France and England in North America, Part II: The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century

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Title: France and England in North America, Part II: The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century
Author: Parkman, Francis
Language: English
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The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century
by Francis Parkman

France and England
in North America

A Series
of Historical Narratives

Part Second

BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
1867.

Entered According to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
Francis Parkman,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.

CAMBRIDGE:
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON.

PREFACE.

Few passages of history are more striking than those which record the
efforts of the earlier French Jesuits to convert the Indians. Full as
they are of dramatic and philosophic interest, bearing strongly on the
political destinies of America, and closely involved with the history of
its native population, it is wonderful that they have been left so long
in obscurity. While the infant colonies of England still clung feebly to
the shores of the Atlantic, events deeply ominous to their future were
in progress, unknown to them, in the very heart of the continent. It
will be seen, in the sequel of this volume, that civil and religious
liberty found strange allies in this Western World.

The sources of information concerning the early Jesuits of New France
are very copious. During a period of forty years, the Superior of the
Mission sent, every summer, long and detailed reports, embodying or
accompanied by the reports of his subordinates, to the Provincial of the
Order at Paris, where they were annually published, in duodecimo
volumes, forming the remarkable series known as the Jesuit Relations.
Though the productions of men of scholastic training, they are simple
and often crude in style, as might be expected of narratives hastily
written in Indian lodges or rude mission-houses in the forest, amid
annoyances and interruptions of all kinds. In respect to the value of
their contents, they are exceedingly unequal. Modest records of
marvellous adventures and sacrifices, and vivid pictures of forest-life,
alternate with prolix and monotonous details of the conversion of
individual savages, and the praiseworthy deportment of some exemplary
neophyte. With regard to the condition and character of the primitive
inhabitants of North America, it is impossible to exaggerate their value
as an authority. I should add, that the closest examination has left me
no doubt that these missionaries wrote in perfect good faith, and that
the Relations hold a high place as authentic and trustworthy historical
documents. They are very scarce, and no complete collection of them
exists in America. The entire series was, however, republished, in 1858,
by the Canadian government, in three large octavo volumes. [1]

[1] Both editions--the old and the new--are cited in the following
pages. Where the reference is to the old edition, it is indicated by the
name of the publisher (Cramoisy), appended to the citation, in brackets.

In extracts given in the notes, the antiquated orthography and
accentuation are preserved.

These form but a part of the surviving writings of the French-American
Jesuits. Many additional reports, memoirs, journals, and letters,
official and private, have come down to us; some of which have recently
been printed, while others remain in manuscript. Nearly every prominent
actor in the scenes to be described has left his own record of events in
which he bore part, in the shape of reports to his Superiors or letters
to his friends. I have studied and compared these authorities, as well
as a great mass of collateral evidence, with more than usual care,
striving to secure the greatest possible accuracy of statement, and to
reproduce an image of the past with photographic clearness and truth.

The introductory chapter of the volume is independent of the rest; but a
knowledge of the facts set forth in it is essential to the full
understanding of the narrative which follows.

In the collection of material, I have received valuable aid from Mr. J.
G. Shea, Rev. Felix Martin, S.J., the Abbés Laverdière and H. R.
Casgrain, Dr. J. C. Taché, and the late Jacques Viger, Esq.

I propose to devote the next volume of this series to the discovery and
occupation by the French of the Valley of the Mississippi.

Boston, 1st May, 1867
Contents

The Jesuits in North America

PREFACE.

INTRODUCTION.

NATIVE TRIBES.

Divisions • The Algonquins • The Hurons • Their Houses • Fortifications
• Habits • Arts • Women • Trade • Festivities • Medicine • The Tobacco
Nation • The Neutrals • The Eries • The Andastes • The Iroquois • Indian
Social and Political Organization • Iroquois Institutions, Customs, and
Character • Indian Religion and Superstitions • The Indian Mind

CHAPTER I. 1634.

NOTRE-DAME DES ANGES.

Quebec in 1634 • Father Le Jeune • The Mission-House • Its Domestic
Economy • The Jesuits and their Designs

CHAPTER II.

LOYOLA AND THE JESUITS.

Conversion of Loyola • Foundation of the Society of Jesus • Preparation
of the Novice • Characteristics of the Order • The Canadian Jesuits

CHAPTER III. 1632, 1633.

PAUL LE JEUNE.

Le Jeune's Voyage • His First Pupils • His Studies • His Indian Teacher
• Winter at the Mission-House • Le Jeune's School • Reinforcements

CHAPTER IV. 1633, 1634.

LE JEUNE AND THE HUNTERS.

Le Jeune joins the Indians • The First Encampment • The Apostate •
Forest Life in Winter • The Indian Hut • The Sorcerer • His Persecution
of the Priest • Evil Company • Magic • Incantations • Christmas •
Starvation • Hopes of Conversion • Backsliding • Peril and Escape of Le
Jeune • His Return

CHAPTER V. 1633, 1634.

THE HURON MISSION.

Plans of Conversion • Aims and Motives • Indian Diplomacy • Hurons at
Quebec • Councils • The Jesuit Chapel • Le Borgne • The Jesuits Thwarted
• Their Perseverance • The Journey to the Hurons • Jean de Brébeuf • The
Mission Begun

CHAPTER VI. 1634, 1635.

BRÉBEUF AND HIS ASSOCIATES.

The Huron Mission-House • Its Inmates • Its Furniture • Its Guests • The
Jesuit as a Teacher • As an Engineer • Baptisms • Huron Village Life •
Festivities and Sorceries • The Dream Feast • The Priests accused of
Magic • The Drought and the Red Cross

CHAPTER VII. 1636, 1637.

THE FEAST OF THE DEAD.

Huron Graves • Preparation for the Ceremony • Disinterment • The
Mourning • The Funeral March • The Great Sepulchre • Funeral Games •
Encampment of the Mourners • Gifts • Harangues • Frenzy of the Crowd •
The Closing Scene • Another Rite • The Captive Iroquois • The Sacrifice.

CHAPTER VIII. 1636, 1637.

THE HURON AND THE JESUIT.

Enthusiasm for the Mission • Sickness of the Priests • The Pest among
the Hurons • The Jesuit on his Rounds • Efforts at Conversion • Priests
and Sorcerers • The Man-Devil • The Magician's Prescription • Indian
Doctors and Patients • Covert Baptisms • Self-Devotion of the Jesuits

CHAPTER IX. 1637.

CHARACTER OF THE CANADIAN JESUITS.

Jean de Brébeuf • Charles Garnier • Joseph Marie Chaumonot • Noël
Chabanel • Isaac Jogues • Other Jesuits • Nature of their Faith •
Supernaturalism • Visions • Miracles

CHAPTER X. 1637-1640.

PERSECUTION.

Ossossané • The New Chapel • A Triumph of the Faith • The Nether Powers
• Signs of a Tempest • Slanders • Rage against the Jesuits • Their
Boldness and Persistency • Nocturnal Council • Danger of the Priests •
Brébeuf's Letter • Narrow Escapes • Woes and Consolations

CHAPTER XI. 1638-1640.

PRIEST AND PAGAN.

Du Peron's Journey • Daily Life of the Jesuits • Their Missionary
Excursions • Converts at Ossossané • Machinery of Conversion •
Conditions of Baptism • Backsliders • The Converts and their Countrymen
• The Cannibals at St. Joseph

CHAPTER XII. 1639, 1640.

THE TOBACCO NATION--THE NEUTRALS.

A Change of Plan • Sainte Marie • Mission of the Tobacco Nation • Winter
Journeying • Reception of the Missionaries • Superstitious Terrors •
Peril of Garnier and Jogues • Mission of the Neutrals • Huron Intrigues
• Miracles • Fury of the Indians • Intervention of Saint Michael •
Return to Sainte Marie • Intrepidity of the Priests • Their Mental
Exaltation

CHAPTER XIII. 1636-1646.

QUEBEC AND ITS TENANTS.

The New Governor • Edifying Examples • Le Jeune's Correspondents • Rank
and Devotion • Nuns • Priestly Authority • Condition of Quebec • The
Hundred Associates • Church Discipline • Plays • Fireworks • Processions
• Catechizing • Terrorism • Pictures • The Converts • The Society of
Jesus • The Foresters

CHAPTER XIV. 1636-1652.

DEVOTEES AND NUNS.

The Huron Seminary • Madame de la Peltrie • Her Pious Schemes • Her Sham
Marriage • She visits the Ursulines of Tours • Marie de Saint Bernard •
Marie de l'Incarnation • Her Enthusiasm • Her Mystical Marriage • Her
Dejection • Her Mental Conflicts • Her Vision • Made Superior of the
Ursulines • The Hôtel-Dieu • The Voyage to Canada • Sillery • Labors and
Sufferings of the Nuns • Character of Marie de l'Incarnation • Of Madame
de la Peltrie

CHAPTER XV. 1636-1642.

VILLEMARIE DE MONTREAL.

Dauversiére and the Voice from Heaven • Abbé Olier • Their Schemes • The
Society of Notre-Dame de Montreal • Maisonneuve • Devout Ladies •
Mademoiselle Mance • Marguerite Bourgeoys • The Montrealists at Quebec •
Jealousy • Quarrels • Romance and Devotion • Embarkation • Foundation of
Montreal

CHAPTER XVI. 1641-1644.

ISAAC JOGUES.

The Iroquois War • Jogues • His Capture • His Journey to the Mohawks •
Lake George • The Mohawk Towns • The Missionary Tortured • Death of
Goupil • Misery of Jogues • The Mohawk "Babylon" • Fort Orange • Escape
of Jogues • Manhattan • The Voyage to France • Jogues among his Brethren
• He returns to Canada

CHAPTER XVII. 1641-1646.

THE IROQUOIS--BRESSANI--DE NOUË.

War • Distress and Terror • Richelieu • Battle • Ruin of Indian Tribes •
Mutual Destruction • Iroquois and Algonquin • Atrocities • Frightful
Position of the French • Joseph Bressani • His Capture • His Treatment •
His Escape • Anne de Nouë • His Nocturnal Journey • His Death

CHAPTER XVIII. 1642-1644.

VILLEMARIE.

Infancy of Montreal • The Flood • Vow of Maisonneuve • Pilgrimage •
D'Ailleboust • The Hôtel-Dieu • Piety • Propagandism • War • Hurons and
Iroquois • Dogs • Sally of the French • Battle • Exploit of Maisonneuve

CHAPTER XIX. 1644, 1645.

PEACE.

Iroquois Prisoners • Piskaret • His Exploits • More Prisoners • Iroquois
Embassy • The Orator • The Great Council • Speeches of Kiotsaton •
Muster of Savages • Peace Confirmed

CHAPTER XX. 1645, 1646.

THE PEACE BROKEN.

Uncertainties • The Mission of Jogues • He reaches the Mohawks • His
Reception • His Return • His Second Mission • Warnings of Danger • Rage
of the Mohawks • Murder of Jogues

CHAPTER XXI. 1646, 1647.

ANOTHER WAR.

Mohawk Inroads • The Hunters of Men • The Captive Converts • The Escape
of Marie • Her Story • The Algonquin Prisoner's Revenge • Her Flight •
Terror of the Colonists • Jesuit Intrepidity

CHAPTER XXII. 1645-1651.

PRIEST AND PURITAN.

Miscou • Tadoussac • Journeys of De Quen • Druilletes • His Winter with
the Montagnais • Influence of the Missions • The Abenaquis • Druilletes
on the Kennebec • His Embassy to Boston • Gibbons • Dudley • Bradford •
Eliot • Endicott • French and Puritan Colonization • Failure of
Druilletes's Embassy • New Regulations • New-Year's Day at Quebec.

CHAPTER XXIII. 1645-1648.

A DOOMED NATION.

Indian Infatuation • Iroquois and Huron • Huron Triumphs • The Captive
Iroquois • His Ferocity and Fortitude • Partisan Exploits • Diplomacy •
The Andastes • The Huron Embassy • New Negotiations • The Iroquois
Ambassador • His Suicide • Iroquois Honor

CHAPTER XXIV. 1645-1648.

THE HURON CHURCH.

Hopes of the Mission • Christian and Heathen • Body and Soul • Position
of Proselytes • The Huron Girl's Visit to Heaven • A Crisis • Huron
Justice • Murder and Atonement • Hopes and Fears

CHAPTER XXV. 1648, 1649.

SAINTE MARIE.

The Centre of the Missions • Fort • Convent • Hospital • Caravansary •
Church • The Inmates of Sainte Marie • Domestic Economy • Missions • A
Meeting of Jesuits • The Dead Missionary

CHAPTER XXVI. 1648.

ANTOINE DANIEL.

Huron Traders • Battle at Three Rivers • St. Joseph • Onset of the
Iroquois • Death of Daniel • The Town Destroyed

CHAPTER XXVII. 1649.

RUIN OF THE HURONS.

St. Louis on Fire • Invasion • St. Ignace captured • Brébeuf and
Lalemant • Battle at St. Louis • Sainte Marie threatened • Renewed
Fighting • Desperate Conflict • A Night of Suspense • Panic among the
Victors • Burning of St. Ignace • Retreat of the Iroquois

CHAPTER XXVIII. 1649.

THE MARTYRS.

The Ruins of St. Ignace • The Relics found • Brébeuf at the Stake • His
Unconquerable Fortitude • Lalemant • Renegade Hurons • Iroquois
Atrocities • Death of Brébeuf • His Character • Death of Lalemant

CHAPTER XXIX. 1649, 1650.

THE SANCTUARY.

Dispersion of the Hurons • Sainte Marie abandoned • Isle St. Joseph •
Removal of the Mission • The New Fort • Misery of the Hurons • Famine •
Epidemic • Employments of the Jesuits

CHAPTER XXX. 1649.

GARNIER--CHABANEL.

The Tobacco Missions • St. Jean attacked • Death of Garnier • The
Journey of Chabanel • His Death • Garreau and Grelon.

CHAPTER XXXI. 1650-1652.

THE HURON MISSION ABANDONED.

Famine and the Tomahawk • A New Asylum • Voyage of the Refugees to
Quebec • Meeting with Bressani • Desperate Courage of the Iroquois •
Inroads and Battles • Death of Buteux

CHAPTER XXXII. 1650-1866.

THE LAST OF THE HURONS.

Fate of the Vanquished • The Refugees of St. Jean Baptiste and St.
Michel • The Tobacco Nation and its Wanderings • The Modern Wyandots •
The Biter Bit • The Hurons at Quebec • Notre-Dame de Lorette.

CHAPTER XXXIII. 1650-1670.

THE DESTROYERS.

Iroquois Ambition • Its Victims • The Fate of the Neutrals • The Fate of
the Eries • The War with the Andastes • Supremacy of the Iroquois

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE END.

Failure of the Jesuits • What their Success would have involved • Future
of the Mission

INDEX.
APPENDIX.

The Jesuits in North America
in the Seventeenth Century

by Francis Parkman

INTRODUCTION.

NATIVE TRIBES.

America, when it became known to Europeans, was, as it had long been, a
scene of wide-spread revolution. North and South, tribe was giving place
to tribe, language to language; for the Indian, hopelessly unchanging in
respect to individual and social development, was, as regarded tribal
relations and local haunts, mutable as the wind. In Canada and the
northern section of the United States, the elements of change were
especially active. The Indian population which, in 1535, Cartier found
at Montreal and Quebec, had disappeared at the opening of the next
century, and another race had succeeded, in language and customs widely
different; while, in the region now forming the State of New York, a
power was rising to a ferocious vitality, which, but for the presence of
Europeans, would probably have subjected, absorbed, or exterminated
every other Indian community east of the Mississippi and north of the
Ohio.

The vast tract of wilderness from the Mississippi to the Atlantic, and
from the Carolinas to Hudson's Bay, was divided between two great
families of tribes, distinguished by a radical difference of language. A
part of Virginia and of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Southeastern New York,
New England, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Lower Canada were occupied,
so far as occupied at all, by tribes speaking various Algonquin
languages and dialects. They extended, moreover, along the shores of the
Upper Lakes, and into the dreary Northern wastes beyond. They held
Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, and Indiana, and detached bands ranged
the lonely hunting-ground of Kentucky. [1]

[1] The word Algonquin is here used in its broadest signification. It
was originally applied to a group of tribes north of the River St.
Lawrence. The difference of language between the original Algonquins and
the Abenaquis of New England, the Ojibwas of the Great Lakes, or the
Illinois of the West, corresponded to the difference between French and
Italian, or Italian and Spanish. Each of these languages, again, had its
dialects, like those of different provinces of France.

Like a great island in the midst of the Algonquins lay the country of
tribes speaking the generic tongue of the Iroquois. The true Iroquois,
or Five Nations, extended through Central New York, from the Hudson to
the Genesee. Southward lay the Andastes, on and near the Susquehanna;
westward, the Eries, along the southern shore of Lake Erie, and the
Neutral Nation, along its northern shore from Niagara towards the
Detroit; while the towns of the Hurons lay near the lake to which they
have left their name. [2]

[2] To the above general statements there was, in the first half of the
seventeenth century, but one exception worth notice. A detached branch
of the Dahcotah stock, the Winnebago, was established south of Green
Bay, on Lake Michigan, in the midst of Algonquins; and small Dahcotah
bands had also planted themselves on the eastern side of the
Mississippi, nearly in the same latitude.

There was another branch of the Iroquois in the Carolinas, consisting of
the Tuscaroras and kindred bands. In 1715 they were joined to the Five
Nations.

Of the Algonquin populations, the densest, despite a recent epidemic
which had swept them off by thousands, was in New England. Here were
Mohicans, Pequots, Narragansetts, Wampanoags, Massachusetts, Penacooks,
thorns in the side of the Puritan. On the whole, these savages were
favorable specimens of the Algonquin stock, belonging to that section of
it which tilled the soil, and was thus in some measure spared the
extremes of misery and degradation to which the wandering hunter tribes
were often reduced. They owed much, also, to the bounty of the sea, and
hence they tended towards the coast; which, before the epidemic,
Champlain and Smith had seen at many points studded with wigwams and
waving with harvests of maize. Fear, too, drove them eastward; for the
Iroquois pursued them with an inveterate enmity. Some paid yearly
tribute to their tyrants, while others were still subject to their
inroads, flying in terror at the sound of the Mohawk war-cry. Westward,
the population thinned rapidly; northward, it soon disappeared. Northern
New Hampshire, the whole of Vermont, and Western Massachusetts had no
human tenants but the roving hunter or prowling warrior.

We have said that this group of tribes was relatively very populous; yet
it is more than doubtful whether all of them united, had union been
possible, could have mustered eight thousand fighting men. To speak
further of them is needless, for they were not within the scope of the
Jesuit labors. The heresy of heresies had planted itself among them; and
it was for the apostle Eliot, not the Jesuit, to essay their conversion.
[3]

[3] These Indians, the Armouchiquois of the old French writers, were in
a state of chronic war with the tribes of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.
Champlain, on his voyage of 1603, heard strange accounts of them. The
following is literally rendered from the first narrative of that heroic,
but credulous explorer.

"They are savages of shape altogether monstrous: for their heads are
small, their bodies short, and their arms thin as a skeleton, as are
also their thighs; but their legs are stout and long, and all of one
size, and, when they are seated on their heels, their knees rise more
than half a foot above their heads, which seems a thing strange and
against Nature. Nevertheless, they are active and bold, and they have
the best country on all the coast towards Acadia."--Des Sauvages, f. 34.

This story may match that of the great city of Norembega, on the
Penobscot, with its population of dwarfs, as related by Jean Alphonse.

Landing at Boston, three years before a solitude, let the traveller push
northward, pass the River Piscataqua and the Penacooks, and cross the
River Saco. Here, a change of dialect would indicate a different tribe,
or group of tribes. These were the Abenaquis, found chiefly along the
course of the Kennebec and other rivers, on whose banks they raised
their rude harvests, and whose streams they ascended to hunt the moose
and bear in the forest desert of Northern Maine, or descended to fish in
the neighboring sea. [4]

[4] The Tarratines of New-England writers were the Abenaquis, or a
portion of them.

Crossing the Penobscot, one found a visible descent in the scale of
humanity. Eastern Maine and the whole of New Brunswick were occupied by
a race called Etchemins, to whom agriculture was unknown, though the
sea, prolific of fish, lobsters, and seals, greatly lightened their
miseries. The Souriquois, or Micmacs, of Nova Scotia, closely resembled
them in habits and condition. From Nova Scotia to the St. Lawrence,
there was no population worthy of the name. From the Gulf of St.
Lawrence to Lake Ontario, the southern border of the great river had no
tenants but hunters. Northward, between the St. Lawrence and Hudson's
Bay, roamed the scattered hordes of the Papinachois, Bersiamites, and
others, included by the French under the general name of Montagnais.
When, in spring, the French trading-ships arrived and anchored in the
port of Tadoussac, they gathered from far and near, toiling painfully
through the desolation of forests, mustering by hundreds at the point of
traffic, and setting up their bark wigwams along the strand of that wild
harbor. They were of the lowest Algonquin type. Their ordinary
sustenance was derived from the chase; though often, goaded by deadly
famine, they would subsist on roots, the bark and buds of trees, or the
foulest offal; and in extremity, even cannibalism was not rare among
them.

Ascending the St. Lawrence, it was seldom that the sight of a human form
gave relief to the loneliness, until, at Quebec, the roar of Champlain's
cannon from the verge of the cliff announced that the savage prologue of
the American drama was drawing to a close, and that the civilization of
Europe was advancing on the scene. Ascending farther, all was solitude,
except at Three Rivers, a noted place of trade, where a few Algonquins
of the tribe called Atticamegues might possibly be seen. The fear of the
Iroquois was everywhere; and as the voyager passed some wooded point, or
thicket-covered island, the whistling of a stone-headed arrow
proclaimed, perhaps, the presence of these fierce marauders. At Montreal
there was no human life, save during a brief space in early summer, when
the shore swarmed with savages, who had come to the yearly trade from
the great communities of the interior. To-day there were dances, songs,
and feastings; to-morrow all again was solitude, and the Ottawa was
covered with the canoes of the returning warriors.

Along this stream, a main route of traffic, the silence of the
wilderness was broken only by the splash of the passing paddle. To the
north of the river there was indeed a small Algonquin band, called La
Petite Nation, together with one or two other feeble communities; but
they dwelt far from the banks, through fear of the ubiquitous Iroquois.
It was nearly three hundred miles, by the windings of the stream, before
one reached that Algonquin tribe, La Nation de l'Isle, who occupied the
great island of the Allumettes. Then, after many a day of lonely travel,
the voyager found a savage welcome among the Nipissings, on the lake
which bears their name; and then circling west and south for a hundred
and fifty miles of solitude, he reached for the first time a people
speaking a dialect of the Iroquois tongue. Here all was changed.
Populous towns, rude fortifications, and an extensive, though barbarous
tillage, indicated a people far in advance of the famished wanderers of
the Saguenay, or their less abject kindred of New England. These were
the Hurons, of whom the modern Wyandots are a remnant. Both in
themselves and as a type of their generic stock they demand more than a
passing notice. [5]

[5] The usual confusion of Indian tribal names prevails in the case of
the Hurons. The following are their synonymes:--

Hurons (of French origin); Ochateguins (Champlain); Attigouantans (the
name of one of their tribes, used by Champlain for the whole nation);
Ouendat (their true name, according to Lalemant); Yendat, Wyandot,
Guyandot (corruptions of the preceding); Ouaouakecinatouek (Potier),
Quatogies (Colden).

THE HURONS.

More than two centuries have elapsed since the Hurons vanished from
their ancient seats, and the settlers of this rude solitude stand
perplexed and wondering over the relics of a lost people. In the damp
shadow of what seems a virgin forest, the axe and plough bring strange
secrets to light: huge pits, close packed with skeletons and disjointed
bones, mixed with weapons, copper kettles, beads, and trinkets. Not even
the straggling Algonquins, who linger about the scene of Huron
prosperity, can tell their origin. Yet, on ancient worm-eaten pages,
between covers of begrimed parchment, the daily life of this ruined
community, its firesides, its festivals, its funeral rites, are painted
with a minute and vivid fidelity.

