of Gaspe, upon which the French landed and held intercourse with the
natives. Cartier resolved to take formal possession of the country, and
to indicate, in a conspicuous manner, that he did so in the name of the
King, his master, and in the interests of religion. With these objects
in view, on Friday, July 24th, a huge wooden cross, thirty feet in
height, was constructed, and was raised with much ceremony, in sight of
many of the Indians, close to the entrance of the harbor; three
_fleurs-de-lys_ being carved under the cross, and an inscription, "_Vive
le Roy de France_." The French formed a circle on their knees around it,
and made signs to attract the attention of the savages, pointing up to
the heavens, "as if to show that by the cross came their redemption."
These ceremonies being ended, Cartier and his people went on board,
followed from the shore by many of the Indians. Among these the
principal chief, with his brother and three sons, in one canoe, came
near Cartier's ship. He made an oration, in course of which he pointed
toward the high cross, and then to the surrounding territory, as much as
to say that it all belonged to him, and that the French ought not to
have planted it there without his permission. The sight of hatchets and
knives displayed before him, in such a manner as to show a desire to
trade with him, made him approach nearer, and, at the same time, several
sailors, entering his canoe, easily induced him and his companions to
pass into the ship. Cartier, by signs, endeavored to persuade the chief
that the cross had been erected as a beacon to mark the way into the
harbor; that he would revisit the place and bring hatchets, knives, and
other things made of iron, and that he desired the friendship of his
people. Food and drink were offered, of which they partook freely, when
Cartier made known to the chief his wish to take two of his sons away
with him for a time. The chief and his sons appear to have readily
assented. The young men at once put on colored garments, supplied by
Cartier, throwing out their old clothing to others near the ship. The
chief, with his brother and remaining son, were then dismissed with
presents. About midday, however, just as the ships were about to move
farther from shore, six canoes, full of Indians, came to them, bringing
presents of fish, and to enable the friends of the chief's sons to bid
them adieu. Cartier took occasion to enjoin upon the savages the
necessity of guarding the cross which had been erected, upon which the
Indians replied in unintelligible language. Next day, July 25th, the
vessels left the harbor with a fair wind, making sail northward to 50 deg.
latitude. It was intended to prosecute the voyage farther westward, if
possible; but adverse winds, and the appearance of the distant
headlands, discouraged Cartier's hopes so much that on Wednesday, August
5th, after taking counsel with his officers and pilots, he decided that
it was not safe to attempt more that season. The little squadron,
therefore, bore off toward the east and northeast, and made Blanc Sablon
on the 9th. Continuing thence their passage into the Atlantic, they
were favored with fair winds, which carried them to the middle of the
ocean, between Newfoundland and Bretagne. They then encountered storms
and adverse winds, respecting which Cartier piously remarks: "We
suffered and endured these with the aid of God, and after that we had
good weather and arrived at the harbor of St. Malo, whence we had set
out, on September 5, 1534." Thus ended Jacques Cartier's first voyage to
Canada. As a French-Canadian historian of Canada has observed, this
first expedition was not "sterile in results"; for, in addition to the
other notable incidents of the voyage, the two natives whom he carried
with him to France are understood to have been the first to inform him
of the existence of the great river St. Lawrence, which he was destined
to discover the following year.
It is not certainly known how nearly he advanced to the mouth of that
river on his passage from Gaspe Bay. But it is believed that he passed
round the western point of Anticosti, subsequently named by him Isle de
l'Assumption, and that he then turned to the east, leaving behind the
entrance into the great river, which he then supposed to be an extensive
bay, and, coasting along the shore of Labrador, came to the river
Natachquoin, near Mount Joli, whence, as already stated, he passed
eastward and northward to Blanc Sablon.
Cartier and his companions were favorably received on their return to
France. The expectations of his employers had been to a certain extent
realized, while the narrative of the voyage, and the prospects which
this afforded of greater results in future, inspired such feelings of
hope and confidence that there seems to have been no hesitation in
furnishing means for the equipment of another expedition. The Indians
who had been brought to France were instructed in the French language,
and served also as specimens of the people inhabiting his majesty's
western dominions. During the winter the necessary preparations were
made.
On the May 19, 1535, Cartier took his departure from St. Malo on his
second expedition. It was in every way better equipped than that of the
preceding year, and consisted of three ships, manned by one hundred ten
sailors. A number of gentlemen volunteers from France accompanied it.
