THE COMING OF FRONTENAC
While the wise and prudent Intendant, Talon, was playing his part of
official father to the people, Governor Courcelle was busy with his
own duties at Quebec. He found that the Iroquois, although they had
buried the war-hatchet, had begun to injure Canada's interests in
another way by inducing the Northern and Western Indians to trade
with the English colonies. Courcelle made up his mind that the
proper policy for the French was to secure a stronger hold on the
more distant tribes. A fort and military station was built at a spot
on the north shore of Lake Ontario where Kingston now stands.
Expeditions were despatched to open up communication with the great
and unknown territory west and south of the great lakes. Such was
the beginning of a great era of discovery, associated in Canadian
history with the name of Frontenac, Courcelle's successor, whose name
in Canadian history stands second only to Champlain. It was during
Courcelle's governorship, in 1669, that Charles the Second of England
granted a charter to the Hudson's Bay Company, who thereby acquired
the right to trade for furs in the mighty region bordering upon {104}
Hudson's Bay. But although England thus planted her foot in the far
regions of the north, it was to a couple of intrepid French Canadian
bushrangers that the idea of the Company was due. The names of these
bushrangers were Pierre Esprit Radisson and Chouart de Groseilliers,
both emigrants from France. At an early age they had been thrilled
by the tales of life and adventure in the distant wilderness across
the sea. They were hardy and enterprising, well fitted for the
arduous life-work which was before them. From a western tribe of
Indians called the Assiniboines, Radisson and Groseilliers first
heard of the character and extent of the great inland sea to the
north, which had long before been named by the English marine
explorers Hudson's Bay. Not only did they glean a description of the
inland sea, but they also succeeded, while on their wanderings, in
obtaining information how they might reach it, not as the English
might do by sea, but overland.
In August 1660 the two adventurers found their way back to Montreal
after over a year's absence. They were accompanied by 300 Indians
and 60 canoes, laden with furs, out of which they made a handsome
profit. But they had to reckon with the jealous fur-trading
proprietors of Quebec, who sought to restrict them from adventuring
into any new fields, and so many obstacles did the pair meet with,
that in order to carry out their scheme and establish trading posts
on Hudson's Bay they gave up their overland scheme and decided to
throw in their lot with the English. They crossed over the ocean and
had an interview with King Charles's cousin, the gallant {105} Prince
Rupert, and the result was all their hearts could wish for. Money
for the enterprise was found, and an English association founded
under charter from the King, which took the title of the Merchants
and Adventurers of England trading into Hudson's Bay, but better
known to us as the Hudson's Bay Company.
On a June morning 1668 the _Nonsuch_, a ketch of only fifty tons'
burden, left the Thames for Hudson's Bay. At the end of September it
passed safely through Hudson's Straits, and all hands were ordered
ashore in Rupert's River to begin the construction of a fort and
dwellings, called after King Charles. It was made of logs, in the
fashion of those made by the Jesuits and traders in Canada. As some
protection from sudden attack it was enclosed by a stockade.
This, at Rupert's River, was the first of the forts and stations of
the Hudson's Bay Company. After a time other forts and "factories,"
as they were called, began to dot the shores of the bay.
Radisson and Groseilliers did not continue very constant in their
allegiance; sometimes they were English, sometimes they were French.
They were rough-and-ready adventurers both; and it all depended whose
purse was largest to command their services. Radisson, however,
ended his days in the receipt of a pension from the Hudson's Bay
Company.
Naturally, the French were not at all pleased at this enterprise
which the English had set on foot, and soon began to take measures to
get the {106} fur trade of the most distant parts into their own
hands.
Governor Courcelle despatched an explorer, a brave fellow named
Nicholas Perrot, to summon deputies from the far western tribes to a
conference, and take them all under the protection of King Louis. It
was while on this expedition that Perrot heard from the Indians of a
mighty river flowing southwards, which they spoke of as the
Mississippi, or Father of Waters. The rumour caused great interest
in Canada. It was not long, as we shall see, before another
expedition started from Quebec to ascertain what truth lay in the
story. But that was in Frontenac's time.
Louis de Buade, Count of Frontenac, was a grandson of one of the
knightly paladins who had fought with Henry the Fourth in the wars of
the League. He was a very shrewd, courageous, and ambitious man. He
entered upon the government of Canada, as he entered upon everything
he undertook in his life, with great enthusiasm. In almost his first
letter home he wrote: "I have never seen anything so fair or so grand
as the site of Quebec. That city could not have been better placed
had it been purposely founded as the expected capital of a great
Empire." Soon after lie arrived, Talon retired from his post of
Intendant, fearing a conflict with the indomitable spirit of the new
Governor. For Frontenac, with all his excellent qualities, could
endure no opposition. He chafed at any criticism of his authority.
