CHAPTER XXII.

NEW FRANCE.—DISCOVERIES IN THE REGION OF THE GREAT LAKES.

We have already spoken of the early French discoveries in Canada, or New

France, the settlements on the Bay of Fundy and the St. Lawrence, the

founding of Quebec and Montreal, of Champlain’s expeditions southward,

and his discovery of the lake which still bears his name. The English

colonists, from Maine to South Carolina, whom we have seen firmly plant

themselves on the new soil, occupied as yet, comparatively speaking,

merely the sea-coast, and engaged as they were in agriculture and

maritime trade, had little time or inclination for inland exploration.

For three-quarters of a century their knowledge of the interior was

derived from the Indians and from French discoverers.

Besides, as regarded the New England States, the formidable belt of the

Iroquois territory, or the territory of the Five Nations, which formed

their western boundary, effectually prevented them whilst in their

earlier stage from advancing far in that direction. This most powerful

of the Indian confederacies consisted of the five nations of Senecas,

Cayugas, Onondagas, Oneidas and Mohawks, who occupied a vast extent of

country between the St. Lawrence, Lake Champlain, and the upper waters

of the Hudson, including the great lakes of Ontario and Erie, as far

north as Lake Huron and the Georgian Bay. It was this formidable barrier

which, while it prevented the Dutch from exploring the Hudson to the

north, had already prevented the French from descending the same river,

when Champlain had discovered the heads of the stream.

The French fur-traders on the St. Lawrence and its tributaries were

necessarily brought into connexion with the Indian, but not alone was

this the case with the French trader; the French missionary kept pace

with him, and even went far a-head, and became the great European

explorer of the interior of North America.

We have seen with admiration, the zeal of Eliot and his coadjutors in

Christianising the feeble remains of the Indian tribes in New England;

and George Fox and his friends equally nobly preaching to those of

Maryland, Carolina and Virginia, as to “men and brethren” in whose souls

the Divine Voice had an utterance as well as in their own; we have seen

William Penn legislating for them equally as for the whites, and forming

with them a covenant of peace which has obtained a world-wide

reputation. But the Christian zeal and uprightness of these men was far

surpassed in intensity by the devotedness, the constancy, and the

heroism of the Jesuit missionaries of New France, who in their

earnestness to save the souls of the heathen, died the death of martyrs

and counted their loss great gain in Christ.

Too little is known by general English readers of this affecting portion

of American history, which is unsurpassed by anything we have yet

related.

When, in 1632, Quebec was restored to the French, a hundred associates,

Richelieu, Champlain and various opulent merchants being of the number,

obtained a grant of New France from Louis XIII., the grant including

“the whole basin of the St. Lawrence, and of such other rivers of New

France as flowed into the sea, besides Florida, which was claimed as a

French province by virtue of Coligny’s unsuccessful efforts.” Champlain,

the governor of New France, a man of a religious mind, who had already

declared that the salvation of a soul was worth more than the conquest

of an empire, was the earnest supporter of missionary labours. As

missionaries of New France, he would have selected priests of the

Franciscan or mendicant order, as being “free from ambition;” but he was

overruled, and the mission of converting the heathens of the New World

was intrusted alone to the Jesuits. They had here the monopoly of souls.

Their labours, however, were of the most apostolic character. “They

had,” says Bancroft, “the faults of ascetic superstition, but the

horrors of a Canadian life in the wilderness were resisted with

invincible passive courage and a deep internal tranquillity. The history

of their labours is connected with the origin of every celebrated town

in the annals of French America; not a cape was turned, no a river

entered, but a Jesuit led the way.”