Cartier himself embarked on board the largest vessel, which was named
La Grande Hermine, along with his two interpreters. Adverse winds
lengthened the voyage, so that seven weeks were occupied in sailing to
the Straits of Belle-Isle. Thence the squadron made for the Gulf of St.
Lawrence, so named by Cartier in honor of the day upon which he entered
it. Emboldened by the information derived from his Indian interpreters,
he sailed up the great river, at first named the River of Canada, or of
Hochelaga. The mouth of the Saguenay was passed on September 1st, and
the island of Orleans reached on the 9th. To this he gave the name "Isle
of Bacchus," on account of the abundance of grape-vines upon it.
On the 16th the ships arrived off the headland since known as Cape
Diamond. Near to this, a small river, called by Cartier St. Croix, now
the St. Charles, was observed flowing into the St. Lawrence,
intercepting, at the confluence, a piece of lowland, which was the site
of the Indian village Stadacona. Towering above this, on the left bank
of the greater river, was Cape Diamond and the contiguous highland,
which in after times became the site of the Upper Town of Quebec. A
little way within the mouth of the St. Croix, Cartier selected stations
suitable for mooring and laying up his vessels; for he seems, on his
arrival at Stadacona, to have already decided upon wintering in the
country. This design was favored, not only by the advanced period of the
season, but also by the fact that the natives appeared to be friendly
and in a position to supply his people abundantly with provisions. Many
hundreds came off from the shore in bark canoes, bringing fish, maize,
and fruit.
Aided by the two interpreters, the French endeavored at once to
establish a friendly intercourse. A chief, Donacona, made an oration,
and expressed his desire for amicable relations between his own people
and their visitors. Cartier, on his part, tried to allay apprehension,
and to obtain information respecting the country higher up the great
river. Wishing also to impress upon the minds of the savages a
conviction of the French power, he caused several pieces of artillery to
be discharged in the presence of the chief and a number of his warriors.
Fear and astonishment were occasioned by the sight of the fire and
smoke, followed by sounds such as they had never heard before. Presents,
consisting of trinkets, small crosses, beads, pieces of glass, and other
trifles, were distributed among them.
Cartier allowed himself a rest of only three days at Stadacona, deeming
it expedient to proceed at once up the river with an exploring party.
For this purpose he manned his smallest ship, the Ermerillon, and two
boats, and departed on the 19th of September, leaving the other ships
safely moored at the mouth of the St. Charles. He had learned from the
Indians that there was another town, called Hochelaga, situated about
sixty leagues above. Cartier and his companions, the first European
navigators of the St. Lawrence, and the earliest pioneers of
civilization and Christianity in those regions, moved very slowly up the
river. At the part since called Lake St. Peter the water seemed to
become more and more shallow. The Ermerillon, was therefore left as well
secured as possible, and the remainder of the passage made in the two
boats. Frequent meetings, of a friendly nature, with Indians on the
river bank, caused delays, so that they did not arrive at Hochelaga
until October 2d.
As described by Cartier himself, this town consisted of about fifty
large huts or cabins, which, for purposes of defence, were surrounded by
wooden palisades. There were upward of twelve hundred inhabitants,[46]
belonging to some Algonquin tribe.
At Hochelaga, as previously at Stadacona, the French were received by
the natives in a friendly manner. Supplies of fish and maize were freely
offered, and, in return, presents of beads, knives, small mirrors, and
crucifixes were distributed. Entering into communication with them,
Cartier sought information respecting the country higher up the river.
From their imperfect intelligence it appears he learned the existence of
several great lakes, and that beyond the largest and most remote of
these there was another great river which flowed southward. They
conducted him to the summit of a mountain behind the town, whence he
surveyed the prospect of a wilderness stretching to the south and west
as far as the eye could reach, and beautifully diversified by elevations
of land and by water. Whatever credit Cartier attached to their vague
statements about the geography of their country, he was certainly struck
by the grandeur of the neighboring scenery as viewed from the eminence
on which he stood. To this he gave the name of Mount Royal, whence the
name of Montreal was conferred on the city which has grown up on the
site of the ancient Indian town Hochelaga.