The ancient country of the Hurons is now the northern and eastern
portion of Simcoe County, Canada West, and is embraced within the
peninsula formed by the Nottawassaga and Matchedash Bays of Lake Huron,
the River Severn, and Lake Simcoe. Its area was small,--its population
comparatively large. In the year 1639 the Jesuits made an enumeration of
all its villages, dwellings, and families. The result showed thirty-two
villages and hamlets, with seven hundred dwellings, about four thousand
families, and twelve thousand adult persons, or a total population of at
least twenty thousand. [6]

[6] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1640, 38 (Cramoisy). His words are,
"de feux enuiron deux mille, et enuiron douze mille personnes." There
were two families to every fire. That by "personnes" adults only are
meant cannot be doubted, as the Relations abound in incidental evidence
of a total population far exceeding twelve thousand. A Huron family
usually numbered from five to eight persons. The number of the Huron
towns changed from year to year. Champlain and Le Caron, in 1615,
reckoned them at seventeen or eighteen, with a population of about ten
thousand, meaning, no doubt, adults. Brébeuf, in 1635, found twenty
villages, and, as he thinks, thirty thousand souls. Both Le Mercier and
De Quen, as well as Dollier de Casson and the anonymous author of the
Relation of 1660, state the population at from thirty to thirty-five
thousand. Since the time of Champlain's visit, various kindred tribes or
fragments of tribes had been incorporated with the Hurons, thus more
than balancing the ravages of a pestilence which had decimated them.

The region whose boundaries we have given was an alternation of meadows
and deep forests, interlaced with footpaths leading from town to town.
Of these towns, some were fortified, but the greater number were open
and defenceless. They were of a construction common to all tribes of
Iroquois lineage, and peculiar to them. Nothing similar exists at the
present day. [7] They covered a space of from one to ten acres, the
dwellings clustering together with little or no pretension to order. In
general, these singular structures were about thirty or thirty-five feet
in length, breadth, and height; but many were much larger, and a few
were of prodigious length. In some of the villages there were dwellings
two hundred and forty feet long, though in breadth and height they did
not much exceed the others. [8] In shape they were much like an arbor
overarching a garden-walk. Their frame was of tall and strong saplings,
planted in a double row to form the two sides of the house, bent till
they met, and lashed together at the top. To these other poles were
bound transversely, and the whole was covered with large sheets of the
bark of the oak, elm, spruce, or white cedar, overlapping like the
shingles of a roof, upon which, for their better security, split poles
were made fast with cords of linden bark. At the crown of the arch,
along the entire length of the house, an opening a foot wide was left
for the admission of light and the escape of smoke. At each end was a
close porch of similar construction; and here were stowed casks of bark,
filled with smoked fish, Indian corn, and other stores not liable to
injury from frost. Within, on both sides, were wide scaffolds, four feet
from the floor, and extending the entire length of the house, like the
seats of a colossal omnibus. [9] These were formed of thick sheets of
bark, supported by posts and transverse poles, and covered with mats and
skins. Here, in summer, was the sleeping-place of the inmates, and the
space beneath served for storage of their firewood. The fires were on
the ground, in a line down the middle of the house. Each sufficed for
two families, who, in winter, slept closely packed around them. Above,
just under the vaulted roof, were a great number of poles, like the
perches of a hen-roost, and here were suspended weapons, clothing,
skins, and ornaments. Here, too, in harvest time, the squaws hung the
ears of unshelled corn, till the rude abode, through all its length,
seemed decked with a golden tapestry. In general, however, its only
lining was a thick coating of soot from the smoke of fires with neither
draught, chimney, nor window. So pungent was the smoke, that it produced
inflammation of the eyes, attended in old age with frequent blindness.
Another annoyance was the fleas; and a third, the unbridled and unruly
children. Privacy there was none. The house was one chamber, sometimes
lodging more than twenty families. [10]

[7] The permanent bark villages of the Dahcotah of the St. Peter's are
the nearest modern approach to the Huron towns. The whole Huron country
abounds with evidences of having been occupied by a numerous population.
"On a close inspection of the forest," Dr. Taché writes to me, "the
greatest part of it seems to have been cleared at former periods, and
almost the only places bearing the character of the primitive forest are
the low grounds."

[8] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1635, 31. Champlain says that he saw
them, in 1615, more than thirty fathoms long; while Vanderdonck reports
the length, from actual measurement, of an Iroquois house, at a hundred
and eighty yards, or five hundred and forty feet!

[9] Often, especially among the Iroquois, the internal arrangement was
different. The scaffolds or platforms were raised only a foot from the
earthen floor, and were only twelve or thirteen feet long, with
intervening spaces, where the occupants stored their family provisions
and other articles. Five or six feet above was another platform, often
occupied by children. One pair of platforms sufficed for a family, and
here during summer they slept pellmell, in the clothes they wore by day,
and without pillows.

[10] One of the best descriptions of the Huron and Iroquois houses is
that of Sagard, Voyage des Hurons, 118. See also Champlain (1627), 78;
Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1635, 31; Vanderdonck, New Netherlands, in
N. Y. Hist. Coll., Second Ser., I. 196; Lafitau, Mœurs des Sauvages, II.
10. The account given by Cartier of the houses he saw at Montreal
corresponds with the above. He describes them as about fifty yards long.
In this case, there were partial partitions for the several families,
and a sort of loft above. Many of the Iroquois and Huron houses were of
similar construction, the partitions being at the sides only, leaving a
wide passage down the middle of the house. Bartram, Observations on a
Journey from Pennsylvania to Canada, gives a description and plan of the
Iroquois Council-House in 1751, which was of this construction. Indeed,
the Iroquois preserved this mode of building, in all essential points,
down to a recent period. They usually framed the sides of their houses
on rows of upright posts, arched with separate poles for the roof. The
Hurons, no doubt, did the same in their larger structures. For a door,
there was a sheet of bark hung on wooden hinges, or suspended by cords
from above.

On the site of Huron towns which were destroyed by fire, the size,
shape, and arrangement of the houses can still, in some instances, be
traced by remains in the form of charcoal, as well as by the charred
bones and fragments of pottery found among the ashes.

Dr. Taché, after a zealous and minute examination of the Huron country,
extended through five years, writes to me as follows. "From the remains
I have found, I can vouch for the scrupulous correctness of our ancient
writers. With the aid of their indications and descriptions, I have been
able to detect the sites of villages in the midst of the forest, and by
time study, in situ, of archæological monuments, small as they are, to
understand and confirm their many interesting details of the habits, and
especially the funeral rites, of these extraordinary tribes."

He who entered on a winter night beheld a strange spectacle: the vista
of fires lighting the smoky concave; the bronzed groups encircling
each,--cooking, eating, gambling, or amusing themselves with idle
badinage; shrivelled squaws, hideous with threescore years of hardship;
grisly old warriors, scarred with Iroquois war-clubs; young aspirants,
whose honors were yet to be won; damsels gay with ochre and wampum;
restless children pellmell with restless dogs. Now a tongue of resinous
flame painted each wild feature in vivid light; now the fitful gleam
expired, and the group vanished from sight, as their nation has vanished
from history.

The fortified towns of the Hurons were all on the side exposed to
Iroquois incursions. The fortifications of all this family of tribes
were, like their dwellings, in essential points alike. A situation was
chosen favorable to defence,--the bank of a lake, the crown of a
difficult hill, or a high point of land in the fork of confluent rivers.
A ditch, several feet deep, was dug around the village, and the earth
thrown up on the inside. Trees were then felled by an alternate process
of burning and hacking the burnt part with stone hatchets, and by
similar means were cut into lengths to form palisades. These were
planted on the embankment, in one, two, three, or four concentric
rows,--those of each row inclining towards those of the other rows until
they intersected. The whole was lined within, to the height of a man,
with heavy sheets of bark; and at the top, where the palisades crossed,
was a gallery of timber for the defenders, together with wooden gutters,
by which streams of water could be poured down on fires kindled by the
enemy. Magazines of stones, and rude ladders for mounting the rampart,
completed the provision for defence. The forts of the Iroquois were
stronger and more elaborate than those of the Hurons; and to this day
large districts in New York are marked with frequent remains of their
ditches and embankments. [11]

[11] There is no mathematical regularity in these works. In their form,
the builders were guided merely by the nature of the ground. Frequently
a precipice or river sufficed for partial defence, and the line of
embankment occurs only on one or two sides. In one instance, distinct
traces of a double line of palisades are visible along the embankment.
(See Squier, Aboriginal Monuments of New York, 38.) It is probable that
the palisade was planted first, and the earth heaped around it. Indeed,
this is stated by the Tuscarora Indian, Cusick, in his curious History
of the Six Nations (Iroquois). Brébeuf says, that as early as 1636 the
Jesuits taught the Hurons to build rectangular palisaded works, with
bastions. The Iroquois adopted the same practice at an early period,
omitting the ditch and embankment; and it is probable, that, even in
their primitive defences, the palisades, where the ground was of a
nature to yield easily to their rude implements, were planted simply in
holes dug for the purpose. Such seems to have been the Iroquois fortress
attacked by Champlain in 1615.

The Muscogees, with other Southern tribes, and occasionally the
Algonquins, had palisaded towns; but the palisades were usually but a
single row, planted upright. The tribes of Virginia occasionally
surrounded their dwellings with a triple palisade.--Beverly, History of
Virginia, 149.

Among these tribes there was no individual ownership of land, but each
family had for the time exclusive right to as much as it saw fit to
cultivate. The clearing process--a most toilsome one--consisted in
hacking off branches, piling them together with brushwood around the
foot of the standing trunks, and setting fire to the whole. The squaws,
working with their hoes of wood and bone among the charred stumps, sowed
their corn, beans, pumpkins, tobacco, sunflowers, and Huron hemp. No
manure was used; but, at intervals of from ten to thirty years, when the
soil was exhausted, and firewood distant, the village was abandoned and
a new one built.

There was little game in the Huron country; and here, as among the
Iroquois, the staple of food was Indian corn, cooked without salt in a
variety of forms, each more odious than the last. Venison was a luxury
found only at feasts; dog-flesh was in high esteem; and, in some of the
towns captive bears were fattened for festive occasions. These tribes
were far less improvident than the roving Algonquins, and stores of
provision were laid up against a season of want. Their main stock of
corn was buried in caches, or deep holes in the earth, either within or
without the houses.

In respect to the arts of life, all these stationary tribes were in
advance of the wandering hunters of the North. The women made a species
of earthen pot for cooking, but these were supplanted by the copper
kettles of the French traders. They wove rush mats with no little skill.
They spun twine from hemp, by the primitive process of rolling it on
their thighs; and of this twine they made nets. They extracted oil from
fish and from the seeds of the sunflower,--the latter, apparently, only
for the purposes of the toilet. They pounded their maize in huge mortars
of wood, hollowed by alternate burnings and scrapings. Their stone axes,
spear and arrow heads, and bone fish-hooks, were fast giving place to
the iron of the French; but they had not laid aside their shields of raw
bison-hide, or of wood overlaid with plaited and twisted thongs of skin.
They still used, too, their primitive breastplates and greaves of twigs
interwoven with cordage. [12] The masterpiece of Huron handiwork,
however, was the birch canoe, in the construction of which the
Algonquins were no less skilful. The Iroquois, in the absence of the
birch, were forced to use the bark of the elm, which was greatly
inferior both in lightness and strength. Of pipes, than which nothing
was more important in their eyes, the Hurons made a great variety, some
of baked clay, others of various kinds of stone, carved by the men,
during their long periods of monotonous leisure, often with great skill
and ingenuity. But their most mysterious fabric was wampum. This was at
once their currency, their ornament, their pen, ink, and parchment; and
its use was by no means confined to tribes of the Iroquois stock. It
consisted of elongated beads, white and purple, made from the inner part
of certain shells. It is not easy to conceive how, with their rude
implements, the Indians contrived to shape and perforate this
intractable material. The art soon fell into disuse, however; for wampum
better than their own was brought them by the traders, besides abundant
imitations in glass and porcelain. Strung into necklaces, or wrought
into collars, belts, and bracelets, it was the favorite decoration of
the Indian girls at festivals and dances. It served also a graver
purpose. No compact, no speech, or clause of a speech, to the
representative of another nation, had any force, unless confirmed by the
delivery of a string or belt of wampum. [13] The belts, on occasions of
importance, were wrought into significant devices, suggestive of the
substance of the compact or speech, and designed as aids to memory. To
one or more old men of the nation was assigned the honorable, but very
onerous, charge of keepers of the wampum,--in other words, of the
national records; and it was for them to remember and interpret the
meaning of the belts. The figures on wampum-belts were, for the most
part, simply mnemonic. So also were those carved on wooden tablets, or
painted on bark and skin, to preserve in memory the songs of war,
hunting, or magic. [14] The Hurons had, however, in common with other
tribes, a system of rude pictures and arbitrary signs, by which they
could convey to each other, with tolerable precision, information
touching the ordinary subjects of Indian interest.

[12] Some of the northern tribes of California, at the present day, wear
a sort of breastplate "composed of thin parallel battens of very tough
wood, woven together with a small cord."
[13] Beaver-skins and other valuable furs were sometimes, on such
occasions, used as a substitute.
[14] Engravings of many specimens of these figured songs are given in
the voluminous reports on the condition of the Indians, published by
Government, under the editorship of Mr. Schoolcraft. The specimens are
chiefly Algonquin.

Their dress was chiefly of skins, cured with smoke after the well-known
Indian mode. That of the women, according to the Jesuits, was more
modest than that "of our most pious ladies of France." The young girls
on festal occasions must be excepted from this commendation, as they
wore merely a kilt from the waist to the knee, besides the wampum
decorations of the breast and arms. Their long black hair, gathered
behind the neck, was decorated with disks of native copper, or gay
pendants made in France, and now occasionally unearthed in numbers from
their graves. The men, in summer, were nearly naked,--those of a kindred
tribe wholly so, with the sole exception of their moccasins. In winter
they were clad in tunics and leggins of skin, and at all seasons, on
occasions of ceremony, were wrapped from head to foot in robes of beaver
or otter furs, sometimes of the greatest value. On the inner side, these
robes were decorated with painted figures and devices, or embroidered
with the dyed quills of the Canada hedgehog. In this art of embroidery,
however, the Hurons were equalled or surpassed by some of the Algonquin
tribes. They wore their hair after a variety of grotesque and startling
fashions. With some, it was loose on one side, and tight braided on the
other; with others, close shaved, leaving one or more long and cherished
locks; while, with others again, it bristled in a ridge across the
crown, like the back of a hyena. [15] When in full dress, they were
painted with ochre, white clay, soot, and the red juice of certain
berries. They practised tattooing, sometimes covering the whole body
with indelible devices. [16] When of such extent, the process was very
severe; and though no murmur escaped the sufferer, he sometimes died
from its effects.

[15] See Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 35.--"Quelles hures!" exclaimed some
astonished Frenchman. Hence the name, Hurons.
[16] Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 72.--Champlain has a picture of a
warrior thus tattooed.

Female life among the Hurons had no bright side. It was a youth of
license, an age of drudgery. Despite an organization which, while it
perhaps made them less sensible of pain, certainly made them less
susceptible of passion, than the higher races of men, the Hurons were
notoriously dissolute, far exceeding in this respect the wandering and
starving Algonquins. [17] Marriage existed among them, and polygamy was
exceptional; but divorce took place at the will or caprice of either
party. A practice also prevailed of temporary or experimental marriage,
lasting a day, a week, or more. The seal of the compact was merely the
acceptance of a gift of wampum made by the suitor to the object of his
desire or his whim. These gifts were never returned on the dissolution
of the connection; and as an attractive and enterprising damsel might,
and often did, make twenty such marriages before her final
establishment, she thus collected a wealth of wampum with which to adorn
herself for the village dances. [18] This provisional matrimony was no
bar to a license boundless and apparently universal, unattended with
loss of reputation on either side. Every instinct of native delicacy
quickly vanished under the influence of Huron domestic life; eight or
ten families, and often more, crowded into one undivided house, where
privacy was impossible, and where strangers were free to enter at all
hours of the day or night.

[17] Among the Iroquois there were more favorable features in the
condition of women. The matrons had often a considerable influence on
the decisions of the councils. Lafitau, whose book appeared in 1724,
says that the nation was corrupt in his time, but that this was a
degeneracy from their ancient manners. La Potherie and Charlevoix make a
similar statement. Megapolensis, however, in 1644, says that they were
then exceedingly debauched; and Greenhalgh, in 1677, gives ample
evidence of a shameless license. One of their most earnest advocates of
the present day admits that the passion of love among them had no other
than an animal existence. (Morgan, League of the Iroquois, 322.) There
is clear proof that the tribes of the South were equally corrupt. (See
Lawson, Carolina, 34, and other early writers.) On the other hand,
chastity in women was recognized as a virtue by many tribes. This was
peculiarly the case among the Algonquins of Gaspé, where a lapse in this
regard was counted a disgrace. (See Le Clerc, Nouvelle Relation de la
Gaspésie, 417, where a contrast is drawn between the modesty of the
girls of this region and the open prostitution practised among those of
other tribes.) Among the Sioux, adultery on the part of a woman is
punished by mutilation.

The remarkable forbearance observed by Eastern and Northern tribes
towards female captives was probably the result of a superstition.
Notwithstanding the prevailing license, the Iroquois and other tribes
had among themselves certain conventional rules which excited the
admiration of the Jesuit celibates. Some of these had a superstitious
origin; others were in accordance with the iron requirements of their
savage etiquette. To make the Indian a hero of romance is mere nonsense.
[18] "Il s'en trouue telle qui passe ainsi sa ieunesse, qui aura en plus
de vingt maris, lesquels vingt maris ne sont pas seuls en la jouyssance
de la beste, quelques mariez qu'ils soient: car la nuict venuë, les
ieunes femmes courent d'une cabane en une autre, come font les ieunes
hommes de leur costé, qui en prennent par ou bon leur semble, toutesfois
sans violence aucune, et n'en reçoiuent aucune infamie, ny injure, la
coustume du pays estant telle."--Champlain (1627), 90. Compare Sagard,
Voyage des Hurons, 176. Both were personal observers.

The ceremony, even of the most serious marriage, consisted merely in the
bride's bringing a dish of boiled maize to the bridegroom, together with
an armful of fuel. There was often a feast of the relatives, or of the
whole village.

Once a mother, and married with a reasonable permanency, the Huron woman
from a wanton became a drudge. In March and April she gathered the
year's supply of firewood. Then came sowing, tilling, and harvesting,
smoking fish, dressing skins, making cordage and clothing, preparing
food. On the march it was she who bore the burden; for, in the words of
Champlain, "their women were their mules." The natural effect followed.
In every Huron town were shrivelled hags, hideous and despised, who, in
vindictiveness, ferocity, and cruelty, far exceeded the men.

To the men fell the task of building the houses, and making weapons,
pipes, and canoes. For the rest, their home-life was a life of leisure
and amusement. The summer and autumn were their seasons of serious
employment,--of war, hunting, fishing, and trade. There was an
established system of traffic between the Hurons and the Algonquins of
the Ottawa and Lake Nipissing: the Hurons exchanging wampum,
fishing-nets, and corn for fish and furs. [19] From various relics found
in their graves, it may be inferred that they also traded with tribes of
the Upper Lakes, as well as with tribes far southward, towards the Gulf
of Mexico. Each branch of traffic was the monopoly of the family or clan
by whom it was opened. They might, if they could, punish interlopers, by
stripping them of all they possessed, unless the latter had succeeded in
reaching home with the fruits of their trade,--in which case the
outraged monopolists had no further right of redress, and could not
attempt it without a breaking of the public peace, and exposure to the
authorized vengeance of the other party. [20] Their fisheries, too, were
regulated by customs having the force of laws. These pursuits, with
their hunting,--in which they were aided by a wolfish breed of dogs
unable to bark,--consumed the autumn and early winter; but before the
new year the greater part of the men were gathered in their villages.

[19] Champlain (1627), 84.
[20] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 156 (Cramoisy).

Now followed their festal season; for it was the season of idleness for
the men, and of leisure for the women. Feasts, gambling, smoking, and
dancing filled the vacant hours. Like other Indians, the Hurons were
desperate gamblers, staking their all,--ornaments, clothing, canoes,
pipes, weapons, and wives. One of their principal games was played with
plum-stones, or wooden lozenges, black on one side and white on the
other. These were tossed up in a wooden bowl, by striking it sharply
upon the ground, and the players betted on the black or white. Sometimes
a village challenged a neighboring village. The game was played in one
of the houses. Strong poles were extended from side to side, and on
these sat or perched the company, party facing party, while two players
struck the bowl on the ground between. Bets ran high; and Brébeuf
relates, that once, in midwinter, with the snow nearly three feet deep,
the men of his village returned from a gambling visit, bereft of their
leggins, and barefoot, yet in excellent humor. [21] Ludicrous as it may
appear, these games were often medical prescriptions, and designed as a
cure of the sick.

[21] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 113.--This game is still a
favorite among the Iroquois, some of whom hold to the belief that they
will play it after death in the realms of bliss. In all their important
games of chance, they employed charms, incantations, and all the
resources of their magical art, to gain good luck.

Their feasts and dances were of various character, social, medical, and
mystical or religious. Some of their feasts were on a scale of
extravagant profusion. A vain or ambitious host threw all his substance
into one entertainment, inviting the whole village, and perhaps several
neighboring villages also. In the winter of 1635 there was a feast at
the village of Contarrea, where thirty kettles were on the fires, and
twenty deer and four bears were served up. [22] The invitation was
simple. The messenger addressed the desired guest with the concise
summons, "Come and eat"; and to refuse was a grave offence. He took his
dish and spoon, and repaired to the scene of festivity. Each, as he
entered, greeted his host with the guttural ejaculation, Ho! and ranged
himself with the rest, squatted on the earthen floor or on the platform
along the sides of the house. The kettles were slung over the fires in
the midst. First, there was a long prelude of lugubrious singing. Then
the host, who took no share in the feast, proclaimed in a loud voice the
contents of each kettle in turn, and at each announcement the company
responded in unison, Ho! The attendant squaws filled with their ladles
the bowls of all the guests. There was talking, laughing, jesting,
singing, and smoking; and at times the entertainment was protracted
through the day.

[22] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 111.

When the feast had a medical or mystic character, it was indispensable
that each guest should devour the whole of the portion given him,
however enormous. Should he fail, the host would be outraged, the
community shocked, and the spirits roused to vengeance. Disaster would
befall the nation,--death, perhaps, the individual. In some cases, the
imagined efficacy of the feast was proportioned to the rapidity with
which the viands were despatched. Prizes of tobacco were offered to the
most rapid feeder; and the spectacle then became truly porcine. [23]
These festins à manger tout were much dreaded by many of the Hurons,
who, however, were never known to decline them.

[23] This superstition was not confined to the Hurons, but extended to
many other tribes, including, probably, all the Algonquins, with some of
which it holds in full force to this day. A feaster, unable to do his
full part, might, if he could, hire another to aid him; otherwise, he
must remain in his place till the work was done.

Invitation to a dance was no less concise than to a feast. Sometimes a
crier proclaimed the approaching festivity through the village. The
house was crowded. Old men, old women, and children thronged the
platforms, or clung to the poles which supported the sides and roof.
Fires were raked out, and the earthen floor cleared. Two chiefs sang at
the top of their voices, keeping time to their song with tortoise-shell
rattles. [24] The men danced with great violence and gesticulation; the
women, with a much more measured action. The former were nearly divested
of clothing,--in mystical dances, sometimes wholly so; and, from a
superstitious motive, this was now and then the case with the women.
Both, however, were abundantly decorated with paint, oil, beads, wampum,
trinkets, and feathers.

[24] Sagard gives specimens of their songs. In both dances and feasts
there was no little variety. These were sometimes combined. It is
impossible, in brief space, to indicate more than their general
features. In the famous "war-dance,"--which was frequently danced, as it
still is, for amusement,--speeches, exhortations, jests, personal
satire, and repartee were commonly introduced as a part of the
performance, sometimes by way of patriotic stimulus, sometimes for
amusement. The music in this case was the drum and the war-song. Some of
the other dances were also interspersed with speeches and sharp
witticisms, always taken in good part, though Lafitau says that he has
seen the victim so pitilessly bantered that he was forced to hide his
head in his blanket.

Religious festivals, councils, the entertainment of an envoy, the
inauguration of a chief, were all occasions of festivity, in which
social pleasure was joined with matter of grave import, and which at
times gathered nearly all the nation into one great and harmonious
concourse. Warlike expeditions, too, were always preceded by feasting,
at which the warriors vaunted the fame of their ancestors, and their own
past and prospective exploits. A hideous scene of feasting followed the
torture of a prisoner. Like the torture itself, it was, among the
Hurons, partly an act of vengeance, and partly a religious rite. If the
victim had shown courage, the heart was first roasted, cut into small
pieces, and given to the young men and boys, who devoured it to increase
their own courage. The body was then divided, thrown into the kettles,
and eaten by the assembly, the head being the portion of the chief. Many
of the Hurons joined in the feast with reluctance and horror, while
others took pleasure in it. [25] This was the only form of cannibalism
among them, since, unlike the wandering Algonquins, they were rarely
under the desperation of extreme famine.