In 1634, two Jesuits, Brebeuf and Daniel, left Quebec in company with a

party of Huron Indians, who inhabited the wild forest regions east of

the lake which bears their name. The journey was one of “three hundred

leagues, now through the wild forest, now ascending the Ottawa, the

great western tributary of the St. Lawrence, an impetuous river,

abounding in falls, where the canoe had to be carried for leagues on the

shoulders.” Thus by day encountering the perils and hardships of a

journey through this savage country, and at night sleeping on the earth,

they at length reached the Manitoulin, or Georgian Bay, the eastern

branch of Lake Huron. On the borders of this lake a mission was soon

established, and a little chapel erected, “built by the aid of the axe,”

and consecrated to St. Joseph, where mass was celebrated and matins and

vespers chanted, and the host administered to the Huron converts, who,

touched by the doctrine of the Saviour, promulgated by these his devoted

ministers, thronged to receive the symbols of divine love. The Christian

villages of St. Louis and St. Ignatius arose in the wilderness, and the

praises of God and Christ resounded in the Huron tongue. For fifteen

years this successful mission was continued, other missionaries being

soon attracted to this field of labour; for we are told by Bancroft,

from, whom we shall freely borrow in this portion of our history, that

“now and then one of these fathers would make a voyage to Quebec in a

canoe, with two or three savages, paddle in hand, exhausted with rowing,

his feet naked, his breviary hanging about his neck, his shirt unwashed,

his cassock half-torn off his lean body, but with a face full of

content, charmed with the life which he led, and inspiring by his air

and by his words a strong desire to join him in his mission.”

Jean de Brebeuf, the Huron missionary, was an ecstatic in his sufferings

and devotions. Not satisfied with the toil and subjection of his body

consequent on his arduous labours, he subjected himself to the rigours

of penance and self-mortification, and was rewarded with beatific

visions which exalted his pious raptures into ecstacy,—“What shall I

render to thee, Jesus, my Lord, for all thy benefits? I will accept thy

cup and invoke thy name!” exclaimed he, and registered a vow before God

and the host of heaven, before St. Joseph and other saints, “never to

shrink from martyrdom for Christ’s sake, but to receive the death-blow

only with joy!”

The life of Brebeuf in the wilderness was like an unceasing hymn. Now he

was instructing his youthful neophytes, who regarded him with a

reverential love; now he was passing slowly through the village and the

neighbouring forest, ringing a bell as the signal for older converts or

inquirers to assemble for a religious conference; and so great was his

influence on the minds of the sages and warriors of the forest, that he

won, not only their listening ear, but inspired many of them with a

profound friendship for him. Of this class was the great warrior

Ahasistari, whose mind was of a singularly high character. It was thus

that he acknowledged his faith in Jesus, whom, unconsciously, he had

long worshipped: “Before you came,” said he, “into this country, when I

have been in the greatest perils, and have alone escaped, I have said to

myself, some powerful spirit has the guardianship of my days.”

Ahasistari was baptized, and with a zeal kindred to that of his

spiritual father and friend, exclaimed, addressing a number of other

converts, “Let us strive to make the whole world embrace the faith in

Jesus.”

These missionary labours being crowned with success, a central station

was fixed at St. Mary’s on the Matchedash, the river which connects the

Toronto and Huron lakes, and “here three thousand Indian converts

received in one year a frugal welcome.”

These joyful tidings awoke an enthusiasm in France on its behalf; the

king, the queen, the princesses, the very pope himself, vied in their

evidence of favour. Young nobles, renouncing the pleasures of the world,

joined the missionary corps and devoted their revenues to its service.

Thus “was a Jesuit college and school for Indian children established at

Quebec, about the time that the Puritan College of Cambridge was

established in Massachusetts: thus did the niece of Cardinal Richelieu

endow a public hospital open to all mankind, in which young nuns from

the hospital of Dieppe were sent over: thus was an Ursuline convent for

the education of girls founded by a young and wealthy widow of Alençon,

who went with three nuns to Quebec for this purpose, and who, kissing

the soil of their adopted country as they landed, were received by the

governor and Indians shouting for joy of their welcome, whence they were

escorted to the church with chanted _Te Deums_.

Missionary labours having now acquired a national importance, Montreal

was converted, with many religious ceremonies, into the head-quarters of

the Christianised Indians, intended to form a post of communication

between Quebec and Lake Huron. Champlain, the governor, being now dead,

was succeeded by M. de Montmagny. There were at this time upwards of

fifty missionaries employed; twice or thrice a year they assembled at

St. Mary’s, the rest of the time they were scattered among the Indians.