According to some accounts, Hochelaga was, even in those days, a place
of importance, having subject to it eight or ten outlying settlements or
villages.
Anxious to return to Stadacona, and probably placing little confidence
in the friendly professions of the natives, Cartier remained at
Hochelaga only two days, and commenced his passage down the river on
October 4th. His wary mistrust of the Indian character was not
groundless, for bands of savages followed along the banks and watched
all the proceedings of his party. On one occasion he was attacked by
them and narrowly escaped massacre.
Arriving at Stadacona on the 11th, measures were taken for maintenance
and security during the approaching winter. Abundant provisions had been
already stored up by the natives and assigned for the use of the
strangers. A fence or palisade was constructed round the ships, and made
as strong as possible, and cannon so placed as to be available in case
of any attack. Notwithstanding these precautions, it turned out that, in
one essential particular, the preparations for winter were defective.
Jacques Cartier and his companions being the first of Europeans to
experience the rigors of a Canadian winter, the necessity for warm
clothing had not been foreseen when the expedition left France, and
now, when winter was upon them, the procuring of a supply was simply
impossible. The winter proved long and severe. Masses of ice began to
come down the St. Lawrence on November 15th, and, not long afterward, a
bridge of ice was formed opposite to Stadacona. Soon the intensity of
the cold--such as Cartier's people had never before experienced--and the
want of suitable clothing occasioned much suffering. Then, in December,
a disease, but little known to Europeans, broke out among the crew. It
was the scurvy, named by the French _mal-de-terre_.
As described by Cartier, it was very painful, loathsome in its symptoms
and effects, as well as contagious. The legs and thighs of the patients
swelled, the sinews contracted, and the skin became black. In some cases
the whole body was covered with purple spots and sore tumors. After a
time the upper parts of the body--the back, arms, shoulders, neck, and
face--were all painfully affected. The roof of the mouth, gums, and
teeth fell out. Altogether, the sufferers presented a deplorable
spectacle.
Many died between December and April, during which period the greatest
care was taken to conceal their true condition from the natives. Had
this not been done, it is to be feared that Donacona's people would have
forced an entrance and put all to death for the purpose of obtaining the
property of the French. In fact, the two interpreters were, on the
whole, unfaithful, living entirely at Stadacona; while Donacona, and the
Indians generally, showed, in many ways, that, under a friendly
exterior, unfavorable feelings reigned in their hearts.
But the attempts to hide their condition from the natives might have
been fatal, for the Indians, who also suffered from scurvy, were
acquainted with means of curing the disease. It was only by accident
that Cartier found out what those means were. He had forbidden the
savages to come on board the ships, and when any of them came near the
only men allowed to be seen by them were those who were in health. One
day, Domagaya was observed approaching. This man, the younger of the two
interpreters, was known to have been sick of the scurvy at Stadacona, so
that Cartier was much surprised to see him out and well. He contrived to
make him relate the particulars of his recovery, and thus found out
that a decoction of the bark and foliage of the white spruce-tree
furnished the savages with a remedy. Having recourse to this enabled the
French captain to arrest the progress of the disease among his own
people, and, in a short time, to bring about their restoration to
health.
The meeting with Domagaya occurred at a time when the French were in a
very sad state--reduced to the brink of despair. Twenty-five of the
number had died, while forty more were in expectation of soon following
their deceased comrades. Of the remaining forty-five, including Cartier
and all the surviving officers, only three or four were really free from
disease. The dead could not be buried, nor was it possible for the sick
to be properly cared for.
In this extremity, the stout-hearted French captain could think of no
other remedy than a recourse to prayers and the setting up of an image
of the Virgin Mary in sight of the sufferers. "But," he piously
exclaimed, "God, in his holy grace, looked down in pity upon us, and
sent to us a knowledge of the means of cure." He had great apprehensions
of an attack from the savages, for he says in his narrative: "We were in
a marvellous state of terror lest the people of the country should
ascertain our pitiable condition and our weakness," and then goes on to
relate artifices by which he contrived to deceive them.
One of the ships had to be abandoned in course of the winter, her crew
and contents being removed into the other two vessels. The deserted hull
was visited by the savages in search of pieces of iron and other things.
Had they known the cause for abandoning her, and the desperate condition
of the French, they would have soon forced their way into the other
ships. They were, in fact, too numerous to be resisted if they had made
the attempt.
