definite and accurate details, when we come to the voyages of John
Cabot, a great navigator, who was probably a Genoese by birth and a
Venetian by citizenship. Five years after the first discovery by
Columbus, John Cabot sailed to unknown seas and lands in the Northwest
in the ship _Matthew_ of Bristol, with full authority from the King of
England, Henry the Seventh, to take possession in his name of all
countries he might discover. On his return from a successful voyage,
during which he certainly landed on the coast of British North America,
and first discovered the continent of North America, he became the hero
of the hour and received from Henry, a very economical sovereign, a
largess of ten pounds as a reward to "hym that founde the new ile." In
the following year both he and his son Sebastian, then a very young
man, who probably also accompanied his father in the voyage of 1497,
sailed again for the new lands which were believed to be somewhere on
the road to Cipango and the countries of gold and spice and silk. We
have no exact record of this voyage, and do not even know whether John
Cabot himself returned alive; for, from the day of his sailing in 1498,
he disappears from the scene and his son Sebastian not only becomes
henceforth a prominent figure in the maritime history of the period,
but has been given by his admirers even the place which his father
alone fairly won as the leader in the two voyages on which {23} England
has based her claim of priority of discovery on the Atlantic coast of
North America. The weight of authority so far points to a headland of
Cape Breton as the _prima tierra vista_, or the landfall which John
Cabot probably made on a June day, the four hundredth anniversary of
which arrived in 1897, though the claims of a point on the wild
Labrador coast and of Bonavista, an eastern headland of Newfoundland,
have also some earnest advocates. It is, however, generally admitted
that the Cabots, in the second voyage, sailed past the shores of Nova
Scotia and of the United States as far south as Spanish Florida.
History here, at all events, has tangible, and in some respects
irrefutable, evidence on which to dwell, since we have before us a
celebrated map, which has come down from the first year of the
sixteenth century, and is known beyond doubt to have been drawn with
all the authority that is due to so famous a navigator as Juan de la
Cosa, the Basque pilot. On this map we see delineated for the first
time the coast apparently of a continental region extending from the
peninsula of Florida as far as the present Gulf of St. Lawrence, which
is described in Spanish as _mar descubierta por los Ingleses_ (sea
discovered by the English), on one headland of which there is a _Cavo
de Ynglaterra_, or English Cape. Whether this sea is the Gulf of St.
Lawrence and the headland is Cape Race, the south-eastern extremity of
Newfoundland, or the equally well-known point which the Bretons named
on the southeastern coast of Cape Breton, are among the questions which
enter into the domain of {24} speculation and imagination. Juan de la
Cosa, however, is conclusive evidence in favour of the English claim to
the first discovery of Northern countries, whose greatness and
prosperity have already exceeded the conceptions which the Spanish
conquerors formed when they won possession of those rich Southern lands
which so long acknowledged the dominion of Spain.
But Cabot's voyages led to no immediate practical results. The Bristol
ships brought back no rich cargoes of gold or silver or spices, to tell
England that she had won a passage to the Indies and Cathay. The idea,
however, that a short passage would be discovered to those rich regions
was to linger for nearly two centuries in the minds of maritime
adventurers and geographers.
[Illustration: Sketch of Juan de la Cosa's map, A.D. 1500.]
If we study the names of the headlands, bays, and other natural
features of the islands and countries which inclose the Gulf of St.
Lawrence we find many memorials of the early Portuguese and French
voyagers. In the beginning of the sixteenth century Gaspar Cortereal
made several voyages to the northeastern shores of Newfoundland and
Labrador, and brought back with him a number of natives whose sturdy
frames gave European spectators the idea that they would make good
labourers; and it was this erroneous conception, it is generally
thought, gave its present name to the rocky, forbidding region which
the Norse voyagers had probably called Helluland five hundred years
before. Both Gaspar Cortereal and his brother Miguel disappeared from
history somewhere in the waters of Hudson's {26} Bay or Labrador; but
they were followed by other adventurous sailors who have left mementos
of their nationality on such places as Cape Raso (Race), Boa Ventura
(Bonaventure), Conception, Tangier, Porto Novo, Carbonear (Carboneiro),
all of which and other names appear on the earliest maps of the
north-eastern waters of North America.
