1650-1652.
THE HURON MISSION ABANDONED.
Famine and the Tomahawk • A New Asylum • Voyage of the Refugees to
Quebec • Meeting with Bressani • Desperate Courage of the Iroquois •
Inroads and Battles • Death of Buteux
As spring approached, the starving multitude on Isle St. Joseph grew
reckless with hunger. Along the main shore, in spots where the sun lay
warm, the spring fisheries had already begun, and the melting snow was
uncovering the acorns in the woods. There was danger everywhere, for
bands of Iroquois were again on the track of their prey. [1] The
miserable Hurons, gnawed with inexorable famine, stood in the dilemma of
a deadly peril and an assured death. They chose the former; and, early
in March, began to leave their island and cross to the main-land, to
gather what sustenance they could. The ice was still thick, but the
advancing season had softened it; and, as a body of them were crossing,
it broke under their feet. Some were drowned; while others dragged
themselves out, drenched and pierced with cold, to die miserably on the
frozen lake, before they could reach a shelter. Other parties, more
fortunate, gained the shore safely, and began their fishing, divided
into companies of from eight or ten to a hundred persons. But the
Iroquois were in wait for them. A large band of warriors had already
made their way, through ice and snow, from their towns in Central New
York. They surprised the Huron fishermen, surrounded them, and cut them
in pieces without resistance,--tracking out the various parties of their
victims, and hunting down fugitives with such persistency and skill,
that, of all who had gone over to the main, the Jesuits knew of but one
who escaped. [2]
[1] "Mais le Printemps estant venu, les Iroquois nous furent encore plus
cruels; et ce sont eux qui vrayement ont ruiné toutes nos esperances, et
qui ont fait vn lieu d'horreur, vne terre de sang et de carnage, vn
theatre de cruauté et vn sepulchre de carcasses décharnées par les
langueurs d'vne longue famine, d'vn païs de benediction, d'vne terre de
Sainteté et d'vn lieu qui n'auoit plus rien de barbare, depuis que le
sang respandu pour son amour auoit rendu tout son peuple
Chrestien."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 23.
[2] "Le iour de l'Annonciation, vingt-cinquiesme de Mars, vne armée
d'Iroquois ayans marché prez de deux cents lieuës de païs, à trauers les
glaces et les neges, trauersans les montagnes et les forests pleines
d'horreur, surprirent au commencement de la nuit le camp de nos
Chrestiens, et en firent vne cruelle boucherie. Il sembloit que le Ciel
conduisit toutes leurs demarches et qu'ils eurent vn Ange pour guide:
car ils diuiserent leurs troupes auec tant de bon-heur, qu'ils
trouuerent en moins de deux iours, toutes les bandes de nos Chrestiens
qui estoient dispersées ça et là, esloignées les vnes des autres de six,
sept et huit lieuës, cent personnes en vn lieu, en vn autre cinquante;
et mesme il y auoit quelques familles solitaires, qui s'estoient
escartées en des lieux moins connus et hors de tout chemin. Chose
estrange! de tout ce monde dissipé, vn seul homme s'eschappa, qui vint
nous en apporter les nouuelles."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650,
23, 24.
"My pen," writes Ragueneau, "has no ink black enough to describe the
fury of the Iroquois." Still the goadings of famine were relentless and
irresistible. "It is said," adds the Father Superior, "that hunger will
drive wolves from the forest. So, too, our starving Hurons were driven
out of a town which had become an abode of horror. It was the end of
Lent. Alas, if these poor Christians could have had but acorns and water
to keep their fast upon! On Easter Day we caused them to make a general
confession. On the following morning they went away, leaving us all
their little possessions; and most of them declared publicly that they
made us their heirs, knowing well that they were near their end. And, in
fact, only a few days passed before we heard of the disaster which we
had foreseen. These poor people fell into ambuscades of our Iroquois
enemies. Some were killed on the spot; some were dragged into captivity;
women and children were burned. A few made their escape, and spread
dismay and panic everywhere. A week after, another band was overtaken by
the same fate. Go where they would, they met with slaughter on all
sides. Famine pursued them, or they encountered an enemy more cruel than
cruelty itself; and, to crown their misery, they heard that two great
armies of Iroquois were on the way to exterminate them.... Despair was
universal." [3]
[3] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 24.
The Jesuits at St. Joseph knew not what course to take. The doom of
their flock seemed inevitable. When dismay and despondency were at their
height, two of the principal Huron chiefs came to the fort, and asked an
interview with Ragueneau and his companions. They told them that the
Indians had held a council the night before, and resolved to abandon the
island. Some would disperse in the most remote and inaccessible forests;
others would take refuge in a distant spot, apparently the Grand
Manitoulin Island; others would try to reach the Andastes; and others
would seek safety in adoption and incorporation with the Iroquois
themselves.
"Take courage, brother," continued one of the chiefs, addressing
Ragueneau. "You can save us, if you will but resolve on a bold step.
