1690-1694.
The Scourge of Canada.
Iroquois Inroads • Death of Bienville • English Attack • A Desperate
Fight • Miseries of the Colony • Alarms • A Winter Expedition • La
Chesnaye burned • The Heroine of Verchères • Mission Indians • The
Mohawk Expedition • Retreat and Pursuit • Relief arrives • Frontenac
Triumphant.
One of Phips's officers, charged with the exchange of prisoners at
Quebec, said as he took his leave, "We shall make you another visit in
the spring;" and a French officer returned, with martial courtesy, "We
shall have the honor of meeting you before that time." Neither side made
good its threat, for both were too weak and too poor. No more
war-parties were sent that winter to ravage the English border; for
neither blankets, clothing, ammunition, nor food could be spared. The
fields had lain untilled over half Canada; and, though four ships had
arrived with supplies, twice as many had been captured or driven back by
English cruisers in the Gulf. The troops could not be kept together; and
they were quartered for subsistence upon the settlers, themselves half
famished.
Spring came at length, and brought with it the swallows, the bluebirds,
and the Iroquois. They rarely came in winter, when the trees and bushes
had no leaves to hide them, and their movements were betrayed by the
track of their snow-shoes; but they were always to be expected at the
time of sowing and of harvest, when they could do most mischief. During
April, about eight hundred of them, gathering from their winter
hunting-grounds, encamped at the mouth of the Ottawa, whence they
detached parties to ravage the settlements. A large band fell upon Point
aux Trembles, below Montreal, burned some thirty houses, and killed such
of the inmates as could not escape. Another band attacked the Mission of
the Mountain, just behind the town, and captured thirty-five of the
Indian converts in broad daylight. Others prowled among the deserted
farms on both shores of the St. Lawrence; while the inhabitants remained
pent in their stockade forts, with misery in the present and starvation
in the future.
Troops and militia were not wanting. The difficulty was to find
provisions enough to enable them to keep the field. By begging from
house to house, getting here a biscuit and there a morsel of bacon,
enough was collected to supply a considerable party for a number of
days; and a hundred and twenty soldiers and Canadians went out under
Vaudreuil to hunt the hunters of men. Long impunity had made the
Iroquois so careless that they were easily found. A band of about forty
had made their quarters at a house near the fort at Repentigny, and here
the French scouts discovered them early in the night. Vaudreuil and his
men were in canoes. They lay quiet till one o'clock, then landed, and
noiselessly approached the spot. Some of the Iroquois were in the house,
the rest lay asleep on the ground before it. The French crept towards
them, and by one close volley killed them all. Their comrades within
sprang up in dismay. Three rushed out, and were shot: the others stood
on their defence, fired from windows and loopholes, and killed six or
seven of the French, who presently succeeded in setting fire to the
house, which was thatched with straw. Young François de Bienville, one
of the sons of Charles Le Moyne, rushed up to a window, shouted his name
like an Indian warrior, fired on the savages within, and was instantly
shot dead. The flames rose till surrounding objects were bright as day.
The Iroquois, driven to desperation, burst out like tigers, and tried to
break through their assailants. Only one succeeded. Of his companions,
some were shot, five were knocked down and captured, and the rest driven
back into the house, where they perished in the fire. Three of the
prisoners were given to the inhabitants of Repentigny, Point aux
Trembles, and Boucherville, who, in their fury, burned them alive. [1]
[1] Relation de Bénac, 1691; Relation de ce qui s'est passé de plus
considérable en Canada, 1690, 1691; La Potherie, III. 134; Relation de
1682-1712; Champigny au Ministre, 12 May, 1691. The name of Bienville
was taken, after his death, by one of his brothers, the founder of New
Orleans.
For weeks, the upper parts of the colony were infested by wolfish bands
howling around the forts, which they rarely ventured to attack. At
length, help came. A squadron from France, strong enough to beat off the
New England privateers which blockaded the St. Lawrence, arrived at
Quebec with men and supplies; and a strong force was despatched to break
up the Iroquois camp at the Ottawa. The enemy vanished at its approach;
and the suffering farmers had a brief respite, which enabled them to sow
their crops, when suddenly a fresh alarm was sounded from Sorel to
Montreal, and again the settlers ran to their forts for refuge.
Since the futile effort of the year before, the English of New York,
still distracted by the political disorders that followed the usurpation
of Leisler, had fought only by deputy, and contented themselves with
hounding on the Iroquois against the common enemy. These savage allies
at length lost patience, and charged their white neighbors with laziness
and fear. "You say to us, 'Keep the French in perpetual alarm.' Why
don't you say, 'We will keep the French in perpetual alarm'?" [2] It was
clear that something must be done, or New York would be left to fight
her battles alone. A war-party was therefore formed at Albany, and the
Indians were invited to join it. Major Peter Schuyler took command; and
his force consisted of two hundred and sixty-six men, of whom a hundred
and twenty were English and Dutch, and the rest Mohawks and Wolves, or
Mohegans. [3] He advanced to a point on the Richelieu ten miles above
Fort Chambly, and, leaving his canoes under a strong guard, marched
towards La Prairie de la Madeleine, opposite Montreal.
[2] Colden, 125, 140.
[3] Official Journal of Schuyler, in N. Y. Col. Docs., III. 800.