These adventurous men not only carried the gospel of Christ into the

wilderness, and to the hitherto unknown inhabitants on the banks of vast

lakes and rivers, but every year extended the geographical knowledge of

the interior.

Within very few years after the commencement of these labours, a scheme

was formed to carry the gospel to the south of Lake Huron, to Lake

Michigan and Green Bay, thus advancing into the immense regions of the

north-west and west. Views, as it were, were opened up into the remote

wilderness, by the occasional visits at some missionary outpost of

Indians from remote nations, who reported of distant rivers and regions

where as yet the white man was unknown. Thus came a chief from the

head-waters of the Ohio, and others from the wandering Algonquins. The

French had as yet been kept from the Lakes Erie and Ontario, and the

more southern waters of the St. Lawrence, by the determined hostility of

the Mohawks, so that their access to the west was by the river Ottawa;

although Brebeuf had visited the neutral tribes about Niagara.

In 1641, Charles Raymbault and Claude Pijart appeared as missionaries

among the Algonquins of Lake Nipissing. It was towards the close of

summer when the Jesuits arrived, and the great festival of the dead was

about to be celebrated by these wandering tribes. To this ceremony all

the confederated nations assembled, their canoes covering the waters of

the lake as they advanced towards a bay on the shores of which the

ceremony was to take place. As the boats approached, they were received

with shouts which echoed among the rocks. Beneath a long shed lay the

bones of the dead in coffins of bark, incased in rich furs; all night

long the mourning-song of the war-chiefs was chanted, accompanied by the

wailing of the women. When these savage but mournful ceremonies were

ended, the Jesuits made known their wish of penetrating the more distant

wilderness, and conveying thither the light of a new and milder

religion, and by their presents and gentle words so won upon the

savages, that an invitation was given to visit the nation of the

Chippewas below the falls of St. Mary.

The invitation was gladly accepted, and Charles Raymbault, with Isaac

Jogues as his companion, set out on this long and arduous journey. After

crossing Lake Huron, which occupied seventeen days, they arrived at the

straits which connect it with Lake Superior, where two thousand persons

were met to receive them. Making known, on their part, the religion of

Christ, they heard of Indian nations eighteen days’ journey still

further to the west—the far-famed Sioux—with fixed abodes, and who

cultivated maize and tobacco, but whose race and language were unknown.

The chiefs of the Chippewas received the envoys of Christianity with

kindness, and invited them to remain. Raymbault, after languishing a

year in consumption, returned to Quebec to die. Jogues was ascending the

St. Lawrence with Ahasistari and other Huron chiefs, when a war-party of

Mohawks, enemies alike to the French and the Hurons, lying in wait for

them, attacked them as they approached the shore to land. Jogues might

have escaped, but he would not desert his companions, some of whom were

unbaptized converts. The brave and noble-hearted Ahasistari had already

fled to a secure covert, when seeing Jogues in the hands of the enemy,

he came forth, saying, “My brother, I made an oath to thee that I would

share thy fortune, whether life or death; here am I to keep my word.”

The captives were marched away in triumph to the Mohawk country. In

three successive villages Jogues was compelled to run the gauntlet; on

one of which dreadful occasions he rejoiced his soul by “a vision of the

glory of the Queen of Heaven.” Again, when consumed with hunger and

thirst, an ear of Indian corn on the stalk being thrown to him, he found

cause of exultation in the few drops of water contained in the curl of

the leaf, because they sufficed to baptize two captive neophytes! The

brave Ahasistari perished in the flames, having received absolution,

“with all the courage of a Christian martyr and the stoicism of an

Indian chief.” A young Indian convert too, having marked the sign of the

cross on an infant’s brow, was struck with a tomahawk, in the belief

that he was aiming to destroy the child by a charm.