Choose a place where you can gather us together, and prevent this
dispersion of our people. Turn your eyes towards Quebec, and transport
thither what is left of this ruined country. Do not wait till war and
famine have destroyed us to the last man. We are in your hands. Death
has taken from you more than ten thousand of us. If you wait longer, not
one will remain alive; and then you will be sorry that you did not save
those whom you might have snatched from danger, and who showed you the
means of doing so. If you do as we wish, we will form a church under the
protection of the fort at Quebec. Our faith will not be extinguished.
The examples of the French and the Algonquins will encourage us in our
duty, and their charity will relieve some of our misery. At least, we
shall sometimes find a morsel of bread for our children, who so long
have had nothing but bitter roots and acorns to keep them alive." [4]
[4] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 25. It appears from the MS.
Journal des Supérieurs des Jésuites, that a plan of bringing the remnant
of the Hurons to Quebec was discussed and approved by Lalemant and his
associates, in a council held by them at that place in April.
The Jesuits were deeply moved. They consulted together again and again,
and prayed in turn during forty hours without ceasing, that their minds
might be enlightened. At length they resolved to grant the petition of
the two chiefs, and save the poor remnant of the Hurons, by leading them
to an asylum where there was at least a hope of safety. Their resolution
once taken, they pushed their preparations with all speed, lest the
Iroquois might learn their purpose, and lie in wait to cut them off.
Canoes were made ready, and on the tenth of June they began the voyage,
with all their French followers and about three hundred Hurons. The
Huron mission was abandoned.
"It was not without tears," writes the Father Superior, "that we left
the country of our hopes and our hearts, where our brethren had
gloriously shed their blood." [5] The fleet of canoes held its
melancholy way along the shores where two years before had been the seat
of one of the chief savage communities of the continent, and where now
all was a waste of death and desolation. Then they steered northward,
along the eastern coast of the Georgian Bay, with its countless rocky
islets; and everywhere they saw the traces of the Iroquois. When they
reached Lake Nipissing, they found it deserted,--nothing remaining of
the Algonquins who dwelt on its shore, except the ashes of their burnt
wigwams. A little farther on, there was a fort built of trees, where the
Iroquois who made this desolation had spent the winter; and a league or
two below, there was another similar fort. The River Ottawa was a
solitude. The Algonquins of Allumette Island and the shores adjacent had
all been killed or driven away, never again to return. "When I came up
this great river, only thirteen years ago," writes Ragueneau, "I found
it bordered with Algonquin tribes, who knew no God, and, in their
infidelity, thought themselves gods on earth; for they had all that they
desired, abundance of fish and game, and a prosperous trade with allied
nations: besides, they were the terror of their enemies. But since they
have embraced the Faith and adored the cross of Christ, He has given
them a heavy share in this cross, and made them a prey to misery,
torture, and a cruel death. In a word, they are a people swept from the
face of the earth. Our only consolation is, that, as they died
Christians, they have a part in the inheritance of the true children of
God, who scourgeth every one whom He receiveth." [6]
[5] Compare Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 288.
[6] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 27. These Algonquins of the
Ottawa, though broken and dispersed, were not destroyed, as Ragueneau
supposes.
As the voyagers descended the river, they had a serious alarm. Their
scouts came in, and reported that they had found fresh footprints of men
in the forest. These proved, however, to be the tracks, not of enemies,
but of friends. In the preceding autumn Bressani had gone down to the
French settlements with about twenty Hurons, and was now returning with
them, and twice their number of armed Frenchmen, for the defence of the
mission. His scouts had also been alarmed by discovering the footprints
of Ragueneau's Indians; and for some time the two parties stood on their
guard, each taking the other for an enemy. When at length they
discovered their mistake, they met with embraces and rejoicing. Bressani
and his Frenchmen had come too late. All was over with the Hurons and
the Huron mission; and, as it was useless to go farther, they joined
Ragueneau's party, and retraced their course for the settlements.
A day or two before, they had had a sharp taste of the mettle of the
enemy. Ten Iroquois warriors had spent the winter in a little fort of
felled trees on the borders of the Ottawa, hunting for subsistence, and
waiting to waylay some passing canoe of Hurons, Algonquins, or
Frenchmen. Bressani's party outnumbered them six to one; but they
resolved that it should not pass without a token of their presence. Late
on a dark night, the French and Hurons lay encamped in the forest,
sleeping about their fires. They had set guards: but these, it seems,
were drowsy or negligent; for the ten Iroquois, watching their time,
approached with the stealth of lynxes, and glided like shadows into the
midst of the camp, where, by the dull glow of the smouldering fires,
they could distinguish the recumbent figures of their victims. Suddenly
they screeched the war-whoop, and struck like lightning with their
hatchets among the sleepers. Seven were killed before the rest could
spring to their weapons. Bressani leaped up, and received on the instant
three arrow-wounds in the head. The Iroquois were surrounded, and a
desperate fight ensued in the dark. Six of them were killed on the spot,
and two made prisoners; while the remaining two, breaking through the
crowd, bounded out of the camp and escaped in the forest.