Scouts had brought warning of his approach; and Callières, the local
governor, crossed the St. Lawrence, and encamped at La Prairie with
seven or eight hundred men. [4] Here he remained for a week, attacked by
fever and helpless in bed. The fort stood a few rods from the river. Two
battalions of regulars lay on a field at the right; and the Canadians
and Indians were bivouacked on the left, between the fort and a small
stream, near which was a windmill. On the evening of the tenth of
August, a drizzling rain began to fall; and the Canadians thought more
of seeking shelter than of keeping watch. They were, moreover, well
supplied with brandy, and used it freely. [5] At an hour before dawn,
the sentry at the mill descried objects like the shadows of men silently
advancing along the borders of the stream. They were Schuyler's
vanguard. The soldier cried, "Qui vive?" There was no answer. He fired
his musket, and ran into the mill. Schuyler's men rushed in a body upon
the Canadian camp, drove its occupants into the fort, and killed some of
the Indian allies, who lay under their canoes on the adjacent strand.
[4] Relation de Bénac; Relation de 1682-1712.
[5] "La débauche fut extrême en toute manière." Belmont.
The regulars on the other side of the fort, roused by the noise, sprang
to arms and hastened to the spot. They were met by a volley, which laid
some fifty of them on the ground, and drove back the rest in disorder.
They rallied and attacked again; on which, Schuyler, greatly
outnumbered, withdrew his men to a neighboring ravine, where he once
more repulsed his assailants, and, as he declares, drove them into the
fort with great loss. By this time it was daylight. The English, having
struck their blow, slowly fell back, hacking down the corn in the
fields, as it was still too green for burning, and pausing at the edge
of the woods, where their Indians were heard for some time uttering
frightful howls, and shouting to the French that they were not men, but
dogs. Why the invaders were left to retreat unmolested, before a force
more than double their own, does not appear. The helpless condition of
Callières and the death of Saint-Cirque, his second in command, scarcely
suffice to explain it. Schuyler retreated towards his canoes, moving, at
his leisure, along the forest path that led to Chambly. Tried by the
standard of partisan war, his raid had been a success. He had inflicted
great harm and suffered little; but the affair was not yet ended.
A day or two before, Valrenne, an officer of birth and ability, had been
sent to Chambly, with about a hundred and sixty troops and Canadians, a
body of Huron and Iroquois converts, and a band of Algonquins from the
Ottawa. His orders were to let the English pass, and then place himself
in their rear to cut them off from their canoes. His scouts had
discovered their advance; and, on the morning of the attack, he set his
force in motion, and advanced six or seven miles towards La Prairie, on
the path by which Schuyler was retreating. The country was buried in
forests. At about nine o'clock, the scouts of the hostile parties met
each other, and their war-whoops gave the alarm. Valrenne instantly took
possession of a ridge of ground that crossed the way of the approaching
English. Two large trees had fallen along the crest of the acclivity;
and behind these the French crouched, in a triple row, well hidden by
bushes and thick standing trunks. The English, underrating the strength
of their enemy, and ignorant of his exact position, charged impetuously,
and were sent reeling back by a close and deadly volley. They repeated
the attack with still greater fury, and dislodged the French from their
ambuscade. Then ensued a fight, which Frontenac declares to have been
the most hot and stubborn ever known in Canada. The object of Schuyler
was to break through the French and reach his canoes: the object of
Valrenne was to drive him back upon the superior force at La Prairie.
The cautious tactics of the bush were forgotten. Three times the
combatants became mingled together, firing breast to breast, and
scorching each other's shirts by the flash of their guns. The Algonquins
did themselves no credit; and at first some of the Canadians gave way,
but they were rallied by Le Ber Duchesne, their commander, and
afterwards showed great bravery. On the side of the English, many of the
Mohegan allies ran off; but the whites and the Mohawks fought with equal
desperation. In the midst of the tumult, Valrenne was perfectly cool,
directing his men with admirable vigor and address, and barring
Schuyler's retreat for more than an hour. At length, the French were
driven from the path. "We broke through the middle of their body," says
Schuyler, "until we got into their rear, trampling upon their dead; then
faced about upon them, and fought them until we made them give way; then
drove them, by strength of arm, four hundred paces before us; and, to
say the truth, we were all glad to see them retreat." [6] He and his
followers continued their march unmolested, carrying their wounded men,
and leaving about forty dead behind them, along with one of their flags,
and all their knapsacks, which they had thrown off when the fray began.
They reached the banks of the Richelieu, found their canoes safe, and,
after waiting several hours for stragglers, embarked for Albany.
[6] Major Peter Schuyler's Journal of his Expedition to Canada, in N. Y.
Col. Docs., III. 800. "Les ennemis enfoncèrent notre embuscade."
Belmont.
Nothing saved them from destruction but the failure of the French at La
Prairie to follow their retreat, and thus enclose them between two
fires. They did so, it is true, at the eleventh hour, but not till the
fight was over and the English were gone. The Christian Mohawks of the
Saut also appeared in the afternoon, and set out to pursue the enemy,
but seem to have taken care not to overtake them; for the English
Mohawks were their relatives, and they had no wish for their scalps.
Frontenac was angry at their conduct; and, as he rarely lost an
opportunity to find fault with the Jesuits, he laid the blame on the
fathers in charge of the mission, whom he sharply upbraided for the
shortcomings of their flock. [7]
[7] As this fight under Valrenne has been represented as a French
victory against overwhelming odds, it may be well to observe the
evidence as to the numbers engaged. The French party consisted,
according to Bénac, of 160 regulars and Canadians, besides Indians. La
Potherie places it at 180 men, and Frontenac at 200 men. These two
estimates do not include Indians; for the author of the Relation of
1682-1712, who was an officer on the spot at the time, puts the number
at 300 soldiers, Canadians, and savages.