Jogues expected a similar fate, but his life was spared; and roaming

through the forest of the Mohawk, he carved the cross and the name of

Christ on the bark of trees; and advancing thus to the confines of the

Mohawk country, was ransomed by Van Cuyler, the Dutch commandant of

Albany, on the Hudson. To reach Canada again Jogues was obliged to

return to France. He was shipwrecked however, on the English coast near

Falmouth, and falling into hands as merciless as the Iroquois, was

plundered by wreckers even of the clothes from his back. Father

Bressani, another Jesuit—who on his way from the Hurons was taken

captive by the Iroquois, and having seen his companion furnish a

cannibal feast, was stripped and ill-used till his life only was

left—was saved also by the humanity of the Dutch.

In 1645, the French desirous of establishing peace with the Five

Nations, a great assembly took place at Three Rivers, a little above

Montreal, on the St. Lawrence, where were present the French officers in

full uniform and five Indian sachems in all their bravery. Speeches were

made in the figurative style of the Indians, with great professions of

everlasting peace, the Algonquins being a party thereto. “We have

thrown,” said the Mohawk orator, “the hatchet so high in the air, and

beyond the skies, that no arm on earth can reach to bring it down. The

shades of our braves that have fallen in war have gone so deep into the

earth, that they never can be heard calling for revenge.”

Peace being assured, and having been preserved through one winter,

Father Jogues desirous, of establishing a mission among the Five

Nations, and being the only person who understood the language of the

Onondagas, set out as its founder in the month of June. His mind seemed

prophetic of his fate, and his last words to his Christian brethren

were, “_Ibo et non redibo!_” I shall go, but shall never return. And so

it was. Arrived in the Mohawk country, he was taken prisoner, on charge

of having blighted the corn. He met his death with composure; his head

was hung on the palisade of the Indian village, and his body thrown into

the peaceful Mohawk River. Nor did the Jesuits alone satisfy themselves

with penetrating to the east. Gabriel Dreuillettes, accompanied by an

Indian guide, crossed the St. Lawrence to the sources of the Kennebec in

Maine; and descending that river, reached a missionary station of the

Franciscans on the Penobscot, established several years before by

D’Aulney. Leaving these, his Christian brethren, he established himself

in the remoter wilderness, where a chapel was built, and Indian converts

gathered around him.

As regarded their intercourse with the Indians, the versatile French

seemed to acquire much greater influence over these children of the

forest than the stern and uncompromising settlers of New England. The

remarks of the historian Hildreth on this subject deserve attention.

“The French missionaries, better acquainted with human nature and the

philosophy of religion, were more moderate in their demands and more

tender in their treatment. Though themselves enthusiasts of the highest

pitch, they asked not so much of their converts ecstacies and

metaphysics as admiring reverence and ceremonial observances, which ever

constitute the religion of the multitude. Themselves in the highest

degree self-denying and ascetic, surpassing in this respect even their

puritan rivals, they yet looked with fatherly indulgence on the human

weaknesses and easily-besetting sins of their converts. These converts

were admitted to all the privileges of French subjects; intermarriages

became frequent—for prejudices of caste were much less strong on the

part of the French than of the English—and thence resulted a mixed race;

the Canadian couriers of the woods, boatmen and woodsmen, combining the

hardihood and activity of the Indian, with the more docile, manageable

and persevering temper of the French. There were dozens of Jesuit

missionaries employed in New France, not less zealous than Eliot, and

far more enterprising, whose travels and adventures show religious

influences and theocratic ideas not less operative in the first

exploration of the distant West, than in the original settlement of New

England.”

