, and the want of correct intelligence, embarrassed their movements, and drove them to an inglorious retreat. On the other hand, the English, mistrusting the faith of their Indian allies, and suffering from a frightful mortality, burned their canoes and advanced posts, and retreated from the frontier. The perfidious Iroquois, while professing the closest friendship, had poisoned the stream hard by the British camp, and thus caused the fatal malady which decimated their unsuspecting allies. The fleet destined for the attack of Quebec never crossed the Atlantic: it was sent to Lisbon instead, to support the falling fortunes of Portugal against the triumphant arms of Castile.

In the following year, another abortive expedition was undertaken by the English against Canada. Intelligence was brought to M. de Vaudreuil that ten ships of war of 50 guns each and upward had arrived from England, and were assembled at Boston, together with 35 transports capable of conveying 3000 men, while a force of provincial militia and Indians of New York, nearly 2000 strong, were collected in that state to assail him by land. The French governor immediately called together the Iroquois deputies, and successfully urged their neutrality in the approaching struggle. He also secured the somewhat doubtful allegiance of the allied tribes, but only accepted the proffered services of a few warriors of each nation, and this more as hostages than for the purpose of increasing his strength.

M. de Vaudreuil then hastened from Montreal to Quebec, where he found that his lieutenant, M. de Boucourt, had effectually executed his orders to strengthen the defenses. The settlements along the coast below that important stronghold were sufficiently guarded to render a hostile debarkation difficult and dangerous. The governor immediately re-ascended the St. Lawrence, and formed a corps of 3000 men under M. de Longueiul, at Chambly, to await the approach of the English. The invading army, however, retreated without coming to action, having received information of a great disaster which had befallen their fleet. The British admiral had neglected the warnings of an experienced French navigator, named Paradis, who accompanied him, and approached too near a small island in the narrow and dangerous channel of the Traverse; a sudden squall from the southeast burst upon him at that critical moment, and his own, with seven other ships of the fleet, were driven on the rocky shore, and utterly destroyed: very few men escaped from these ill-fated vessels.[415]

The generosity and loyalty of the merchants of Quebec furnished the governor with 50,000 crowns, to strengthen the fortifications of their town, on the occasion of a rumor that the English were again preparing an invasion of Canada, in 1712, aided by the Iroquois, to whom they had become reconciled. At the same time, a new enemy entered the field—the fiercest and bravest of the native tribes; this people, called Outagamis or Foxes, joined in a confederacy with the Five Nations, and undertook to burn the French fort at Detroit,[416] and destroy the inhabitants. A large force of their warriors advanced upon the little stronghold, but Du Buisson, the able and gallant commandant, having summoned the neighboring allies to the assistance of his garrison of twenty Frenchmen, defeated the dangerous invaders after a series of conflicts almost unparalleled for obstinacy in Indian war, and destroyed more than a thousand of their best and bravest.[417]

These important successes, however, could not secure to the French an equality in trade with their English rivals; their narrow and injudicious commercial system limited the supply of European goods to be exchanged for the spoils of the Red Man's forests; the fur trade, therefore, fell almost wholly into the hands of British merchants, and even those native tribes in closest alliance with the Canadian governor obtained their scanty clothing from the looms of Yorkshire, and their weapons of the chase from the industrious hands of our colonists.

By the treaty of Utrecht in 1713, Louis the Magnificent ceded away forever, with ignorant indifference, the noble province of Acadia,[418] the inexhaustible fisheries of Newfoundland, and his claims to the vast but almost unknown regions of Hudson's Bay; his nominal sovereignty over the Iroquois was also thrown into the scale,[419] and thus a dearly-purchased peace restored comparative tranquillity to the remnant of his American empire.[420]

The fierce Outagamis, more incensed than weakened by their losses at Detroit, made savage and murderous reprisals upon all the nations allied to the French. Their vindictive vigilance rendered the routes between the distant posts of Canada, and those southward to Louisiana,[421] for many years almost impracticable. At one time, indeed, when overwhelmed by a successful invasion, these implacable savages made a formal cession of their territories to M. de Vaudreuil; but, the moment opportunity offered, they renewed hostilities, and, although beaten in repeated encounters, having united the remnant of their tribe to the powerful Sioux and Chichachas,[423] they continued for a long time to harass the steps of their detested conquerors.