Schuyler's official return shows that his party consisted of 120 whites,
80 Mohawks, and 66 River Indians (Mohegans): 266 in all. The French
writer Bénac places the whole at 280, and the intendant Champigny at
300. The other French estimates of the English force are greatly
exaggerated. Schuyler's strength was reduced by 27 men left to guard the
canoes, and by a number killed or disabled at La Prairie. The force
under Valrenne was additional to the 700 or 800 men at La Prairie
(Relation, 1682-1712). Schuyler reported his loss in killed at 21
whites, 16 Mohawks, and 6 Mohegans, besides many wounded. The French
statements of it are enormously in excess of this, and are
irreconcilable with each other.
He was at Three Rivers at a ball when news of the disaster at La Prairie
damped the spirits of the company, which, however, were soon revived by
tidings of the fight under Valrenne and the retreat of the English, who
were reported to have left two hundred dead on the field. Frontenac
wrote an account of the affair to the minister, with high praise of
Valrenne and his band, followed by an appeal for help. "What with
fighting and hardship, our troops and militia are wasting away." "The
enemy is upon us by sea and land." "Send us a thousand men next spring,
if you want the colony to be saved." "We are perishing by inches; the
people are in the depths of poverty; the war has doubled prices so that
nobody can live." "Many families are without bread. The inhabitants
desert the country, and crowd into the towns." [8] A new enemy appeared
in the following summer, almost as destructive as the Iroquois. This was
an army of caterpillars, which set at naught the maledictions of the
clergy, and made great havoc among the crops. It is recorded that along
with the caterpillars came an unprecedented multitude of squirrels,
which, being industriously trapped or shot, proved a great help to many
families.
[8] Lettres de Frontenac et de Champigny, 1691, 1692.
Alarm followed alarm. It was reported that Phips was bent on revenge for
his late discomfiture, that great armaments were afoot, and that a
mighty host of "Bostonnais" was preparing another descent. Again and
again Frontenac begged that one bold blow should be struck to end these
perils and make King Louis master of the continent, by despatching a
fleet to seize New York. If this were done, he said, it would be easy to
take Boston and the "rebels and old republican leaven of Cromwell" who
harbored there; then burn the place, and utterly destroy it. [9]
Villebon, governor of Acadia, was of the same mind. "No town," he told
the minister, "could be burned more easily. Most of the houses are
covered with shingles, and the streets are very narrow." [10] But the
king could not spare a squadron equal to the attempt; and Frontenac was
told that he must wait. The troops sent him did not supply his losses.
[11] Money came every summer in sums which now seem small, but were far
from being so in the eyes of the king, who joined to each remittance a
lecture on economy and a warning against extravagance. [12]
[9] Frontenac in N. Y. Col. Docs., IX. 496, 506.
[10] Villebon in N. Y. Col. Docs., IX. 507.
[11] The returns show 1,313 regulars in 1691, and 1,120 in 1692.
[12] Lettres du Roy et du Ministre, 1690-1694. In 1691, the amount
allowed for extraordinaires de guerre was 99,000 livres (francs). In
1692, it was 193,000 livres, a part of which was for fortifications. In
the following year, no less than 750,000 livres were drawn for Canada,
"ce qui ne se pourroit pas supporter, si cela continuoit de la mesme
force," writes the minister. (Le Ministre à Frontenac, 13 Mars, 1694.)
This last sum probably included the pay of the troops.
The intendant received his share of blame on these occasions, and he
usually defended himself vigorously. He tells his master that
"war-parties are necessary, but very expensive. We rarely pay money; but
we must give presents to our Indians, and fit out the Canadians with
provisions, arms, ammunition, moccasons, snow-shoes, sledges, canoes,
capotes, breeches, stockings, and blankets. This costs a great deal, but
without it we should have to abandon Canada." The king complained that,
while the great sums he was spending in the colony turned to the profit
of the inhabitants, they contributed nothing to their own defence. The
complaint was scarcely just; for, if they gave no money, they gave their
blood with sufficient readiness. Excepting a few merchants, they had
nothing else to give; and, in the years when the fur trade was cut off,
they lived chiefly on the pay they received for supplying the troops and
other public services. Far from being able to support the war, they
looked to the war to support them. [13]
[13] "Sa Majesté fait depuis plusieurs années des sacrifices immenses en
Canada. L'avantage en demeure presque tout entier au profit des habitans
et des marchands qui y resident. Ces dépenses se font pour leur seureté
et pour leur conservation. Il est juste que ceux qui sont en estat
secourent le public." Mémoire du Roy, 1693. "Les habitans de la colonie
ne contribuent en rien à tout ce que Sa Majesté fait pour leur
conservation, pendant que ses sujets du Royaume donnent tout ce qu'ils
ont pour son service." Le Ministre à Frontenac, 13 Mars, 1694.
The work of fortifying the vital points of the colony, Quebec, Three
Rivers, and Montreal, received constant stimulus from the alarms of
attack, and, above all, from a groundless report that ten thousand
"Bostonnais" had sailed for Quebec. The sessions of the council were
suspended, and the councillors seized pick and spade. The old defences
of the place were reconstructed on a new plan, made by the great
engineer Vauban. The settlers were mustered together from a distance of
twenty leagues, and compelled to labor, with little or no pay, till a
line of solid earthworks enclosed Quebec from Cape Diamond to the St.