Some enterprising sailors of Brittany first gave a name to that Cape
which lies to the northeast of the historic port of Louisbourg. These
hardy sailors were certainly on the coast of the island as early as
1504, and Cape Breton is consequently the earliest French name on
record in America. Some claim is made for the Basques--that primeval
people, whose origin is lost in the mists of tradition--because there
is a Cape Breton on the Biscayan coast of France, but the evidence in
support of the Bretons' claim is by far the strongest. For very many
years the name of Bretons' land was attached on maps to a continental
region, which included the present Nova Scotia, and it was well into
the middle of the sixteenth century, after the voyages of Jacques
Cartier and Jehan Alfonce, before we find the island itself make its
appearance in its proper place and form.
It was a native of the beautiful city of Florence, in the days of
Francis the First, who gave to France some claim to territory in North
America. Giovanni da Verrazano, a well-known corsair, in 1524,
received a commission from that brilliant and dissipated king, Francis
the First, who had become jealous of the enormous pretensions of Spain
and Portugal in the new world, and had on one occasion sent word to
{27} his great rival, Charles the Fifth, that he was not aware that
"our first father Adam had made the Spanish and Portuguese kings his
sole heirs to the earth." Verrazano's voyage is supposed on good
authority to have embraced the whole North American coast from Cape
Fear in North Carolina as far as the island of Cape Breton. About the
same time Spain sent an expedition to the northeastern coasts of
America under the direction of Estevan Gomez, a Portuguese pilot, and
it is probable that he also coasted from Florida to Cape Breton. Much
disappointment was felt that neither Verrazano nor Gomez had found a
passage through the straits which were then, and for a long time
afterwards, supposed to lie somewhere in the northern regions of
America and to lead to China and India. Francis was not able to send
Verrazano on another voyage, to take formal possession of the new
lands, as he was engaged in that conflict with Charles which led to his
defeat at the battle of Pavia and his being made subsequently a
prisoner. Spain appears to have attached no importance to the
discovery by Gomez, since it did not promise mines of gold and silver,
and happily for the cause of civilisation and progress, she continued
to confine herself to the countries of the South, though her fishermen
annually ventured, in common with those of other nations, to the banks
of Newfoundland. However, from the time of Verrazano we find on the
old maps the names of Francisca and Nova Gallia as a recognition of the
claim of France to important discoveries in North America. It is also
from the Florentine's voyage that we may date the {28} discovery of
that mysterious region called Norumbega, where the fancy of sailors and
adventurers eventually placed a noble city whose houses were raised on
pillars of crystal and silver, and decorated with precious stones.
These travellers' tales and sailors' yarns probably originated in the
current belief that somewhere in those new lands, just discovered,
there would be found an El Dorado. The same brilliant illusion that
led Ralegh to the South made credulous mariners believe in a Norumbega
in the forests of Acadia. The name clung for many years to a country
embraced within the present limits of New England, and sometimes
included Nova Scotia. Its rich capital was believed to exist somewhere
on the beautiful Penobscot River, in the present State of Maine. A
memorial of the same name still lingers in the little harbours of
Norumbec, or Lorambeque, or Loran, on the southeastern coast of Cape
Breton. Enthusiastic advocates of the Norse discovery and settlement
have confidently seen in Norumbega, the Indian utterance of Norbega,
the ancient form of Norway to which Vinland was subject, and this
belief has been even emphasised on a stone pillar which stands on some
ruins unearthed close to the Charles River in Massachusetts. _Si non é
vero è ben trovato_. All this serves to amuse, though it cannot
convince, the critical student of those shadowy times. With the
progress of discovery the city of Norumbega was found as baseless as
the fables of the golden city on the banks of the Orinoco, and of the
fountain of youth among the forests and everglades of Florida.
{29}
III.