And opposition and criticism were to be his lot for years. He soon
became engaged in {107} bitter disputes with the officials of the
colony, with Bishop Laval, who was as stern and unbending as himself,
with the new Intendant, Duchesneau, and with the Governor of
Montreal. Frontenac disliked the Jesuits; he was constantly seeking
to curb their influence. This unhappy three-cornered conflict lasted
all through Frontenac's first governorship of ten years. He became
more and more despotic, banishing members of the Council who offended
him, and finally sending Governor Perrot of Montreal, as well as a
hostile priest named Fenelon, back to France, where the former was
imprisoned in the Bastille.
He had many enemies, but Frontenac had also many friends. These
idolised him, and to one, the brilliant and adventurous La Salle, he
stood firm as a rock. We have seen how Frontenac's predecessor,
Courcelle, had planned a fort on Lake Ontario. This plan Frontenac
warmly approved, and believing the post ought to be a strong one, he
sent 400 men to construct the works and to serve as garrison. He
also established another fort at Niagara. The project of discovering
the vast stream which the Indians called the Mississippi also greatly
interested the Governor, and a strong and able priest, Father
Marquette, and a fur-trading explorer named Jolliet left the St.
Lawrence in its quest. Frontenac, La Salle, and the others still
cherished in their hearts a vision of a short route to China. At
that time no one knew how far away the Pacific Ocean lay--no one
dreamt that thousands of miles of mountain range and prairie
separated Quebec and New York from its shores. Marquette and
Jolliet, with a few {108} followers, pushed on to the north-west of
Lake Michigan. After much paddling and many portages their canoes
brought them at last into the swelling flood of the greatest river in
the world. What emotions they felt! In wonder and triumph they
descended the Mississippi, and during the month which followed,
passed the mouths of three other great rivers, the Illinois, the
Missouri, and the Ohio. They had many talks with friendly Indians on
the banks; they saw much beautiful scenery and many strange sights.
At last they drew near to the mouth of the river of Arkansas, where
savages who had never so much as looked on the face of a white man
were not so friendly. Jolliet and his companion deemed that they had
gone far enough. By this time they had made up their minds that the
great river emptied not into the Pacific ocean but into the Gulf of
Mexico. Reluctantly they turned back, and not till the following
summer did the two explorers reach Canada again. All through this
memorable journey Jolliet had noted down in a book a description of
all that had attracted his attention, besides sketching carefully a
map of the course. This book he guarded jealously, intending it for
the eyes of the Governor, of King Louis, and the people of France.
Alas, just as he had run Lachine rapids and was in sight of home, his
canoe capsized and the precious volume floated away on the rushing
waters! It was a cruel disappointment for Jolliet. Frontenac
received him graciously, heard his story, and reported what he had
heard to his royal master. As for Jolliet's companion, Father
Marquette was wholly worn out by {109} his exertions. Less than two
years later he lay down and died by a little river pouring into Lake
Michigan, baffled in his dream of converting whole tribes of Indians
in what was then the Far West. Neither he nor the Canadian-born
Jolliet have been forgotten in this region. To many towns and
counties have their names been given, and their statues in bronze and
marble are to be seen in several places in America to-day.
Jolliet and Marquette had begun the work; it now remained for another
strong, ardent, adventurous spirit to continue it. Such a one was
close at hand in the person of Réné Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la
Salle. As a young man he had come to Canada from his native city of
Rouen, filled with the most romantic ideas of winning fame and wealth
in the wilderness. To learn the Indian language and ways he had left
the towns and led the roving life of a bushranger, making long,
lonely canoe journeys and dwelling in the Indian wigwams. He, too,
had heard of the Father of Waters, the vast Mississippi, and tried to
reach it, but, as we have seen, Jolliet was there before him. But La
Salle did not accept Jolliet's conclusions. He refused to believe
that the Mississippi emptied into the Gulf of Mexico--he thought it
led to the Pacific. He was full of faith in the existence of a short
route to China. When any one met him on his return from an
expedition, however short, they would jokingly ask him, "Venez vous
de la Chine?" ("Do you come from China?") La Salle had bought an
estate not far from Montreal, and this estate came at last to be
called in derision {110} La Chine, and Lachine it is called to this
hour. But La Salle was not the kind of man to be discouraged. He
was determined to settle the matter one way or another, and into his
plans Frontenac entered heartily. But for some years other work
claimed La Salle's attention--work of a pioneering sort. He believed
that before the French could lay strong hands on the west, where the
English had already begun to penetrate, forts and stations ought to
be built and a firm alliance made with the Indians. With Frontenac's
approval, he assumed control of Fort Cataracoui, on Lake Ontario.