[25] "Il y en a qui en mangent auec plaisir."--Brébeuf, Relation des
Hurons, 1636, 121.--Le Mercier gives a description of one of these
scenes, at which he was present. (Ibid., 1637, 118.) The same horrible
practice prevailed to a greater extent among the Iroquois. One of the
most remarkable instances of Indian cannibalism is that furnished by a
Western tribe, the Miamis, among whom there was a clan, or family, whose
hereditary duty and privilege it was to devour the bodies of prisoners
burned to death. The act had somewhat of a religious character, was
attended with ceremonial observances, and was restricted to the family
in question.--See Hon. Lewis Cass, in the appendix to Colonel Whiting's
poem, "Ontwa."

A great knowledge of simples for the cure of disease is popularly
ascribed to the Indian. Here, however, as elsewhere, his knowledge is in
fact scanty. He rarely reasons from cause to effect, or from effect to
cause. Disease, in his belief, is the result of sorcery, the agency of
spirits or supernatural influences, undefined and indefinable. The
Indian doctor was a conjurer, and his remedies were to the last degree
preposterous, ridiculous, or revolting. The well-known Indian
sweating-bath is the most prominent of the few means of cure based on
agencies simply physical; and this, with all the other natural remedies,
was applied, not by the professed doctor, but by the sufferer himself,
or his friends. [26]

[26] The Indians had many simple applications for wounds, said to have
been very efficacious; but the purity of their blood, owing to the
absence from their diet of condiments and stimulants, as well as to
their active habits, aided the remedy. In general, they were remarkably
exempt from disease or deformity, though often seriously injured by
alternations of hunger and excess. The Hurons sometimes died from the
effects of their festins à manger tout.

The Indian doctor beat, shook, and pinched his patient, howled, whooped,
rattled a tortoise-shell at his ear to expel the evil spirit, bit him
till blood flowed, and then displayed in triumph a small piece of wood,
bone, or iron, which he had hidden in his mouth, and which he affirmed
was the source of the disease, now happily removed. [27] Sometimes he
prescribed a dance, feast, or game; and the whole village bestirred
themselves to fulfil the injunction to the letter. They gambled away
their all; they gorged themselves like vultures; they danced or played
ball naked among the snow-drifts from morning till night. At a medical
feast, some strange or unusual act was commonly enjoined as vital to the
patient's cure: as, for example, the departing guest, in place of the
customary monosyllable of thanks, was required to greet his host with an
ugly grimace. Sometimes, by prescription, half the village would throng
into the house where the patient lay, led by old women disguised with
the heads and skins of bears, and beating with sticks on sheets of dry
bark. Here the assembly danced and whooped for hours together, with a
din to which a civilized patient would promptly have succumbed.
Sometimes the doctor wrought himself into a prophetic fury, raving
through the length and breadth of the dwelling, snatching firebrands and
flinging them about him, to the terror of the squaws, with whom, in
their combustible tenements, fire was a constant bugbear.

[27] The Hurons believed that the chief cause of disease and death was a
monstrous serpent, that lived under the earth. By touching a tuft of
hair, a feather, or a fragment of bone, with a portion of his flesh or
fat, the sorcerer imparted power to it of entering the body of his
victim, and gradually killing him. It was an important part of the
doctor's function to extract these charms from the vitals of his
patient.--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1648, 75.

Among the Hurons and kindred tribes, disease was frequently ascribed to
some hidden wish ungratified. Hence the patient was overwhelmed with
gifts, in the hope, that, in their multiplicity, the desideratum might
be supplied. Kettles, skins, awls, pipes, wampum, fish-hooks, weapons,
objects of every conceivable variety, were piled before him by a host of
charitable contributors; and if, as often happened, a dream, the Indian
oracle, had revealed to the sick man the secret of his cure, his demands
were never refused, however extravagant, idle, nauseous, or abominable.
[28] Hence it is no matter of wonder that sudden illness and sudden
cures were frequent among the Hurons. The patient reaped profit, and the
doctor both profit and honor.

[28] "Dans le pays de nos Hurons, il se faict aussi des assemblées de
toutes les filles d'vn bourg auprés d'vne malade, tant à sa priere,
suyuant la resuerie ou le songe qu'elle en aura euë, que par
l'ordonnance de Loki (the doctor), pour sa santé et guerison. Les filles
ainsi assemblées, on leur demande à toutes, les vnes apres les autres,
celuy qu'elles veulent des ieunes hommes du bourg pour dormir auec elles
la nuict prochaine: elles en nomment chacune vn, qui sont aussi-tost
aduertis par les Maistres de la ceremonie, lesquels viennent tous au
soir en la presence de la malade dormir chacun auec celle qui l'a
choysi, d'vn bout à l'autre de la Cabane, et passent ainsi toute la
nuict, pendant que deux Capitaines aux deux bouts du logis chantent et
sonnent de leur Tortuë du soir au lendemain matin, que la ceremonie
cesse. Dieu vueille abolir vne si damnable et malheureuse
ceremonie."--Sagard, Voyage des Hurons, 158.--This unique mode of cure,
which was called Andacwandet, is also described by Lalemant, who saw it.
(Relation des Hurons, 1639, 84.) It was one of the recognized remedies.

For the medical practices of the Hurons, see also Champlain, Brébeuf,
Lafitau, Charlevoix, and other early writers. Those of the Algonquins
were in some points different. The doctor often consulted the spirits,
to learn the cause and cure of the disease, by a method peculiar to that
family of tribes. He shut himself in a small conical lodge, and the
spirits here visited him, manifesting their presence by a violent
shaking of the whole structure. This superstition will be described in
another connection.

THE HURON-IROQUOIS FAMILY.

And now, before entering upon the very curious subject of Indian social
and tribal organization, it may be well briefly to observe the position
and prominent distinctive features of the various communities speaking
dialects of the generic tongue of the Iroquois. In this remarkable
family of tribes occur the fullest developments of Indian character, and
the most conspicuous examples of Indian intelligence. If the higher
traits popularly ascribed to the race are not to be found here, they are
to be found nowhere. A palpable proof of the superiority of this stock
is afforded in the size of the Iroquois and Huron brains. In average
internal capacity of the cranium, they surpass, with few and doubtful
exceptions, all other aborigines of North and South America, not
excepting the civilized races of Mexico and Peru. [29]

[29] "On comparing five Iroquois heads, I find that they give an average
internal capacity of eighty-eight cubic inches, which is within two
inches of the Caucasian mean."--Morton, Crania Americana, 195.--It is
remarkable that the internal capacity of the skulls of the barbarous
American tribes is greater than that of either the Mexicans or the
Peruvians. "The difference in volume is chiefly confined to the
occipital and basal portions,"--in other words, to the region of the
animal propensities; and hence, it is argued, the ferocious, brutal, and
uncivilizable character of the wild tribes.--See J. S. Phillips,
Admeasurements of Crania of the Principal Groups of Indians in the
United States.

In the woody valleys of the Blue Mountains, south of the Nottawassaga
Bay of Lake Huron, and two days' journey west of the frontier Huron
towns, lay the nine villages of the Tobacco Nation, or Tionnontates.
[30] In manners, as in language, they closely resembled the Hurons. Of
old they were their enemies, but were now at peace with them, and about
the year 1640 became their close confederates. Indeed, in the ruin which
befell that hapless people, the Tionnontates alone retained a tribal
organization; and their descendants, with a trifling exception, are to
this day the sole inheritors of the Huron or Wyandot name. Expatriated
and wandering, they held for generations a paramount influence among the
Western tribes. [31] In their original seats among the Blue Mountains,
they offered an example extremely rare among Indians, of a tribe raising
a crop for the market; for they traded in tobacco largely with other
tribes. Their Huron confederates, keen traders, would not suffer them to
pass through their country to traffic with the French, preferring to
secure for themselves the advantage of bartering with them in French
goods at an enormous profit. [32]

[30] Synonymes: Tionnontates, Etionontates, Tuinontatek, Dionondadies,
Khionontaterrhonons, Petuneux or Nation du Petun (Tobacco).
[31] "L'ame de tous les Conseils."--Charlevoix, Voyage, 199.--In 1763
they were Pontiac's best warriors.
[32] On the Tionnontates, see Le Mercier, Relation, 1637, 163; Lalemant,
Relation, 1641, 69; Ragueneau, Relation, 1648, 61. An excellent summary
of their character and history, by Mr. Shea, will be found in Hist.
Mag., V. 262.

Journeying southward five days from the Tionnontate towns, the forest
traveller reached the border villages of the Attiwandarons, or Neutral
Nation. [33] As early as 1626, they were visited by the Franciscan
friar, La Roche Dallion, who reports a numerous population in
twenty-eight towns, besides many small hamlets. Their country, about
forty leagues in extent, embraced wide and fertile districts on the
north shore of Lake Erie, and their frontier extended eastward across
the Niagara, where they had three or four outlying towns. [34] Their
name of Neutrals was due to their neutrality in the war between the
Hurons and the Iroquois proper. The hostile warriors, meeting in a
Neutral cabin, were forced to keep the peace, though, once in the open
air, the truce was at an end. Yet this people were abundantly ferocious,
and, while holding a pacific attitude betwixt their warring kindred,
waged deadly strife with the Mascoutins, an Algonquin horde beyond Lake
Michigan. Indeed, it was but recently that they had been at blows with
seventeen Algonquin tribes. [35] They burned female prisoners, a
practice unknown to the Hurons. [36] Their country was full of game, and
they were bold and active hunters. In form and stature they surpassed
even the Hurons, whom they resembled in their mode of life, and from
whose language their own, though radically similar, was dialectically
distinct. Their licentiousness was even more open and shameless; and
they stood alone in the extravagance of some of their usages. They kept
their dead in their houses till they became insupportable; then scraped
the flesh from the bones, and displayed them in rows along the walls,
there to remain till the periodical Feast of the Dead, or general
burial. In summer, the men wore no clothing whatever, but were usually
tattooed from head to foot with powdered charcoal.

[33] Attiwandarons, Attiwendaronk, Atirhagenrenrets, Rhagenratka (Jesuit
Relations), Attionidarons (Sagard). They, and not the Eries, were the
Kahkwas of Seneca tradition.
[34] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1641, 71.--The Niagara was then
called the River of the Neutrals, or the Onguiaahra. Lalemant estimates
the Neutral population, in 1640, at twelve thousand, in forty villages.
[35] Lettre du Père La Roche Dallion, 8 Juillet, 1627, in Le Clerc,
Établissement de la Foy, I. 346.
[36] Women were often burned by the Iroquois: witness the case of
Catherine Mercier in 1651, and many cases of Indian women mentioned by
the early writers.

The sagacious Hurons refused them a passage through their country to the
French; and the Neutrals apparently had not sense or reflection enough
to take the easy and direct route of Lake Ontario, which was probably
open to them, though closed against the Hurons by Iroquois enmity. Thus
the former made excellent profit by exchanging French goods at high
rates for the valuable furs of the Neutrals. [37]

[37] The Hurons became very jealous, when La Roche Dallion visited the
Neutrals, lest a direct trade should be opened between the latter and
the French, against whom they at once put in circulation a variety of
slanders: that they were a people who lived on snakes and venom; that
they were furnished with tails; and that French women, though having but
one breast, bore six children at a birth. The missionary nearly lost his
life in consequence, the Neutrals conceiving the idea that he would
infect their country with a pestilence.--La Roche Dallion, in Le Clerc,
I. 346.

Southward and eastward of Lake Erie dwelt a kindred people, the Eries,
or Nation of the Cat. Little besides their existence is known of them.
They seem to have occupied Southwestern New York, as far east as the
Genesee, the frontier of the Senecas, and in habits and language to have
resembled the Hurons. [38] They were noted warriors, fought with
poisoned arrows, and were long a terror to the neighboring Iroquois.
[39]

[38] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1648, 46.
[39] Le Mercier, Relation, 1654, 10.--"Nous les appellons la Nation
Chat, à cause qu'il y a dans leur pais vne quantité prodigieuse de Chats
sauuages."--Ibid.--The Iroquois are said to have given the same name,
Jegosasa, Cat Nation, to the Neutrals.--Morgan, League of the Iroquois,
41.

Synonymes: Eriés, Erigas, Eriehronon, Riguehronon. The Jesuits never had
a mission among them, though they seem to have been visited by
Champlain's adventurous interpreter, Étienne Brulé, in the summer of
1615.--They are probably the Carantoüans of Champlain.

On the Lower Susquehanna dwelt the formidable tribe called by the French
Andastes. Little is known of them, beyond their general resemblance to
their kindred, in language, habits, and character. Fierce and resolute
warriors, they long made head against the Iroquois of New York, and were
vanquished at last more by disease than by the tomahawk. [40]

[40] Gallatin erroneously places the Andastes on the Alleghany, Bancroft
and others adopting the error. The research of Mr. Shea has shown their
identity with the Susquehannocks of the English, and the Minquas of the
Dutch.--See Hist. Mag., II. 294.

Synonymes: Andastes, Andastracronnons, Andastaeronnons, Andastaguez,
Antastoui (French), Susquehannocks (English), Mengwe, Minquas (Dutch),
Conestogas, Conessetagoes (English).

In Central New York, stretching east and west from the Hudson to the
Genesee, lay that redoubted people who have lent their name to the
tribal family of the Iroquois, and stamped it indelibly on the early
pages of American history. Among all the barbarous nations of the
continent, the Iroquois of New York stand paramount. Elements which
among other tribes were crude, confused, and embryotic, were among them
systematized and concreted into an established polity. The Iroquois was
the Indian of Indians. A thorough savage, yet a finished and developed
savage, he is perhaps an example of the highest elevation which man can
reach without emerging from his primitive condition of the hunter. A
geographical position, commanding on one hand the portal of the Great
Lakes, and on the other the sources of the streams flowing both to the
Atlantic and the Mississippi, gave the ambitious and aggressive
confederates advantages which they perfectly understood, and by which
they profited to the utmost. Patient and politic as they were ferocious,
they were not only conquerors of their own race, but the powerful allies
and the dreaded foes of the French and English colonies, flattered and
caressed by both, yet too sagacious to give themselves without reserve
to either. Their organization and their history evince their intrinsic
superiority. Even their traditionary lore, amid its wild puerilities,
shows at times the stamp of an energy and force in striking contrast
with the flimsy creations of Algonquin fancy. That the Iroquois, left
under their institutions to work out their destiny undisturbed, would
ever have developed a civilization of their own, I do not believe. These
institutions, however, are sufficiently characteristic and curious, and
we shall soon have occasion to observe them. [41]

[41] The name Iroquois is French. Charlevoix says: "Il a été formé du
terme Hiro, ou Hero, qui signifie J'ai dit, et par lequel ces sauvages
finissent tous leur discours, comme les Latins faisoient autrefois par
leur Dixi; et de Koué, qui est un cri tantôt de tristesse, lorsqu'on le
prononce en traînant, et tantôt de joye, quand on le prononce plus
court."--Hist. de la N. F., I. 271.--Their true name is Hodenosaunee, or
People of the Long House, because their confederacy of five distinct
nations, ranged in a line along Central New York, was likened to one of
the long bark houses already described, with five fires and five
families. The name Agonnonsionni, or Aquanuscioni, ascribed to them by
Lafitau and Charlevoix, who translated it "House-Makers," Faiseurs de
Cabannes, may be a conversion of the true name with an erroneous
rendering. The following are the true names of the five nations
severally, with their French and English synonymes. For other synonymes,
see "History of the Conspiracy of Pontiac," 8, note.

English French
Ganeagaono, Mohawk, Agnier.
Onayotekaono, Oneida, Onneyut.
Onundagaono, Onondaga, Onnontagué.
Gweugwehono, Cayuga, Goyogouin.
Nundawaono, Seneca, Tsonnontouans.

The Iroquois termination in ono--or onon, as the French write it--simply
means people.

SOCIAL AND POLITICAL ORGANIZATION.

In Indian social organization, a problem at once suggests itself. In
these communities, comparatively populous, how could spirits so fierce,
and in many respects so ungoverned, live together in peace, without law
and without enforced authority? Yet there were towns where savages lived
together in thousands with a harmony which civilization might envy. This
was in good measure due to peculiarities of Indian character and habits.
This intractable race were, in certain external respects, the most
pliant and complaisant of mankind. The early missionaries were charmed
by the docile acquiescence with which their dogmas were received; but
they soon discovered that their facile auditors neither believed nor
understood that to which they had so promptly assented. They assented
from a kind of courtesy, which, while it vexed the priests, tended
greatly to keep the Indians in mutual accord. That well-known
self-control, which, originating in a form of pride, covered the savage
nature of the man with a veil, opaque, though thin, contributed not a
little to the same end. Though vain, arrogant, boastful, and vindictive,
the Indian bore abuse and sarcasm with an astonishing patience. Though
greedy and grasping, he was lavish without stint, and would give away
his all to soothe the manes of a departed relative, gain influence and
applause, or ingratiate himself with his neighbors. In his dread of
public opinion, he rivalled some of his civilized successors.

All Indians, and especially these populous and stationary tribes, had
their code of courtesy, whose requirements were rigid and exact; nor
might any infringe it without the ban of public censure. Indian nature,
inflexible and unmalleable, was peculiarly under the control of custom.
Established usage took the place of law,--was, in fact, a sort of common
law, with no tribunal to expound or enforce it. In these wild
democracies,--democracies in spirit, though not in form,--a respect for
native superiority, and a willingness to yield to it, were always
conspicuous. All were prompt to aid each other in distress, and a
neighborly spirit was often exhibited among them. When a young woman was
permanently married, the other women of the village supplied her with
firewood for the year, each contributing an armful. When one or more
families were without shelter, the men of the village joined in building
them a house. In return, the recipients of the favor gave a feast, if
they could; if not, their thanks were sufficient. [42] Among the
Iroquois and Hurons--and doubtless among the kindred tribes--there were
marked distinctions of noble and base, prosperous and poor; yet, while
there was food in the village, the meanest and the poorest need not
suffer want. He had but to enter the nearest house, and seat himself by
the fire, when, without a word on either side, food was placed before
him by the women. [43]

[42] The following testimony concerning Indian charity and hospitality
is from Ragueneau: "As often as we have seen tribes broken up, towns
destroyed, and their people driven to flight, we have seen them, to the
number of seven or eight hundred persons, received with open arms by
charitable hosts, who gladly gave them aid, and even distributed among
them a part of the lands already planted, that they might have the means
of living."--Relation, 1650, 28.
[43] The Jesuit Brébeuf, than whom no one knew the Hurons better, is
very emphatic in praise of their harmony and social spirit. Speaking of
one of the four nations of which the Hurons were composed, he says: "Ils
ont vne douceur et vne affabilité quasi incroyable pour des Sauuages;
ils ne se picquent pas aisément.... Ils se maintiennent dans cette si
parfaite intelligence par les frequentes visites, les secours qu'ils se
donnent mutuellement dans leurs maladies, par les festins et les
alliances.... Ils sont moins en leurs Cabanes que chez leurs amis....
S'ils ont vn bon morceau, ils en font festin à leurs amis, et ne le
mangent quasi iamais en leur particulier," etc.--Relation des Hurons,
1636, 118.

Contrary to the received opinion, these Indians, like others of their
race, when living in communities, were of a very social disposition.
Besides their incessant dances and feasts, great and small, they were
continually visiting, spending most of their time in their neighbors'
houses, chatting, joking, bantering one another with witticisms, sharp,
broad, and in no sense delicate, yet always taken in good part. Every
village had its adepts in these wordy tournaments, while the shrill
laugh of young squaws, untaught to blush, echoed each hardy jest or
rough sarcasm.

In the organization of the savage communities of the continent, one
feature, more or less conspicuous, continually appears. Each nation or
tribe--to adopt the names by which these communities are usually
known--is subdivided into several clans. These clans are not locally
separate, but are mingled throughout the nation. All the members of each
clan are, or are assumed to be, intimately joined in consanguinity.
Hence it is held an abomination for two persons of the same clan to
intermarry; and hence, again, it follows that every family must contain
members of at least two clans. Each clan has its name, as the clan of
the Hawk, of the Wolf, or of the Tortoise; and each has for its emblem
the figure of the beast, bird, reptile, plant, or other object, from
which its name is derived. This emblem, called totem by the Algonquins,
is often tattooed on the clansman's body, or rudely painted over the
entrance of his lodge. The child belongs to the clan, not of the father,
but of the mother. In other words, descent, not of the totem alone, but
of all rank, titles, and possessions, is through the female. The son of
a chief can never be a chief by hereditary title, though he may become
so by force of personal influence or achievement. Neither can he inherit
from his father so much as a tobacco-pipe. All possessions alike pass of
right to the brothers of the chief, or to the sons of his sisters, since
these are all sprung from a common mother. This rule of descent was
noticed by Champlain among the Hurons in 1615. That excellent observer
refers it to an origin which is doubtless its true one. The child may
not be the son of his reputed father, but must be the son of his
mother,--a consideration of more than ordinary force in an Indian
community. [44]

[44] "Les enfans ne succedent iamais aux biens et dignitez de leurs
peres, doubtant comme i'ay dit de leur geniteur, mais bien font-ils
leurs successeurs et heritiers, les enfans de leurs sœurs, et desquels
ils sont asseurez d'estre yssus et sortis."--Champlain (1627), 91.

Captain John Smith had observed the same, several years before, among
the tribes of Virginia: "For the Crowne, their heyres inherite not, but
the first heyres of the Sisters."--True Relation, 43 (ed. Deane).

This system of clanship, with the rule of descent inseparable from it,
was of very wide prevalence. Indeed, it is more than probable that close
observation would have detected it in every tribe east of the
Mississippi; while there is positive evidence of its existence in by far
the greater number. It is found also among the Dahcotah and other tribes
west of the Mississippi; and there is reason to believe it universally
prevalent as far as the Rocky Mountains, and even beyond them. The fact
that with most of these hordes there is little property worth
transmission, and that the most influential becomes chief, with little
regard to inheritance, has blinded casual observers to the existence of
this curious system.

It was found in full development among the Creeks, Choctaws, Cherokees,
and other Southern tribes, including that remarkable people, the
Natchez, who, judged by their religious and political institutions, seem
a detached offshoot of the Toltec family. It is no less conspicuous
among the roving Algonquins of the extreme North, where the number of
totems is almost countless. Everywhere it formed the foundation of the
polity of all the tribes, where a polity could be said to exist.

The Franciscans and Jesuits, close students of the languages and
superstitions of the Indians, were by no means so zealous to analyze
their organization and government. In the middle of the seventeenth
century the Hurons as a nation had ceased to exist, and their political
portraiture, as handed down to us, is careless and unfinished. Yet some
decisive features are plainly shown. The Huron nation was a confederacy
of four distinct contiguous nations, afterwards increased to five by the
addition of the Tionnontates;--it was divided into clans;--it was
governed by chiefs, whose office was hereditary through the female;--the
power of these chiefs, though great, was wholly of a persuasive or
advisory character;--there were two principal chiefs, one for peace, the
other for war;--there were chiefs assigned to special national
functions, as the charge of the great Feast of the Dead, the direction
of trading voyages to other nations, etc.;--there were numerous other
chiefs, equal in rank, but very unequal in influence, since the measure
of their influence depended on the measure of their personal
ability;--each nation of the confederacy had a separate organization,
but at certain periods grand councils of the united nations were held,
at which were present, not chiefs only, but also a great concourse of
the people; and at these and other councils the chiefs and principal men
voted on proposed measures by means of small sticks or reeds, the
opinion of the plurality ruling. [45]

[45] These facts are gathered here and there from Champlain, Sagard,
Bressani, and the Jesuit Relations prior to 1650. Of the Jesuits,
Brébeuf is the most full and satisfactory. Lafitau and Charlevoix knew
the Huron institutions only through others.

The names of the four confederate Huron nations were the Ataronchronons,
Attignenonghac, Attignaouentans, and Ahrendarrhonons. There was also a
subordinate "nation" called Tohotaenrat, which had but one town. (See
the map of the Huron Country.) They all bore the name of some animal or
other object: thus the Attignaouentans were the Nation of the Bear. As
the clans are usually named after animals, this makes confusion, and may
easily lead to error. The Bear Nation was the principal member of the
league.

THE IROQUOIS.

The Iroquois were a people far more conspicuous in history, and their
institutions are not yet extinct. In early and recent times, they have
been closely studied, and no little light has been cast upon a subject
as difficult and obscure as it is curious. By comparing the statements
of observers, old and new, the character of their singular organization
becomes sufficiently clear. [46]

[46] Among modern students of Iroquois institutions, a place far in
advance of all others is due to Lewis H. Morgan, himself an Iroquois by
adoption, and intimate with the race from boyhood. His work, The League
of the Iroquois, is a production of most thorough and able research,
conducted under peculiar advantages, and with the aid of an efficient
co-laborer, Hasanoanda (Ely S. Parker), an educated and highly
intelligent Iroquois of the Seneca nation. Though often differing widely
from Mr. Morgan's conclusions, I cannot bear a too emphatic testimony to
the value of his researches. The Notes on the Iroquois of Mr. H. R.
Schoolcraft also contain some interesting facts; but here, as in all Mr.
Schoolcraft's productions, the reader must scrupulously reserve his
right of private judgment. None of the old writers are so satisfactory
as Lafitau. His work, Mœurs des Sauvages Ameriquains comparées aux Mœurs
des Premiers Temps, relates chiefly to the Iroquois and Hurons: the
basis for his account of the former being his own observations and those
of Father Julien Garnier, who was a missionary among them more than
sixty years, from his novitiate to his death.