Charles. Three Rivers and Montreal were also strengthened. The cost
exceeded the estimates, and drew upon Frontenac and Champigny fresh
admonitions from Versailles. [14]
[14] Lettres du Roy et du Ministre, 1693, 1694. Cape Diamond was now for
the first time included within the line of circumvallation at Quebec. A
strong stone redoubt, with sixteen cannon, was built upon its summit.
In 1854, in demolishing a part of the old wall between the fort of
Quebec and the adjacent "Governor's Garden," a plate of copper was found
with a Latin inscription, of which the following is a translation:--
"In the year of Grace, 1693, under the reign of the Most August, Most
Invincible, and Most Christian King, Louis the Great, Fourteenth of that
name, the Most Excellent and Most Illustrious Lord, Louis de Buade,
Count of Frontenac, twice Viceroy of all New France, after having three
years before repulsed, routed, and completely conquered the rebellious
inhabitants of New England, who besieged this town of Quebec, and who
threatened to renew their attack this year, constructed, at the charge
of the king, this citadel, with the fortifications therewith connected,
for the defence of the country and the safety of the people, and for
confounding yet again a people perfidious towards God and towards its
lawful king. And he has laid this first stone."
The bounties on scalps and prisoners were another occasion of royal
complaint. Twenty crowns had been offered for each male white prisoner,
ten crowns for each female, and ten crowns for each scalp, whether
Indian or English. [15] The bounty on prisoners produced an excellent
result, since instead of killing them the Indian allies learned to bring
them to Quebec. If children, they were placed in the convents; and, if
adults, they were distributed to labor among the settlers. Thus, though
the royal letters show that the measure was one of policy, it acted in
the interest of humanity. It was not so with the bounty on scalps. The
Abenaki, Huron, and Iroquois converts brought in many of them; but grave
doubts arose whether they all came from the heads of enemies. [16] The
scalp of a Frenchman was not distinguishable from the scalp of an
Englishman, and could be had with less trouble. Partly for this reason,
and partly out of economy, the king gave it as his belief that a bounty
of one crown was enough; though the governor and the intendant united in
declaring that the scalps of the whole Iroquois confederacy would be a
good bargain for his Majesty at ten crowns apiece. [17]
[15] Champigny au Ministre, 21 Sept., 1692.
[16] Relation de 1682-1712.
[17] Mémoire du Roy aux Sieurs Frontenac et Champigny, 1693; Frontenac
et Champigny au Ministre, 4 Nov., 1693. The bounty on prisoners was
reduced in the same proportion, showing that economy was the chief
object of the change.
The river Ottawa was the main artery of Canada, and to stop it was to
stop the flow of her life blood. The Iroquois knew this; and their
constant effort was to close it so completely that the annual supply of
beaver skins would be prevented from passing, and the colony be
compelled to live on credit. It was their habit to spend the latter part
of the winter in hunting among the forests between the Ottawa and the
upper St. Lawrence, and then, when the ice broke up, to move in large
bands to the banks of the former stream, and lie in ambush at the
Chaudière, the Long Saut, or other favorable points, to waylay the
passing canoes. On the other hand, it was the constant effort of
Frontenac to drive them off and keep the river open; an almost
impossible task. Many conflicts, great and small, took place with
various results; but, in spite of every effort, the Iroquois blockade
was maintained more than two years. The story of one of the expeditions
made by the French in this quarter will show the hardship of the
service, and the moral and physical vigor which it demanded.
Early in February, three hundred men under Dorvilliers were sent by
Frontenac to surprise the Iroquois in their hunting-grounds. When they
were a few days out, their leader scalded his foot by the upsetting of a
kettle at their encampment near Lake St. Francis; and the command fell
on a youth named Beaucour, an officer of regulars, accomplished as an
engineer, and known for his polished wit. The march through the
snow-clogged forest was so terrible that the men lost heart. Hands and
feet were frozen; some of the Indians refused to proceed, and many of
the Canadians lagged behind. Shots were heard, showing that the enemy
were not far off; but cold, hunger, and fatigue had overcome the courage
of the pursuers, and the young commander saw his followers on the point
of deserting him. He called them together, and harangued them in terms
so animating that they caught his spirit, and again pushed on. For four
hours more they followed the tracks of the Iroquois snow-shoes, till
they found the savages in their bivouac, set upon them, and killed or
captured nearly all. There was a French slave among them, scarcely
distinguishable from his owners. It was an officer named La Plante,
taken at La Chine three years before. "He would have been killed like
his masters," says La Hontan, "if he had not cried out with all his
might, 'Miséricorde, sauvez-moi, je suis Français'" [18] Beaucour
brought his prisoners to Quebec, where Frontenac ordered that two of
them should be burned. One stabbed himself in prison; the other was
tortured by the Christian Hurons on Cape Diamond, defying them to the
last. Nor was this the only instance of such fearful reprisal. In the
same year, a number of Iroquois captured by Vaudreuil were burned at
Montreal at the demand of the Canadians and the mission Indians, who
insisted that their cruelties should be paid back in kind. It is said
that the purpose was answered, and the Iroquois deterred for a while
from torturing their captives. [19]
[18] La Potherie, III. 156; Relation de ce qui s'est passé de plus
considérable en Canada, 1691, 1692; La Hontan, I. 233.
[19] Relation, 1682-1712.