Once in his hands, La Salle tore it down, built a stronger one of
stone, and rechristened it in honour of his patron, Fort Frontenac.
Moving westward, he began to clear land and to build small ships to
carry the cargoes of furs he had bargained for. The first he built
on Lake Erie in the year 1679 he called the _Griffin_, in which he
sailed to the Green Bay Mission on Lake Michigan. There the
_Griffin_ was packed with costly furs and bade God-speed on her
return voyage eastward. Weeks passed, then months and years, but the
_Griffin_ never came back. Her timbers and the bodies of her crew
have long rotted somewhere at the bottom of one of the Great Lakes.
The loss was a sad blow to La Salle; it was one of the first of that
series of great misfortunes which followed him through his career
until he was cruelly done to death by foul traitors in the remote
forest.
But by this time La Salle was not alone in his wanderings. In Henry
de Tonti he had a fiery and trusty lieutenant, and a devoted follower
in a Recollet {111} friar, Father Hennepin. Before coming to Canada,
Tonti had lost a hand in battle, its place being supplied by one of
steel, covered by a glove. The Indians stood amazed at the blows
Tonti could deal with his mysterious gloved hand, blows which would
have shattered their own members to fragments. Tonti often had
reason to bless his hand of steel. Three years after the ill-fated
_Griffin_ went down, La Salle saw his way clear to carry out his
great purpose. He embarked on the waters of the Mississippi on a
voyage to its source. The explorer, with Tonti and his party, met
with a friendly reception from most of the Indians on their journey.
Some were disposed to be hostile, and when this happened to be the
case, strong, quick paddling soon put the French out of their reach.
Finally, on the 19th of March, as the sun shone hot and trees and
flowers were in bloom, their canoes entered the mouth of the Father
of Waters, which is divided into three channels. La Salle, in his
canoe, entered one, Tonti the second, and Captain d'Autray the third.
All disembarked, and on some high, dry ground La Salle caused a
column to be raised, and upon it this inscription was placed:
LOUIS THE GREAT,
King of France
and of Navarre,
reigns.
The ninth of April 1682.
La Salle took possession of the country for the King, and bestowed
upon it the name, in his honour, of {112} Louisiana. It took the
explorers a full year to get back to Quebec, for the current was
strong and the difficulties many. There he received a warm
reception. But nothing could console him. Much to his sorrow and
dismay, he found a new Governor installed. The enemies of Frontenac,
headed by Laval, had triumphed, and the greatest and strongest man in
Canada had been recalled by the King. Never could this measure have
happened at a worse time. For, while La Salle had been absent, after
years of peace, the restless Iroquois had dug up the war-hatchet.
Upon a pretext of having received offence from the Illinois tribe,
which was under French protection, they threatened to deluge the land
in blood. To this policy they had been urged by the English Governor
of New York, Colonel Dongan, who saw with alarm the growing
enterprise, both in fur trade and exploration of the French. While
he continued in Canada the doughty Frontenac was more than a match
for the Iroquois chiefs. He sent for them instantly to Fort
Frontenac, saying that if they had been wronged by the Illinois he
would see that they had proper satisfaction. The Iroquois, having
the English Governor at their back, at first returned a defiant
answer. "If you want to see us, friend Onontio," they said, "you
must come to our lodges." With flashing eyes and with knitted brows,
Frontenac sent back the messenger to the Iroquois commanding them to
keep their hands off his Indians or take all consequences. He had,
he said, asked them to come and meet him at Fort Frontenac. Now he
added, if the Iroquois wished {113} to see him, they would have to
come to Montreal. His sternness and the fear of his displeasure
overcame the braves of the Five Nations. Changing their tone, they
sent an embassy to Montreal, promising the peace which they hated.
Scarcely had they done so than Frontenac the Lion was replaced by La
Barre, the Lamb.
Like every one else, La Salle, on learning the evil news, saw the
folly and danger of the change. To France straightway he sailed,
where the King heaped him with honours, and, seizing the opportunity,
he unfolded a project for establishing a French colony in Louisiana.
Ships were freely given him and many soldiers and supplies to reach
the Gulf of Mexico by sea. But La Salle, though he never would admit
the fact, was no sailor. His navigation was fatally at fault; he
wholly missed his intended destination, the mouth of the Mississippi,
sailing hundreds of miles beyond. He landed, and through the forests
and swamps, and stricken with fever, he led his colonists. After
much miserable wandering, in which most of the little army perished,
his followers mutinied. La Salle was murdered and his corpse flung
to the jackals and vultures.