Both reason and tradition point to the conclusion, that the Iroquois
formed originally one undivided people. Sundered, like countless other
tribes, by dissension, caprice, or the necessities of the hunter life,
they separated into five distinct nations, cantoned from east to west
along the centre of New York, in the following order: Mohawks, Oneidas,
Onondagas, Cayugas, Senecas. There was discord among them; wars
followed, and they lived in mutual fear, each ensconced in its palisaded
villages. At length, says tradition, a celestial being, incarnate on
earth, counselled them to compose their strife and unite in a league of
defence and aggression. Another personage, wholly mortal, yet
wonderfully endowed, a renowned warrior and a mighty magician, stands,
with his hair of writhing snakes, grotesquely conspicuous through the
dim light of tradition at this birth of Iroquois nationality. This was
Atotarho, a chief of the Onondagas; and from this honored source has
sprung a long line of chieftains, heirs not to the blood alone, but to
the name of their great predecessor. A few years since, there lived in
Onondaga Hollow a handsome Indian boy on whom the dwindled remnant of
the nation looked with pride as their destined Atotarho. With earthly
and celestial aid the league was consummated, and through all the land
the forests trembled at the name of the Iroquois.

The Iroquois people was divided into eight clans. When the original
stock was sundered into five parts, each of these clans was also
sundered into five parts; and as, by the principle already indicated,
the clans were intimately mingled in every village, hamlet, and cabin,
each one of the five nations had its portion of each of the eight clans.
[47] When the league was formed, these separate portions readily resumed
their ancient tie of fraternity. Thus, of the Turtle clan, all the
members became brothers again, nominal members of one family, whether
Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, or Senecas; and so, too, of the
remaining clans. All the Iroquois, irrespective of nationality, were
therefore divided into eight families, each tracing its descent to a
common mother, and each designated by its distinctive emblem or totem.
This connection of clan or family was exceedingly strong, and by it the
five nations of the league were linked together as by an eightfold
chain.

[47] With a view to clearness, the above statement is made categorical.
It requires, however, to be qualified. It is not quite certain, that, at
the formation of the confederacy, there were eight clans, though there
is positive proof of the existence of seven. Neither is it certain,
that, at the separation, every clan was represented in every nation.
Among the Mohawks and Oneidas there is no positive proof of the
existence of more than three clans,--the Wolf, Bear, and Tortoise;
though there is presumptive evidence of the existence of several
others.--See Morgan, 81, note.

The eight clans of the Iroquois were as follows: Wolf, Bear, Beaver,
Tortoise, Deer, Snipe, Heron, Hawk. (Morgan, 79.) The clans of the Snipe
and the Heron are the same designated in an early French document as La
famille du Petit Pluvier and La famille du Grand Pluvier. (New York
Colonial Documents, IX. 47.) The anonymous author of this document adds
a ninth clan, that of the Potato, meaning the wild Indian potato,
Glycine apios. This clan, if it existed, was very inconspicuous, and of
little importance.

Remarkable analogies exist between Iroquois clanship and that of other
tribes. The eight clans of the Iroquois were separated into two
divisions, four in each. Originally, marriage was interdicted between
all the members of the same division, but in time the interdict was
limited to the members of the individual clans. Another tribe, the
Choctaws, remote from the Iroquois, and radically different in language,
had also eight clans, similarly divided, with a similar interdict of
marriage.--Gallatin, Synopsis, 109.

The Creeks, according to the account given by their old chief,
Sekopechi, to Mr. D. W. Eakins, were divided into nine clans, named in
most cases from animals: clanship being transmitted, as usual, through
the female.

The clans were by no means equal in numbers, influence, or honor. So
marked were the distinctions among them, that some of the early writers
recognize only the three most conspicuous,--those of the Tortoise, the
Bear, and the Wolf. To some of the clans, in each nation, belonged the
right of giving a chief to the nation and to the league. Others had the
right of giving three, or, in one case, four chiefs; while others could
give none. As Indian clanship was but an extension of the family
relation, these chiefs were, in a certain sense, hereditary; but the law
of inheritance, though binding, was extremely elastic, and capable of
stretching to the farthest limits of the clan. The chief was almost
invariably succeeded by a near relative, always through the female, as a
brother by the same mother, or a nephew by the sister's side. But if
these were manifestly unfit, they were passed over, and a chief was
chosen at a council of the clan from among remoter kindred. In these
cases, the successor is said to have been nominated by the matron of the
late chief's household. [48] Be this as it may, the choice was never
adverse to the popular inclination. The new chief was "raised up," or
installed, by a formal council of the sachems of the league; and on
entering upon his office, he dropped his own name, and assumed that
which, since the formation of the league, had belonged to this especial
chieftainship.

[48] Lafitau, I. 471.

The number of these principal chiefs, or, as they have been called by
way of distinction, sachems, varied in the several nations from eight to
fourteen. The sachems of the five nations, fifty in all, assembled in
council, formed the government of the confederacy. All met as equals,
but a peculiar dignity was ever attached to the Atotarho of the
Onondagas.

There was a class of subordinate chiefs, in no sense hereditary, but
rising to office by address, ability, or valor. Yet the rank was clearly
defined, and the new chief installed at a formal council. This class
embodied, as might be supposed, the best talent of the nation, and the
most prominent warriors and orators of the Iroquois have belonged to it.
In its character and functions, however, it was purely civil. Like the
sachems, these chiefs held their councils, and exercised an influence
proportionate to their number and abilities.

There was another council, between which and that of the subordinate
chiefs the line of demarcation seems not to have been very definite. The
Jesuit Lafitau calls it "the senate." Familiar with the Iroquois at the
height of their prosperity, he describes it as the central and
controlling power, so far, at least, as the separate nations were
concerned. In its character it was essentially popular, but popular in
the best sense, and one which can find its application only in a small
community. Any man took part in it whose age and experience qualified
him to do so. It was merely the gathered wisdom of the nation. Lafitau
compares it to the Roman Senate, in the early and rude age of the
Republic, and affirms that it loses nothing by the comparison. He thus
describes it: "It is a greasy assemblage, sitting sur leur derrière,
crouched like apes, their knees as high as their ears, or lying, some on
their bellies, some on their backs, each with a pipe in his mouth,
discussing affairs of state with as much coolness and gravity as the
Spanish Junta or the Grand Council of Venice." [49]

[49] Lafitau, I. 478.

The young warriors had also their councils; so, too, had the women; and
the opinions and wishes of each were represented by means of deputies
before the "senate," or council of the old men, as well as before the
grand confederate council of the sachems.

The government of this unique republic resided wholly in councils. By
councils all questions were settled, all regulations
established,--social, political, military, and religious. The war-path,
the chase, the council-fire,--in these was the life of the Iroquois; and
it is hard to say to which of the three he was most devoted.

The great council of the fifty sachems formed, as we have seen, the
government of the league. Whenever a subject arose before any of the
nations, of importance enough to demand its assembling, the sachems of
that nation might summon their colleagues by means of runners, bearing
messages and belts of wampum. The usual place of meeting was the valley
of Onondaga, the political as well as geographical centre of the
confederacy. Thither, if the matter were one of deep and general
interest, not the sachems alone, but the greater part of the population,
gathered from east and west, swarming in the hospitable lodges of the
town, or bivouacked by thousands in the surrounding fields and forests.
While the sachems deliberated in the council-house, the chiefs and old
men, the warriors, and often the women, were holding their respective
councils apart; and their opinions, laid by their deputies before the
council of sachems, were never without influence on its decisions.

The utmost order and deliberation reigned in the council, with rigorous
adherence to the Indian notions of parliamentary propriety. The
conference opened with an address to the spirits, or the chief of all
the spirits. There was no heat in debate. No speaker interrupted
another. Each gave his opinion in turn, supporting it with what reason
or rhetoric he could command,--but not until he had stated the subject
of discussion in full, to prove that he understood it, repeating also
the arguments, pro and con, of previous speakers. Thus their debates
were excessively prolix; and the consumption of tobacco was immoderate.
The result, however, was a thorough sifting of the matter in hand; while
the practised astuteness of these savage politicians was a marvel to
their civilized contemporaries. "It is by a most subtle policy," says
Lafitau, "that they have taken the ascendant over the other nations,
divided and overcome the most warlike, made themselves a terror to the
most remote, and now hold a peaceful neutrality between the French and
English, courted and feared by both." [50]

[50] Lafitau, I. 480.--Many other French writers speak to the same
effect. The following are the words of the soldier historian, La
Potherie, after describing the organization of the league: "C'est donc
là cette politique qui les unit si bien, à peu près comme tous les
ressorts d'une horloge, qui par une liaison admirable de toutes les
parties qui les composent, contribuent toutes unanimement au merveilleux
effet qui en resulte."--Hist. de l'Amérique Septentrionale, III. 32.--He
adds: "Les François ont avoüé eux-mêmes qu'ils étoient nez pour la
guerre, & quelques maux qu'ils nous ayent faits nous les avons toujours
estimez."--Ibid., 2.--La Potherie's book was published in 1722.

Unlike the Hurons, they required an entire unanimity in their decisions.
The ease and frequency with which a requisition seemingly so difficult
was fulfilled afford a striking illustration of Indian nature,--on one
side, so stubborn, tenacious, and impracticable; on the other, so pliant
and acquiescent. An explanation of this harmony is to be found also in
an intense spirit of nationality: for never since the days of Sparta
were individual life and national life more completely fused into one.

The sachems of the league were likewise, as we have seen, sachems of
their respective nations; yet they rarely spoke in the councils of the
subordinate chiefs and old men, except to present subjects of
discussion. [51] Their influence in these councils was, however, great,
and even paramount; for they commonly succeeded in securing to their
interest some of the most dexterous and influential of the conclave,
through whom, while they themselves remained in the background, they
managed the debates. [52]

[51] Lafitau, I. 479.
[52] The following from Lafitau is very characteristic: "Ce que je dis
de leur zèle pour le bien public n'est cependant pas si universel, que
plusieurs ne pensent à leur interêts particuliers, & que les Chefs
(sachems) principalement ne fassent joüer plusieurs ressorts secrets
pour venir à bout de leurs intrigues. Il y en a tel, dont l'adresse jouë
si bien à coup sûr, qu'il fait déliberer le Conseil plusieurs jours de
suite, sur une matière dont la détermination est arrêtée entre lui & les
principales têtes avant d'avoir été mise sur le tapis. Cependant comme
les Chefs s'entre-regardent, & qu'aucun ne veut paroître se donner une
superiorité qui puisse piquer la jalousie, ils se ménagent dans les
Conseils plus que les autres; & quoiqu'ils en soient l'ame, leur
politique les oblige à y parler peu, & à écouter plûtôt le sentiment
d'autrui, qu'à y dire le leur; mais chacun a un homme à sa main, qui est
comme une espèce de Brûlot, & qui étant sans consequence pour sa
personne hazarde en pleine liberté tout ce qu'il juge à propos, selon
qu'il l'a concerté avec le Chef même pour qui il agit."--Mœurs des
Sauvages, I. 481.

There was a class of men among the Iroquois always put forward on public
occasions to speak the mind of the nation or defend its interests.
Nearly all of them were of the number of the subordinate chiefs. Nature
and training had fitted them for public speaking, and they were deeply
versed in the history and traditions of the league. They were in fact
professed orators, high in honor and influence among the people. To a
huge stock of conventional metaphors, the use of which required nothing
but practice, they often added an astute intellect, an astonishing
memory, and an eloquence which deserved the name.

In one particular, the training of these savage politicians was never
surpassed. They had no art of writing to record events, or preserve the
stipulations of treaties. Memory, therefore, was tasked to the utmost,
and developed to an extraordinary degree. They had various devices for
aiding it, such as bundles of sticks, and that system of signs, emblems,
and rude pictures, which they shared with other tribes. Their famous
wampum-belts were so many mnemonic signs, each standing for some act,
speech, treaty, or clause of a treaty. These represented the public
archives, and were divided among various custodians, each charged with
the memory and interpretation of those assigned to him. The meaning of
the belts was from time to time expounded in their councils. In
conferences with them, nothing more astonished the French, Dutch, and
English officials than the precision with which, before replying to
their addresses, the Indian orators repeated them point by point.

It was only in rare cases that crime among the Iroquois or Hurons was
punished by public authority. Murder, the most heinous offence, except
witchcraft, recognized among them, was rare. If the slayer and the slain
were of the same household or clan, the affair was regarded as a family
quarrel, to be settled by the immediate kin on both sides. This, under
the pressure of public opinion, was commonly effected without bloodshed,
by presents given in atonement. But if the murderer and his victim were
of different clans or different nations, still more, if the slain was a
foreigner, the whole community became interested to prevent the discord
or the war which might arise. All directed their efforts, not to bring
the murderer to punishment, but to satisfy the injured parties by a
vicarious atonement. [53] To this end, contributions were made and
presents collected. Their number and value were determined by
established usage. Among the Hurons, thirty presents of very
considerable value were the price of a man's life. That of a woman's was
fixed at forty, by reason of her weakness, and because on her depended
the continuance and increase of the population. This was when the slain
belonged to the nation. If of a foreign tribe, his death demanded a
higher compensation, since it involved the danger of war. [54] These
presents were offered in solemn council, with prescribed formalities.
The relatives of the slain might refuse them, if they chose, and in this
case the murderer was given them as a slave; but they might by no means
kill him, since, in so doing, they would incur public censure, and be
compelled in their turn to make atonement. Besides the principal gifts,
there was a great number of less value, all symbolical, and each
delivered with a set form of words: as, "By this we wash out the blood
of the slain: By this we cleanse his wound: By this we clothe his corpse
with a new shirt: By this we place food on his grave": and so, in
endless prolixity, through particulars without number. [55]

[53] Lalemant, while inveighing against a practice which made the
public, and not the criminal, answerable for an offence, admits that
heinous crimes were more rare than in France, where the guilty party
himself was punished.--Lettre au P. Provincial, 15 May, 1645.
[54] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1648, 80.
[55] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1648, gives a description of one of
these ceremonies at length. Those of the Iroquois on such occasions were
similar. Many other tribes had the same custom, but attended with much
less form and ceremony. Compare Perrot, 73-76.

The Hurons were notorious thieves; and perhaps the Iroquois were not
much better, though the contrary has been asserted. Among both, the
robbed was permitted not only to retake his property by force, if he
could, but to strip the robber of all he had. This apparently acted as a
restraint in favor only of the strong, leaving the weak a prey to the
plunderer; but here the tie of family and clan intervened to aid him.
Relatives and clansmen espoused the quarrel of him who could not right
himself. [56]

[56] The proceedings for detecting thieves were regular and methodical,
after established customs. According to Bressani, no thief ever
inculpated the innocent.

Witches, with whom the Hurons and Iroquois were grievously infested,
were objects of utter abomination to both, and any one might kill them
at any time. If any person was guilty of treason, or by his character
and conduct made himself dangerous or obnoxious to the public, the
council of chiefs and old men held a secret session on his case,
condemned him to death, and appointed some young man to kill him. The
executioner, watching his opportunity, brained or stabbed him unawares,
usually in the dark porch of one of the houses. Acting by authority, he
could not be held answerable; and the relatives of the slain had no
redress, even if they desired it. The council, however, commonly
obviated all difficulty in advance, by charging the culprit with
witchcraft, thus alienating his best friends.

The military organization of the Iroquois was exceedingly imperfect and
derived all its efficiency from their civil union and their personal
prowess. There were two hereditary war-chiefs, both belonging to the
Senecas; but, except on occasions of unusual importance, it does not
appear that they took a very active part in the conduct of wars. The
Iroquois lived in a state of chronic warfare with nearly all the
surrounding tribes, except a few from whom they exacted tribute. Any man
of sufficient personal credit might raise a war-party when he chose. He
proclaimed his purpose through the village, sang his war-songs, struck
his hatchet into the war-post, and danced the war-dance. Any who chose
joined him; and the party usually took up their march at once, with a
little parched-corn-meal and maple-sugar as their sole provision. On
great occasions, there was concert of action,--the various parties
meeting at a rendezvous, and pursuing the march together. The leaders of
war-parties, like the orators, belonged, in nearly all cases, to the
class of subordinate chiefs. The Iroquois had a discipline suited to the
dark and tangled forests where they fought. Here they were a terrible
foe: in an open country, against a trained European force, they were,
despite their ferocious valor, far less formidable.

In observing this singular organization, one is struck by the
incongruity of its spirit and its form. A body of hereditary oligarchs
was the head of the nation, yet the nation was essentially democratic.
Not that the Iroquois were levellers. None were more prompt to
acknowledge superiority and defer to it, whether established by usage
and prescription, or the result of personal endowment. Yet each man,
whether of high or low degree, had a voice in the conduct of affairs,
and was never for a moment divorced from his wild spirit of
independence. Where there was no property worthy the name, authority had
no fulcrum and no hold. The constant aim of sachems and chiefs was to
exercise it without seeming to do so. They had no insignia of office.
They were no richer than others; indeed, they were often poorer,
spending their substance in largesses and bribes to strengthen their
influence. They hunted and fished for subsistence; they were as foul,
greasy, and unsavory as the rest; yet in them, withal, was often seen a
native dignity of bearing, which ochre and bear's grease could not hide,
and which comported well with their strong, symmetrical, and sometimes
majestic proportions.

To the institutions, traditions, rites, usages, and festivals of the
league the Iroquois was inseparably wedded. He clung to them with Indian
tenacity; and he clings to them still. His political fabric was one of
ancient ideas and practices, crystallized into regular and enduring
forms. In its component parts it has nothing peculiar to itself. All its
elements are found in other tribes: most of them belong to the whole
Indian race. Undoubtedly there was a distinct and definite effort of
legislation; but Iroquois legislation invented nothing. Like all sound
legislation, it built of materials already prepared. It organized the
chaotic past, and gave concrete forms to Indian nature itself. The
people have dwindled and decayed; but, banded by its ties of clan and
kin, the league, in feeble miniature, still subsists, and the degenerate
Iroquois looks back with a mournful pride to the glory of the past.

Would the Iroquois, left undisturbed to work out their own destiny, ever
have emerged from the savage state? Advanced as they were beyond most
other American tribes, there is no indication whatever of a tendency to
overpass the confines of a wild hunter and warrior life. They were
inveterately attached to it, impracticable conservatists of barbarism,
and in ferocity and cruelty they matched the worst of their race. Nor
did the power of expansion apparently belonging to their system ever
produce much result. Between the years 1712 and 1715, the Tuscaroras, a
kindred people, were admitted into the league as a sixth nation; but
they were never admitted on equal terms. Long after, in the period of
their decline, several other tribes were announced as new members of the
league; but these admissions never took effect. The Iroquois were always
reluctant to receive other tribes, or parts of tribes, collectively,
into the precincts of the "Long House." Yet they constantly practised a
system of adoptions, from which, though cruel and savage, they drew
great advantages. Their prisoners of war, when they had burned and
butchered as many of them as would serve to sate their own ire and that
of their women, were divided, man by man, woman by woman, and child by
child, adopted into different families and clans, and thus incorporated
into the nation. It was by this means, and this alone, that they could
offset the losses of their incessant wars. Early in the eighteenth
century, and even long before, a vast proportion of their population
consisted of adopted prisoners. [57]

[57] Relation, 1660, 7 (anonymous). The Iroquois were at the height of
their prosperity about the year 1650. Morgan reckons their number at
this time at 25,000 souls; but this is far too high an estimate. The
author of the Relation of 1660 makes their whole number of warriors
2,200. Le Mercier, in the Relation of 1665, says 2,350. In the Journal
of Greenhalgh, an Englishman who visited them in 1677, their warriors
are set down at 2,150. Du Chesneau, in 1681, estimates them at 2,000; De
la Barre, in 1684, at 2,600, they having been strengthened by adoptions.
A memoir addressed to the Marquis de Seignelay, in 1687, again makes
them 2,000. (See N. Y. Col. Docs., IX. 162, 196, 321.) These estimates
imply a total population of ten or twelve thousand.

The anonymous writer of the Relation of 1660 may well remark: "It is
marvellous that so few should make so great a havoc, and strike such
terror into so many tribes."

It remains to speak of the religious and superstitious ideas which so
deeply influenced Indian life.

RELIGION AND SUPERSTITIONS.

The religious belief of the North-American Indians seems, on a first
view, anomalous and contradictory. It certainly is so, if we adopt the
popular impression. Romance, Poetry, and Rhetoric point, on the one
hand, to the august conception of a one all-ruling Deity, a Great
Spirit, omniscient and omnipresent; and we are called to admire the
untutored intellect which could conceive a thought too vast for Socrates
and Plato. On the other hand, we find a chaos of degrading, ridiculous,
and incoherent superstitions. A closer examination will show that the
contradiction is more apparent than real. We will begin with the lowest
forms of Indian belief, and thence trace it upward to the highest
conceptions to which the unassisted mind of the savage attained.

To the Indian, the material world is sentient and intelligent. Birds,
beasts, and reptiles have ears for human prayers, and are endowed with
an influence on human destiny. A mysterious and inexplicable power
resides in inanimate things. They, too, can listen to the voice of man,
and influence his life for evil or for good. Lakes, rivers, and
waterfalls are sometimes the dwelling-place of spirits; but more
frequently they are themselves living beings, to be propitiated by
prayers and offerings. The lake has a soul; and so has the river, and
the cataract. Each can hear the words of men, and each can be pleased or
offended. In the silence of a forest, the gloom of a deep ravine,
resides a living mystery, indefinite, but redoubtable. Through all the
works of Nature or of man, nothing exists, however seemingly trivial,
that may not be endowed with a secret power for blessing or for bane.

Men and animals are closely akin. Each species of animal has its great
archetype, its progenitor or king, who is supposed to exist somewhere,
prodigious in size, though in shape and nature like his subjects. A
belief prevails, vague, but perfectly apparent, that men themselves owe
their first parentage to beasts, birds, or reptiles, as bears, wolves,
tortoises, or cranes; and the names of the totemic clans, borrowed in
nearly every case from animals, are the reflection of this idea. [58]

[58] This belief occasionally takes a perfectly definite shape. There
was a tradition among Northern and Western tribes, that men were created
from the carcasses of beasts, birds, and fishes, by Manabozho, a
mythical personage, to be described hereafter. The Amikouas, or People
of the Beaver, an Algonquin tribe of Lake Huron, claimed descent from
the carcass of the great original beaver, or father of the beavers. They
believed that the rapids and cataracts on the French River and the Upper
Ottawa were caused by dams made by their amphibious ancestor. (See the
tradition in Perrot, Mémoire sur les Mœurs, Coustumes et Relligion des
Sauvages de l'Amérique Septentrionale, p. 20.) Charlevoix tells the same
story. Each Indian was supposed to inherit something of the nature of
the animal whence he sprung.

An Indian hunter was always anxious to propitiate the animals he sought
to kill. He has often been known to address a wounded bear in a long
harangue of apology. [59] The bones of the beaver were treated with
especial tenderness, and carefully kept from the dogs, lest the spirit
of the dead beaver, or his surviving brethren, should take offence. [60]
This solicitude was not confined to animals, but extended to inanimate
things. A remarkable example occurred among the Hurons, a people
comparatively advanced, who, to propitiate their fishing-nets, and
persuade them to do their office with effect, married them every year to
two young girls of the tribe, with a ceremony more formal than that
observed in the case of mere human wedlock. [61] The fish, too, no less
than the nets, must be propitiated; and to this end they were addressed
every evening from the fishing-camp by one of the party chosen for that
function, who exhorted them to take courage and be caught, assuring them
that the utmost respect should be shown to their bones. The harangue,
which took place after the evening meal, was made in solemn form; and
while it lasted, the whole party, except the speaker, were required to
lie on their backs, silent and motionless, around the fire. [62]

[59] McKinney, Tour to the Lakes, 284, mentions the discomposure of a
party of Indians when shown a stuffed moose. Thinking that its spirit
would be offended at the indignity shown to its remains, they surrounded
it, making apologetic speeches, and blowing tobacco-smoke at it as a
propitiatory offering.
[60] This superstition was very prevalent, and numerous examples of it
occur in old and recent writers, from Father Le Jeune to Captain Carver.
[61] There are frequent allusions to this ceremony in the early writers.
The Algonquins of the Ottawa practised it, as well as the Hurons.
Lalemant, in his chapter "Du Regne de Satan en ces Contrées" (Relation
des Hurons, 1639), says that it took place yearly, in the middle of
March. As it was indispensable that the brides should be virgins, mere
children were chosen. The net was held between them; and its spirit, or
oki, was harangued by one of the chiefs, who exhorted him to do his part
in furnishing the tribe with food. Lalemant was told that the spirit of
the net had once appeared in human form to the Algonquins, complaining
that he had lost his wife, and warning them, that, unless they could
find him another equally immaculate, they would catch no more fish.
[62] Sagard, Le Grand Voyage du Pays des Hurons, 257. Other old writers
make a similar statement.