The brunt of the war fell on the upper half of the colony. The country
about Montreal, and for nearly a hundred miles below it, was easily
accessible to the Iroquois by the routes of Lake Champlain and the upper
St. Lawrence; while below Three Rivers the settlements were tolerably
safe from their incursions, and were exposed to attack solely from the
English of New England, who could molest them only by sailing up from
the Gulf in force. Hence the settlers remained on their farms, and
followed their usual occupations, except when Frontenac drafted them for
war-parties. Above Three Rivers, their condition was wholly different. A
traveller passing through this part of Canada would have found the
houses empty. Here and there he would have seen all the inhabitants of a
parish laboring in a field together, watched by sentinels, and generally
guarded by a squad of regulars. When one field was tilled, they passed
to the next; and this communal process was repeated when the harvest was
ripe. At night, they took refuge in the fort; that is to say, in a
cluster of log cabins, surrounded by a palisade. Sometimes, when long
exemption from attack had emboldened them, they ventured back to their
farm-houses, an experiment always critical and sometimes fatal. Thus the
people of La Chesnaye, forgetting a sharp lesson they had received a
year or two before, returned to their homes in fancied security. One
evening a bachelor of the parish made a visit to a neighboring widow,
bringing with him his gun and a small dog. As he was taking his leave,
his hostess, whose husband had been killed the year before, told him
that she was afraid to be left alone, and begged him to remain with her,
an invitation which he accepted. Towards morning, the barking of his dog
roused him; when, going out, he saw the night lighted up by the blaze of
burning houses, and heard the usual firing and screeching of an Iroquois
attack. He went back to his frightened companion, who also had a gun.
Placing himself at a corner of the house, he told her to stand behind
him. A number of Iroquois soon appeared, on which he fired at them, and,
taking her gun, repeated the shot, giving her his own to load. The
warriors returned his fire from a safe distance, and in the morning
withdrew altogether, on which the pair emerged from their shelter, and
succeeded in reaching the fort. The other inhabitants were all killed or
captured. [20]
[20] Relation, 1682-1712.
Many incidents of this troubled time are preserved, but none of them are
so well worth the record as the defence of the fort at Verchères by the
young daughter of the seignior. Many years later, the Marquis de
Beauharnais, governor of Canada, caused the story to be written down
from the recital of the heroine herself. Verchères was on the south
shore of the St. Lawrence, about twenty miles below Montreal. A strong
blockhouse stood outside the fort, and was connected with it by a
covered way. On the morning of the twenty-second of October, the
inhabitants were at work in the fields, and nobody was left in the place
but two soldiers, two boys, an old man of eighty, and a number of women
and children. The seignior, formerly an officer of the regiment of
Carignan, was on duty at Quebec; his wife was at Montreal; and their
daughter Madeleine, fourteen years of age, was at the landing-place not
far from the gate of the fort, with a hired man named Laviolette.
Suddenly she heard firing from the direction where the settlers were at
work, and an instant after Laviolette cried out, "Run, Mademoiselle,
run! here come the Iroquois!" She turned and saw forty or fifty of them
at the distance of a pistol-shot. "I ran for the fort, commending myself
to the Holy Virgin. The Iroquois who chased after me, seeing that they
could not catch me alive before I reached the gate, stopped and fired at
me. The bullets whistled about my ears, and made the time seem very
long. As soon as I was near enough to be heard, I cried out, To arms! to
arms! hoping that somebody would come out and help me; but it was of no
use. The two soldiers in the fort were so scared that they had hidden in
the blockhouse. At the gate, I found two women crying for their
husbands, who had just been killed. I made them go in, and then shut the
gate. I next thought what I could do to save myself and the few people
with me. I went to inspect the fort, and found that several palisades
had fallen down, and left openings by which the enemy could easily get
in. I ordered them to be set up again, and helped to carry them myself.
When the breaches were stopped, I went to the blockhouse where the
ammunition is kept, and here I found the two soldiers, one hiding in a
corner, and the other with a lighted match in his hand. 'What are you
going to do with that match?' I asked. He answered, 'Light the powder,
and blow us all up.' 'You are a miserable coward,' said I, 'go out of
this place.' I spoke so resolutely that he obeyed. I then threw off my
bonnet; and, after putting on a hat and taking a gun, I said to my two
brothers: 'Let us fight to the death. We are fighting for our country
and our religion. Remember that our father has taught you that gentlemen
are born to shed their blood for the service of God and the king.'"
