TRADE IN INTOXICATING DRINKS.--AWFUL VISITATION OF DIVINE ANGER.--
REPENTANCE.--NEW ERA OF PROSPERITY.--THE MARQUIS OF TRACY VICEROY.
If association with Europeans had been in some respects a blessing to the
Indians, it must be owned that in others it had proved very much the
reverse. Among the numerous emigrants to Canada, were necessarily a large
proportion of self-interested fortune seekers, who in order to secure a
lucrative traffic with the natives, availed largely of their well-known
propensity for strong drinks. The severest regulations, and the utmost
vigilance of the authorities, though successful for a time, were
powerless to repress the destructive trade permanently. After a short
interruption, it was renewed, now clandestinely, now more openly, but as
it seemed irrepressibly.
The savage in a state of intoxication becomes an ungovernable maniac, who
in the violence of his fury will rush into any excess and commit any
crime. At the epoch which our history has now reached, the terrible vice
threatened to demoralize the entire country, and to destroy the fruit of
all the efforts made to convert the savages. Writing to her son on the
subject, the Mother of the Incarnation says, "We have at present to
contend with an evil far more calamitous in its results, than even the
hostility of the Iroquois. It is unhappily but too true, that this
country now harbours Frenchmen, who for their own selfish ends
deliberately risk the spiritual ruin of the Indians, giving them in
exchange for their beaver skins, those intoxicating liquors which are the
absolute destruction of men, women, and even children." "To satisfy this
insane craving for drink," Father Lalemant adds, "the savage will reduce
himself to beggary; nay, will sell his own children. My ink is not dark
enough," he continues, "to describe in their true colours, the calamities
thus entailed on this infant church; the gall of the dragon would be more
appropriate for the purpose. Suffice it to say, that in one month, we
lose the fruit of our labours of ten or twenty years."
After every means of persuasion had been exhausted, a sentence of
excommunication was at last pronounced against all who persevered in
trading in the prohibited article, but not even the thunders of the
Church could intimidate the hardened transgressors, and so the evil
continued undiminished. Profoundly afflicted at so daring an insult to
the Most High, and so fatal an interruption to the work of grace among
the Indians, all the servants of God in Canada united in earnest prayer
for the repentance of the sinful, but from no heart did the petition for
mercy ascend more fervently or more continuously, than from that of the
Mother of the Incarnation, who not content with simply imploring the
conversion of the people, offered herself as a victim for their
transgressions, consenting to assume the responsibility of their crimes,
and to endure the punishment which they merited. The prayer of charity
was heard, but if the Almighty condescended to arouse His people to a
sense of their iniquity, it was not without a very awful manifestation of
His power.
During the autumn of 1662, such extraordinary signs had from time to time
been seen in the air, that the more thoughtful were impressed with a
vague fear of impending calamities, while even the least serious were not
altogether unmoved. These horrors, however, were but faint foreshadowings
of those to come. The evening of Shrove Monday, February the 5th, 1663,
was calm and serene; no eye however keen, no ear however sensitive could
have detected sight or sound indicative of the approaching catastrophe.
Forgetful of past warnings, and undisturbed by present misgivings, the
unreflecting crowd plunged into the exciting pleasures of gay carnival.
About half-past five o'clock, the town was alarmed by a distant rumbling,
such as might be produced by the rapid passage of a number of carriages
over a stone pavement. This unnatural sound was followed by another, and
a louder, which seemed to combine the crackling of flames, the rattling
of hailstones, the muttering of thunder and the dashing of the waves on
the sea shore. Clouds of thick dust obscured the air; the earth trembled,
rose, fell, undulated like the billows of the ocean, and burst open in
innumerable places. The trees of the old forest swayed back and forwards
like reeds in a hurricane, and were uprooted by hundreds. Entire forests
were in some instances swallowed by the yawning abyss, so that only the
tops of a few trees could be seen. Mountains were torn from their beds;
rocks were rent, and enormous blocks of stone rolled into the valleys,
crushing all before them. The houses were shaken to the foundation, and
tottered as though they would have fallen; the walls were split asunder,
the floors gave way, the doors opened or closed violently, without being
touched. The church bells, set in motion by the swaying of the belfries,
tolled mournfully to the accompaniment of the wild cries of terrified
animals and the shrill screams of equally frightened children. The
convulsion of the water was not less fearful than that of the land. The
ice, five or six feet in depth, burst with a crash like the roar of
cannon; huge blocks were shot up into the air, and fell again to the
earth, shivered into powder, while from the openings, clouds of smoke or
jets of mud and sand were projected to a great height. The fish darted in
terror from the turbulent waters, and it was noticed that one species,
abandoning its usual haunts, made its way to a lake where it had never
been seen before. The springs were either choked, or impregnated with
sulphur. The waters of some of the rivers became red, others yellow; the
St. Lawrence as far as Tadoussac appeared white.