Besides ascribing life and intelligence to the material world, animate
and inanimate, the Indian believes in supernatural existences, known
among the Algonquins as Manitous, and among the Iroquois and Hurons as
Okies or Otkons. These words comprehend all forms of supernatural being,
from the highest to the lowest, with the exception, possibly, of certain
diminutive fairies or hobgoblins, and certain giants and anomalous
monsters, which appear under various forms, grotesque and horrible, in
the Indian fireside legends. [63] There are local manitous of streams,
rocks, mountains, cataracts, and forests. The conception of these beings
betrays, for the most part, a striking poverty of imagination. In nearly
every case, when they reveal themselves to mortal sight, they bear the
semblance of beasts, reptiles, or birds, in shapes unusual or distorted.
[64] There are other manitous without local habitation, some good, some
evil, countless in number and indefinite in attributes. They fill the
world, and control the destinies of men,--that is to say, of Indians:
for the primitive Indian holds that the white man lives under a
spiritual rule distinct from that which governs his own fate. These
beings, also, appear for the most part in the shape of animals.
Sometimes, however, they assume human proportions; but more frequently
they take the form of stones, which, being broken, are found full of
living blood and flesh.

[63] Many tribes have tales of diminutive beings, which, in the absence
of a better word, may be called fairies. In the Travels of Lewis and
Clarke, there is mention of a hill on the Missouri, supposed to be
haunted by them. These Western fairies correspond to the Puck Wudj
Ininee of Ojibwa tradition. As an example of the monsters alluded to,
see the Saginaw story of the Weendigoes, in Schoolcraft, Algic
Researches, II. 105.
[64] The figure of a large bird is perhaps the most common,--as, for
example, the good spirit of Rock Island: "He was white, with wings like
a swan, but ten times larger."--Autobiography of Blackhawk, 70.

Each primitive Indian has his guardian manitou, to whom he looks for
counsel, guidance, and protection. These spiritual allies are gained by
the following process. At the age of fourteen or fifteen, the Indian boy
blackens his face, retires to some solitary place, and remains for days
without food. Superstitious expectancy and the exhaustion of abstinence
rarely fail of their results. His sleep is haunted by visions, and the
form which first or most often appears is that of his guardian
manitou,--a beast, a bird, a fish, a serpent, or some other object,
animate or inanimate. An eagle or a bear is the vision of a destined
warrior; a wolf, of a successful hunter; while a serpent foreshadows the
future medicine-man, or, according to others, portends disaster. [65]
The young Indian thenceforth wears about his person the object revealed
in his dream, or some portion of it,--as a bone, a feather, a
snake-skin, or a tuft of hair. This, in the modern language of the
forest and prairie, is known as his "medicine." The Indian yields to it
a sort of worship, propitiates it with offerings of tobacco, thanks it
in prosperity, and upbraids it in disaster. [66] If his medicine fails
to bring the desired success, he will sometimes discard it and adopt
another. The superstition now becomes mere fetich-worship, since the
Indian regards the mysterious object which he carries about him rather
as an embodiment than as a representative of a supernatural power.

[65] Compare Cass, in North-American Review, Second Series, XIII. 100. A
turkey-buzzard, according to him, is the vision of a medicine-man. I
once knew an old Dahcotah chief, who was greatly respected, but had
never been to war, though belonging to a family of peculiarly warlike
propensities. The reason was, that, in his initiatory fast, he had
dreamed of an antelope,--the peace-spirit of his people.

Women fast, as well as men,--always at the time of transition from
childhood to maturity. In the Narrative of John Tanner, there is an
account of an old woman who had fasted, in her youth, for ten days, and
throughout her life placed the firmest faith in the visions which had
appeared to her at that time. Among the Northern Algonquins, the
practice, down to a recent day, was almost universal.
[66] The author has seen a Dahcotah warrior open his medicine-bag, talk
with an air of affectionate respect to the bone, feather, or horn
within, and blow tobacco-smoke upon it as an offering. "Medicines" are
acquired not only by fasting, but by casual dreams, and otherwise. They
are sometimes even bought and sold. For a curious account of
medicine-bags and fetich-worship among the Algonquins of Gaspé, see Le
Clerc, Nouvelle Relation de la Gaspésie, Chap. XIII.

Indian belief recognizes also another and very different class of
beings. Besides the giants and monsters of legendary lore, other
conceptions may be discerned, more or less distinct, and of a character
partly mythical. Of these the most conspicuous is that remarkable
personage of Algonquin tradition, called Manabozho, Messou, Michabou,
Nanabush, or the Great Hare. As each species of animal has its archetype
or king, so, among the Algonquins, Manabozho is king of all these animal
kings. Tradition is diverse as to his origin. According to the most
current belief, his father was the West-Wind, and his mother a
great-granddaughter of the Moon. His character is worthy of such a
parentage. Sometimes he is a wolf, a bird, or a gigantic hare,
surrounded by a court of quadrupeds; sometimes he appears in human
shape, majestic in stature and wondrous in endowment, a mighty magician,
a destroyer of serpents and evil manitous; sometimes he is a vain and
treacherous imp, full of childish whims and petty trickery, the butt and
victim of men, beasts, and spirits. His powers of transformation are
without limit; his curiosity and malice are insatiable; and of the
numberless legends of which he is the hero, the greater part are as
trivial as they are incoherent. [67] It does not appear that Manabozho
was ever an object of worship; yet, despite his absurdity, tradition
declares him to be chief among the manitous, in short, the "Great
Spirit." [68] It was he who restored the world, submerged by a deluge.
He was hunting in company with a certain wolf, who was his brother, or,
by other accounts, his grandson, when his quadruped relative fell
through the ice of a frozen lake, and was at once devoured by certain
serpents lurking in the depths of the waters. Manabozho, intent on
revenge, transformed himself into the stump of a tree, and by this
artifice surprised and slew the king of the serpents, as he basked with
his followers in the noontide sun. The serpents, who were all manitous,
caused, in their rage, the waters of the lake to deluge the earth.
Manabozho climbed a tree, which, in answer to his entreaties, grew as
the flood rose around it, and thus saved him from the vengeance of the
evil spirits. Submerged to the neck, he looked abroad on the waste of
waters, and at length descried the bird known as the loon, to whom he
appealed for aid in the task of restoring the world. The loon dived in
search of a little mud, as material for reconstruction, but could not
reach the bottom. A musk-rat made the same attempt, but soon reappeared
floating on his back, and apparently dead. Manabozho, however, on
searching his paws, discovered in one of them a particle of the desired
mud, and of this, together with the body of the loon, created the world
anew. [69]

[67] Mr. Schoolcraft has collected many of these tales. See his Algic
Researches, Vol. I. Compare the stories of Messou, given by Le Jeune
(Relations, 1633, 1634), and the account of Nanabush, by Edwin James, in
his notes to Tanner's Narrative of Captivity and Adventures during a
Thirty-Years' Residence among the Indians; also the account of the Great
Hare, in the Mémoire of Nicolas Perrot, Chaps. I., II.
[68] "Presque toutes les Nations Algonquines ont donné le nom de Grand
Lièvre au Premier Esprit, quelques-uns l'appellent Michabou
(Manabozho)."--Charlevoix, Journal Historique, 344.
[69] This is a form of the story still current among the remoter
Algonquins. Compare the story of Messou, in Le Jeune, Relation, 1633,
16. It is substantially the same.

There are various forms of this tradition, in some of which Manabozho
appears, not as the restorer, but as the creator of the world, forming
mankind from the carcasses of beasts, birds, and fishes. [70] Other
stories represent him as marrying a female musk-rat, by whom he became
the progenitor of the human race. [71]

[70] In the beginning of all things, Manabozho, in the form of the Great
Hare, was on a raft, surrounded by animals who acknowledged him as their
chief. No land could be seen. Anxious to create the world, the Great
Hare persuaded the beaver to dive for mud; but the adventurous diver
floated to the surface senseless. The otter next tried, and failed like
his predecessor. The musk-rat now offered himself for the desperate
task. He plunged, and, after remaining a day and night beneath the
surface, reappeared, floating on his back beside the raft, apparently
dead, and with all his paws fast closed. On opening them, the other
animals found in one of them a grain of sand, and of this the Great Hare
created the world.--Perrot, Mémoire, Chap. I.
[71] Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 16.--The musk-rat is always a conspicuous
figure in Algonquin cosmogony.

It is said that Messou, or Manabozho, once gave to an Indian the gift of
immortality, tied in a bundle, enjoining him never to open it. The
Indian's wife, however, impelled by curiosity, one day cut the string,
the precious gift flew out, and Indians have ever since been subject to
death. Le Jeune, Relation, 1634, 13.

Searching for some higher conception of supernatural existence, we find,
among a portion of the primitive Algonquins, traces of a vague belief in
a spirit dimly shadowed forth under the name of Atahocan, to whom it
does not appear that any attributes were ascribed or any worship
offered, and of whom the Indians professed to know nothing whatever;
[72] but there is no evidence that this belief extended beyond certain
tribes of the Lower St. Lawrence. Others saw a supreme manitou in the
Sun. [73] The Algonquins believed also in a malignant manitou, in whom
the early missionaries failed not to recognize the Devil, but who was
far less dreaded than his wife. She wore a robe made of the hair of her
victims, for she was the cause of death; and she it was whom, by
yelling, drumming, and stamping, they sought to drive away from the
sick. Sometimes, at night, she was seen by some terrified squaw in the
forest, in shape like a flame of fire; and when the vision was announced
to the circle crouched around the lodge-fire, they burned a fragment of
meat to appease the female fiend.

[72] Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 16; Relation, 1634, 13.
[73] Biard, Relation, 1611, Chap. VIII.--This belief was very prevalent.
The Ottawas, according to Ragueneau (Relation des Hurons, 1648, 77),
were accustomed to invoke the "Maker of Heaven" at their feasts; but
they recognized as distinct persons the Maker of the Earth, the Maker of
Winter, the God of the Waters, and the Seven Spirits of the Wind. He
says, at the same time, "The people of these countries have received
from their ancestors no knowledge of a God"; and he adds, that there is
no sentiment of religion in this invocation.

The East, the West, the North, and the South were vaguely personified as
spirits or manitous. Some of the winds, too, were personal existences.
The West-Wind, as we have seen, was father of Manabozho. There was a
Summer-Maker and a Winter-Maker; and the Indians tried to keep the
latter at bay by throwing firebrands into the air.

When we turn from the Algonquin family of tribes to that of the
Iroquois, we find another cosmogony, and other conceptions of spiritual
existence. While the earth was as yet a waste of waters, there was,
according to Iroquois and Huron traditions, a heaven with lakes,
streams, plains, and forests, inhabited by animals, by spirits, and, as
some affirm, by human beings. Here a certain female spirit, named
Ataentsic, was once chasing a bear, which, slipping through a hole, fell
down to the earth. Ataentsic's dog followed, when she herself, struck
with despair, jumped after them. Others declare that she was kicked out
of heaven by the spirit, her husband, for an amour with a man; while
others, again, hold the belief that she fell in the attempt to gather
for her husband the medicinal leaves of a certain tree. Be this as it
may, the animals swimming in the watery waste below saw her falling, and
hastily met in council to determine what should be done. The case was
referred to the beaver. The beaver commended it to the judgment of the
tortoise, who thereupon called on the other animals to dive, bring up
mud, and place it on his back. Thus was formed a floating island, on
which Ataentsic fell; and here, being pregnant, she was soon delivered
of a daughter, who in turn bore two boys, whose paternity is
unexplained. They were called Taouscaron and Jouskeha, and presently
fell to blows, Jouskeha killing his brother with the horn of a stag. The
back of the tortoise grew into a world full of verdure and life; and
Jouskeha, with his grandmother, Ataentsic, ruled over its destinies.
[74]

[74] The above is the version of the story given by Brébeuf, Relation
des Hurons, 1636, 86 (Cramoisy). No two Indians told it precisely alike,
though nearly all the Hurons and Iroquois agreed as to its essential
points. Compare Vanderdonck, Cusick, Sagard, and other writers.
According to Vanderdonck, Ataentsic became mother of a deer, a bear, and
a wolf, by whom she afterwards bore all the other animals, mankind
included. Brébeuf found also among the Hurons a tradition inconsistent
with that of Ataentsic, and bearing a trace of Algonquin origin. It
declares, that, in the beginning, a man, a fox, and a skunk found
themselves together on an island, and that the man made the world out of
mud brought him by the skunk.

The Delawares, an Algonquin tribe, seem to have borrowed somewhat of the
Iroquois cosmogony, since they believed that the earth was formed on the
back of a tortoise.

According to some, Jouskeha became the father of the human race; but, in
the third generation, a deluge destroyed his posterity, so that it was
necessary to transform animals into men.--Charlevoix, III. 345.

He is the Sun; she is the Moon. He is beneficent; but she is malignant,
like the female demon of the Algonquins. They have a bark house, made
like those of the Iroquois, at the end of the earth, and they often come
to feasts and dances in the Indian villages. Jouskeha raises corn for
himself, and makes plentiful harvests for mankind. Sometimes he is seen,
thin as a skeleton, with a spike of shrivelled corn in his hand, or
greedily gnawing a human limb; and then the Indians know that a grievous
famine awaits them. He constantly interposes between mankind and the
malice of his wicked grandmother, whom, at times, he soundly cudgels. It
was he who made lakes and streams: for once the earth was parched and
barren, all the water being gathered under the armpit of a colossal
frog; but Jouskeha pierced the armpit, and let out the water. No prayers
were offered to him, his benevolent nature rendering them superfluous.
[75]

[75] Compare Brébeuf, as before cited, and Sagard, Voyage des Hurons, p.
228.

The early writers call Jouskeha the creator of the world, and speak of
him as corresponding to the vague Algonquin deity, Atahocan. Another
deity appears in Iroquois mythology, with equal claims to be regarded as
supreme. He is called Areskoui, or Agreskoui, and his most prominent
attributes are those of a god of war. He was often invoked, and the
flesh of animals and of captive enemies was burned in his honor. [76]
Like Jouskeha, he was identified with the sun; and he is perhaps to be
regarded as the same being, under different attributes. Among the
Iroquois proper, or Five Nations, there was also a divinity called
Tarenyowagon, or Teharonhiawagon, [77] whose place and character it is
very difficult to determine. In some traditions he appears as the son of
Jouskeha. He had a prodigious influence; for it was he who spoke to men
in dreams. The Five Nations recognized still another superhuman
personage,--plainly a deified chief or hero. This was Taounyawatha, or
Hiawatha, said to be a divinely appointed messenger, who made his abode
on earth for the political and social instruction of the chosen race,
and whose counterpart is to be found in the traditions of the Peruvians,
Mexicans, and other primitive nations. [78]

[76] Father Jogues saw a female prisoner burned to Areskoui, and two
bears offered to him to atone for the sin of not burning more
captives.--Lettre de Jogues, 5 Aug., 1643.
[77] Le Mercier, Relation, 1670, 66; Dablon, Relation, 1671, 17. Compare
Cusick, Megapolensis, and Vanderdonck. Some writers identify
Tarenyowagon and Hiawatha. Vanderdonck assumes that Areskoui is the
Devil, and Tarenyowagon is God. Thus Indian notions are often
interpreted by the light of preconceived ideas.
[78] For the tradition of Hiawatha, see Clark, History of Onondaga, I.
21. It will also be found in Schoolcraft's Notes on the Iroquois, and in
his History, Condition, and Prospects of Indian Tribes.

The Iroquois name for God is Hawenniio, sometimes written Owayneo; but
this use of the word is wholly due to the missionaries. Hawenniio is an
Iroquois verb, and means, he rules, he is master. There is no Iroquois
word which, in its primitive meaning, can be interpreted, the Great
Spirit, or God. On this subject, see Études Philologiques sur quelques
Langues Sauvages (Montreal, 1866), where will also be found a curious
exposure of a few of Schoolcraft's ridiculous blunders in this
connection.

Close examination makes it evident that the primitive Indian's idea of a
Supreme Being was a conception no higher than might have been expected.
The moment he began to contemplate this object of his faith, and sought
to clothe it with attributes, it became finite, and commonly ridiculous.
The Creator of the World stood on the level of a barbarous and degraded
humanity, while a natural tendency became apparent to look beyond him to
other powers sharing his dominion. The Indian belief, if developed,
would have developed into a system of polytheism. [79]

[79] Some of the early writers could discover no trace of belief in a
supreme spirit of any kind. Perrot, after a life spent among the
Indians, ignores such an idea. Allouez emphatically denies that it
existed among the tribes of Lake Superior. (Relation, 1667, 11.) He
adds, however, that the Sacs and Foxes believed in a great génie, who
lived not far from the French settlements.--Ibid., 21.

In the primitive Indian's conception of a God the idea of moral good has
no part. His deity does not dispense justice for this world or the next,
but leaves mankind under the power of subordinate spirits, who fill and
control the universe. Nor is the good and evil of these inferior beings
a moral good and evil. The good spirit is the spirit that gives good
luck, and ministers to the necessities and desires of mankind: the evil
spirit is simply a malicious agent of disease, death, and mischance.

In no Indian language could the early missionaries find a word to
express the idea of God. Manitou and Oki meant anything endowed with
supernatural powers, from a snake-skin, or a greasy Indian conjurer, up
to Manabozho and Jouskeha. The priests were forced to use a
circumlocution,--"The Great Chief of Men," or "He who lives in the Sky."
[80] Yet it should seem that the idea of a supreme controlling spirit
might naturally arise from the peculiar character of Indian belief. The
idea that each race of animals has its archetype or chief would easily
suggest the existence of a supreme chief of the spirits or of the human
race,--a conception imperfectly shadowed forth in Manabozho. The Jesuit
missionaries seized this advantage. "If each sort of animal has its
king," they urged, "so, too, have men; and as man is above all the
animals, so is the spirit that rules over men the master of all the
other spirits." The Indian mind readily accepted the idea, and tribes in
no sense Christian quickly rose to the belief in one controlling spirit.
The Great Spirit became a distinct existence, a pervading power in the
universe, and a dispenser of justice. Many tribes now pray to him,
though still clinging obstinately to their ancient superstitions; and
with some, as the heathen portion of the modern Iroquois, he is clothed
with attributes of moral good. [81]

[80] See "Divers Sentimens," appended to the Relation of 1635, § 27; and
also many other passages of early missionaries.
[81] In studying the writers of the last and of the present century, it
is to be remembered that their observations were made upon savages who
had been for generations in contact, immediate or otherwise, with the
doctrines of Christianity. Many observers have interpreted the religious
ideas of the Indians after preconceived ideas of their own; and it may
safely be affirmed that an Indian will respond with a grunt of
acquiescence to any question whatever touching his spiritual state.
Loskiel and the simple-minded Heckewelder write from a missionary point
of view; Adair, to support a theory of descent from the Jews; the worthy
theologian, Jarvis, to maintain his dogma, that all religious ideas of
the heathen world are perversions of revelation; and so, in a greater or
less degree, of many others. By far the most close and accurate
observers of Indian superstition were the French and Italian Jesuits of
the first half of the seventeenth century. Their opportunities were
unrivalled; and they used them in a spirit of faithful inquiry,
accumulating facts, and leaving theory to their successors. Of recent
American writers, no one has given so much attention to the subject as
Mr. Schoolcraft; but, in view of his opportunities and his zeal, his
results are most unsatisfactory. The work in six large quarto volumes,
History, Condition, and Prospects of Indian Tribes, published by
Government under his editorship, includes the substance of most of his
previous writings. It is a singularly crude and illiterate production,
stuffed with blunders and contradictions, giving evidence on every page
of a striking unfitness either for historical or philosophical inquiry,
and taxing to the utmost the patience of those who would extract what is
valuable in it from its oceans of pedantic verbiage.

The primitive Indian believed in the immortality of the soul, [82] but
he did not always believe in a state of future reward and punishment.
Nor, when such a belief existed, was the good to be rewarded a moral
good, or the evil to be punished a moral evil. Skilful hunters, brave
warriors, men of influence and consideration, went, after death, to the
happy hunting-ground; while the slothful, the cowardly, and the weak
were doomed to eat serpents and ashes in dreary regions of mist and
darkness. In the general belief, however, there was but one land of
shades for all alike. The spirits, in form and feature as they had been
in life, wended their way through dark forests to the villages of the
dead, subsisting on bark and rotten wood. On arriving, they sat all day
in the crouching posture of the sick, and, when night came, hunted the
shades of animals, with the shades of bows and arrows, among the shades
of trees and rocks: for all things, animate and inanimate, were alike
immortal, and all passed together to the gloomy country of the dead.

[82] The exceptions are exceedingly rare. Father Gravier says that a
Peoria Indian once told him that there was no future life. It would be
difficult to find another instance of the kind.

The belief respecting the land of souls varied greatly in different
tribes and different individuals. Among the Hurons there were those who
held that departed spirits pursued their journey through the sky, along
the Milky Way, while the souls of dogs took another route, by certain
constellations, known as the "Way of the Dogs." [83]

[83] Sagard, Voyage des Hurons, 233.

At intervals of ten or twelve years, the Hurons, the Neutrals, and other
kindred tribes, were accustomed to collect the bones of their dead, and
deposit them, with great ceremony, in a common place of burial. The
whole nation was sometimes assembled at this solemnity; and hundreds of
corpses, brought from their temporary resting-places, were inhumed in
one capacious pit. From this hour the immortality of their souls began.
They took wing, as some affirmed, in the shape of pigeons; while the
greater number declared that they journeyed on foot, and in their own
likeness, to the land of shades, bearing with them the ghosts of the
wampum-belts, beaver-skins, bows, arrows, pipes, kettles, beads, and
rings buried with them in the common grave. [84] But as the spirits of
the old and of children are too feeble for the march, they are forced to
stay behind, lingering near their earthly villages, where the living
often hear the shutting of their invisible cabin-doors, and the weak
voices of the disembodied children driving birds from their corn-fields.
[85] An endless variety of incoherent fancies is connected with the
Indian idea of a future life. They commonly owe their origin to dreams,
often to the dreams of those in extreme sickness, who, on awaking,
supposed that they had visited the other world, and related to the
wondering bystanders what they had seen.

[84] The practice of burying treasures with the dead is not peculiar to
the North American aborigines. Thus, the London Times of Oct. 28, 1865,
describing the funeral rites of Lord Palmerston, says: "And as the
words, 'Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,' were pronounced, the chief
mourner, as a last precious offering to the dead, threw into the grave
several diamond and gold rings."
[85] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 99 (Cramoisy).

The Indian land of souls is not always a region of shadows and gloom.
The Hurons sometimes represented the souls of their dead--those of their
dogs included--as dancing joyously in the presence of Ataentsic and
Jouskeha. According to some Algonquin traditions, heaven was a scene of
endless festivity, the ghosts dancing to the sound of the rattle and the
drum, and greeting with hospitable welcome the occasional visitor from
the living world: for the spirit-land was not far off, and roving
hunters sometimes passed its confines unawares.

Most of the traditions agree, however, that the spirits, on their
journey heavenward, were beset with difficulties and perils. There was a
swift river which must be crossed on a log that shook beneath their
feet, while a ferocious dog opposed their passage, and drove many into
the abyss. This river was full of sturgeon and other fish, which the
ghosts speared for their subsistence. Beyond was a narrow path between
moving rocks, which each instant crashed together, grinding to atoms the
less nimble of the pilgrims who essayed to pass. The Hurons believed
that a personage named Oscotarach, or the Head-Piercer, dwelt in a bark
house beside the path, and that it was his office to remove the brains
from the heads of all who went by, as a necessary preparation for
immortality. This singular idea is found also in some Algonquin
traditions, according to which, however, the brain is afterwards
restored to its owner. [86]

[86] On Indian ideas of another life, compare Sagard, the Jesuit
Relations, Perrot, Charlevoix, and Lafitau, with Tanner, James,
Schoolcraft, and the Appendix to Morse's Indian Report.