Far more successful were the adventures of the Chevalier de Troyes.
The Chevalier de Troyes was a Canadian nobleman who had long fought
for his king, and had seen service on many of the bloody battlefields
in Europe. Now, when age began to creep upon him, and scars lined
his cheek and brow, he had retired to his estate on the banks of the
silvery St. Lawrence, to spend the rest of his days {114} in peace
and the companionship of his books. In his retirement the news of
the increasing power and wealth of the Hudson's Bay Company reached
him; it told him that unless this power was checked the prosperity of
the French fur-hunters and fur-traders would be utterly crushed. An
idea flashed across the brain of the Chevalier de Troyes, who
believed he now saw an opportunity of winning enduring distinction,
to rival, and may be surpass, the exploits of Champlain, La Salle,
and the other hero-pioneers of New France.
In the depths of winter he summoned all his dependants and all whom
his eloquence could attract, locked up his library, and set out for
Quebec on snow-shoes. From the Governor he procured, on Christmas
Eve 1685, official permission to steal upon the English and drive
them, at the point of the sword, from the shores of Hudson's Bay. He
was empowered to "search for, seize, and occupy the most advantageous
posts, to seize the robbers, bushrangers, and others whom we know to
have taken and arrested several of our French engaged in the Indian
trade, whom we order him to arrest, especially Radisson and his
adherents, wherever they may be found, and bring them to be punished
as deserters, according to the rigour of the ordinances." The rigour
of the ordinances was but another word for death.
Fourscore Canadians were selected to make up the expedition against
the Hudson's Bay Company's posts by the Chevalier de Troyes. For his
lieutenants the leader chose the three sons of a nobleman of New
{115} France named Charles le Moine. One, the eldest, a young man of
only twenty-five, was to bear an enduring distinction in the annals
of France as one of her most able and intrepid naval commanders.
This was the Sieur d'Iberville. His brothers, taking their names, as
he had done, from places in their native land, were called the Sieurs
de Sainte-Hélène and de Marincourt. Thirty soldiers were directly
attached to the Chevalier's command, veterans who had, almost to a
man, seen service in one or other of the great European wars. That
they might not be without the ministrations of religion, Father
Sylvie, a Jesuit priest, accompanied the expedition.
"The rivers," writes a chronicler of the Troyes expedition, "were
frozen and the earth covered with snow when that small party of
vigorous men left Montreal in order to ascend the Ottawa River as far
as the height of land, and thence to go down to James's Bay." At the
beginning of April they arrived at the Long Sault, where they
prepared some canoes in order to ascend the Ottawa River. From Lake
Temiscamingue they passed many portages until they reached Lake
Abbitibi, at the entrance or most southern extremity of which they
built a small fort of stockades. After a short halt they continued
their course onward to James's Bay.
First doomed to conquest by Troyes and his companions was Moose
Factory, a stockade fort with four bastions. In the centre stood a
house 40 feet square and as many high, terminating in a platform.
This fort was escaladed by the French late at night, and of {116} the
palisades short work was made by the hatchets of the bushrangers.
Not a man amongst the garrison appears to have attempted a decent
defence save the chief gunner, whose skull was split into fragments
by Iberville, and who thus perished bravely at his post of duty. A
cry for quarter went up, and the English were made prisoners on the
spot. They were sixteen in number, and as the attack was made at
night, they were in a state of almost complete undress. Troyes found
in the fort twelve cannon, chiefly six and eight pounders, three
thousand pounds of powder, and ten pounds of lead.
It is worth telling that this conquest was made with an amount of
pomp and ceremony calculated to strike the deepest awe into the
hearts of the fifteen unhappy traders, who knew nothing of fighting,
nor had bargained for anything so perilous. For so small a victory
it was both preceded and followed by almost as much circumstance as
would have sufficed for the Grand Monarque himself in one of his
theatrical sieges. The Chevalier announced in a loud voice that he
took possession of the fort and island "in the name of his Most
Christian Majesty the Most High, Most Mighty, Most Redoubtable
Monarch Louis XIV. of the Most Christian names, King of France and
Navarre." According to romantic custom, a sod of earth was thrice
raised in the air, whilst a cry of "Vive le Roi" rang out over those
waters wherein, deep down, lay the bodies of Henry Hudson and his
brave followers.
Flushed with his triumph, the Chevalier de Troyes {117} next
bethought him of an attack on either Fort Rupert or Fort Albany. He
did not long hesitate. News came that a boat containing provisions
had left Moose Factory on the previous day bound for Rupert's River.