Stunned by the suddenness of the calamity, and utterly unable to
comprehend it, some thought that a fire had broken out, and ran for help;
others that the Indians had made an incursion, and flew to arms, but soon
the momentarily increasing violence of the shocks led to the universal
conclusion that the end of the world had come. The consternation both of
French and Indians can hardly be imagined. The general impulse was to
hasten to the churches, and prepare to appear before the judgment seat of
God, and truly wonderful were the conversions which ensued: a missioner
afterwards told the Mother of the Incarnation, that he had himself heard
eight hundred general confessions at that period of panic. After a half-
an-hour, the oscillations of the earth became fainter, without however
wholly ceasing, but about eight o'clock there was a second shock so
severe, that the Sisters who were at the time standing in their stalls
chanting the Office, were all thrown to the ground. The earthquake
continued at intervals for a full year, the first five months in its
original force, the remainder of the period with less violence. Sometimes
the motion of the earth was like the pitching of a large vessel dragging
heavily at its anchors; at others, it was hurried and irregular, creating
sudden, and occasionally very violent jerks, but in general it was merely
tremulous. During all that time, men lived in constant dread of immediate
death, and actually withered away from fear. The Lent was spent by the
Sisters in redoubled austerities, and increasing prayers to appease the
anger of God. "Every evening," the Mother of the Incarnation wrote to her
son, "we disposed ourselves to be engulphed in the yawning earth before
morning, and when a new day dawned, we prepared to stand in God's
presence before its close."
After the fearful convulsion of nature had at last ceased, its terrible
traces were but too distinctly visible over the entire country. In some
parts, mountains had disappeared, swallowed by the gaping earth, or
precipitated into adjacent rivers, leaving vast chasms in the places
which they had occupied; in others, new ones had suddenly arisen. Lakes
were to be seen in localities previously occupied by forests. A new
island had sprung up in the St. Lawrence; volcanic craters had burst
open; some rivers had been turned from, their course, others totally
lost. A rocky mountainous district of three hundred miles in extent, had
been levelled as if some mighty harrow had passed over it. The earthquake
seems to have extended more than six hundred miles in length, and about
three hundred in breadth; thus one hundred and eighty thousand square
miles of land were convulsed at the same moment. A most singular
circumstance connected with the awful visitation is, that not a single
individual perished, or was even slightly injured.
At last, Almighty wrath was appeased; salutary fear of the Divine
judgments had done its work, and so the avenging angel was permitted to
sheathe his fiery sword. The restored serenity of nature seemed
emblematic of the recovered peace of the people, who, in their
reconciliation with God, and their resolution of amendment, had adopted
the most effectual security against a repetition of the late disasters.
Their return to duty seemed the signal of a new era of benediction.
In 1663, the Marquis of Tracy was nominated Viceroy, and as no
arrangement could possibly have been more advantageous to Canada at that
particular crisis, the news of his appointment was received with an
enthusiasm equalled only by that which at a later period greeted his
arrival. He had for many years occupied a very high position in the
French army, and had been equally distinguished through life for courage
in danger, and prudence in negotiation. His commission obliging him in
the first place to re-establish the authority of France in Cayenne, which
had leagued with the Dutch, and then, to restore order in the French
Antilles, he did not land at Quebec until the 30th of June, 1665. If he
had chosen the season expressly with a view to first favourable
impressions, the selection could not have been more judicious. Nature was
then looking her loveliest. On the old time-honoured rock stood the
little capital, in the first flush of its youth, like clinging childhood
beside protecting age. Scattered over the height were the houses of the
French, intermingled with religious edifices of sufficiently imposing
appearance, the whole crowned by the romantically-situated Castle of St.
Louis. Here and there a solitary Indian wigwam nestled among the trees;
the glorious river, flashed and sparkled in the morning light; the grand
old woods towered in the background, looking like links between the past,
with its solemn memories, and the present, with its hopes so bright and
fair. With all its variety of picturesque contrasts, Quebec must
certainly have presented a striking scene on that lovely summer's day
when the Marquis of Tracy saw it for the first time.