Le Clerc recounts a singular story, current in his time among the
Algonquins of Gaspé and Northern New Brunswick. The favorite son of an
old Indian died; whereupon the father, with a party of friends, set out
for the land of souls to recover him. It was only necessary to wade
through a shallow lake, several days' journey in extent. This they did,
sleeping at night on platforms of poles which supported them above the
water. At length they arrived, and were met by Papkootparout, the Indian
Pluto, who rushed on them in a rage, with his war-club upraised; but,
presently relenting, changed his mind, and challenged them to a game of
ball. They proved the victors, and won the stakes, consisting of corn,
tobacco, and certain fruits, which thus became known to mankind. The
bereaved father now begged hard for his son's soul, and Papkootparout at
last gave it to him, in the form and size of a nut, which, by pressing
it hard between his hands, he forced into a small leather bag. The
delighted parent carried it back to earth, with instructions to insert
it in the body of his son, who would thereupon return to life. When the
adventurers reached home, and reported the happy issue of their journey,
there was a dance of rejoicing; and the father, wishing to take part in
it, gave his son's soul to the keeping of a squaw who stood by. Being
curious to see it, she opened the bag; on which it escaped at once, and
took flight for the realms of Papkootparout, preferring them to the
abodes of the living.--Le Clerc, Nouvelle Relation de la Gaspésie,
310-328.

Dreams were to the Indian a universal oracle. They revealed to him his
guardian spirit, taught him the cure of his diseases, warned him of the
devices of sorcerers, guided him to the lurking-places of his enemy or
the haunts of game, and unfolded the secrets of good and evil destiny.
The dream was a mysterious and inexorable power, whose least behests
must be obeyed to the letter,--a source, in every Indian town, of
endless mischief and abomination. There were professed dreamers, and
professed interpreters of dreams. One of the most noted festivals among
the Hurons and Iroquois was the Dream Feast, a scene of frenzy, where
the actors counterfeited madness, and the town was like a bedlam turned
loose. Each pretended to have dreamed of something necessary to his
welfare, and rushed from house to house, demanding of all he met to
guess his secret requirement and satisfy it.

Believing that the whole material world was instinct with powers to
influence and control his fate, that good and evil spirits, and
existences nameless and indefinable, filled all Nature, that a pervading
sorcery was above, below, and around him, and that issues of life and
death might be controlled by instruments the most unnoticeable and
seemingly the most feeble, the Indian lived in perpetual fear. The
turning of a leaf, the crawling of an insect, the cry of a bird, the
creaking of a bough, might be to him the mystic signal of weal or woe.

An Indian community swarmed with sorcerers, medicine-men, and diviners,
whose functions were often united in the same person. The sorcerer, by
charms, magic songs, magic feasts, and the beating of his drum, had
power over the spirits and those occult influences inherent in animals
and inanimate things. He could call to him the souls of his enemies.
They appeared before him in the form of stones. He chopped and bruised
them with his hatchet; blood and flesh issued forth; and the intended
victim, however distant, languished and died. Like the sorcerer of the
Middle Ages, he made images of those he wished to destroy, and,
muttering incantations, punctured them with an awl, whereupon the
persons represented sickened and pined away.

The Indian doctor relied far more on magic than on natural remedies.
Dreams, beating of the drum, songs, magic feasts and dances, and howling
to frighten the female demon from his patient, were his ordinary methods
of cure.

The prophet, or diviner, had various means of reading the secrets of
futurity, such as the flight of birds, and the movements of water and
fire. There was a peculiar practice of divination very general in the
Algonquin family of tribes, among some of whom it still subsists. A
small, conical lodge was made by planting poles in a circle, lashing the
tops together at the height of about seven feet from the ground, and
closely covering them with hides. The prophet crawled in, and closed the
aperture after him. He then beat his drum and sang his magic songs to
summon the spirits, whose weak, shrill voices were soon heard, mingled
with his lugubrious chanting, while at intervals the juggler paused to
interpret their communications to the attentive crowd seated on the
ground without. During the whole scene, the lodge swayed to and fro with
a violence which has astonished many a civilized beholder, and which
some of the Jesuits explain by the ready solution of a genuine diabolic
intervention. [87]

[87] This practice was first observed by Champlain. (See "Pioneers of
France in the New World." ) From his time to the present, numerous
writers have remarked upon it. Le Jeune, in the Relation of 1637, treats
it at some length. The lodge was sometimes of a cylindrical, instead of
a conical form.

The sorcerers, medicine-men, and diviners did not usually exercise the
function of priests. Each man sacrificed for himself to the powers he
wished to propitiate, whether his guardian spirit, the spirits of
animals, or the other beings of his belief. The most common offering was
tobacco, thrown into the fire or water; scraps of meat were sometimes
burned to the manitous; and, on a few rare occasions of public
solemnity, a white dog, the mystic animal of many tribes, was tied to
the end of an upright pole, as a sacrifice to some superior spirit, or
to the sun, with which the superior spirits were constantly confounded
by the primitive Indian. In recent times, when Judaism and Christianity
have modified his religious ideas, it has been, and still is, the
practice to sacrifice dogs to the Great Spirit. On these public
occasions, the sacrificial function is discharged by chiefs, or by
warriors appointed for the purpose. [88]

[88] Many of the Indian feasts were feasts of sacrifice,--sometimes to
the guardian spirit of the host, sometimes to an animal of which he has
dreamed, sometimes to a local or other spirit. The food was first
offered in a loud voice to the being to be propitiated, after which the
guests proceeded to devour it for him. This unique method of sacrifice
was practised at war-feasts and similar solemnities. For an excellent
account of Indian religious feasts, see Perrot, Chap. V.

One of the most remarkable of Indian sacrifices was that practised by
the Hurons in the case of a person drowned or frozen to death. The flesh
of the deceased was cut off, and thrown into a fire made for the
purpose, as an offering of propitiation to the spirits of the air or
water. What remained of the body was then buried near the
fire.--Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 108.

The tribes of Virginia, as described by Beverly and others, not only had
priests who offered sacrifice, but idols and houses of worship.

Among the Hurons and Iroquois, and indeed all the stationary tribes,
there was an incredible number of mystic ceremonies, extravagant,
puerile, and often disgusting, designed for the cure of the sick or for
the general weal of the community. Most of their observances seem
originally to have been dictated by dreams, and transmitted as a sacred
heritage from generation to generation. They consisted in an endless
variety of dances, masqueradings, and nondescript orgies; and a
scrupulous adherence to all the traditional forms was held to be of the
last moment, as the slightest failure in this respect might entail
serious calamities. If children were seen in their play imitating any of
these mysteries, they were grimly rebuked and punished. In many tribes
secret magical societies existed, and still exist, into which members
are initiated with peculiar ceremonies. These associations are greatly
respected and feared. They have charms for love, war, and private
revenge, and exert a great, and often a very mischievous influence. The
societies of the Metai and the Wabeno, among the Northern Algonquins,
are conspicuous examples; while other societies of similar character
have, for a century, been known to exist among the Dahcotah. [89]

[89] The Friendly Society of the Spirit, of which the initiatory
ceremonies were seen and described by Carver (Travels, 271), preserves
to this day its existence and its rites.

A notice of the superstitious ideas of the Indians would be imperfect
without a reference to the traditionary tales through which these ideas
are handed down from father to son. Some of these tales can be traced
back to the period of the earliest intercourse with Europeans. One at
least of those recorded by the first missionaries, on the Lower St.
Lawrence, is still current among the tribes of the Upper Lakes. Many of
them are curious combinations of beliefs seriously entertained with
strokes intended for humor and drollery, which never fail to awaken
peals of laughter in the lodge-circle. Giants, dwarfs, cannibals,
spirits, beasts, birds, and anomalous monsters, transformations, tricks,
and sorcery, form the staple of the story. Some of the Iroquois tales
embody conceptions which, however preposterous, are of a bold and
striking character; but those of the Algonquins are, to an incredible
degree, flimsy, silly, and meaningless; nor are those of the Dahcotah
tribes much better. In respect to this wigwam lore, there is a curious
superstition of very wide prevalence. The tales must not be told in
summer; since at that season, when all Nature is full of life, the
spirits are awake, and, hearing what is said of them, may take offence;
whereas in winter they are fast sealed up in snow and ice, and no longer
capable of listening. [90]

[90] The prevalence of this fancy among the Algonquins in the remote
parts of Canada is well established. The writer found it also among the
extreme western bands of the Dahcotah. He tried, in the month of July,
to persuade an old chief, a noted story-teller, to tell him some of the
tales; but, though abundantly loquacious in respect to his own
adventures, and even his dreams, the Indian obstinately refused, saying
that winter was the time for the tales, and that it was bad to tell them
in summer.

Mr. Schoolcraft has published a collection of Algonquin tales, under the
title of Algic Researches. Most of them were translated by his wife, an
educated Ojibwa half-breed. This book is perhaps the best of Mr.
Schoolcraft's works, though its value is much impaired by the want of a
literal rendering, and the introduction of decorations which savor more
of a popular monthly magazine than of an Indian wigwam. Mrs. Eastman's
interesting Legends of the Sioux (Dahcotah) is not free from the same
defect. Other tales are scattered throughout the works of Mr.
Schoolcraft and various modern writers. Some are to be found in the
works of Lafitau and the other Jesuits. But few of the Iroquois legends
have been printed, though a considerable number have been written down.
The singular History of the Five Nations, by the old Tuscarora Indian,
Cusick, gives the substance of some of them. Others will be found in
Clark's History of Onondaga.

It is obvious that the Indian mind has never seriously occupied itself
with any of the higher themes of thought. The beings of its belief are
not impersonations of the forces of Nature, the courses of human
destiny, or the movements of human intellect, will, and passion. In the
midst of Nature, the Indian knew nothing of her laws. His perpetual
reference of her phenomena to occult agencies forestalled inquiry and
precluded inductive reasoning. If the wind blew with violence, it was
because the water-lizard, which makes the wind, had crawled out of his
pool; if the lightning was sharp and frequent, it was because the young
of the thunder-bird were restless in their nest; if a blight fell upon
the corn, it was because the Corn Spirit was angry; and if the beavers
were shy and difficult to catch, it was because they had taken offence
at seeing the bones of one of their race thrown to a dog. Well, and even
highly developed, in a few instances,--I allude especially to the
Iroquois,--with respect to certain points of material concernment, the
mind of the Indian in other respects was and is almost hopelessly
stagnant. The very traits that raise him above the servile races are
hostile to the kind and degree of civilization which those races so
easily attain. His intractable spirit of independence, and the pride
which forbids him to be an imitator, reinforce but too strongly that
savage lethargy of mind from which it is so hard to rouse him. No race,
perhaps, ever offered greater difficulties to those laboring for its
improvement.

To sum up the results of this examination, the primitive Indian was as
savage in his religion as in his life. He was divided between
fetich-worship and that next degree of religious development which
consists in the worship of deities embodied in the human form. His
conception of their attributes was such as might have been expected. His
gods were no whit better than himself. Even when he borrows from
Christianity the idea of a Supreme and Universal Spirit, his tendency is
to reduce Him to a local habitation and a bodily shape; and this
tendency disappears only in tribes that have been long in contact with
civilized white men. The primitive Indian, yielding his untutored homage
to One All-pervading and Omnipotent Spirit, is a dream of poets,
rhetoricians, and sentimentalists.

CHAPTER I.
1634.

NOTRE-DAME DES ANGES.

Quebec in 1634 • Father Le Jeune • The Mission-House • Its Domestic
Economy • The Jesuits and their Designs

Opposite Quebec lies the tongue of land called Point Levi. One who, in
the summer of the year 1634, stood on its margin and looked northward,
across the St. Lawrence, would have seen, at the distance of a mile or
more, a range of lofty cliffs, rising on the left into the bold heights
of Cape Diamond, and on the right sinking abruptly to the bed of the
tributary river St. Charles. Beneath these cliffs, at the brink of the
St. Lawrence, he would have descried a cluster of warehouses, sheds, and
wooden tenements. Immediately above, along the verge of the precipice,
he could have traced the outlines of a fortified work, with a flagstaff,
and a few small cannon to command the river; while, at the only point
where Nature had made the heights accessible, a zigzag path connected
the warehouses and the fort.

Now, embarked in the canoe of some Montagnais Indian, let him cross the
St. Lawrence, land at the pier, and, passing the cluster of buildings,
climb the pathway up the cliff. Pausing for rest and breath, he might
see, ascending and descending, the tenants of this outpost of the
wilderness: a soldier of the fort, or an officer in slouched hat and
plume; a factor of the fur company, owner and sovereign lord of all
Canada; a party of Indians; a trader from the upper country, one of the
precursors of that hardy race of coureurs de bois, destined to form a
conspicuous and striking feature of the Canadian population: next,
perhaps, would appear a figure widely different. The close, black
cassock, the rosary hanging from the waist, and the wide, black hat,
looped up at the sides, proclaimed the Jesuit,--Father Le Jeune,
Superior of the Residence of Quebec.

And now, that we may better know the aspect and condition of the infant
colony and incipient mission, we will follow the priest on his way.
Mounting the steep path, he reached the top of the cliff, some two
hundred feet above the river and the warehouses. On the left lay the
fort built by Champlain, covering a part of the ground now forming
Durham Terrace and the Place d'Armes. Its ramparts were of logs and
earth, and within was a turreted building of stone, used as a barrack,
as officers' quarters, and for other purposes. [1] Near the fort stood a
small chapel, newly built. The surrounding country was cleared and
partially cultivated; yet only one dwelling-house worthy the name
appeared. It was a substantial cottage, where lived Madame Hébert, widow
of the first settler of Canada, with her daughter, her son-in-law
Couillard, and their children, good Catholics all, who, two years
before, when Quebec was evacuated by the English, [2] wept for joy at
beholding Le Jeune, and his brother Jesuit, De Nouë, crossing their
threshold to offer beneath their roof the long-forbidden sacrifice of
the Mass. There were inclosures with cattle near at hand; and the house,
with its surroundings, betokened industry and thrift.

[1] Compare the various notices in Champlain (1632) with that of Du
Creux, Historia Canadensis, 204.
[2] See "Pioneers of France in the New World." Hébert's cottage seems to
have stood between Ste.-Famille and Couillard Streets, as appears by a
contract of 1634, cited by M. Ferland.

Thence Le Jeune walked on, across the site of the modern market-place,
and still onward, near the line of the cliffs which sank abruptly on his
right. Beneath lay the mouth of the St. Charles; and, beyond, the
wilderness shore of Beauport swept in a wide curve eastward, to where,
far in the distance, the Gulf of Montmorenci yawned on the great river.
[3] The priest soon passed the clearings, and entered the woods which
covered the site of the present suburb of St. John. Thence he descended
to a lower plateau, where now lies the suburb of St. Roch, and, still
advancing, reached a pleasant spot at the extremity of the
Pointe-aux-Lièvres, a tract of meadow land nearly inclosed by a sudden
bend of the St. Charles. Here lay a canoe or skiff; and, paddling across
the narrow stream, Le Jeune saw on the meadow, two hundred yards from
the bank, a square inclosure formed of palisades, like a modern picket
fort of the Indian frontier. [4] Within this inclosure were two
buildings, one of which had been half burned by the English, and was not
yet repaired. It served as storehouse, stable, workshop, and bakery.
Opposite stood the principal building, a structure of planks, plastered
with mud, and thatched with long grass from the meadows. It consisted of
one story, a garret, and a cellar, and contained four principal rooms,
of which one served as chapel, another as refectory, another as kitchen,
and the fourth as a lodging for workmen. The furniture of all was plain
in the extreme. Until the preceding year, the chapel had had no other
ornament than a sheet on which were glued two coarse engravings; but the
priests had now decorated their altar with an image of a dove
representing the Holy Ghost, an image of Loyola, another of Xavier, and
three images of the Virgin. Four cells opened from the refectory, the
largest of which was eight feet square. In these lodged six priests,
while two lay brothers found shelter in the garret. The house had been
hastily built, eight years before, and now leaked in all parts. Such was
the Residence of Notre-Dame des Anges. Here was nourished the germ of a
vast enterprise, and this was the cradle of the great mission of New
France. [5]

[3] The settlement of Beauport was begun this year, or the year
following, by the Sieur Giffard, to whom a large tract had been granted
here--Langevin, Notes sur les Archives de N. D. de Beauport, 5.
[4] This must have been very near the point where the streamlet called
the River Lairet enters the St. Charles. The place has a triple historic
interest. The wintering-place of Cartier in 1535-6 (see "Pioneers of
France") seems to have been here. Here, too, in 1759, Montcalm's bridge
of boats crossed the St. Charles; and in a large intrenchment, which
probably included the site of the Jesuit mission-house, the remnants of
his shattered army rallied, after their defeat on the Plains of
Abraham.--See the very curious Narrative of the Chevalier Johnstone,
published by the Historical Society of Quebec.
[5] The above particulars are gathered from the Relations of 1626
(Lalemant), and 1632, 1633, 1634, 1635 (Le Jeune), but chiefly from a
long letter of the Father Superior to the Provincial of the Jesuits at
Paris, containing a curiously minute report of the state of the mission.
It was sent from Quebec by the returning ships in the summer of 1634,
and will be found in Carayon, Première Mission des Jésuites au Canada,
122. The original is in the archives of the Order at Rome.

Of the six Jesuits gathered in the refectory for the evening meal, one
was conspicuous among the rest,--a tall, strong man, with features that
seemed carved by Nature for a soldier, but which the mental habits of
years had stamped with the visible impress of the priesthood. This was
Jean de Brébeuf, descendant of a noble family of Normandy, and one of
the ablest and most devoted zealots whose names stand on the missionary
rolls of his Order. His companions were Masse, Daniel, Davost, De Nouë,
and the Father Superior, Le Jeune. Masse was the same priest who had
been the companion of Father Biard in the abortive mission of Acadia.
[6] By reason of his useful qualities, Le Jeune nicknamed him "le Père
Utile." At present, his special function was the care of the pigs and
cows, which he kept in the inclosure around the buildings, lest they
should ravage the neighboring fields of rye, barley, wheat, and maize.
[7] De Nouë had charge of the eight or ten workmen employed by the
mission, who gave him at times no little trouble by their repinings and
complaints. [8] They were forced to hear mass every morning and prayers
every evening, besides an exhortation on Sunday. Some of them were for
returning home, while two or three, of a different complexion, wished to
be Jesuits themselves. The Fathers, in their intervals of leisure,
worked with their men, spade in hand. For the rest, they were busied in
preaching, singing vespers, saying mass and hearing confessions at the
fort of Quebec, catechizing a few Indians, and striving to master the
enormous difficulties of the Huron and Algonquin languages.

[6] See "Pioneers of France in the New World."
[7] "Le P. Masse, que je nomme quelquefois en riant le Père Utile, est
bien cognu de V. R. Il a soin des choses domestiques et du bestail que
nous avons, en quoy il a très-bien reussy."--Lettre du P. Paul le Jeune
au R. P. Provincial, in Carayon, 122.--Le Jeune does not fail to send an
inventory of the "bestail" to his Superior, namely: "Deux grosses truies
qui nourissent chacune quatre petits cochons, deux vaches, deux petites
genisses, et un petit taureau."
[8] The methodical Le Jeune sets down the causes of their discontent
under six different heads, each duly numbered. Thus:--
"1º. C'est le naturel des artisans de se plaindre et de gronder."
"2º. La diversité des gages les fait murmurer," etc.

Well might Father Le Jeune write to his Superior, "The harvest is
plentiful, and the laborers few." These men aimed at the conversion of a
continent. From their hovel on the St. Charles, they surveyed a field of
labor whose vastness might tire the wings of thought itself; a scene
repellent and appalling, darkened with omens of peril and woe. They were
an advance-guard of the great army of Loyola, strong in a discipline
that controlled not alone the body and the will, but the intellect, the
heart, the soul, and the inmost consciousness. The lives of these early
Canadian Jesuits attest the earnestness of their faith and the intensity
of their zeal; but it was a zeal bridled, curbed, and ruled by a guiding
hand. Their marvellous training in equal measure kindled enthusiasm and
controlled it, roused into action a mighty power, and made it as
subservient as those great material forces which modern science has
learned to awaken and to govern. They were drilled to a factitious
humility, prone to find utterance in expressions of self-depreciation
and self-scorn, which one may often judge unwisely, when he condemns
them as insincere. They were devoted believers, not only in the
fundamental dogmas of Rome, but in those lesser matters of faith which
heresy despises as idle and puerile superstitions. One great aim
engrossed their lives. "For the greater glory of God"--ad majorem Dei
gloriam--they would act or wait, dare, suffer, or die, yet all in
unquestioning subjection to the authority of the Superiors, in whom they
recognized the agents of Divine authority itself.

CHAPTER II.

LOYOLA AND THE JESUITS.

Conversion of Loyola • Foundation of the Society of Jesus • Preparation
of the Novice • Characteristics of the Order • The Canadian Jesuits

It was an evil day for new-born Protestantism, when a French
artilleryman fired the shot that struck down Ignatius Loyola in the
breach of Pampeluna. A proud noble, an aspiring soldier, a graceful
courtier, an ardent and daring gallant was metamorphosed by that stroke
into the zealot whose brain engendered and brought forth the mighty
Society of Jesus. His story is a familiar one: how, in the solitude of
his sick-room, a change came over him, upheaving, like an earthquake,
all the forces of his nature; how, in the cave of Manresa, the mysteries
of Heaven were revealed to him; how he passed from agonies to
transports, from transports to the calm of a determined purpose. The
soldier gave himself to a new warfare. In the forge of his great
intellect, heated, but not disturbed by the intense fires of his zeal,
was wrought the prodigious enginery whose power has been felt to the
uttermost confines of the world.

Loyola's training had been in courts and camps: of books he knew little
or nothing. He had lived in the unquestioning faith of one born and bred
in the very focus of Romanism; and thus, at the age of about thirty, his
conversion found him. It was a change of life and purpose, not of
belief. He presumed not to inquire into the doctrines of the Church. It
was for him to enforce those doctrines; and to this end he turned all
the faculties of his potent intellect, and all his deep knowledge of
mankind. He did not aim to build up barren communities of secluded
monks, aspiring to heaven through prayer, penance, and meditation, but
to subdue the world to the dominion of the dogmas which had subdued him;
to organize and discipline a mighty host, controlled by one purpose and
one mind, fired by a quenchless zeal or nerved by a fixed resolve, yet
impelled, restrained, and directed by a single master hand. The Jesuit
is no dreamer: he is emphatically a man of action; action is the end of
his existence.

It was an arduous problem which Loyola undertook to solve,--to rob a man
of volition, yet to preserve in him, nay, to stimulate, those energies
which would make him the most efficient instrument of a great design. To
this end the Jesuit novitiate and the constitutions of the Order are
directed. The enthusiasm of the novice is urged to its intensest pitch;
then, in the name of religion, he is summoned to the utter abnegation of
intellect and will in favor of the Superior, in whom he is commanded to
recognize the representative of God on earth. Thus the young zealot
makes no slavish sacrifice of intellect and will; at least, so he is
taught: for he sacrifices them, not to man, but to his Maker. No limit
is set to his submission: if the Superior pronounces black to be white,
he is bound in conscience to acquiesce. [1]

[1] Those who wish to know the nature of the Jesuit virtue of obedience
will find it set forth in the famous Letter on Obedience of Loyola.

Loyola's book of Spiritual Exercises is well known. In these exercises
lies the hard and narrow path which is the only entrance to the Society
of Jesus. The book is, to all appearance, a dry and superstitious
formulary; but, in the hands of a skilful director of consciences, it
has proved of terrible efficacy. The novice, in solitude and darkness,
day after day and night after night, ponders its images of perdition and
despair. He is taught to hear, in imagination, the howlings of the
damned, to see their convulsive agonies, to feel the flames that burn
without consuming, to smell the corruption of the tomb and the fumes of
the infernal pit. He must picture to himself an array of adverse armies,
one commanded by Satan on the plains of Babylon, one encamped under
Christ about the walls of Jerusalem; and the perturbed mind, humbled by
long contemplation of its own vileness, is ordered to enroll itself
under one or the other banner. Then, the choice made, it is led to a
region of serenity and celestial peace, and soothed with images of
divine benignity and grace. These meditations last, without
intermission, about a month, and, under an astute and experienced
directorship, they have been found of such power, that the Manual of
Spiritual Exercises boasts to have saved souls more in number than the
letters it contains.

To this succeed two years of discipline and preparation, directed, above
all things else, to perfecting the virtues of humility and obedience.
The novice is obliged to perform the lowest menial offices, and the most
repulsive duties of the sick-room and the hospital; and he is sent
forth, for weeks together, to beg his bread like a common mendicant. He
is required to reveal to his confessor, not only his sins, but all those
hidden tendencies, instincts, and impulses which form the distinctive
traits of character. He is set to watch his comrades, and his comrades
are set to watch him. Each must report what he observes of the acts and
dispositions of the others; and this mutual espionage does not end with
the novitiate, but extends to the close of life. The characteristics of
every member of the Order are minutely analyzed, and methodically put on
record.