On the 10th of April, 1725, M. de Vaudreuil closed his useful career. For one-and-twenty years he had discharged his important duties with unswerving loyalty, ability, and vigilance. Good fortune crowned him with well-merited success, and he went to rest from his earthly labors with the blessings of a grateful people, who, under his wise rule, had rapidly progressed to prosperity.

The Marquis de Beauharnois, captain of the marine, succeeded to the government of the now tranquil colony. His anxiety was aroused, however, the year after his accession, by the vigorous efforts of the English to extend their commerce even into the heart of the Canadian territories. Governor Burnet, of New York, had erected a fort and trading post at Oswego, with the view of monopolizing the rich traffic of the Western lakes. To counteract this design, M. de Beauharnois sent the Baron de Longueuil to negotiate with the Indians in the neighborhood of Niagara, for their consent to the erection of a French fort and establishment upon the banks of their magnificent river, where it enters the waters of Ontario. After many difficulties in reconciling the jealousy of the native tribes, the French succeeded in effecting their object. On the other hand, the men of New York strengthened their defenses at Oswego, and increased the garrison. Angry communications then passed between the French and English governors in peremptory demands for its abandonment by the one, and prompt refusals by the other. Each was well aware of the importance of the position: it served as a means of diverting nearly all the Indian trade by Albany and the channel of the Hudson into the British colonies, and also formed a frontier protection to those numerous and flourishing settlements which Anglo-Saxon industry and courage were rapidly forming in the wilderness.

In the vain hope of checking the irrepressible energies of rival colonization, Beauharnois erected a fort at Crown Point, on Lake Champlain, commanding its important navigation, and also serving to hold in terror the settlers on the neighboring banks of the Hudson and Connecticut. The English remonstrated without effect against this occupation, and the French remained in peaceable possession of their establishment. The next war that broke out between the mother countries spread rapine and destruction over the colonial frontiers, without any real result beyond mutual injury and embittered hatred. From this fort at Crown Point, and other posts held by the Canadians, marauding parties poured upon the British settlements, and destroyed them with horrid barbarity. A party of French and Indians even penetrated to Saratoga, within forty miles of Albany, attacked and burned the fort, and slew or carried into captivity the unhappy defenders.

For many subsequent years the history of Canada is but a chronicle of the accession of governors and the registration of royal edicts. In comparison with her southern rivals, the progress in material prosperity was very slow. Idleness and drunkenness, with all their attendant evils, were rife to a most injurious extent. The innumerable fêtes, or holidays of the Church, afforded opportunities to the dissolute, and occasioned frequent instances of serious disorders, till the king was urged to interfere: the number of these fête-days was then very much reduced, to the great benefit of the colony. The feudal system of tenure also operated most unfavorably upon the development of agricultural resources, and the forced partition of lands tended to reduce all the landholders to a fraternity of pauperism. The court of France endeavored vainly to remedy these evils, without removing the causes, and passed various edicts to encourage the further clearance of wild land, and to stimulate settlement.

In 1745, the year when the power of France in Europe was exalted by the splendid victory of Fontenoy, a dangerous blow was struck at her sovereignty in America by the capture of Louisburg, and with it the whole island of Cape Breton,[424] by the New Englanders under Mr. Pepperel,[425] aided by Admiral Warren's squadron. This disaster was no sooner known in Paris[430] than an extensive armament was equipped under the command of the Duc d'Anville, an officer of known valor and ability. The wounded pride of the French hurried on rapidly the preparations for this expedition, which they confidently hoped would redeem the tarnished honor of their arms in the Western world. Early in May the fleet was already completely appointed; but the elements did not second these energetic preparations, and contrary winds detained the armament till the 22d of June. Then it at last put to sea, in the formidable strength of eleven ships of the line, thirty smaller vessels of war, and transports containing 3000 regular soldiers. Nova Scotia, the Acadia[431] of other days, was their destination. There it was expected that the old French settlers, who had unwillingly submitted to English conquest, would readily range themselves once more under the fleur-de-lys: Canada had already sent her contingent of 1700 men under M. de Ramsay to aid the enterprise, and M. de Conflans, with four ships of the line from the West Indies, was directed to join the squadron.