Iberville was therefore sent with nine men and two bark canoes to
attack a sloop belonging to the Company, then lying at anchor at the
mouth of the latter river. Fourteen souls were aboard, including the
Governor. To accomplish this feat it was necessary to travel forty
leagues along the sea-coast. The road was extremely difficult, and
in places almost impassable. A small boat was built to carry a
couple of small camion. When he had arranged all his plans, Troyes
left for Fort Rupert.
Ste. Hélène was sent on in advance to reconnoitre the English fort.
He returned with the information that it was a square structure,
flanked by four bastions, but that all was in a state of confusion
owing to repairs and additions then being made. The cannon had not
yet been placed, being temporarily accommodated outside on the slope
of a redoubt.
Ere the attack, which could only have one issue, was made by the land
forces, Iberville had boarded the Company's sloop, surprised captain
and crew, and made all, including Governor Bridgar, prisoners. Four
of the English were killed.
On the heels of this exploit, Iberville came ashore, rejoined his
superior, and overpowered the almost defenceless garrison of Fort
Rupert.
The French forces now united, and Ste. Hélène having been as
successful as his brother in securing the second of the Company's
ships, all embarked and {118} sailed for the remaining post of the
Company in that part of the Bay.
Neither Troyes nor Iberville knew its precise situation; but a little
reconnoitring soon discovered it. Fort Albany was built in a
sheltered inlet forty yards from the borders of the Bay. Two miles
to the north-east was an estrapade, on the summit of which was placed
a seat for a sentinel to sight the ships expected from England, and
to signal them if all was well. But on this morning, unhappily, no
sentinel was there to greet with a waving flag the Company's captured
ship, on the deck of which young Iberville held vigilant and
expectant watch.
Two Indians, however, brought Governor Sargeant tidings of the
approach of the enemy, and his previous successes at Moose and Rupert
rivers. The Governor immediately resolved upon making a bold stand;
all was instantly got in readiness to sustain a siege, and the men
were encouraged to behave with fortitude. Two hours later the
booming of cannon was heard, and soon afterwards a couple of
skirmishers were sighted at a distance. Despite the Governor's
example, the servants at the fort were thrown into the greatest
confusion. Two of their number were deputed by the rest to inform
the Governor that they were by no means disposed to sacrifice their
lives without provision being made for themselves and families in
case of a serious issue. They were prevailed upon by the Governor to
return to their posts, and a bounty was promised them. Bombardment
by the French soon afterwards began, and lasted for two {119} days,
occasionally replied to by the English. But it was not until the
evening of the second day that the first fatality occurred, when one
of the servants was killed, and this brought about a mutiny. Elias
Turner, the chief gunner, declared to his comrades that it was
impossible for the Governor to hold the place, and that, for his
part, he was ready to throw himself on the clemency of the French.
Sargeant, overhearing this declaration, drew his pistol and
threatened to blow out the gunner's brains if he did not return to
his post, and the man slunk back to his duty. The French now
profited by the darkness to bring their cannon through the wood
closer to the fort; and by daybreak a series of heavy balls struck
the bastions, causing a breach. Bridgar and Captain Outlaw, then at
Fort Albany, were convinced that the enemy was undermining the powder
magazine, in which case they would certainly all be blown to pieces.
From the ship the French had thrown up a battery, which was separated
from the moat surrounding the fort by less than a musket-shot. None
ventured to show himself above ground at a moment of such peril. A
shell exploded at the head of the stairway and wounded the cook. The
cries of the French could now be distinctly heard outside the
fort--"Vive le Roi, Vive le Roi." In their fright and despair the
English echoed the cry "Vive le Roi," thinking thereby to propitiate
their aggressors. But the latter mistook the cry for one of
defiance, as a token of loyalty to an altogether different monarch,
and the bullets whistled faster and thicker. Sargeant {120} desired
to lower the flag floating above his own dwelling, but there was none
to undertake so hazardous a task. Finally, Dixon, the under-factor,
offered to show himself and placate the French. He first thrust a
white cloth from a window and waved a lighted torch before it. He
then called in a loud voice, and the firing instantly ceased. The
under-factor came forth, fully dressed, bearing two huge flagons of
port wine. Walking beyond the parapets, he encountered both Troyes
and Iberville, and by the light of a full moon the little party of
French officers and the solitary Englishman sat down on the mounted
cannon, or on the ground beside it, broached the two flagons and
drank the health of the two kings, their masters.
"And now, gentlemen," said Dixon, "what is it you want?"
"Possession of your fort in the name of his Most Christian Majesty,
King Louis the Fourteenth."