A BRETON SAILOR DISCOVERS CANADA AND ITS GREAT RIVER.
(1534-36.)
In the fourth decade of the sixteenth century we find ourselves in the
domain of precise history. The narratives of the voyages of Jacques
Cartier of St. Malo, that famous port of Brittany which has given so
many sailors to the world, are on the whole sufficiently definite, even
at this distance of three centuries and a half, to enable us to follow
his routes, and recognise the greater number of the places in the gulf
and river which he revealed to the old world. The same enterprising
king who had sent Verrazano to the west in 1524, commissioned the
Breton sailor to find a short passage to Cathay and give a new dominion
to France.
At the time of the departure of Cartier in 1534 for the "new-found
isle" of Cabot, the world had made considerable advances in
geographical knowledge. South America was now ascertained to be a
separate continent, and the great Portuguese Magellan had {30} passed
through the straits, which ever since have borne his name, and found
his way across the Pacific to the spice islands of Asia. As respects
North America beyond the Gulf of Mexico and the country to the North,
dense ignorance still prevailed, and though a coast line had been
followed from Florida to Cape Breton by Cabot, Gomez, and Verrazano, it
was believed either to belong to a part of Asia or to be a mere
prolongation of Greenland. If one belief prevailed more than another
it was in the existence of a great sea, called on the maps "the sea of
Verrazano," in what is now the upper basin of the Mississippi and the
Great Lakes of the west, and which was only separated from the Atlantic
by a narrow strip of land. Now that it was clear that no short passage
to India and China could be found through the Gulf of Mexico, and that
South America was a continental region, the attention of hopeful
geographers and of enterprising sailors and adventurers was directed to
the north, especially as Spain was relatively indifferent to enterprise
in that region. No doubt the French King thought that Cartier would
find his way to the sea of Verrazano, beyond which were probably the
lands visited by Marco Polo, that enterprising merchant of Venice,
whose stories of adventure in India and China read like stories of the
Arabian Nights.
[Illustration: Jacques Cartier]
Jacques Cartier made three voyages to the continent of America between
1534 and 1542, and probably another in 1543. The first voyage, which
took place in 1534 and lasted from April until September, was confined
to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, which he {32} explored with some
thoroughness after passing through the strait of Belle Isle, then
called the Gulf of Castles (Chasteaux). The coast of Labrador he
described with perfect accuracy as extremely forbidding, covered with
rocks and moss and "as very likely the land given by God to Cain." In
one of the harbours of the Labrador coast he found a fishing vessel
from La Rochelle, the famous Protestant town of France, on its way to
the port of Brest, then and for some time after a place of call for the
fishermen who were already thronging the Gulf, where walrus, whales,
and cod were so abundant. A good deal of time has been expended by
historical writers on the itinerary of this voyage, the record of which
is somewhat puzzling at times when we come to fix Cartier's names of
places on a modern map. Confining ourselves to those localities of
which there is no doubt, we know he visited and named the isle of Brion
in honour of Admiral Philip de Chabot, Seigneur de Brion, who was a
friend and companion of Francis, and had received from him authority to
send out Cartier's expedition. The Breton saw the great sand-dunes,
and red cliffs of the Magdalens rising from the sea like so many cones.
It was one of these islands he probably called Alezay, though there are
writers who recognise in his description a headland of Prince Edward
Island, but it is not certain that he visited or named any of the bays
or lagoons of that island which lies so snugly ensconced in the Gulf.
We recognise the bay of Miramichi (St. Lunaire) and the still more
beautiful scenery of the much larger bay of Chaleur (Heat) which he so
{33} named because he entered it on a very hot July day. There he had
pleasant interviews with the natives, who danced and gave other
demonstrations of joy when they received some presents in exchange for
the food they brought to the strangers. These people were probably
either Micmacs or Etchemins, one of the branches of the Algonquin
nation who inhabited a large portion of the Northern continent.