After the display of Iroquois ferocity, and the murder of Jogues, of

which that seemed the signal, war was resumed. The proud Iroquois

determined on the destruction or dispersion of the Hurons and Wyandots,

and the missionaries labouring among these nations shared their fate. On

the morning of July 4, 1648, the village of St. Joseph, in the absence

of the Indians, who were on the chase, and when only women and children

remained, was surprised by a war-party of Mohawks. The village was

fired, and the remorseless tomahawk began its bloody work. The terrified

women and children flocked round the missionary, Father Daniel, who

seeing the destruction which was at hand, hastened through the village,

speaking words of Christian comfort and baptizing the dying. When the

enemy advanced to the chapel, the calm, devoted preacher stood before

them to oppose their entrance of the sacred building. For a moment they

were awe-stricken, and paused as if to retire; the next they discharged

against him a shower of arrows. Bleeding from many wounds, he lifted up

his hands and voice, and overpowering the yells of the savages by his

words of pity and forgiveness, he received finally his death-blow from a

hatchet. The following winter, in the dead of night, a thousand Iroquois

warriors attacked the village of St. Ignatius and murdered its four

hundred inhabitants; the same fate befell St. Louis, in which dwelt the

missionaries Brebeuf and Lallemand. Both could have escaped, but that

their Christian zeal and love forbade them to desert converts who might

need baptism in the hour of death. Faithful to the last, these servants

of Christ, having spent their lives in works of love, died as martyrs.

Brebeuf for three hours, and Lallemand for seventeen, were subjected to

the direst Indian tortures, the stoic Indians themselves beholding with

amazement the firmness of their victims. Wonderful was the Christian

heroism of these missionaries. The history of man hardly contains any

greater. Charlevoix says truly, writing of these men, “The Lord

communicates himself without measure to those who sacrifice themselves

without reserve.” And, speaking of them personally, he adds, “I myself

knew some of them in my youth, and I found them such as I have painted

them, bending under the labour of a long apostleship, with bodies

exhausted by fatigues and broken with age, but still preserving all the

vigour of the apostolic spirit.”

It had been the desire of the missionaries, after this Huron calamity,

to have collected the scattered remains of the nation on the Grand

Manitoulin Isle, in Lake Huron. But it was not accomplished. The Huron

nation was never again to be collected, and the station on the

Manitoulin was abandoned.

The pride of the Iroquois increased with their successes, even as the

zeal of the missionaries grew with their sufferings, and the conversion

of the formidable Five Nations became now the object of their desire;

but this object was too vast even for their accomplishment. The

Iroquois, possessed of fire-arms obtained from the Dutch, now also their

partisans, resolved on the extermination of the French, and their

war-parties triumphed at Three Rivers and advanced to Quebec, killing

the governor at the one place, and a priest at the other. “No frightful

solitude of the wilderness,” says Bancroft, “no impenetrable recess of

the frozen north, was safe against the passions of the Five Nations.

Their chiefs, animated not only by cruelty but by pride, were resolved

that no nation should role but themselves.”

In this state of terrible alarm, beset by enemies as powerful as they

were remorseless, New France despatched one of her council and Father

Dreuillettes, the missionary of the north-east, to ask aid from the

united colonies of New England against the Mohawks; but “the story of

their sufferings, and their murdered missionaries, were listened to with

indifference: no aid could be obtained from that quarter.” Nothing was

left for them but to suffer or to help themselves, and after they had

remained for about three years in this state of constant alarm, the

Iroquois consented to peace.

According to Indian custom, numbers of the vanquished Hurons had been

adopted into the nation and families of the conquerors; and many of

these carried thus with them into the bosom of the Five Nations,

affection for the French, and some knowledge of Christianity; and when

Father Le Moyne was sent as envoy to ratify the treaty of peace, he was

welcomed by a party of his old Huron friends. This circumstance awoke in

his soul the hope that those mighty nations might be converted to

Christianity, and the whole west become subject to France. A vaster

field was now open for missionary labour than before. Le Moyne

established himself on Mohawk River, and two others, Dablon and

Chaumonot, an Italian priest and an old missionary among the Hurons,

took up their quarters at Onondaga, the village of that nation, where

they were warmly welcomed. They were welcomed also by the Oneidas. A

grand assembly of the nations gathered, “under the open sky and among

the primeval forests,” to receive the emissaries of Christ. Chaumonot

addressed them with all the fervour and impassioned eloquence of an

Italian orator, and his Indian audience were transported out of

themselves. “Happy land!” sang the excited chiefs, “happy land, in which

the French are to dwell! Glad tidings! glad tidings! It is well that we

have spoken together; it is well that we have a heavenly message!”