Charmed with the country, and profoundly interested in the inhabitants,
he entered on his functions with an ardour and energy which augured well
for his success. His sole ambition from the very first was to promote the
happiness of the people over whom he was called to rule, and whom he
loved with the tenderness of a father. The poorest savages were as much
the objects of his paternal solicitude, as the highest dignitaries among
the French. He listened to their harangues with the kindest interest, and
accepted their little presents with the most amiable condescension. The
King had assigned four companies of the regiment of Carignan for his
bodyguard, and, to the colonists unaccustomed to the sight of regular
troops, they formed a splendid spectacle. As to the Indians, they had
never even imagined anything so grand.
One of the first objects of the Viceroy was the effectual repression of
the audacious Iroquois, who, though sorely humbled by the glorious feat
of the heroes of Ville Marie, continued to disturb the colony to the
utmost extent of their power, and still proved an insuperable obstacle to
its steady progress. The. harvest could not be gathered in safety; life
was yet insecure, and there were times of particular alarm, when the more
timid entertained serious notions of returning permanently to France.
There was, however, strong reason to hope that as consternation had once
been created in the ranks of the savages by a mere handful of resolute
champions, they would now be thoroughly and effectually intimidated by a
force comprising not only all the brave spirits of the colony, but also
the brilliant guard of the Marquis of Tracy. A resolution was accordingly
taken to proceed from defensive to aggressive measures, and attack the
enemy in the heart of his own territory. The expedition was unavoidably
delayed until September, 1666. The pious commander chose the feast of the
Exaltation of the Holy Cross for the day of its departure, and the brave
warriors secured the protection of the God of Armies by approaching the
Holy Sacraments. Although advanced in years, the Viceroy would take the
personal direction of his troops in this most perilous and arduous
journey of four hundred and fifty miles, carrying on his shoulders, like
the meanest soldier, his arms, provisions, and baggage. The savages were
panic-stricken at the sight of so large an army; the brilliant uniforms,
the colours, the martial music, above all the rolling of the drums,
inspired them with such extreme terror that they fled without striking a
blow. Their four large villages at once fell a prey to the invaders, who
reduced them to ashes, in order to compel the owners to sue for peace.
The enormous quantity of Indian meal found in these hamlets would have
sufficed to support the colony for two years if it could have been
removed. Besides abundance of provisions, the cabins contained a variety
of articles of furniture scarcely to have been looked for, in the huts of
savages. The next day, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass was offered on the
spot in thanksgiving for the bloodless victory, the ceremonial closing by
a solemn, _Te Deum_. From the departure of the army until the news
of its triumph, the Forty Hours' prayer had been continued without
intermission at the Ursuline monastery, and in private families as well
as in the public churches, unceasing supplications had been offered to
God for the success of the French arms. Dreading the annihilation of
their tribe, the Iroquois were only too happy to sue for peace, and
willingly gave up several of their families as hostages. [Footnote: The
restoration of Anne Baillargeon, already noticed in our little sketch of
Mother St. Joseph, belongs to this period.] At their own request, three
Jesuits were sent to reside among them, and then each day witnessed some
new conversions. Their famous chief, Garakontié, was baptized and
confirmed in the cathedral of Quebec by Monseigneur Laval, whom he humbly
thanked after the ceremony for having opened to him the doors of the
Church and of Paradise. Finding the surroundings of their pagan homes a
great obstacle to the practice of their holy faith, the new Christians
determined to establish themselves among the French, where they could
serve God in peace. To meet their wishes, the Jesuits prepared a
residence for them on the rich prairie of the Madeleine, situated on the
south bank of the St. Lawrence, nearly opposite Montreal. The
indispensable condition of admission was a solemn promise to avoid
intemperance. This mission of St. Francis Xavier-du-Sault was afterwards
celebrated for the number and fervour of its converts, and became the
nucleus of the Iroquois colony, destined later on to play an important
part in the affairs of the Canadian nation.
After having given a decided and permanent impulse to the prosperity of
the country, and in all respects faithfully fulfilled his mission, the
Marquis of Tracy was honourably recalled to France, but he never lost his
interest in the welfare of Canada. His departure was regretted by all
parties in the colony, and not least by the Ursulines, to whom he had
shown himself a devoted and efficient friend. "This young church will
sustain an indescribable loss in him," wrote the Mother of the
Incarnation. "Had it nothing else to be grateful for, his example alone
was a priceless blessing. He has been seen to spend six consecutive hours
in the church, where his very appearance was in itself a striking lesson.