Dixon, explaining that he was not master there, offered to conduct
this message to his chief, and in a very short time the French
commanders were seated comfortably within the house of the Governor.
The demand was here repeated, it being added that great offence had
been given by the action of the English in taking captive three
French traders, the previous autumn, and keeping them prisoners on
ground owned and ruled by the King of France. For this compensation
was demanded, and Sargeant was desired at once to surrender the fort.
The Governor was surprised at such extreme measures, for which he was
totally unprepared, but was willing {121} to surrender upon terms of
capitulation. On the following morning these were arranged.
It was agreed that Sargeant should continue to keep all his personal
effects; and further, that his deputy, Dixon, three domestics, and
his servant should accompany him out of the fort. It was also agreed
that Troyes should send the clerks and servants of the Company to a
neighbouring island, there to await the arrival of the Company's
ships from England. In case of their non-arrival within a reasonable
time, Troyes promised to assist them to such vessel as he could
procure for the purpose. The Frenchmen also gave Sargeant the
provisions necessary to keep him and his companions from starvation.
All quitted the fort without arms, save Sargeant and his son, whose
swords and pistols hung at their sides. The Governor and his suite
were provided with passage to Hays Island, where he afterwards made
his escape to Port Nelson. The others were distributed between Forts
Moose and Albany, and were treated by their captors with considerable
severity and hardship.
Having attended to the disposition of his prisoners and their
property, Troyes, accompanied by Iberville, departed on 10th August
for Montreal. The gallant Chevalier and his associates would have
been glad to have pursued their successes by crossing the Bay and
capturing York Factory. But although two ships belonging to the
Company had fallen to their lot, yet they could find none competent
to command them. The distance between Albany and Port Nelson was by
water 250 leagues, and the road overland was {122} as yet unknown to
the French. But it was not their purpose that it should long remain
so. In a letter to his official superior at Quebec, Troyes, who
wanted to plant the fleur-de-lys over the whole bay, boasted that the
next year would not pass without his becoming acquainted with it.
Wherefore Troyes suffered himself to be prevailed upon by Iberville
and be content with the victories already won. They carried with
them in their journey more than 50,000 beaver skins as a trophy of
their arms. Many of the Hudson's Bay Company's servants were
employed in bearing the spoils. During the dreary march several of
these unhappy captives were killed through the connivance of the
French with the Indians; and the survivors reached Quebec in a
dreadfully emaciated and halt condition.
You may believe that the victories of the Chevalier were blazoned to
the skies. He was hailed in Montreal, Three Rivers, and Quebec as
equal to any of the heroes of olden times, and his return was
celebrated with great pomp. As to his future, the career of the
Chevalier de Troyes ended abruptly and tragically in 1687, when he
and all his men, to the number of ninety, were massacred by the
Indians at Niagara.
Governor la Barre, as you have heard, was an altogether different
sort of man from Count Frontenac. The Iroquois tribes, especially
the Senecas, who had now become the strongest nation, noticed the
difference at once when they resumed negotiations. Instead of the
dignity of command, La Barre wheedled their deputies, sending them
away from {123} Montreal loaded with presents. Soon afterwards, when
he despatched a trading expedition to the Illinois region, the
Senecas stopped it in its course, overhauled the canoes, and
confiscated all the valuable goods with which La Barre (with an eye
to great private profits) had packed them. Such a high-handed
proceeding touched the Governor in a very sore place--his pocket. He
became very wroth with the rascally Senecas, and swore to punish them
for their knavery and presumption. A force of 900 men being raised,
La Barre himself led them to the land of the Senecas on the south
side of Lake Ontario. But so badly laid and badly carried out were
his plans that, having got as far as the spot, since called the Bay
of Famine, Governor la Barre called a halt and there encamped. Each
day saw some of the soldiers stricken down by death and disease. The
prospect was so gloomy that finally La Barre thought it best to come
to terms with the enemy, and he therefore patched up an inglorious
peace.
The name of the Seneca deputy at the peace conference was La Grande
Gueule, or Big Jaw, so called from his gift of sustained eloquence.
Big Jaw openly boasted that the Iroquois had not the slightest
intention of sparing the Illinois tribe, whether the French liked it
or not. Frontenac would have smitten the fellow down where he stood,
but La Barre was obliged to pocket this affront, and the next day the
remnant of his troops, full of anger and indignation, marched away.
Such a peace could not, of course, long endure. {124} The Iroquois
torch had been kindled, an evil wind was blowing, and it would take
more than La Barre's feeble efforts to extinguish it. Tardy in war
and too eager for peace had the Governor shown himself, and when he
returned to Quebec found, to his mortification, that the King, his
master, had superseded him. His instant return to France was
ordered, the Marquis de Denonville being appointed in his stead.