The boys, who were twelve and ten years old, aided by the soldiers, whom
her words had inspired with some little courage, began to fire from the
loopholes upon the Iroquois, who, ignorant of the weakness of the
garrison, showed their usual reluctance to attack a fortified place, and
occupied themselves with chasing and butchering the people in the
neighboring fields. Madeleine ordered a cannon to be fired, partly to
deter the enemy from an assault, and partly to warn some of the
soldiers, who were hunting at a distance. The women and children in the
fort cried and screamed without ceasing. She ordered them to stop, lest
their terror should encourage the Indians. A canoe was presently seen
approaching the landing-place. It was a settler named Fontaine, trying
to reach the fort with his family. The Iroquois were still near; and
Madeleine feared that the new comers would be killed, if something were
not done to aid them. She appealed to the soldiers, but their courage
was not equal to the attempt; on which, as she declares, after leaving
Laviolette to keep watch at the gate, she herself went alone to the
landing-place. "I thought that the savages would suppose it to be a ruse
to draw them towards the fort, in order to make a sortie upon them. They
did suppose so, and thus I was able to save the Fontaine family. When
they were all landed, I made them march before me in full sight of the
enemy. We put so bold a face on it, that they thought they had more to
fear than we. Strengthened by this reinforcement, I ordered that the
enemy should be fired on whenever they showed themselves. After sunset,
a violent north-east wind began to blow, accompanied with snow and hail,
which told us that we should have a terrible night. The Iroquois were
all this time lurking about us; and I judged by their movements that,
instead of being deterred by the storm, they would climb into the fort
under cover of the darkness. I assembled all my troops, that is to say,
six persons, and spoke to them thus: 'God has saved us to-day from the
hands of our enemies, but we must take care not to fall into their
snares to-night. As for me, I want you to see that I am not afraid. I
will take charge of the fort with an old man of eighty and another who
never fired a gun; and you, Pierre Fontaine, with La Bonté and Gachet
(our two soldiers), will go to the blockhouse with the women and
children, because that is the strongest place; and, if I am taken, don't
surrender, even if I am cut to pieces and burned before your eyes. The
enemy cannot hurt you in the blockhouse, if you make the least show of
fight.' I placed my young brothers on two of the bastions, the old man
on the third, and I took the fourth; and all night, in spite of wind,
snow, and hail, the cries of 'All's well' were kept up from the
blockhouse to the fort, and from the fort to the blockhouse. One would
have thought that the place was full of soldiers. The Iroquois thought
so, and were completely deceived, as they confessed afterwards to
Monsieur de Callières, whom they told that they had held a council to
make a plan for capturing the fort in the night but had done nothing
because such a constant watch was kept.
"About one in the morning, the sentinel on the bastion by the gate
called out, 'Mademoiselle, I hear something.' I went to him to find what
it was; and by the help of the snow, which covered the ground, I could
see through the darkness a number of cattle, the miserable remnant that
the Iroquois had left us. The others wanted to open the gate and let
them in, but I answered: 'God forbid. You don't know all the tricks of
the savages. They are no doubt following the cattle, covered with skins
of beasts, so as to get into the fort, if we are simple enough to open
the gate for them.' Nevertheless, after taking every precaution, I
thought that we might open it without risk. I made my two brothers stand
ready with their guns cocked in case of surprise, and so we let in the
cattle.
"At last, the daylight came again; and, as the darkness disappeared, our
anxieties seemed to disappear with it. Everybody took courage except
Mademoiselle Marguérite, wife of the Sieur Fontaine, who being extremely
timid, as all Parisian women are, asked her husband to carry her to
another fort ... He said, 'I will never abandon this fort while
Mademoiselle Madelon (Madeleine) is here.' I answered him that I would
never abandon it; that I would rather die than give it up to the enemy;
and that it was of the greatest importance that they should never get
possession of any French fort, because, if they got one, they would
think they could get others, and would grow more bold and presumptuous
than ever. I may say with truth that I did not eat or sleep for twice
twenty-four hours. I did not go once into my father's house, but kept
always on the bastion, or went to the blockhouse to see how the people
there were behaving. I always kept a cheerful and smiling face, and
encouraged my little company with the hope of speedy succor.
"We were a week in constant alarm, with the enemy always about us. At
last Monsieur de la Monnerie, a lieutenant sent by Monsieur de
Callières, arrived in the night with forty men. As he did not know
whether the fort was taken or not, he approached as silently as
possible. One of our sentinels, hearing a slight sound, cried, 'Qui
vive?' I was at the time dozing, with my head on a table and my gun
lying across my arms. The sentinel told me that he heard a voice from
the river. I went up at once to the bastion to see whether it was
Indians or Frenchmen. I asked, 'Who are you?' One of them answered, 'We
are Frenchmen: it is La Monnerie, who comes to bring you help.' I caused
the gate to be opened, placed a sentinel there, and went down to the
river to meet them. As soon as I saw Monsieur de la Monnerie, I saluted
him, and said, 'Monsieur, I surrender my arms to you.' He answered
gallantly, 'Mademoiselle, they are in good hands.' 'Better than you
think,' I returned. He inspected the fort, and found every thing in
order, and a sentinel on each bastion. 'It is time to relieve them,
Monsieur' said I: 'we have not been off our bastions for a week.'" [21]
[21] Récit de Mlle. Magdelaine de Verchères, âgée de 14 ans (Collection
de l'Abbé Ferland). It appears from Tanguay, Dictionnaire Généalogique,
that Marie-Madeleine Jarret de Verchères was born in April, 1678, which
corresponds to the age given in the Récit. She married Thomas Tarleu de
la Naudière in 1706, and M. de la Perrade, or Prade, in 1722. Her
brother Louis was born in 1680, and was therefore, as stated in the
Récit, twelve years old in 1692. The birthday of the other, Alexander,
is not given. His baptism was registered in 1682. One of the brothers
was killed at the attack of Haverhill, in 1708.
Madame de Ponchartrain, wife of the minister, procured a pension for
life to Madeleine de Verchères. Two versions of her narrative are before
me. There are slight variations between them, but in all essential
points they are the same. The following note is appended to one of them:
"Ce récit fut fait par ordre de Mr. de Beauharnois, gouverneur du
Canada."