He is truly a model of piety and virtue, and so greatly is he beloved
that his influence is irresistible." Fortunately for Canada, he left
after him two men thoroughly imbued with his own spirit--Monsieur de
Courcelles, the Governor, and the celebrated Intendant, Talon, under
whose joint administration the country made more progress than since its
first colonization. Thus it happened that from. its founder, Champlain,
onwards, Canada had hitherto been greatly blessed in its rulers.
Before we close this chapter, we shall take a glance at Quebec as it was
in 1670, three years after the departure of the Marquis of Tracy, when we
shall find it much altered since we saw it first at the arrival of the
Mother of the Incarnation. Its scanty population has swelled to upwards
of four thousand. The scattered huts which constituted the town, have
been replaced by comfortable dwellings. Churches and convents have sprung
up. Manufactures of serge and of hempen cloth have been introduced. A
market, a brewery, and a tannery have been opened. The ground has been
considerably cleared, and the agricultural resources of the country have
been developed; three-fourths of the inhabitants can now live on the
produce of the land, merely at the cost of their own labour. Commercial
relations have been, established with France and the West Indian islands.
The cod fishery of Newfoundland promises to become a source of immense
revenue. Mines of lead, slate, and coal have been discovered near
Montreal. Money, once so so scarce, has become abundant since the arrival
of the Marquis of Tracy and his suite. [Footnote: It is interesting to
renew the glance something about two hundred years later, and note time's
work. The Quebec of today consists of an upper and a lower town. The
former, standing on that side of Cape Diamond which slopes towards the
river St. Charles, contains the principal public buildings, the dwellings
of the wealthy, and the best shops; the latter, extending for two or
three miles on a narrow strip of land between the St. Lawrence and the
cliffs, is densely crowded with stores, merchants' offices, warehouses
and inns. The communication between the two is by a winding street and
steep flights of steps, at the top of which is a fortified gate. No scene
can be more imposing than Quebec and its surroundings, as it first breaks
on a traveller sailing up the river. Nothing of the city is visible until
the spectator has reached a line between the west coast of the Isle of
Orleans and Point Levi, and then all the beauties of the magnificent
scene burst suddenly on his view. The Isle of Orleans is fertile, well
cultivated, and in the centre well wooded. Point Levi is a large,
picturesque village, with brightly-painted cottages, and a romantic
little church. From these, the eye turns to the abrupt promontory, three
hundred and fifty feet in height, crested by the city and battlements of
Quebec. The impregnable citadel, the dense mass of buildings, the bright
tinned steeples o£ the churches and roofs of the houses, the fleets of
ships at the quays, the vessels on the stocks or being launched, the
steamers plying in every direction, the multitude of boats of every
shape, the Indian wigwams at Point Levi, the vast rafts floating down the
St. Lawrence with their cargo of timber from the forests of the Ottawa;
farther on, the cataract of Montmorenci tumbling into the St. Lawrence
over a ledge of rock two hundred and twenty feet in height; the houses,
churches and woods of Beauport and Charlesbourg; the high grounds, spire,
and homesteads of St. Joseph; the miles of richly cultivated country,
terminating in a ridge of mountains--all form a picture which once seen
can never be forgotten. The vast, grand landscape is, in fact, one of the
most striking in the Old World or the New.--_Chiefly from Martin's
British Colonies_.] "Merchants will now find this country a high road
to fortune," says the Mother of the Incarnation, from whose letters we
have borrowed the above details. "As for us," adds the saintly Mother,
"_our fortune is made_; we are the portion of Jesus Christ, and
Jesus Christ is ours; the only wealth we covet is the possession of
Himself, and this we can secure by observing our holy rule, and
faithfully accomplishing His blessed will. Ask His Divine Majesty to give
us grace to do so."
Cheering as was the Venerable Mother's account of Canada, all, however,
was not sunshine. At one time we hear of a fearful storm, attended by
immense loss of property; at another, of a pestilential fever brought to
the town by foreign vessels. One winter was so rigorous, that many of the
Sisters made up their minds to be frozen; a later one was, if possible,
still more severe. "During the last thirty-one years," remarks the
Mother, "we certainly have had time to forget the comforts of our old
homes in France." She might have added, with perfect truth, that their
generous spirits were as indifferent to the privations of the new home,
as they were detached from the luxuries of the old.
It was in the year of which we write, 1670, that Quebec was elevated to
the dignity of a Bishopric.