Cartier was enchanted with the natural beauties of "as fine a country
as one would wish to see and live in, level and smooth, warmer than
Spain, where there is abundance of wheat, which has an ear like that of
rye, and again like oats, peas growing as thickly and as large as if
they had been cultivated, red and white barberries, strawberries, red
and white roses, and other flowers of a delightful and sweet perfume,
meadows of rich grasses, and rivers full of salmon"--a perfectly true
description of the beautiful country watered by the Restigouche and
Metapedia rivers. Cartier also visited the picturesque bay of Gaspé,
where the scenery is grand but the trees smaller and the land less
fertile than in the neighbourhood of Chaleur and its rivers. On a
point at the entrance of the harbour of Gaspé--an Indian name having
probably reference to a split rock, which has long been a curiosity of
the coast--Cartier raised a cross, thirty feet in height, on the middle
of which there was a shield or escutcheon with three fleurs-de-lis, and
the inscription, _Vive le Roy de France_. Cartier then returned to
France by way of the strait of Belle Isle, without having seen the
great river to whose mouth he had been so close {34} when he stood on
the hills of Gaspé or passed around the shores of desolate Anticosti.
Cartier brought back with him two sons of the Indian chief of a tribe
he saw at Gaspé, who seem to have belonged to the Huron-Iroquois nation
he met at Stadacona, now Quebec, when he made the second voyage which I
have to describe. The accounts he gave of the country on the Gulf
appear to have been sufficiently encouraging to keep up the interest of
the King and the Admiral of France in the scheme of discovery which
they had planned. In this second voyage of 1535-36, the most memorable
of all he made to American waters, he had the assistance of a little
fleet of three vessels, the _Grande Hermine_, the _Petite Hermine_, and
the _Emérillon_, of which the first had a burden of one hundred and
twenty tons--quite a large ship compared with the two little vessels of
sixty tons each that were given him for his first venture. This fleet,
which gave Canada to France for two centuries and a quarter, reached
Newfoundland during the early part of July, passed through the strait
of Belle Isle, and on the 10th of August, came to a little bay or
harbour on the northern shore of the present province of Quebec, but
then known as Labrador, to which he gave the name of St. Laurent, in
honour of the saint whose festival happened to fall on the day of his
arrival. This bay is now generally believed to be the port of Sainte
Geneviève, and the name which Cartier gave it was gradually transferred
in the course of a century to the whole gulf as well as to the river
itself which the Breton sailor was the first to place {35} definitely
on the maps of those days of scanty geographical knowledge. Cartier
led his vessels through the passage between the northern shores of
Canada and the island of Anticosti, which he called Assomption,
although it has long since resumed its old name, which has been
gradually changed from the original Natiscotic to Naticousti, and
finally to Anticosti. When the adventurers came near the neighbourhood
of Trinity River on the north side of the Gulf, the two Gaspé Indians
who were on board Cartier's vessel, the Grande Hermine, told them that
they were now at the entrance of the kingdom of Saguenay where red
copper was to be found, and that away beyond flowed the great river of
Hochelaga and Canada. This Saguenay kingdom extended on the north side
of the river as far as the neighbourhood of the present well-known Isle
aux Coudres; then came the kingdom of Canada, stretching as far as the
island of Montreal, where the King of Hochelaga exercised dominion over
a number of tribes in the adjacent country.
Cartier passed the gloomy portals of the Saguenay, and stopped for a
day or two at Isle aux Coudres (Coudrières) over fifty miles below
Quebec, where mass was celebrated for the first time on the river of
Canada, and which he named on account of the hazel-nuts he found "as
large and better tasting than those of France, though a little harder."
Cartier then followed the north shore, with its lofty, well-wooded
mountains stretching away to the northward, and came at last to an
anchorage not far from Stadacona, somewhere between the present Isle of
{36} Orleans and the mainland. Here he had an interview with the
natives, who showed every confidence in the strangers when they found
that the two Gaspé Indians, Taignoagny and Domagaya, were their
companions. As soon as they were satisfied of this fact--and here we
have a proof that these two Indians must have belonged to the same
nation--"they showed their joy, danced, and performed various antics."