A band of converts from the Saut St. Louis arrived soon after, followed
the trail of their heathen countrymen, overtook them on Lake Champlain,
and recovered twenty or more French prisoners. Madeleine de Verchères
was not the only heroine of her family. Her father's fort was the Castle
Dangerous of Canada; and it was but two years before that her mother,
left with three or four armed men, and beset by the Iroquois, threw
herself with her followers into the blockhouse, and held the assailants
two days at bay, till the Marquis de Crisasi came with troops to her
relief. [22]
[22] La Potherie, I. 326.
From the moment when the Canadians found a chief whom they could trust,
and the firm old hand of Frontenac grasped the reins of their destiny, a
spirit of hardihood and energy grew up in all this rugged population;
and they faced their stern fortunes with a stubborn daring and endurance
that merit respect and admiration.
Now, as in all their former wars, a great part of their suffering was
due to the Mohawks. The Jesuits had spared no pains to convert them,
thus changing them from enemies to friends; and their efforts had so far
succeeded that the mission colony of Saut St. Louis contained a numerous
population of Mohawk Christians. [23] The place was well fortified; and
troops were usually stationed here, partly to defend the converts and
partly to ensure their fidelity. They had sometimes done excellent
service for the French; but many of them still remembered their old
homes on the Mohawk, and their old ties of fellowship and kindred. Their
heathen countrymen were jealous of their secession, and spared no pains
to reclaim them. Sometimes they tried intrigue, and sometimes force. On
one occasion, joined by the Oneidas and Onondagas, they appeared before
the palisades of St. Louis, to the number of more than four hundred
warriors; but, finding the bastions manned and the gates shut, they
withdrew discomfited. It was of great importance to the French to sunder
them from their heathen relatives so completely that reconciliation
would be impossible, and it was largely to this end that a grand
expedition was prepared against the Mohawk towns.
[23] This mission was also called Caghnawaga. The village still exists,
at the head of the rapid of St. Louis, or La Chine.
All the mission Indians in the colony were invited to join it, the
Iroquois of the Saut and Mountain, Abenakis from the Chaudière, Hurons
from Lorette, and Algonquins from Three Rivers. A hundred picked
soldiers were added, and a large band of Canadians. All told, they
mustered six hundred and twenty-five men, under three tried leaders,
Mantet, Courtemanche, and La Noue. They left Chambly at the end of
January, and pushed southward on snow-shoes. Their way was over the ice
of Lake Champlain, for more than a century the great thoroughfare of
war-parties. They bivouacked in the forest by squads of twelve or more;
dug away the snow in a circle, covered the bared earth with a bed of
spruce boughs, made a fire in the middle, and smoked their pipes around
it. Here crouched the Christian savage, muffled in his blanket, his
unwashed face still smirched with soot and vermilion, relics of the
war-paint he had worn a week before when he danced the war-dance in the
square of the mission village; and here sat the Canadians, hooded like
Capuchin monks, but irrepressible in loquacity, as the blaze of the
camp-fire glowed on their hardy visages and fell in fainter radiance on
the rocks and pines behind them.
Sixteen days brought them to the two lower Mohawk towns. A young
Dutchman who had been captured three years before at Schenectady, and
whom the Indians of the Saut had imprudently brought with them, ran off
in the night, and carried the alarm to the English. The invaders had no
time to lose. The two towns were a quarter of a league apart. They
surrounded them both on the night of the sixteenth of February, waited
in silence till the voices within were hushed, and then captured them
without resistance, as most of the inmates were absent. After burning
one of them, and leaving the prisoners well guarded in the other, they
marched eight leagues to the third town, reached it at evening, and hid
in the neighboring woods. Through all the early night, they heard the
whoops and songs of the warriors within, who were dancing the war-dance
for an intended expedition. About midnight, all was still. The Mohawks
had posted no sentinels; and one of the French Indians, scaling the
palisade, opened the gate to his comrades. There was a short but bloody
fight. Twenty or thirty Mohawks were killed, and nearly three hundred
captured, chiefly women and children. The French commanders now required
their allies, the mission Indians, to make good a promise which, at the
instance of Frontenac, had been exacted from them by the governor of
Montreal. It was that they should kill all their male captives, a
proceeding which would have averted every danger of future
reconciliation between the Christian and heathen Mohawks. The converts
of the Saut and the Mountain had readily given the pledge, but
apparently with no intention to keep it; at least, they now refused to
do so. Remonstrance was useless; and, after burning the town, the French
and their allies began their retreat, encumbered by a long train of
prisoners. They marched two days, when they were hailed from a distance
by Mohawk scouts, who told them that the English were on their track,
but that peace had been declared in Europe, and that the pursuers did
not mean to fight, but to parley. Hereupon the mission Indians insisted
on waiting for them, and no exertion of the French commanders could
persuade them to move. Trees were hewn down, and a fort made after the
Iroquois fashion, by encircling the camp with a high and dense abatis of
trunks and branches. Here they lay two days more, the French disgusted
and uneasy, and their savage allies obstinate and impracticable.