At length the protracted winter came to an end. As soon as the ships
were clear of ice, Cartier made preparations for returning at once to
France.
On May 3, 1536, a wooden cross, thirty-five feet high, was raised upon
the river bank. Donacona was invited to approach, along with his people.
When he did so, Cartier caused him, together with the two interpreters
and seven warriors, to be seized and taken on board his ship. His object
was to convey them to France and present them to the King. On the 6th,
the two vessels departed. Upward of six weeks were spent in descending
the St. Lawrence and traversing the gulf. Instead of passing through the
Straits of Belle-Isle, Cartier this time made for the south coast of
Newfoundland, along which he sailed out into the Atlantic Ocean. On
Sunday, July 17, 1536, he arrived at St. Malo.
By the results of this second voyage, Jacques Cartier established for
himself a reputation and a name in history which will never cease to be
remembered with respect. He had discovered one of the largest rivers in
the world, had explored its banks, and navigated its difficult channel
more than eight hundred miles, with a degree of skill and courage which
has never been surpassed; for it was a great matter in those days to
penetrate so far into unknown regions, to encounter the hazards of an
unknown navigation, and to risk his own safety and that of his followers
among an unknown people. Moreover, his accounts of the incidents of his
sojourn of eight months, and of the features of the country, as well as
his estimate of the two principal sites upon which, in after times, the
two cities, Quebec and Montreal, have grown up, illustrate both his
fidelity and his sagacity. His dealings with the natives appear to have
been such as to prove his tact, prudence, and sense of justice,
notwithstanding the objectionable procedure of capturing and carrying
off Donacona with other chiefs and warriors. This latter measure,
however indefensible in itself, was consistent with the almost universal
practice of navigators of that period and long afterward. Doubtless
Cartier's expectation was that their abduction could not but result in
their own benefit by leading to their instruction in civilization and
Christianity, and that it might be afterward instrumental in producing
the rapid conversion of large numbers of their people. However this may
be, considering the inherent viciousness of the Indian character,
Cartier's intercourse with the Indians was conducted with dignity and
benevolence, and was marked by the total absence of bloodshed--which is
more than can be urged in behalf of other eminent discoverers and
navigators of those days or during the ensuing two centuries. Cartier
was undoubtedly one of the greatest sea-captains of his own or any other
country, and one who provided carefully for the safety and welfare of
his followers, and, so far as we know, enjoyed their respect and
confidence; nor were his plans hindered or his proceedings embarrassed
by disobedience on their part or the display of mutinous conduct
calculated to mar the success of a maritime expedition. In fine, Jacques
Cartier was a noble specimen of a mariner, in an age when a maritime
spirit prevailed.
A severe disappointment awaited Cartier on his return home from his
second voyage. France was now engaged in a foreign war; and at the same
time the minds of the people were distracted by religious dissensions.
In consequence of these untoward circumstances, both the court and the
people had ceased to give heed to the objects which he had been so
faithfully engaged in prosecuting in the western hemisphere. Neither he
nor his friends could obtain even a hearing in behalf of the fitting out
of another expedition, for the attention of the King and his advisers
was now absorbed by weightier cares at home. Nevertheless, from time to
time, as occasion offered, several unsuccessful attempts were made to
introduce the project of establishing a French colony on the banks of
the St. Lawrence. Meanwhile, Donacona, and the other Indian warriors who
had been brought captives to France, pined away and died.
At length, after an interval of about four years, proposals for another
voyage westward, and for colonizing the country, came to be so far
entertained that plans of an expedition were permitted to be discussed.
But now, instead of receiving the unanimous support which had been
accorded to previous undertakings, the project was opposed by a powerful
party at court, consisting of persons who tried to dissuade the King
from granting his assent. These alleged that enough had already been
done for the honor of their country; that it was not expedient to take
in hand the subjugation and settlement of those far-distant regions,
tenanted only by savages and wild animals; that the intensely severe
climate and hardships such as had proved fatal to one-fourth of
Cartier's people in 1535, were certain evils, which there was no
prospect of advantage to outweigh; that the newly discovered country had
not been shown to possess mines of gold and silver; and, finally, that
such extensive territories could not be effectively settled without
transporting thither a considerable part of the population of the
kingdom of France.