A chapel sprang, as it were, instantly into being, for the enthusiasm of

the Indians finished it in a day; and the services of the Romish Church

were chanted in the Mohawk tongue. Christianity was thus planted among

the Onondagas, who dwelling on the banks of the Oswego, which was

included within the charter of the Hundred Associates, was claimed as a

part of the French empire. Chaumonot made his way to “the more fertile

and densely-peopled land” of the Senecas, the most powerful tribe of the

confederacy, while René Mesnard was reserved as a missionary by the

Cayugas, and a chapel erected in their village, the interior of which

was hung with mats, on which were displayed pictures of the Virgin and

the Infant Saviour which attracted the admiring gaze of the converts.

While Christian missions were thus established throughout the other

nations, the chapel of the Onondagas becoming too small for its

increasing worshippers, was enlarged, and for a moment it seemed as if

the religion of peace had taken root in the blood-stained soil of the

Five Nations. At the close of 1657, Jesuit priests published their faith

from the Mohawk to the Genesee, Onondaga remaining the central station.

A little colony of fifty Frenchman was also established on the

Oswego.[9]

But neither settlements nor missionary labours could change the nature

of the inveterate savage. A war of extermination was carried on by them

against their neighbours, the Eries; and the tortures of the captives,

even women and children, which were brought to the villages, called

forth protests from the missionaries. These excited the displeasure of

the Indians, and three Frenchmen were murdered. In vain was aid

solicited from Canada; the growing ill-will of the Onondagas compelled

the missionaries to abandon their chapel and the colonists their

settlement. The Mohawks obliged Le Moyne to depart; and the following

year war again broke out with the Five Nations.

The same year the first bishop of New France, the able Montigny, arrived

at Quebec, and the island of Montreal having been granted in fief to the

Seminary of St. Sulpice, at Paris, a deputation of monks came over, and

the foundation of the present city was laid, by the establishment of a

hospital, to serve in which religious women came from France. “To the

unassisted energy of Margeurite Bourgeoise,” says Hildreth, “the

institution of the Daughters of the Congregation owes its origin. With

no other resource than her courage and her confidence in God, she

undertook the establishment of a convent at Montreal, to secure to all

female children, however poor and destitute, a useful and respectable

education. The whole island of Montreal, in fact, resembled a religious

community.”

The puritanic rigidity of life in New England was equalled by that of

catholic Montreal. As a picture of the manners of those days in that

religious city, we may give the description of La Hontan:—“We have here

a misanthropical bigot of a curé, under whose spiritual despotism play

and visiting the ladies are reckoned among the deadly sins. If you have

the misfortune to be on his black list, he launches at you publicly from

the pulpit. In order to keep well with Messieurs the priests of St.

Sulpice, our temporal lords, it is necessary to communicate once a

month. No one dare be absent from great masses and sermons. These

Arguses have their eyes constantly on the conduct of the women and the

girls. Fathers and husbands may sleep in all assurance, unless they have

suspicion of these vigilant sentinels themselves. Of all the vexation of

these disturbers, I find none so intolerable as their war upon books.

None are to be found here but books of devotion. All others are

prohibited and condemned to the flames.”

While civilisation was labouring to establish itself in the north, the

adventurous Jesuits had penetrated to the far west. In 1656, two young

fur-traders returned to St. Louis, after a two years’ travel of 500

leagues, bringing back with them a great number of Ottawas. They related

wonderful and exciting histories of vast lakes in the west, and numerous

tribes of Indians, as yet unknown to the white man. New fields were

opened for commerce and missionary labours.

Gabriel Dreuillettes, formerly missionary in Maine, and Louis Gareau, an

old Huron missionary, were deputed to this service, and accompanied by

the Ottawas, returned with them in their canoes. But the Mohawks,

enemies of the Ottawas, attacked the little fleet and Gareau was killed.