Meanwhile, Major Peter Schuyler was following their trail, with a body
of armed settlers hastily mustered. A troop of Oneidas joined him; and
the united parties, between five and six hundred in all, at length
appeared before the fortified camp of the French. It was at once evident
that there was to be no parley. The forest rang with war-whoops; and the
English Indians, unmanageable as those of the French, set at work to
entrench themselves with felled trees. The French and their allies
sallied to dislodge them. The attack was fierce, and the resistance
equally so. Both sides lost ground by turns. A priest of the mission of
the Mountain, named Gay, was in the thick of the fight; and, when he saw
his neophytes run, he threw himself before them, crying, "What are you
afraid of? We are fighting with infidels, who have nothing human but the
shape. Have you forgotten that the Holy Virgin is our leader and our
protector, and that you are subjects of the King of France, whose name
makes all Europe tremble?" [24] Three times the French renewed the
attack in vain; then gave over the attempt, and lay quiet behind their
barricade of trees. So also did their opponents. The morning was dark
and stormy, and the driving snow that filled the air made the position
doubly dreary. The English were starving. Their slender stock of
provisions had been consumed or shared with the Indians, who, on their
part, did not want food, having resources unknown to their white
friends. A group of them squatted about a fire invited Schuyler to share
their broth; but his appetite was spoiled when he saw a human hand
ladled out of the kettle. His hosts were breakfasting on a dead
Frenchman.
[24] Journal de Jacques Le Ber, extract in Faillon, Vie de Mlle. Le Ber,
Appendix.
All night the hostile bands, ensconced behind their sylvan ramparts,
watched each other in silence. In the morning, an Indian deserter told
the English commander that the French were packing their baggage.
Schuyler sent to reconnoitre, and found them gone. They had retreated
unseen through the snow-storm. He ordered his men to follow; but, as
most of them had fasted for two days, they refused to do so till an
expected convoy of provisions should arrive. They waited till the next
morning, when the convoy appeared: five biscuits were served out to each
man, and the pursuit began. By great efforts, they nearly overtook the
fugitives, who now sent them word that, if they made an attack, all the
prisoners should be put to death. On this, Schuyler's Indians refused to
continue the chase. The French, by this time, had reached the Hudson,
where to their dismay they found the ice breaking up and drifting down
the stream. Happily for them, a large sheet of it had become wedged at a
turn of the river, and formed a temporary bridge, by which they crossed,
and then pushed on to Lake George. Here the soft and melting ice would
not bear them; and they were forced to make their way along the shore,
over rocks and mountains, through sodden snow and matted thickets. The
provisions, of which they had made a dépôt on Lake Champlain, were all
spoiled. They boiled moccasons for food, and scraped away the snow to
find hickory and beech nuts. Several died of famine, and many more,
unable to move, lay helpless by the lake; while a few of the strongest
toiled on to Montreal to tell Callières of their plight. Men and food
were sent them; and from time to time, as they were able, they journeyed
on again, straggling towards their homes, singly or in small parties,
feeble, emaciated, and in many instances with health irreparably broken.
[25]
[25] On this expedition, Narrative of Military Operations in Canada, in
N. Y. Col. Docs., IX. 550; Relation de ce qui s'est passé de plus
remarquable en Canada, 1692, 1693; Callières au Ministre, 7 Sept., 1693;
La Potherie, III. 169; Relation de 1682-1712; Faillon, Vie de Mlle. Le
Ber, 313; Belmont, Hist. du Canada; Beyard and Lodowick, Journal of the
Late Actions of the French at Canada; Report of Major Peter Schuyler, in
N. Y. Col. Docs., IV. 16; Colden, 142.
The minister wrote to Callières, finding great fault with the conduct of
the mission Indians. Ponchartrain à Callières, 8 Mai, 1694.
"The expedition," says Frontenac, "was a glorious success." However
glorious, it was dearly bought; and a few more such victories would be
ruin. The governor presently achieved a success more solid and less
costly. The wavering mood of the north-western tribes, always
oscillating between the French and the English, had caused him incessant
anxiety; and he had lost no time in using the defeat of Phips to confirm
them in alliance with Canada. Courtemanche was sent up the Ottawa to
carry news of the French triumph, and stimulate the savages of
Michillimackinac to lift the hatchet. It was a desperate venture; for
the river was beset, as usual, by the Iroquois. With ten followers, the
daring partisan ran the gauntlet of a thousand dangers, and safely
reached his destination; where his gifts and his harangues, joined with
the tidings of victory, kindled great excitement among the Ottawas and
Hurons. The indispensable but most difficult task remained: that of
opening the Ottawa for the descent of the great accumulation of beaver
skins, which had been gathering at Michillimackinac for three years, and
for the want of which Canada was bankrupt. More than two hundred
Frenchmen were known to be at that remote post, or roaming in the
wilderness around it; and Frontenac resolved on an attempt to muster
them together, and employ their united force to protect the Indians and
the traders in bringing down this mass of furs to Montreal. A messenger,
strongly escorted, was sent with orders to this effect, and succeeded in
reaching Michillimackinac, though there was a battle on the way, in
which the officer commanding the escort was killed. Frontenac anxiously
waited the issue, when after a long delay the tidings reached him of
complete success. He hastened to Montreal, and found it swarming with
Indians and coureurs de bois. Two hundred canoes had arrived, filled
with the coveted beaver skins. "It is impossible," says the chronicle,
"to conceive the joy of the people, when they beheld these riches.
Canada had awaited them for years. The merchants and the farmers were
dying of hunger. Credit was gone, and everybody was afraid that the
enemy would waylay and seize this last resource of the country.
Therefore it was, that none could find words strong enough to praise and
bless him by whose care all this wealth had arrived. Father of the
People, Preserver of the Country, seemed terms too weak to express their
gratitude." [26]
[26] Relation de ce qui s'est passé de plus remarquable en Canada, 1692,
1693. Compare La Potherie, III. 185.
While three years of arrested sustenance came down together from the
lakes, a fleet sailed up the St. Lawrence, freighted with soldiers and
supplies. The horizon of Canada was brightening.