This horrible violence to the noblest qualities of manhood, joined to
that equivocal system of morality which eminent casuists of the Order
have inculcated, must, it may be thought, produce deplorable effects
upon the characters of those under its influence. Whether this has been
actually the case, the reader of history may determine. It is certain,
however, that the Society of Jesus has numbered among its members men
whose fervent and exalted natures have been intensified, without being
abased, by the pressure to which they have been subjected.

It is not for nothing that the Society studies the character of its
members so intently, and by methods so startling. It not only uses its
knowledge to thrust into obscurity or cast out altogether those whom it
discovers to be dull, feeble, or unwilling instruments of its purposes,
but it assigns to every one the task to which his talents or his
disposition may best adapt him: to one, the care of a royal conscience,
whereby, unseen, his whispered word may guide the destiny of nations; to
another, the instruction of children; to another, a career of letters or
science; and to the fervent and the self-sacrificing, sometimes also to
the restless and uncompliant, the distant missions to the heathen.

The Jesuit was, and is, everywhere,--in the school-room, in the library,
in the cabinets of princes and ministers, in the huts of savages, in the
tropics, in the frozen North, in India, in China, in Japan, in Africa,
in America; now as a Christian priest, now as a soldier, a
mathematician, an astrologer, a Brahmin, a mandarin, under countless
disguises, by a thousand arts, luring, persuading, or compelling souls
into the fold of Rome.

Of this vast mechanism for guiding and governing the minds of men, this
mighty enginery for subduing the earth to the dominion of an idea, this
harmony of contradictions, this moral Proteus, the faintest sketch must
now suffice. A disquisition on the Society of Jesus would be without
end. No religious order has ever united in itself so much to be admired
and so much to be detested. Unmixed praise has been poured on its
Canadian members. It is not for me to eulogize them, but to portray them
as they were.

CHAPTER III.
1632, 1633.

PAUL LE JEUNE.

Le Jeune's Voyage • His First Pupils • His Studies • His Indian Teacher
• Winter at the Mission-House • Le Jeune's School • Reinforcements

In another narrative, we have seen how the Jesuits, supplanting the
Récollet friars, their predecessors, had adopted as their own the rugged
task of Christianizing New France. We have seen, too, how a descent of
the English, or rather of Huguenots fighting under English colors, had
overthrown for a time the miserable little colony, with the mission to
which it was wedded; and how Quebec was at length restored to France,
and the broken thread of the Jesuit enterprise resumed. [1]

[1] "Pioneers of France."

It was then that Le Jeune had embarked for the New World. He was in his
convent at Dieppe when he received the order to depart; and he set forth
in haste for Havre, filled, he assures us, with inexpressible joy at the
prospect of a living or a dying martyrdom. At Rouen he was joined by De
Nouë, with a lay brother named Gilbert; and the three sailed together on
the eighteenth of April, 1632. The sea treated them roughly; Le Jeune
was wretchedly sea-sick; and the ship nearly foundered in a gale. At
length they came in sight of "that miserable country," as the missionary
calls the scene of his future labors. It was in the harbor of Tadoussac
that he first encountered the objects of his apostolic cares; for, as he
sat in the ship's cabin with the master, it was suddenly invaded by ten
or twelve Indians, whom he compares to a party of maskers at the
Carnival. Some had their cheeks painted black, their noses blue, and the
rest of their faces red. Others were decorated with a broad band of
black across the eyes; and others, again, with diverging rays of black,
red, and blue on both cheeks. Their attire was no less uncouth. Some of
them wore shaggy bear-skins, reminding the priest of the pictures of St.
John the Baptist.

After a vain attempt to save a number of Iroquois prisoners whom they
were preparing to burn alive on shore, Le Jeune and his companions again
set sail, and reached Quebec on the fifth of July. Having said mass, as
already mentioned, under the roof of Madame Hébert and her delighted
family, the Jesuits made their way to the two hovels built by their
predecessors on the St. Charles, which had suffered woful dilapidation
at the hands of the English. Here they made their abode, and applied
themselves, with such skill as they could command, to repair the
shattered tenements and cultivate the waste meadows around.

The beginning of Le Jeune's missionary labors was neither imposing nor
promising. He describes himself seated with a small Indian boy on one
side and a small negro on the other, the latter of whom had been left by
the English as a gift to Madame Hébert. As neither of the three
understood the language of the others, the pupils made little progress
in spiritual knowledge. The missionaries, it was clear, must learn
Algonquin at any cost; and, to this end, Le Jeune resolved to visit the
Indian encampments. Hearing that a band of Montagnais were fishing for
eels on the St. Lawrence, between Cape Diamond and the cove which now
bears the name of Wolfe, he set forth for the spot on a morning in
October. As, with toil and trepidation, he scrambled around the foot of
the cape,--whose precipices, with a chaos of loose rocks, thrust
themselves at that day into the deep tidewater,--he dragged down upon
himself the trunk of a fallen tree, which, in its descent, well nigh
swept him into the river. The peril past, he presently reached his
destination. Here, among the lodges of bark, were stretched innumerable
strings of hide, from which hung to dry an incredible multitude of eels.
A boy invited him into the lodge of a withered squaw, his grandmother,
who hastened to offer him four smoked eels on a piece of birch bark,
while other squaws of the household instructed him how to roast them on
a forked stick over the embers. All shared the feast together, his
entertainers using as napkins their own hair or that of their dogs;
while Le Jeune, intent on increasing his knowledge of Algonquin,
maintained an active discourse of broken words and pantomime. [2]

[2] Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 2.

The lesson, however, was too laborious, and of too little profit, to be
often repeated, and the missionary sought anxiously for more stable
instruction. To find such was not easy. The interpreters--Frenchmen,
who, in the interest of the fur company, had spent years among the
Indians--were averse to Jesuits, and refused their aid. There was one
resource, however, of which Le Jeune would fain avail himself. An
Indian, called Pierre by the French, had been carried to France by the
Récollet friars, instructed, converted, and baptized. He had lately
returned to Canada, where, to the scandal of the Jesuits, he had
relapsed into his old ways, retaining of his French education little
besides a few new vices. He still haunted the fort at Quebec, lured by
the hope of an occasional gift of wine or tobacco, but shunned the
Jesuits, of whose rigid way of life he stood in horror. As he spoke good
French and good Indian, he would have been invaluable to the embarrassed
priests at the mission. Le Jeune invoked the aid of the Saints. The
effect of his prayers soon appeared, he tells us, in a direct
interposition of Providence, which so disposed the heart of Pierre that
he quarrelled with the French commandant, who thereupon closed the fort
against him. He then repaired to his friends and relatives in the woods,
but only to encounter a rebuff from a young squaw to whom he made his
addresses. On this, he turned his steps towards the mission-house, and,
being unfitted by his French education for supporting himself by
hunting, begged food and shelter from the priests. Le Jeune gratefully
accepted him as a gift vouchsafed by Heaven to his prayers, persuaded a
lackey at the fort to give him a cast-off suit of clothes, promised him
maintenance, and installed him as his teacher.

Seated on wooden stools by the rough table in the refectory, the priest
and the Indian pursued their studies. "How thankful I am," writes Le
Jeune, "to those who gave me tobacco last year! At every difficulty I
give my master a piece of it, to make him more attentive." [3]

[3] Relation, 1633, 7. He continues: "Ie ne sçaurois assez rendre graces
à Nostre Seigneur de cet heureux rencontre.... Que Dieu soit beny pour
vn iamais, sa prouidence est adorable, et sa bonté n'a point de limites"

Meanwhile, winter closed in with a severity rare even in Canada. The St.
Lawrence and the St. Charles were hard frozen; rivers, forests, and
rocks were mantled alike in dazzling sheets of snow. The humble
mission-house of Notre-Dame des Anges was half buried in the drifts,
which, heaped up in front where a path had been dug through them, rose
two feet above the low eaves. The priests, sitting at night before the
blazing logs of their wide-throated chimney, heard the trees in the
neighboring forest cracking with frost, with a sound like the report of
a pistol. Le Jeune's ink froze, and his fingers were benumbed, as he
toiled at his declensions and conjugations, or translated the Pater
Noster into blundering Algonquin. The water in the cask beside the fire
froze nightly, and the ice was broken every morning with hatchets. The
blankets of the two priests were fringed with the icicles of their
congealed breath, and the frost lay in a thick coating on the
lozenge-shaped glass of their cells. [4]

[4] Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 14, 15.

By day, Le Jeune and his companion practised with snow-shoes, with all
the mishaps which attend beginners,--the trippings, the falls, and
headlong dives into the soft drifts, amid the laughter of the Indians.
Their seclusion was by no means a solitude. Bands of Montagnais, with
their sledges and dogs, often passed the mission-house on their way to
hunt the moose. They once invited De Nouë to go with them; and he,
scarcely less eager than Le Jeune to learn their language, readily
consented. In two or three weeks he appeared, sick, famished, and half
dead with exhaustion. "Not ten priests in a hundred," writes Le Jeune to
his Superior, "could bear this winter life with the savages." But what
of that? It was not for them to falter. They were but instruments in the
hands of God, to be used, broken, and thrown aside, if such should be
His will. [5]

[5] "Voila, mon Reuerend Pere, vn eschantillon de ce qu'il faut souffrir
courant apres les Sauuages.... Il faut prendre sa vie, et tout ce qu'on
a, et le ietter à l'abandon, pour ainsi dire, se contentant d'vne croix
bien grosse et bien pesante pour toute richesse. Il est bien vray que
Dieu ne se laisse point vaincre, et que plus on quitte, plus on trouue:
plus on perd, plus on gaigne: mais Dieu se cache par fois, et alors le
Calice est bien amer."--Le Jeune, Relation 1633, 19.

An Indian made Le Jeune a present of two small children, greatly to the
delight of the missionary, who at once set himself to teaching them to
pray in Latin. As the season grew milder, the number of his scholars
increased; for, when parties of Indians encamped in the neighborhood, he
would take his stand at the door, and, like Xavier at Goa, ring a bell.
At this, a score of children would gather around him; and he, leading
them into the refectory, which served as his school-room, taught them to
repeat after him the Pater, Ave, and Credo, expounded the mystery of the
Trinity, showed them the sign of the cross, and made them repeat an
Indian prayer, the joint composition of Pierre and himself; then
followed the catechism, the lesson closing with singing the Pater
Noster, translated by the missionary into Algonquin rhymes; and when all
was over, he rewarded each of his pupils with a porringer of peas, to
insure their attendance at his next bell-ringing. [6]

[6] "I'ay commencé à appeller quelques enfans auec vne petite clochette.
La premiere fois i'en auois six, puis douze, puis quinze, puis vingt et
davantage; ie leur fais dire le Pater, Aue, et Credo, etc. ... Nous
finissons par le Pater Noster, que i'ay composé quasi en rimes en leur
langue, que ie leur fais chanter: et pour derniere conclusion, ie leur
fais donner chacun vne escuellée de pois, qu'ils mangent de bon
appetit," etc.--Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 23.

It was the end of May, when the priests one morning heard the sound of
cannon from the fort, and were gladdened by the tidings that Samuel de
Champlain had arrived to resume command at Quebec, bringing with him
four more Jesuits,--Brébeuf, Masse, Daniel, and Davost. [7] Brébeuf,
from the first, turned his eyes towards the distant land of the
Hurons,--a field of labor full of peril, but rich in hope and promise.
Le Jeune's duties as Superior restrained him from wanderings so remote.
His apostleship must be limited, for a time, to the vagabond hordes of
Algonquins, who roamed the forests of the lower St. Lawrence, and of
whose language he had been so sedulous a student. His difficulties had
of late been increased by the absence of Pierre, who had run off as Lent
drew near, standing in dread of that season of fasting. Masse brought
tidings of him from Tadoussac, whither he had gone, and where a party of
English had given him liquor, destroying the last trace of Le Jeune's
late exhortations. "God forgive those," writes the Father, "who
introduced heresy into this country! If this savage, corrupted as he is
by these miserable heretics, had any wit, he would be a great hindrance
to the spread of the Faith. It is plain that he was given us, not for
the good of his soul, but only that we might extract from him the
principles of his language." [8]

[7] See "Pioneers of France."
[8] Relation, 1633, 29.

Pierre had two brothers. One, well known as a hunter, was named
Mestigoit; the other was the most noted "medicine-man," or, as the
Jesuits called him, sorcerer, in the tribe of the Montagnais. Like the
rest of their people, they were accustomed to set out for their winter
hunt in the autumn, after the close of their eel-fishery. Le Jeune,
despite the experience of De Nouë, had long had a mind to accompany one
of these roving bands, partly in the hope, that, in some hour of
distress, he might touch their hearts, or, by a timely drop of baptismal
water, dismiss some dying child to paradise, but chiefly with the object
of mastering their language. Pierre had rejoined his brothers; and, as
the hunting season drew near, they all begged the missionary to make one
of their party,--not, as he thought, out of any love for him, but solely
with a view to the provisions with which they doubted not he would be
well supplied. Le Jeune, distrustful of the sorcerer, demurred, but at
length resolved to go.

CHAPTER IV.
1633, 1634.

LE JEUNE AND THE HUNTERS.

On a morning in the latter part of October, Le Jeune embarked with the
Indians, twenty in all, men, women, and children. No other Frenchman was
of the party. Champlain bade him an anxious farewell, and commended him
to the care of his red associates, who had taken charge of his store of
biscuit, flour, corn, prunes, and turnips, to which, in an evil hour,
his friends had persuaded him to add a small keg of wine. The canoes
glided along the wooded shore of the Island of Orleans, and the party
landed, towards evening, on the small island immediately below. Le Jeune
was delighted with the spot, and the wild beauties of the autumnal
sunset.

His reflections, however, were soon interrupted. While the squaws were
setting up their bark lodges, and Mestigoit was shooting wild-fowl for
supper, Pierre returned to the canoes, tapped the keg of wine, and soon
fell into the mud, helplessly drunk. Revived by the immersion, he next
appeared at the camp, foaming at the mouth, threw down the lodges,
overset the kettle, and chased the shrieking squaws into the woods. His
brother Mestigoit rekindled the fire, and slung the kettle anew; when
Pierre, who meanwhile had been raving like a madman along the shore,
reeled in a fury to the spot to repeat his former exploit. Mestigoit
anticipated him, snatched the kettle from the fire, and threw the
scalding contents in his face. "He was never so well washed before in
his life," says Le Jeune; "he lost all the skin of his face and breast.
Would to God his heart had changed also!" [1] He roared in his frenzy
for a hatchet to kill the missionary, who therefore thought it prudent
to spend the night in the neighboring woods. Here he stretched himself
on the earth, while a charitable squaw covered him with a sheet of
birch-bark. "Though my bed," he writes, "had not been made up since the
creation of the world, it was not hard enough to prevent me from
sleeping."

[1] "Iamais il ne fut si bien laué, il changea de peau en la face et en
tout l'estomach: pleust à Dieu que son ame eust changé aussi bien que
son corps!"--Relation, 1634, 59.

Such was his initiation into Indian winter life. Passing over numerous
adventures by water and land, we find the party, on the twelfth of
November, leaving their canoes on an island, and wading ashore at low
tide over the flats to the southern bank of the St. Lawrence. As two
other bands had joined them, their number was increased to forty-five
persons. Now, leaving the river behind, they entered those savage
highlands whence issue the springs of the St. John,--a wilderness of
rugged mountain-ranges, clad in dense, continuous forests, with no human
tenant but this troop of miserable rovers, and here and there some
kindred band, as miserable as they. Winter had set in, and already dead
Nature was sheeted in funereal white. Lakes and ponds were frozen,
rivulets sealed up, torrents encased with stalactites of ice; the black
rocks and the black trunks of the pine-trees were beplastered with snow,
and its heavy masses crushed the dull green boughs into the drifts
beneath. The forest was silent as the grave.

Through this desolation the long file of Indians made its way, all on
snow-shoes, each man, woman, and child bending under a heavy load, or
dragging a sledge, narrow, but of prodigious length. They carried their
whole wealth with them, on their backs or on their sledges,--kettles,
axes, bales of meat, if such they had, and huge rolls of birch-bark for
covering their wigwams. The Jesuit was loaded like the rest. The dogs
alone floundered through the drifts unburdened. There was neither path
nor level ground. Descending, climbing, stooping beneath half-fallen
trees, clambering over piles of prostrate trunks, struggling through
matted cedar-swamps, threading chill ravines, and crossing streams no
longer visible, they toiled on till the day began to decline, then
stopped to encamp. [2] Burdens were thrown down, and sledges unladen.
The squaws, with knives and hatchets, cut long poles of birch and spruce
saplings; while the men, with snow-shoes for shovels, cleared a round or
square space in the snow, which formed an upright wall three or four
feet high, inclosing the area of the wigwam. On one side, a passage was
cut for an entrance, and the poles were planted around the top of the
wall of snow, sloping and converging. On these poles were spread the
sheets of birch-bark; a bear-skin was hung in the passage-way for a
door; the bare ground within and the surrounding snow were covered with
spruce boughs; and the work was done.

[2] "S'il arriuoit quelque dégel, ô Dieu quelle peine! Il me sembloit
que ie marchois sur vn chemin de verre qui se cassoit à tous coups soubs
mes pieds: la neige congelée venant à s'amollir, tomboit et s'enfonçoit
par esquarres ou grandes pieces, et nous en auions bien souuent iusques
aux genoux, quelquefois iusqu'à la ceinture Que s'il y auoit de la
peine à tomber, il y en auoit encor plus à se retirer: car nos raquettes
se chargeoient de neiges et se rendoient si pesantes, que quand vous
veniez à les retirer il vous sembloit qu'on vous tiroit les iambes pour
vous démembrer. I'en ay veu qui glissoient tellement soubs des souches
enseuelies soubs la neige, qu'ils ne pouuoient tirer ny iambes ny
raquettes sans secours: or figurez vous maintenant vne personne chargée
comme vn mulet, et iugez si la vie des Sauuages est douce."--Relation,
1634, 67.

This usually occupied about three hours, during which Le Jeune, spent
with travel, and weakened by precarious and unaccustomed fare, had the
choice of shivering in idleness, or taking part in a labor which
fatigued, without warming, his exhausted frame. The sorcerer's wife was
in far worse case. Though in the extremity of a mortal sickness, they
left her lying in the snow till the wigwam was made,--without a word, on
her part, of remonstrance or complaint. Le Jeune, to the great ire of
her husband, sometimes spent the interval in trying to convert her; but
she proved intractable, and soon died unbaptized.

Thus lodged, they remained so long as game could be found within a
circuit of ten or twelve miles, and then, subsistence failing, removed
to another spot. Early in the winter, they hunted the beaver and the
Canada porcupine; and, later, in the season of deep snows, chased the
moose and the caribou.

Put aside the bear-skin, and enter the hut. Here, in a space some
thirteen feet square, were packed nineteen savages, men, women, and
children, with their dogs, crouched, squatted, coiled like hedgehogs, or
lying on their backs, with knees drawn up perpendicularly to keep their
feet out of the fire. Le Jeune, always methodical, arranges the
grievances inseparable from these rough quarters under four chief
heads,--Cold, Heat, Smoke, and Dogs. The bark covering was full of
crevices, through which the icy blasts streamed in upon him from all
sides; and the hole above, at once window and chimney, was so large,
that, as he lay, he could watch the stars as well as in the open air.
While the fire in the midst, fed with fat pine-knots, scorched him on
one side, on the other he had much ado to keep himself from freezing. At
times, however, the crowded hut seemed heated to the temperature of an
oven. But these evils were light, when compared to the intolerable
plague of smoke. During a snow-storm, and often at other times, the
wigwam was filled with fumes so dense, stifling, and acrid, that all its
inmates were forced to lie flat on their faces, breathing through mouths
in contact with the cold earth. Their throats and nostrils felt as if on
fire; their scorched eyes streamed with tears; and when Le Jeune tried
to read, the letters of his breviary seemed printed in blood. The dogs
were not an unmixed evil, for, by sleeping on and around him, they kept
him warm at night; but, as an offset to this good service, they walked,
ran, and jumped over him as he lay, snatched the food from his birchen
dish, or, in a mad rush at some bone or discarded morsel, now and then
overset both dish and missionary.

Sometimes of an evening he would leave the filthy den, to read his
breviary in peace by the light of the moon. In the forest around sounded
the sharp crack of frost-riven trees; and from the horizon to the zenith
shot up the silent meteors of the northern lights, in whose fitful
flashings the awe-struck Indians beheld the dancing of the spirits of
the dead. The cold gnawed him to the bone; and, his devotions over, he
turned back shivering. The illumined hut, from many a chink and crevice,
shot forth into the gloom long streams of light athwart the twisted
boughs. He stooped and entered. All within glowed red and fiery around
the blazing pine-knots, where, like brutes in their kennel, were
gathered the savage crew. He stepped to his place, over recumbent bodies
and leggined and moccasined limbs, and seated himself on the carpet of
spruce boughs. Here a tribulation awaited him, the crowning misery of
his winter-quarters,--worse, as he declares, than cold, heat, and dogs.

Of the three brothers who had invited him to join the party, one, we
have seen, was the hunter, Mestigoit; another, the sorcerer; and the
third, Pierre, whom, by reason of his falling away from the Faith, Le
Jeune always mentions as the Apostate. He was a weak-minded young
Indian, wholly under the influence of his brother, the sorcerer, who, if
not more vicious, was far more resolute and wily. From the antagonism of
their respective professions, the sorcerer hated the priest, who lost no
opportunity of denouncing his incantations, and who ridiculed his
perpetual singing and drumming as puerility and folly. The former, being
an indifferent hunter, and disabled by a disease which he had
contracted, depended for subsistence on his credit as a magician; and,
in undermining it, Le Jeune not only outraged his pride, but threatened
his daily bread. [3] He used every device to retort ridicule on his
rival. At the outset, he had proffered his aid to Le Jeune in his study
of the Algonquin; and, like the Indian practical jokers of Acadia in the
case of Father Biard, [4] palmed off upon him the foulest words in the
language as the equivalent of things spiritual. Thus it happened, that,
while the missionary sought to explain to the assembled wigwam some
point of Christian doctrine, he was interrupted by peals of laughter
from men, children, and squaws. And now, as Le Jeune took his place in
the circle, the sorcerer bent upon him his malignant eyes, and began
that course of rude bantering which filled to overflowing the cup of the
Jesuit's woes. All took their cue from him, and made their afflicted
guest the butt of their inane witticisms. "Look at him! His face is like
a dog's!"--"His head is like a pumpkin!"--"He has a beard like a
rabbit's!" The missionary bore in silence these and countless similar
attacks; indeed, so sorely was he harassed, that, lest he should
exasperate his tormentor, he sometimes passed whole days without
uttering a word. [5]

[3] "Ie ne laissois perdre aucune occasion de le conuaincre de niaiserie
et de puerilité, mettant au iour l'impertinence de ses superstitions: or
c'estoit luy arracher l'ame du corps par violence: car comme il ne
sçauroit plus chasser, il fait plus que iamais du Prophete et du
Magicien pour conseruer son credit, et pour auoir les bons morceaux; si
bien qu'esbranlant son authorité qui se va perdant tous les iours, ie le
touchois à la prunelle de l'œil."--Relation, 1634, 56.
[4] See "Pioneers of France," 268.
[5] Relation, 1634, 207 (Cramoisy). "Ils me chargeoient incessament de
mille brocards & de mille injures; je me suis veu en tel estat, que pour
ne les aigrir, je passois les jours entiers sans ouvrir la bouche." Here
follows the abuse, in the original Indian, with French translations. Le
Jeune's account of his experiences is singularly graphic. The following
is his summary of his annoyances:--

"Or ce miserable homme" (the sorcerer), "& la fumée m'ont esté les deux
plus grands tourmens que i'aye enduré parmy ces Barbares: ny le froid,
ny le chaud, ny l'incommodité des chiens, ny coucher à l'air, ny dormir
sur un lict de terre, ny la posture qu'il faut tousiours tenir dans
leurs cabanes, se ramassans en peloton, ou se couchans, ou s'asseans
sans siege & sans mattelas, ny la faim, ny la soif, ny la pauureté &
saleté de leur boucan, ny la maladie, tout cela ne m'a semblé que ieu à
comparaison de la fumeé & de la malice du Sorcier."--Relation, 1634, 201
(Cramoisy).