Subsequently the lord of Donnacona, whose Indian title was Agouahana,
came with twelve canoes and "made a speech according to the fashion,
contorting the body and limbs in a remarkable way--a ceremony of joy
and welcome." After looking about for a safe harbour, Cartier chose
the mouth of the present St. Charles River, which he named the River of
the Holy Cross (Sainte Croix) in honour of the day when he arrived.
The fleet was anchored not far from the Indian village of Stadacona,
and soon after its arrival one of the chiefs received the Frenchmen
with a speech of welcome, "while the women danced and sang without
ceasing, standing in the water up to their knees."
Moored in a safe haven, the French had abundant opportunity to make
themselves acquainted with the surrounding country and its people.
They visited the island close by, and were delighted with "its
beautiful trees, the same as in France," and with the great quantities
of vines "such as we had never before seen." Cartier called this
attractive spot the Island of Bacchus, but changed the name
subsequently to the Isle of Orleans, in honour of one of the royal sons
of France. Cartier was equally {37} charmed with the varied scenery
and the fruitful soil of the country around Stadacona.
It was now the middle of September, and Cartier determined, since his
men had fully recovered from the fatigues of the voyage, to proceed up
the river as far as Hochelaga, of which he was constantly hearing
accounts from the Indians. When they heard of this intention,
Donnacona and other chiefs used their best efforts to dissuade him by
inventing stories of the dangers of the navigation. The two Gaspé
Indians lent themselves to the plans of the chief of Stadacona. Three
Indians were dressed as devils, "with faces painted as black as coal,
with horns as long as the arm, and covered with the skins of black and
white dogs." These devils were declared to be emissaries of the Indian
God at Hochelaga, called Cudragny, who warned the French that "there
was so much snow and ice that all would die." The Gaspé Indians, who
had so long an acquaintance with the religious customs and
superstitions of the French, endeavoured to influence them by appeals
to "Jesus" and "Jesus Maria." Cartier, however, only laughed at the
tricks of the Indians, and told them that "their God Cudragny was a
mere fool, and that Jesus would preserve them from all danger if they
should believe in Him." The French at last started on the ascent of
the river in the _Emérillon_ and two large boats, but neither
Taignoagny nor Domagaya could be induced to accompany the expedition to
Hochelaga.
Cartier and his men reached the neighbourhood of Hochelaga, the Indian
town on the island of {38} Montreal, in about a fortnight's time. The
appearance of the country bordering on the river between Stadacona and
Hochelaga pleased the French on account of the springs of excellent
water, the beautiful trees, and vines heavily laden with grapes, and
the quantities of wild fowl that rose from every bay or creek as the
voyagers passed by. At one place called Achelay, "a strait with a
stony and dangerous current, full of rocks,"--probably the Richelieu
Rapids[1] above Point au Platon--a number of Indians came on board the
_Emérillon_, warned Cartier of the perils of the river, and the chief
made him a present of two children, one of whom, a little girl of seven
or eight years, he accepted and promised to take every care of.
Somewhere on Lake St. Peter they found the water very shallow and
decided to leave the _Emérillon_ and proceed in the boats to Hochelaga,
where they arrived on the second of October, and were met by more than
"a thousand savages who gathered about them, men, women, and children,
and received us as well as a parent does a child, showing great joy."
After a display of friendly feeling on the part of the natives and
their visitors, and the exchange of presents between them, Cartier
returned to his boat in the stream. "All that night," says the
narrative, "the savages remained on the shore near our boats, keeping
up fires, dancing, crying out 'Aguaze,' which is their word for welcome
and joy." The king or chief of this Indian domain was also called
Agouahana, and was a member of the Huron-Iroquois stock.
[Illustration: Ancient Hochelaga (from Ramusio).]
{40}
The French visitors were regarded by the Indians of Hochelaga as
superior beings, endowed with supernatural powers. Cartier was called
upon to touch the lame, blind, and wounded, and treat all the ailments
with which the Indians were afflicted, "as if they thought that God had
sent him to cure them."