This formidable fleet was but a short time at sea when the ships separated and fell into hopeless confusion. On the 12th of September, indeed, the Duc d'Anville reached the Western continent in the Northumberland, accompanied by a few other vessels, but there no laurels awaited the gallant admiral: he was suddenly seized with apoplexy, and in four days his body was committed to the deep. The vice admiral immediately proposed returning to France, on account of the absence of the greater part of his force; but other officers strongly opposed this desponding counsel, and urged a bold attack upon Nova Scotia[432] rather than an inglorious retreat. The more vigorous course was adopted by a council of war, which threw the vice admiral into such a state of frantic excitement that he ran himself through the body, fancying he had fallen into the hands of the enemy. De la Jonquière succeeded to the command, and, although more than three-score years of age, acted with unimpaired energy. But the elements were again hostile to France; the fleet was dispersed by a violent storm off Cape Sable, and the shattered remnant of the expedition returned ingloriously to their country, without having accomplished any of the objects for which they had been sent forth.

The government at Paris was, however, by no means cast down by these untoward occurrences, and the armament was speedily equipped to renew their efforts against the English colonies. The expedition was prepared at Brest, under the command of M. de la Jonquière, and, at the same time, a squadron under M. de St. George was armed with a view to threaten the coasts of British India.

The English ministry, early informed of all the movements of their opponents, resolved to intercept both these squadrons, which they had been apprised would sail from port at the same time. Admiral Anson and Rear-admiral Warren were ordered upon this enterprise with a formidable fleet, and, taking their departure from Plymouth, steered for Cape Finisterre, on the Gallican coast. On the third of May, 1746, they fell in with the French squadrons of six large men-of-war, as many frigates, four armed East Indiamen, and a valuable convoy of thirty ships. The enemy's heavier vessels immediately formed in order of battle, while the merchantmen made all sail away, under the protection of the frigates. The British were also ready for action, and a severe combat ensued. Before night all the French line of battle ships were captured after a spirited defense, but two thirds of the convoy escaped through the darkness of the night. A considerable quantity of bullion fell into the hands of the victors, and their grateful sovereign rewarded the courage and good fortune of the admirals by raising Anson to the peerage, and decorating Warren with the ribbon of the Bath.

Admiral de la Jonquière, the newly-appointed governor of Canada, was among the numerous captives who graced the triumph of the British fleet. When the news of this event reached Paris, the king appointed to the vacant dignity the Comte de la Galissonière,[433] an officer of distinguished merit and ability. The wisdom of this selection was speedily displayed; the new governor no sooner entered upon the duties of office than his active zeal found employment in endeavoring to develop the magnificent resources of his province. He made himself thoroughly acquainted with the face of the country, the climate, population, agriculture, and commerce, and then presented an able statement to the French court of the great importance of the colony, and a system which, had it been adopted in time, might have secured it against English aggression.

The Comte de la Galissonière proposed that M. du Quesne, a skillful engineer, should be appointed to establish a line of fortifications through the interior of the country, and, at the same time, urged the government of France to send out 10,000 peasants to form settlements on the banks of the great lakes and southern rivers. By these means he affirmed that the English colonies would be restricted within the narrow tract lying eastward from the Allegany Mountains, and in time laid open to invasion and ruin. His advice was, however, disregarded, and the splendid province of Canada soon passed forever from under the sway of France.[434]

Under the impression that the expected peace between the mother countries would render it important to define the boundaries of their colonial possessions, the active governor of Canada dispatched M. de Celeron de Bienville, with 300 men, to traverse the vast wilderness lying from Detroit southeast to the Apalachian Mountains. Assuming this range as the limit of the British colonies, he directed that leaden plates, engraved with the arms of France, should be buried at particular places in the western country, to mark the territories of France, and that the chief of the expedition should endeavor to secure a promise from the Indians to exclude for the future all English traders. At the same time, he gave notice to the governor of Pennsylvania that he was commanded by the King of France to seize all British merchants found in those countries, and to confiscate their goods. De Celeron fulfilled his difficult commission to the best of his powers, but the forms of possession which he executed excited the jealous apprehension of the Indians, who concluded that he designed to subject or even enslave them.