Little pains did His Majesty take to conceal his dissatisfaction with
the treaty, or his anger at the abandonment of the Illinois.
The new Governor very quickly found that the English colonists were
intriguing with the Iroquois, upholding and encouraging them in acts
of hostility against the French. War, and war in earnest, had to
come, and when 800 fresh soldiers arrived from France, Denonville
began to prepare for it. In this he had the loyal support of the
brave and wise man who also came out as the new Governor of Montreal,
De Callières. Unluckily, Denonville began with an act of treachery.
It was a strange deed for a soldier and a Christian. A number of
Iroquois chiefs were enticed to Fort Frontenac, where they were
seized, and, after being flung into prison, were sent to France to
work all the rest of their days in the galleys. What a fate for such
haughty braves, who never worked, but left all labour to their poor
squaws! What wonder the revenge of the Iroquois was terrible!
Creeping along the St. Lawrence with his army, Denonville crossed
Lake Ontario, built a new fort, and leaving 400 men to guard it,
marched towards {125} the Seneca lodges. In the middle of July 1687
a hot battle took place with 800 Senecas, in which, after losing six
men killed and twenty wounded, the French drove the foe into the
forest. Four hundred thousand bushels of Indian corn (maize) and
several herds of swine were found and destroyed. In the meantime,
however, while the Senecas were being punished, the danger to
Montreal and the other towns was imminent, owing to their being
without strong military protection. To defend Chambly 120
bushrangers were armed, and on the island of Montreal, Callières
built twenty small forts for the inhabitants to take refuge in,
should the Iroquois descend upon them in force. For by this time, as
you can imagine, the whole of the Five Nations were blazing with
rage, as if they had been so many bloodthirsty wolves. Even in their
rage they were cunning. They had no intention of attacking Canada in
force; that was not their method of warfare. Crossing the border
silently in batches, each singled out his prey, some sleeping
village, or mayhap an unsuspecting farm. Next day a few mangled
corpses here, a heap of smoking ruins there, told the terrible tale
of the Iroquois raid.
After a time the wiser heads amongst the Five Nations began to
consider whether a conquest over the French would not make the
Colonial English (whom they called _Ang'ais_ or Yankees) too
powerful. Suddenly they openly professed a desire for peace. A
deputation was sent to Canada to say that, strong as the Iroquois
knew themselves to be, they did not mean to press for all the
advantages they had the {126} right and power to demand. "We know,"
they said, "how weak you are. We can at any time burn the houses of
your people, pillage your stores, waste your crops, and raze your
forts." To this boasting Denonville replied that Colonel Dongan of
New York claimed the Iroquois as English subjects. "If you are
English subjects, then you must be at peace with us, for France and
England are not now at war." "Onontio," exclaimed the chief of the
Envoys, "the Five Nations are independent! We can be friends to one
or both, or enemies to one or both. Never have we been conquered by
either of you."
In the end a truce was proclaimed, but truce or no truce, a great
many skirmishes and massacres still went on, on both sides. All they
could do to prevent a peace being signed, the Hurons of
Michilimackinac, allies of the French, did. To them peace meant
utter ruin; their numbers were too few, and they well knew Denonville
could not protect them from the fury of the Iroquois. Amongst the
Hurons was a tall chief famous for his prowess in war and his gift of
eloquence. He was, according to those who knew him, the bravest and
most intelligent chief on the whole Continent. Kondiaronk, or "The
Rat," was mortally offended that the French should have made even a
truce without so much as consulting the wishes of their native
allies. To take his revenge on Denonville, he resolved to make peace
impossible. When the Iroquois envoys were on their way to Montreal
to sign the treaty, "The Rat" lay in ambush with a band of his trusty
Hurons. He surprised and made them all his prisoners, slaying {127}
one. When they angrily explained that they were peaceful envoys, the
crafty Kondiaronk professed to be greatly surprised, because, said
he, "the French Governor himself sent me here on purpose to waylay
you. But if, as I believe, what you say is true, behold, I set you
at liberty! May the gods curse Onontio for having committed such an
act of treachery!" Thus saying, he loaded the deputies with gifts
and bade all but one go free. After which Kondiaronk, glorying in
his perfidy, hastened to Michilimackinac, shaking his fist in triumph
and crying, "I have killed the peace!" He spoke then the truth. The
Iroquois prisoner he took with him, under the pretence of adopting
him in place of one of his Hurons slain by the deputies on being
attacked, was handed over to the French Commander of Michilimackinac
as a spy. In vain the victim protested that he was an envoy of peace
between the Five Nations and the French. In vain did he try to
explain the circumstances of his capture. Kondiaronk laughed in his
face, telling the French Commander he must have taken leave of his
wits, and the unhappy wretch was led to the stake. An Iroquois
captive was released by Kondiaronk and bidden to return to his tribe
with this message, that while the French were making a show of
wishing peace, they were secretly slaying and capturing the men of
the Five Nations.