Notwithstanding the apparent force of these objections, the French King
did eventually sanction the project of another transatlantic enterprise
on a larger scale than heretofore.
A sum of money was granted by the King toward the purchase and equipment
of ships, to be placed under the command of Jacques Cartier, having the
commission of captain-general.[47] Apart from the navigation of the
fleet, the chief command in the undertaking was assigned to M. de
Roberval, who, in a commission dated January 15, 1540, was named viceroy
and lieutenant-general over Newfoundland, Labrador, and Canada. Roberval
was empowered to engage volunteers and emigrants, and to supply the lack
of these by means of prisoners to be taken from the jails and hulks.
Thus, in about five years from the discovery of the river St. Lawrence,
and, six years after, of Canada, measures were taken for founding a
colony. But from the very commencement of the undertaking, which, it
will be seen, proved an entire failure, difficulties presented
themselves. Roberval was unable to provide all the requisite supplies of
small arms, ammunition, and other stores, as he had engaged to do,
during the winter of 1540. It also was found difficult to induce
volunteers and emigrants to embark. It was, therefore, settled that
Roberval should remain behind to complete his preparations, while
Cartier, with five vessels, provisioned for two years, should set sail
at once for the St. Lawrence.
On May 23, 1541, Cartier departed from St. Malo on his third voyage to
Canada. After a protracted passage of twelve weeks, the fleet arrived at
Stadacona. Cartier and some of his people landed and entered into
communication with the natives, who flocked round him as they had done
in 1535. They desired to know what had become of their chief, Donacona,
and the warriors who had been carried off to France five years before.
On being made aware that all had died, they became distant and sullen in
their behavior. They held out no inducements to the French to
reestablish their quarters at Stadacona. Perceiving this, as well as
signs of dissimulation, Cartier determined to take such steps as might
secure himself and followers from suffering through their resentment.
Two of his ships he sent back at once to France, with letters for the
King and for Roberval, reporting his movements, and soliciting such
supplies as were needed. With the remaining ships he ascended the St.
Lawrence as far as Cap-Rouge, where a station was chosen close to the
mouth of a stream which flowed into the great river. Here it was
determined to moor the ships and to erect such storehouses and other
works as might be necessary for security and convenience. It was also
decided to raise a small fort or forts on the highland above, so as to
command the station and protect themselves from any attack which the
Indians might be disposed to make. While some of the people were
employed upon the building of the fort, others were set at work
preparing ground for cultivation. Cartier himself, in his report, bore
ample testimony to the excellent qualities of the soil, as well as the
general fitness of the country for settlement.[48]
Having made all the dispositions necessary for the security of the
station at Cap-Rouge, and for continuing, during his absence, the works
already commenced, Cartier departed for Hochelaga on September 7th, with
a party of men, in two barges. On the passage up he found the Indians
whom he had met in 1535 as friendly as before. The natives of Hochelaga
seemed also well disposed, and rendered all the assistance he sought in
enabling him to attempt the passage up the rapids situated above that
town. Failing to accomplish this, he remained but a short time among
them, gathering all the information they could furnish about the regions
bordering on the Upper St. Lawrence. He then hastened back to Cap-Rouge.
On his way down he found the Indians, who a short time before were so
friendly, changed and cold in their demeanor, if not actually hostile.
Arrived at Cap-Rouge, the first thing he learned was that the Indians
had ceased to visit the station as at first, and, instead of coming
daily with supplies of fish and fruit, that they only approached near
enough to manifest, by their demeanor and gestures, feelings decidedly
hostile toward the French. In fact, during Cartier's absence, former
causes of enmity had been heightened by a quarrel, in which, although
some of his own people had, in the first instance, been the aggressors,
a powerful savage had killed a Frenchman, and threatened to deal with
another in like manner.
Winter came, but not Roberval with the expected supplies of warlike
stores and men, now so much needed, in order to curb the insolence of
the natives. Of the incidents of that winter passed at Cap-Rouge, there
is but little reliable information extant. It is understood, however,
that the Indians continued to harass and molest the French throughout
the period of their stay, and that Cartier, with his inadequate force,
found it difficult to repel their attacks. When spring came round, the
inconveniences to which they had been exposed, and the discouraging
character of their prospects, led to a unanimous determination to
abandon the station and return to France as soon as possible.[49]