When M. de la Galissonière failed in his endeavor to obtain the aid of an extensive immigration from France, he turned his thoughts toward the Acadian settlers[435] (whom the treaty of Utrecht had transferred to the British crown), with the object of forming a new colony. The readiest expedient to influence this simple and pious people was, obviously, by gaining over their clergy; the Abbé le Loutre was selected as the fittest embassador to induce them to withdraw from allegiance to the English government. This politic and unscrupulous priest appealed to their interests, nationality, and religion as inducements to abandon the conquered country, and to establish themselves under the French crown in a new settlement which he proposed to form on the Canadian side of Acadia. Le Loutre's persuasions influenced many of these primitive people to proceed to the French posts, where every protection and attention was bestowed upon them.

Animated by the success of this measure, and sanguine that large numbers of the Acadians would follow the first seceders, De la Galissonière induced the home government to appoint a considerable sum yearly to carrying out his views; but, in the midst of his patriotic exertions, he was obliged to hand over the reins of government to M. de la Jonquière, who had now arrived to claim the post so ably held by another during his captivity with the English. Galissonière, however, before he sailed for France, magnanimously furnished his successor with the best information on colonial matters, and pointed out the most promising plans for the improvement of the province.[436] De la Jonquière unwisely rejected such as related to the Acadian settlements; but the King of France disapproved of his inaction, and reprimanded him for not having continued the course of his predecessor. Instructions were given him to take immediate possession of the neighboring country, to build new forts for its retention, and to occupy it with troops; he was also desired to aid Le Loutre in all his proceedings, and to forward his designs. In obedience to these orders, M. de Boishebert was dispatched with a body of troops and some peasants, to take post near the mouth of the River St. John, which was looked upon as an important post for the defense of the new settlement.

These measures inevitably aroused the jealousy of the English governor of Nova Scotia, who made repeated remonstrances on the subject, but with no other effect than that of causing De la Jonquière to warn his officers to avoid all possible grounds of dispute, as he expected the limits of the rival powers would be speedily arranged.

[1749.] Supplies for the new post at St. John's could only be obtained from Quebec, and transmitted by the long and difficult circuit of the whole Acadian peninsula. M. de Vergor was sent on this mission in an armed sloop, containing military and other stores for the French and Indians. He was ordered to avoid all English vessels, but, if he could no longer shun pursuit, to fight to the last. This stern command was not obeyed, for he surrendered without an effort to Captain Rous, who, apprised of his design, had intercepted him on the coast. On the news of the capture of this sloop, M. de la Jonquière empowered the governor of Louisburg[437] to make reprisals upon all English vessels that might enter his port.

General Cornwallis, governor of Halifax,[438] sent a detachment of British troops, under Major Lawrence, to watch the movements of La Corne, the French commander, who had been directed to build a fort on the Bay of Fundy, called Beau-sejour.[439] As soon as Le Loutre became aware of the arrival of the English, he caused the houses and homesteads of those unfortunate Acadians who remained faithful to England to be burned. Soon after this cruel severity the French and English leaders held a conference, and agreed to erect forts opposite to each other on each side of the River Beau-bassin,[440] but to remain at peace till they received further instructions.

While occasions of dispute were thus arising on the Nova Scotia peninsula, a still more dangerous difficulty threatened the cause of peace in the far West. The governors of the British colonies continued to grant license to their merchants to trade on the banks of the Ohio, in contempt of the haughty pretensions of French sovereignty. By the orders of La Jonquière, three of these adventurers were seized, with all their goods, and carried captive to Montreal: after a long examination, however, they were discharged.

END OF VOL. I.