Months passed while the Iroquois brooded on vengeance. Denonville's
protestations were received in contemptuous silence. There was now
nothing to prevent formal war, for France and England had recommenced
hostilities. King James the Second had {128} fled from his throne
and palace to France. William of Orange, the mortal enemy of King
Louis, reigned in his stead. A new English Governor, Andros, was
sent out to New York to foment the deadly feud between the Iroquois
and the Canadians.
In the month of August 1689 burst at last the storm of the Iroquois'
hatred and revenge. One night, during a heavy shower of hail, 1500
dusky warriors crossed Lake St. Louis, landing silently and
stealthily on the beautiful island of Montreal, the "Garden of
Canada." By daybreak they had grouped themselves in platoons, one
platoon around every large dwelling for several leagues along the
road at Lachine almost to the gates of Montreal. The inhabitants of
Lachine were wrapped in sweet slumber, soon and ruthlessly to be
exchanged for that other slumber which knows no mortal awakening.
Let us conjure up the terrible picture. At each door, in war-paint
and feathers, stands a group of savages with upraised hatchets and
huge mallets. The signal is given; it is the dread Indian war-whoop;
the next moment doors and windows are driven inwards. Sleeping men,
women, and children are dragged from their beds. In vain they
struggle in the hands of their butchers, in vain they appeal to those
who know no pity. They might as well appeal to wild beasts. A few
houses resist their attacks; when these are fired 200 unhappy beings,
the hope and pride of the colony, are burnt alive. Agonising shrieks
rend the air. The knife, the torch, and the tomahawk spare none, not
even {129} the little children. Those who do not now die under their
tortures are led away to nameless cruelties, which will furnish rare
sport to the lodges of the Five Nations.
Such was the awful massacre of Lachine; such the vengeance of the
Iroquois. So swift and sudden had been the blow that the citizens of
Montreal were paralysed. All that dreadful day the savages moved on,
and for many days afterwards, and none came to arrest their course.
Governor Denonville, to whose policy the calamity was due, seems
entirely to have lost his nerve. A few miles from Lachine a body of
200 troops, led by a brave officer named Subercase, asked to be led
against the murderers of their countrymen. But Denonville, in a
panic, ordered Subercase to take refuge in Fort Roland. All were
forbidden to stir. Another body of men, commanded by one Larobeyre,
attempting to reach Fort Roland, were set upon and cut to pieces.
More than half the prisoners were burnt by their conquerors.
Larobeyre, wounded and unable to flee, was led captive to the
Iroquois wigwams and roasted alive at a slow fire. The bloodthirsty
tribes remained by the St. Lawrence as long as they pleased; their
ravages of the countryside continued for many weeks. Not until
October did the last of them disappear. A small party sent by
Denonville to make sure that they had really gone, came upon a canoe
bearing twenty-two departing Iroquois paddling across the Lake of the
Two Mountains. The chance was not one to be foregone. Too long held
in check, the Canadians drew near the savages, {130} who fired upon
them without damage. Then with a fierce joy the white men singled
out each his man, raised their muskets, and when the explosion came
eighteen Iroquois toppled over into the lake. But considering the
hundreds of Canadians who had been massacred, this was a paltry
retribution indeed.
What wonder now that the men and women of Canada longed for the
strong right arm and sagacious brain of Frontenac! Is it any marvel
that they rejoiced to hear that, menaced with the loss of his
North-American dominions, King Louis had entrusted the gallant, fiery
old soldier once more with the government of New France. Frontenac's
return was hailed by all, nobles, soldiers, merchants, artisans,
farmers, even by the Jesuits, who five years before had striven to
send him away. He was escorted to the fort with a multitude of
torch-bearers. Well he knew what a great task awaited him. He had
now to battle not only with the Iroquois, but with the Anglo-American
colonies, the Yankees, as they were called by the Indians, just as
his master, King Louis, had to combat five powers at once--England,
Germany, Holland, Spain, and Savoy.
Was Frontenac equal to the task? Was the strain now to be placed on
his shoulders too great for the powers of a hero seventy-two years of
age? That question let the next chapter answer.
{131}