In 1660, two other fur-traders, who had passed the winter on the banks

of Lake Superior, returned to Quebec, again escorted by a great number

of canoes rowed by Algonquins and laden with peltry. The Mohawks and

their confederate nations had carried on a war of extermination against

the Eries, and were now advancing against other nations lying more to

the south and west. The Algonquins, therefore, besought an alliance with

the French against these powerful enemies.

Again the missionary enthusiasm was excited; the very bishop of Quebec

himself was eager to undertake the enterprise; but the decision being by

lot, René Mesnard, late missionary among the Cayugus, was chosen. He was

already advanced in years, and experienced in missionary service. “I

go,” said he, “trusting in Providence, who feeds the little birds of the

desert and clothes the wild flowers of the forest.” “In three or four

months,” wrote he to a friend, “you may add me to the memento of

deaths.” In the autumn he reached the southern shore of Lake Superior,

and the following year, being on his way to the Bay of Chegoimegon, on

the western extremity of that great lake, he lost his way in the forest

and never more was seen; his cassock and breviary being kept for long

years afterwards as amulets among the Sioux.

Again the Mohawks made war on the French, and Montreal was in danger;

the abandonment of the country was even thought of and might have been

carried out, but that Colbert, the minister of the young Louis XIV., who

had just come to the throne, estimating at its true value the commercial

relationship of France with the Canadian colony, was the means of its

being transferred to a new West India company, the original company of

New France having resigned its rights to the sovereign. Under this new

management, “a royal regiment, under the indefatigable Tracy as viceroy,

was sent over for its defence; Courcelles, a veteran soldier, was

appointed governor, and Talon, a man of business and integrity, as royal

representative in civil affairs. Every omen was favourable, save the

conquest of New Netherlands by the English, which took place at this

time, and which circumstance, in a quarter of a century, made the

hunting-fields of the Iroquois the battle-grounds of these two European

rivals.”

Under the better prospects which the change of administration introduced

into New France, Father Allouez, nothing daunted by the cruel fate of

Gareau and Mesnard, set out on a mission to the remote west. His journey

commenced in August, 1665, and early in September he entered the great

lake, reverenced by the Indians as a divinity, “and sailing along the

lofty banks and pictured rocks of its southern shore, passed beyond the

Bay of Keweena, obtaining knowledge of those copper mines known

immemorially to the Indians, and for which that region is now

celebrated, and so arrived at Chegoimegon, where landing, he celebrated

mass and inscribing the cross on a lofty tree of the forest, claimed the

country for the Christian king of France.”

The great village of the Chippewas was situated on Chegoimegon Bay, and

at the moment of Allouez’ arrival a grand council of ten or twelve

nations had assembled there to prevent war between the Chippewas and the

Sioux. Into this assembly advanced the fearless missionary, and in the

names of Christ and of the monarch of France commanded peace; offering

to them the advantage of commerce, and protection from the French

against their common enemy the Iroquois.

These Indians who had never before seen a white man, listened to him

with reverence. A chapel soon sprung up there, and the services were

chanted in a new tongue. At this mission of St. Esprit, more than twenty

different nations listened to the teacher. Hither came scattered

remnants of the Hurons and Ottawas; hither came the Potawatamies,

worshippers of the sun, who invited Allouez to their homes still further

westward; hither came the Sacs and Foxes, hunters of the deer, the

beaver and the buffalo; hither came the Illinois and the impassive

Sioux, whose food was wild rice, and who used skins of beasts instead of

bark to roof their cabins, and who excited the missionary’s curiosity by

the accounts they gave of the mighty Mesipi, on which they dwelt, and

which flowed to the south; forests they had not, but vast prairies where

herds of deer and buffalo grazed on the tall grasses. “They told him of

their mysterious peace-pipe, and of the welcome which they gave to

strangers;” and Allouez, as he listened, exclaimed, “Their country is

the best field for the gospel.”

After a residence here of two years, Allouez returned to Quebec, and

there exciting an enthusiasm equal to his own, he, already on the third

day after his return, in company with Louis Nicolas, another missionary,

was on his way back to Chegoimegon.

A popular history of the United States of America, Vol. 1 (of 2) · 第 22 / 28 章