The united parties soon after reached Montreal; but the Hurons refused
to remain in a spot so exposed to the Iroquois. Accordingly, they all
descended the St. Lawrence, and at length, on the twenty-eighth of July,
reached Quebec. Here the Ursulines, the hospital nuns, and the
inhabitants taxed their resources to the utmost to provide food and
shelter for the exiled Hurons. Their good will exceeded their power; for
food was scarce at Quebec, and the Jesuits themselves had to bear the
chief burden of keeping the sufferers alive. [7]
[7] Compare Juchereau, Histoire de l'Hôtel-Dieu, 79, 80.
But, if famine was an evil, the Iroquois were a far greater one; for,
while the western nations of their confederacy were engrossed with the
destruction of the Hurons, the Mohawks kept up incessant attacks on the
Algonquins and the French. A party of Christian Indians, chiefly from
Sillery, planned a stroke of retaliation, and set out for the Mohawk
country, marching cautiously and sending forward scouts to scour the
forest. One of these, a Huron, suddenly fell in with a large Iroquois
war-party, and, seeing that he could not escape, formed on the instant a
villanous plan to save himself. He ran towards the enemy, crying out,
that he had long been looking for them and was delighted to see them;
that his nation, the Hurons, had come to an end; and that henceforth his
country was the country of the Iroquois, where so many of his kinsmen
and friends had been adopted. He had come, he declared, with no other
thought than that of joining them, and turning Iroquois, as they had
done. The Iroquois demanded if he had come alone. He answered, "No," and
said, that, in order to accomplish his purpose, he had joined an
Algonquin war-party who were in the woods not far off. The Iroquois, in
great delight, demanded to be shown where they were. This Judas, as the
Jesuits call him, at once complied; and the Algonquins were surprised by
a sudden onset, and routed with severe loss. The treacherous Huron was
well treated by the Iroquois, who adopted him into their nation. Not
long after, he came to Canada, and, with a view, as it was thought, to
some further treachery, rejoined the French. A sharp cross-questioning
put him to confusion, and he presently confessed his guilt. He was
sentenced to death; and the sentence was executed by one of his own
countrymen, who split his head with a hatchet. [8]
[8] Ragueneau, Relation, 1650, 30.
In the course of the summer, the French at Three Rivers became aware
that a band of Iroquois was prowling in the neighborhood, and sixty men
went out to meet them. Far from retreating, the Iroquois, who were about
twenty-five in number, got out of their canoes, and took post,
waist-deep in mud and water, among the tall rushes at the margin of the
river. Here they fought stubbornly, and kept all the Frenchmen at bay.
At length, finding themselves hard pressed, they entered their canoes
again, and paddled off. The French rowed after them, and soon became
separated in the chase; whereupon the Iroquois turned, and made
desperate fight with the foremost, retreating again as soon as the
others came up. This they repeated several times, and then made their
escape, after killing a number of the best French soldiers. Their leader
in this affair was a famous half-breed, known as the Flemish Bastard,
who is styled by Ragueneau "an abomination of sin, and a monster
produced between a heretic Dutch father and a pagan mother."
In the forests far north of Three Rivers dwelt the tribe called the
Atticamegues, or Nation of the White Fish. From their remote position,
and the difficult nature of the intervening country, they thought
themselves safe; but a band of Iroquois, marching on snow-shoes a
distance of twenty days' journey northward from the St. Lawrence, fell
upon one of their camps in the winter, and made a general butchery of
the inmates. The tribe, however, still held its ground for a time, and,
being all good Catholics, gave their missionary, Father Buteux, an
urgent invitation to visit them in their own country. Buteux, who had
long been stationed at Three Rivers, was in ill health, and for years
had rarely been free from some form of bodily suffering. Nevertheless,
he acceded to their request, and, before the opening of spring, made a
remarkable journey on snow-shoes into the depths of this frozen
wilderness. [9] In the year following, he repeated the undertaking. With
him were a large party of Atticamegues, and several Frenchmen. Game was
exceedingly scarce, and they were forced by hunger to separate, a Huron
convert and a Frenchman named Fontarabie remaining with the missionary.
The snows had melted, and all the streams were swollen. The three
travellers, in a small birch canoe, pushed their way up a turbulent
river, where falls and rapids were so numerous, that many times daily
they were forced to carry their bark vessel and their baggage through
forests and thickets and over rocks and precipices. On the tenth of May,
they made two such portages, and, soon after, reaching a third fall,
again lifted their canoe from the water. They toiled through the naked
forest, among the wet, black trees, over tangled roots, green, spongy
mosses, mouldering leaves, and rotten, prostrate trunks, while the
cataract foamed amidst the rocks hard by. The Indian led the way with
the canoe on his head, while Buteux and the other Frenchman followed
with the baggage. Suddenly they were set upon by a troop of Iroquois,
who had crouched behind thickets, rocks, and fallen trees, to waylay
them. The Huron was captured before he had time to fly. Buteux and the
Frenchman tried to escape, but were instantly shot down, the Jesuit
receiving two balls in the breast. The Iroquois rushed upon them,
mangled their bodies with tomahawks and swords, stripped them, and then
flung them into the torrent. [10]
[9] Iournal du Pere Iacques Buteux du Voyage qu'il a fait pour la
Mission des Attikamegues. See Relation, 1651, 15.
[10] Ragueneau, Relation, 1652, 2, 3.