Le Jeune, a man of excellent observation, already knew his red
associates well enough to understand that their rudeness did not of
necessity imply ill-will. The rest of the party, in their turn, fared no
better. They rallied and bantered each other incessantly, with as little
forbearance, and as little malice, as a troop of unbridled schoolboys.
[6] No one took offence. To have done so would have been to bring upon
one's self genuine contumely. This motley household was a model of
harmony. True, they showed no tenderness or consideration towards the
sick and disabled; but for the rest, each shared with all in weal or
woe: the famine of one was the famine of the whole, and the smallest
portion of food was distributed in fair and equal partition. Upbraidings
and complaints were unheard; they bore each other's foibles with
wondrous equanimity; and while persecuting Le Jeune with constant
importunity for tobacco, and for everything else he had, they never
begged among themselves.

[6] "Leur vie se passe à manger, à rire, et à railler les vns des
autres, et de tous les peuples qu'ils cognoissent; ils n'ont rien de
serieux, sinon par fois l'exterieur, faisans parmy nous les graues et
les retenus, mais entr'eux sont de vrais badins, de vrais enfans, qui ne
demandent qu'à rire."--Relation, 1634, 30.

When the fire burned well and food was abundant, their conversation,
such as it was, was incessant. They used no oaths, for their language
supplied none,--doubtless because their mythology had no beings
sufficiently distinct to swear by. Their expletives were foul words, of
which they had a superabundance, and which men, women, and children
alike used with a frequency and hardihood that amazed and scandalized
the priest. [7] Nor was he better pleased with their postures, in which
they consulted nothing but their ease. Thus, of an evening when the
wigwam was heated to suffocation, the sorcerer, in the closest possible
approach to nudity, lay on his back, with his right knee planted upright
and his left leg crossed on it, discoursing volubly to the company, who,
on their part, listened in postures scarcely less remote from decency.

[7] "Aussi leur disois-je par fois, que si les pourceaux et les chiens
sçauoient parler, ils tiendroient leur langage.... Les filles et les
ieunes femmes sont à l'exterieur tres honnestement couuertes, mais entre
elles leurs discours sont puants, comme des cloaques."--Relation, 1634,
32.--The social manners of remote tribes of the present time correspond
perfectly with Le Jeune's account of those of the Montagnais.

There was one point touching which Le Jeune and his Jesuit brethren had
as yet been unable to solve their doubts. Were the Indian sorcerers mere
impostors, or were they in actual league with the Devil? That the fiends
who possess this land of darkness make their power felt by action direct
and potential upon the persons of its wretched inhabitants there is,
argues Le Jeune, good reason to conclude; since it is a matter of grave
notoriety, that the fiends who infest Brazil are accustomed cruelly to
beat and otherwise torment the natives of that country, as many
travellers attest. "A Frenchman worthy of credit," pursues the Father,
"has told me that he has heard with his own ears the voice of the Demon
and the sound of the blows which he discharges upon these his miserable
slaves; and in reference to this a very remarkable fact has been
reported to me, namely, that, when a Catholic approaches, the Devil
takes flight and beats these wretches no longer, but that in presence of
a Huguenot he does not stop beating them." [8]

[8] "Surquoy on me rapporte vne chose tres remarquable, c'est que le
Diable s'enfuit, et ne frappe point ou cesse de frapper ces miserables,
quand vn Catholique entre en leur compagnie, et qu'il ne laiss point de
les battre en la presence d'vn Huguenot: d'où vient qu'vn iour se voyans
battus en la compagnie d'vn certain François, ils luy dirent: Nous nous
estonnons que le diable nous batte, toy estant auec nous, veu qu'il
n'oseroit le faire quand tes compagnons sont presents. Luy se douta
incontinent que cela pouuoit prouenir de sa religion (car il estoit
Caluiniste); s'addressant donc à Dieu, il luy promit de se faire
Catholique si le diable cessoit de battre ces pauures peuples en sa
presence. Le vœu fait, iamais plus aucun Demon ne molesta Ameriquain en
sa compagnie, d'où vient qu'il se fit Catholique, selon la promesse
qu'il en auoit faicte. Mais retournons à nostre discours."--Relation,
1634, 22.

Thus prone to believe in the immediate presence of the nether powers, Le
Jeune watched the sorcerer with an eye prepared to discover in his
conjurations the signs of a genuine diabolic agency. His observations,
however, led him to a different result; and he could detect in his rival
nothing but a vile compound of impostor and dupe. The sorcerer believed
in the efficacy of his own magic, and was continually singing and
beating his drum to cure the disease from which he was suffering.
Towards the close of the winter, Le Jeune fell sick, and, in his pain
and weakness, nearly succumbed under the nocturnal uproar of the
sorcerer, who, hour after hour, sang and drummed without
mercy,--sometimes yelling at the top of his throat, then hissing like a
serpent, then striking his drum on the ground as if in a frenzy, then
leaping up, raving about the wigwam, and calling on the women and
children to join him in singing. Now ensued a hideous din; for every
throat was strained to the utmost, and all were beating with sticks or
fists on the bark of the hut to increase the noise, with the charitable
object of aiding the sorcerer to conjure down his malady, or drive away
the evil spirit that caused it.

He had an enemy, a rival sorcerer, whom he charged with having caused by
charms the disease that afflicted him. He therefore announced that he
should kill him. As the rival dwelt at Gaspé, a hundred leagues off, the
present execution of the threat might appear difficult; but distance was
no bar to the vengeance of the sorcerer. Ordering all the children and
all but one of the women to leave the wigwam, he seated himself, with
the woman who remained, on the ground in the centre, while the men of
the party, together with those from other wigwams in the neighborhood,
sat in a ring around. Mestigoit, the sorcerer's brother, then brought in
the charm, consisting of a few small pieces of wood, some arrow-heads, a
broken knife, and an iron hook, which he wrapped in a piece of hide. The
woman next rose, and walked around the hut, behind the company.
Mestigoit and the sorcerer now dug a large hole with two pointed stakes,
the whole assembly singing, drumming, and howling meanwhile with a
deafening uproar. The hole made, the charm, wrapped in the hide, was
thrown into it. Pierre, the Apostate, then brought a sword and a knife
to the sorcerer, who, seizing them, leaped into the hole, and, with
furious gesticulation, hacked and stabbed at the charm, yelling with the
whole force of his lungs. At length he ceased, displayed the knife and
sword stained with blood, proclaimed that he had mortally wounded his
enemy, and demanded if none present had heard his death-cry. The
assembly, more occupied in making noises than in listening for them,
gave no reply, till at length two young men declared that they had heard
a faint scream, as if from a great distance; whereat a shout of
gratulation and triumph rose from all the company. [9]

[9] "Le magicien tout glorieux dit que son homme est frappé, qu'il
mourra bien tost, demande si on n'a point entendu ses cris: tout le
monde dit que non, horsmis deux ieunes hommes ses parens, qui disent
auoir ouy des plaintes fort sourdes, et comme de loing. O qu'ils le
firent aise! Se tournant vers moy, il se mit à rire, disant: Voyez cette
robe noire, qui nous vient dire qu'il ne faut tuer personne. Comme ie
regardois attentiuement l'espée et le poignard, il me les fit presenter:
Regarde, dit-il, qu'est cela? C'est du sang, repartis-ie. De qui? De
quelque Orignac ou d'autre animal. Ils se mocquerent de moy, disants que
c'estoit du sang de ce Sorcier de Gaspé. Comment, dis-je, il est à plus
de cent lieuës d'icy? Il est vray, font-ils, mais c'est le Manitou,
c'est à dire le Diable, qui apporte son sang pardessous la
terre."--Relation, 1634, 21.

There was a young prophet, or diviner, in one of the neighboring huts,
of whom the sorcerer took counsel as to the prospect of his restoration
to health. The divining-lodge was formed, in this instance, of five or
six upright posts planted in a circle and covered with a blanket. The
prophet ensconced himself within; and after a long interval of singing,
the spirits declared their presence by their usual squeaking utterances
from the recesses of the mystic tabernacle. Their responses were not
unfavorable; and the sorcerer drew much consolation from the invocations
of his brother impostor. [10]

[10] See Introduction. Also, "Pioneers of France," 315.

Besides his incessant endeavors to annoy Le Jeune, the sorcerer now and
then tried to frighten him. On one occasion, when a period of starvation
had been followed by a successful hunt, the whole party assembled for
one of the gluttonous feasts usual with them at such times. While the
guests sat expectant, and the squaws were about to ladle out the
banquet, the sorcerer suddenly leaped up, exclaiming, that he had lost
his senses, and that knives and hatchets must be kept out of his way, as
he had a mind to kill somebody. Then, rolling his eyes towards Le Jeune,
he began a series of frantic gestures and outcries,--then stopped
abruptly and stared into vacancy, silent and motionless,--then resumed
his former clamor, raged in and out of the hut, and, seizing some of its
supporting poles, broke them, as if in an uncontrollable frenzy. The
missionary, though alarmed, sat reading his breviary as before. When,
however, on the next morning, the sorcerer began again to play the
maniac, the thought occurred to him, that some stroke of fever might in
truth have touched his brain. Accordingly, he approached him and felt
his pulse, which he found, in his own words, "as cool as a fish." The
pretended madman looked at him with astonishment, and, giving over the
attempt to frighten him, presently returned to his senses. [11]

[11] The Indians, it is well known, ascribe mysterious and supernatural
powers to the insane, and respect them accordingly. The Neutral Nation
(see Introduction, (p. xliv)) was full of pretended madmen, who raved
about the villages, throwing firebrands, and making other displays of
frenzy.

Le Jeune, robbed of his sleep by the ceaseless thumping of the
sorcerer's drum and the monotonous cadence of his medicine-songs,
improved the time in attempts to convert him. "I began," he says, "by
evincing a great love for him, and by praises, which I threw to him as a
bait whereby I might catch him in the net of truth." [12] But the
Indian, though pleased with the Father's flatteries, was neither caught
nor conciliated.

[12] "Ie commençay par vn témoignage de grand amour en son endroit, et
par des loüanges que ie luy iettay comme vne amorce pour le prendre dans
les filets de la verité. Ie luy fis entendre que si vn esprit, capable
des choses grandes comme le sien, cognoissoit Dieu, que tous les
Sauuages induis par son exemple le voudroient aussi
cognoistre."--Relation, 1634, 71.

Nowhere was his magic in more requisition than in procuring a successful
chase to the hunters,--a point of vital interest, since on it hung the
lives of the whole party. They often, however, returned empty-handed;
and, for one, two, or three successive days, no other food could be had
than the bark of trees or scraps of leather. So long as tobacco lasted,
they found solace in their pipes, which seldom left their lips. "Unhappy
infidels," writes Le Jeune, "who spend their lives in smoke, and their
eternity in flames!"

As Christmas approached, their condition grew desperate. Beavers and
porcupines were scarce, and the snow was not deep enough for hunting the
moose. Night and day the medicine-drums and medicine-songs resounded
from the wigwams, mingled with the wail of starving children. The
hunters grew weak and emaciated; and, as after a forlorn march the
wanderers encamped once more in the lifeless forest, the priest
remembered that it was the eve of Christmas. "The Lord gave us for our
supper a porcupine, large as a sucking pig, and also a rabbit. It was
not much, it is true, for eighteen or nineteen persons; but the Holy
Virgin and St. Joseph, her glorious spouse, were not so well treated, on
this very day, in the stable of Bethlehem." [13]

[13] "Pour nostre souper, N. S. nous donna vn Porc-espic gros comme vn
cochon de lait, et vn liéure; c'estoit peu pour dix-huit ou vingt
personnes que nous estions, il est vray, mais la saincte Vierge et son
glorieux Espoux sainct Ioseph ne furent pas si bien traictez à mesme
iour dans l'estable de Bethleem."--Relation, 1634, 74.

On Christmas Day, the despairing hunters, again unsuccessful, came to
pray succor from Le Jeune. Even the Apostate had become tractable, and
the famished sorcerer was ready to try the efficacy of an appeal to the
deity of his rival. A bright hope possessed the missionary. He composed
two prayers, which, with the aid of the repentant Pierre, he translated
into Algonquin. Then he hung against the side of the hut a napkin which
he had brought with him, and against the napkin a crucifix and a
reliquary, and, this done, caused all the Indians to kneel before them,
with hands raised and clasped. He now read one of the prayers, and
required the Indians to repeat the other after him, promising to
renounce their superstitions, and obey Christ, whose image they saw
before them, if he would give them food and save them from perishing.
The pledge given, he dismissed the hunters with a benediction. At night
they returned with game enough to relieve the immediate necessity. All
was hilarity. The kettles were slung, and the feasters assembled. Le
Jeune rose to speak, when Pierre, who, having killed nothing, was in ill
humor, said, with a laugh, that the crucifix and the prayer had nothing
to do with their good luck; while the sorcerer, his jealousy reviving as
he saw his hunger about to be appeased, called out to the missionary,
"Hold your tongue! You have no sense!" As usual, all took their cue from
him. They fell to their repast with ravenous jubilation, and the
disappointed priest sat dejected and silent.

Repeatedly, before the spring, they were thus threatened with
starvation. Nor was their case exceptional. It was the ordinary winter
life of all those Northern tribes who did not till the soil, but lived
by hunting and fishing alone. The desertion or the killing of the aged,
sick, and disabled, occasional cannibalism, and frequent death from
famine, were natural incidents of an existence which, during half the
year, was but a desperate pursuit of the mere necessaries of life under
the worst conditions of hardship, suffering, and debasement.

At the beginning of April, after roaming for five months among forests
and mountains, the party made their last march, regained the bank of the
St. Lawrence, and waded to the island where they had hidden their
canoes. Le Jeune was exhausted and sick, and Mestigoit offered to carry
him in his canoe to Quebec. This Indian was by far the best of the three
brothers, and both Pierre and the sorcerer looked to him for support. He
was strong, active, and daring, a skilful hunter, and a dexterous
canoeman. Le Jeune gladly accepted his offer; embarked with him and
Pierre on the dreary and tempestuous river; and, after a voyage full of
hardship, during which the canoe narrowly escaped being ground to atoms
among the floating ice, landed on the Island of Orleans, six miles from
Quebec. The afternoon was stormy and dark, and the river was covered
with ice, sweeping by with the tide. They were forced to encamp. At
midnight, the moon had risen, the river was comparatively unencumbered,
and they embarked once more. The wind increased, and the waves tossed
furiously. Nothing saved them but the skill and courage of Mestigoit. At
length they could see the rock of Quebec towering through the gloom, but
piles of ice lined the shore, while floating masses were drifting down
on the angry current. The Indian watched his moment, shot his canoe
through them, gained the fixed ice, leaped out, and shouted to his
companions to follow. Pierre scrambled up, but the ice was six feet out
of the water, and Le Jeune's agility failed him. He saved himself by
clutching the ankle of Mestigoit, by whose aid he gained a firm foothold
at the top, and, for a moment, the three voyagers, aghast at the
narrowness of their escape, stood gazing at each other in silence.

It was three o'clock in the morning when Le Jeune knocked at the door of
his rude little convent on the St. Charles; and the Fathers, springing
in joyful haste from their slumbers, embraced their long absent Superior
with ejaculations of praise and benediction.

CHAPTER V.
1633, 1634.

THE HURON MISSION.

Le Jeune had learned the difficulties of the Algonquin mission. To
imagine that he recoiled or faltered would be an injustice to his Order;
but on two points he had gained convictions: first, that little progress
could be made in converting these wandering hordes till they could be
settled in fixed abodes; and, secondly, that their scanty numbers, their
geographical position, and their slight influence in the politics of the
wilderness offered no flattering promise that their conversion would be
fruitful in further triumphs of the Faith. It was to another quarter
that the Jesuits looked most earnestly. By the vast lakes of the West
dwelt numerous stationary populations, and particularly the Hurons, on
the lake which bears their name. Here was a hopeful basis of indefinite
conquests; for, the Hurons won over, the Faith would spread in wider and
wider circles, embracing, one by one, the kindred tribes,--the Tobacco
Nation, the Neutrals, the Eries, and the Andastes. Nay, in His own time,
God might lead into His fold even the potent and ferocious Iroquois.

The way was pathless and long, by rock and torrent and the gloom of
savage forests. The goal was more dreary yet. Toil, hardship, famine,
filth, sickness, solitude, insult,--all that is most revolting to men
nurtured among arts and letters, all that is most terrific to monastic
credulity: such were the promise and the reality of the Huron mission.
In the eyes of the Jesuits, the Huron country was the innermost
stronghold of Satan, his castle and his donjon-keep. [1] All the weapons
of his malice were prepared against the bold invader who should assail
him in this, the heart of his ancient domain. Far from shrinking, the
priest's zeal rose to tenfold ardor. He signed the cross, invoked St.
Ignatius, St. Francis Xavier, or St. Francis Borgia, kissed his
reliquary, said nine masses to the Virgin, and stood prompt to battle
with all the hosts of Hell.

[1] "Une des principales forteresses & comme un donjon des
Demons."--Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1639, 100 (Cramoisy).

A life sequestered from social intercourse, and remote from every prize
which ambition holds worth the pursuit, or a lonely death, under forms,
perhaps, the most appalling,--these were the missionaries' alternatives.
Their maligners may taunt them, if they will, with credulity,
superstition, or a blind enthusiasm; but slander itself cannot accuse
them of hypocrisy or ambition. Doubtless, in their propagandism, they
were acting in concurrence with a mundane policy; but, for the present
at least, this policy was rational and humane. They were promoting the
ends of commerce and national expansion. The foundations of French
dominion were to be laid deep in the heart and conscience of the savage.
His stubborn neck was to be subdued to the "yoke of the Faith." The
power of the priest established, that of the temporal ruler was secure.
These sanguinary hordes, weaned from intestine strife, were to unite in
a common allegiance to God and the King. Mingled with French traders and
French settlers, softened by French manners, guided by French priests,
ruled by French officers, their now divided bands would become the
constituents of a vast wilderness empire, which in time might span the
continent. Spanish civilization crushed the Indian; English civilization
scorned and neglected him; French civilization embraced and cherished
him.

Policy and commerce, then, built their hopes on the priests. These
commissioned interpreters of the Divine Will, accredited with letters
patent from Heaven, and affiliated to God's anointed on earth, would
have pushed to its most unqualified application the Scripture metaphor
of the shepherd and the sheep. They would have tamed the wild man of the
woods to a condition of obedience, unquestioning, passive, and
absolute,--repugnant to manhood, and adverse to the invigorating and
expansive spirit of modern civilization. Yet, full of error and full of
danger as was their system, they embraced its serene and smiling
falsehoods with the sincerity of martyrs and the self-devotion of
saints.

We have spoken already of the Hurons, of their populous villages on the
borders of the great "Fresh Sea," their trade, their rude agriculture,
their social life, their wild and incongruous superstitions, and the
sorcerers, diviners, and medicine-men who lived on their credulity. [2]
Iroquois hostility left open but one avenue to their country, the long
and circuitous route which, eighteen years before, had been explored by
Champlain, [3]--up the river Ottawa, across Lake Nipissing, down French
River, and along the shores of the great Georgian Bay of Lake Huron,--a
route as difficult as it was tedious. Midway, on Allumette Island, in
the Ottawa, dwelt the Algonquin tribe visited by Champlain in 1613, and
who, amazed at the apparition of the white stranger, thought that he had
fallen from the clouds. [4] Like other tribes of this region, they were
keen traders, and would gladly have secured for themselves the benefits
of an intermediate traffic between the Hurons and the French, receiving
the furs of the former in barter at a low rate, and exchanging them with
the latter at their full value. From their position, they could at any
time close the passage of the Ottawa; but, as this would have been a
perilous exercise of their rights, [5] they were forced to act with
discretion. An opportunity for the practice of their diplomacy had
lately occurred. On or near the Ottawa, at some distance below them,
dwelt a small Algonquin tribe, called La Petite Nation. One of this
people had lately killed a Frenchman, and the murderer was now in the
hands of Champlain, a prisoner at the fort of Quebec. The savage
politicians of Allumette Island contrived, as will soon be seen, to turn
this incident to profit.

[2] See Introduction.
[3] "Pioneers of France," 364.
[4] Ibid., 348.
[5] Nevertheless, the Hurons always passed this way as a matter of
favor, and gave yearly presents to the Algonquins of the island, in
acknowledgment of the privilege--Le Jeune, Relation, 1636, 70.--By the
unwritten laws of the Hurons and Algonquins, every tribe had the right,
even in full peace, of prohibiting the passage of every other tribe
across its territory. In ordinary cases, such prohibitions were quietly
submitted to.

"Ces Insulaires voudraient bien que les Hurons ne vinssent point aux
François & que les François n'allassent point aux Hurons, afin
d'emporter eux seuls tout le trafic," etc.--Relation, 1633, 205
(Cramoisy),--"desirans eux-mesmes aller recueiller les marchandises des
peuples circonvoisins pour les apporter aux François." This "Nation de
l'Isle" has been erroneously located at Montreal. Its true position is
indicated on the map of Du Creux, and on an ancient MS. map in the Dépôt
des Cartes, of which a fac-simile is before me. See also "Pioneers of
France," 347.

In the July that preceded Le Jeune's wintering with the Montagnais, a
Huron Indian, well known to the French, came to Quebec with the tidings,
that the annual canoe-fleet of his countrymen was descending the St.
Lawrence. On the twenty-eighth, the river was alive with them. A hundred
and forty canoes, with six or seven hundred savages, landed at the
warehouses beneath the fortified rock of Quebec, and set up their huts
and camp-sheds on the strand now covered by the lower town. The greater
number brought furs and tobacco for the trade; others came as
sight-seers; others to gamble, and others to steal, [6]--accomplishments
in which the Hurons were proficient: their gambling skill being
exercised chiefly against each other, and their thieving talents against
those of other nations.

[6] "Quelques vns d'entre eux ne viennent à la traite auec les François
que pour iouër, d'autres pour voir, quelques vns pour dérober, et les
plus sages et les plus riches pour trafiquer."--Le Jeune, Relation,
1633, 34.

The routine of these annual visits was nearly uniform. On the first day,
the Indians built their huts; on the second, they held their council
with the French officers at the fort; on the third and fourth, they
bartered their furs and tobacco for kettles, hatchets, knives, cloth,
beads, iron arrow-heads, coats, shirts, and other commodities; on the
fifth, they were feasted by the French; and at daybreak of the next
morning, they embarked and vanished like a flight of birds. [7]

[7] "Comme une volée d'oiseaux."--Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 190
(Cramoisy).--The tobacco brought to the French by the Hurons may have
been raised by the adjacent tribe of the Tionnontates, who cultivated it
largely for sale. See Introduction.

On the second day, then, the long file of chiefs and warriors mounted
the pathway to the fort,--tall, well-moulded figures, robed in the skins
of the beaver and the bear, each wild visage glowing with paint and
glistening with the oil which the Hurons extracted from the seeds of the
sunflower. The lank black hair of one streamed loose upon his shoulders;
that of another was close shaven, except an upright ridge, which,
bristling like the crest of a dragoon's helmet, crossed the crown from
the forehead to the neck; while that of a third hung, long and flowing
from one side, but on the other was cut short. Sixty chiefs and
principal men, with a crowd of younger warriors, formed their
council-circle in the fort, those of each village grouped together, and
all seated on the ground with a gravity of bearing sufficiently curious
to those who had seen the same men in the domestic circle of their
lodge-fires. Here, too, were the Jesuits, robed in black, anxious and
intent; and here was Champlain, who, as he surveyed the throng,
recognized among the elder warriors not a few of those who, eighteen
years before, had been his companions in arms on his hapless foray
against the Iroquois. [8]

[8] See "Pioneers of France," 370.

Their harangues of compliment being made and answered, and the
inevitable presents given and received, Champlain introduced to the
silent conclave the three missionaries, Brébeuf, Daniel, and Davost. To
their lot had fallen the honors, dangers, and woes of the Huron mission.
"These are our fathers," he said. "We love them more than we love
ourselves. The whole French nation honors them. They do not go among you
for your furs. They have left their friends and their country to show
you the way to heaven. If you love the French, as you say you love them,
then love and honor these our fathers." [9]

[9] Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 274 (Cramoisy); Mercure Français, 1634,
845.

Two chiefs rose to reply, and each lavished all his rhetoric in praises
of Champlain and of the French. Brébeuf rose next, and spoke in broken
Huron,--the assembly jerking in unison, from the bottom of their
throats, repeated ejaculations of applause. Then they surrounded him,
and vied with each other for the honor of carrying him in their canoes.
In short, the mission was accepted; and the chiefs of the different
villages disputed among themselves the privilege of receiving and
entertaining the three priests.

On the last of July, the day of the feast of St. Ignatius, Champlain and
several masters of trading vessels went to the house of the Jesuits in
quest of indulgences; and here they were soon beset by a crowd of
curious Indians, who had finished their traffic, and were making a tour
of observation. Being excluded from the house, they looked in at the
windows of the room which served as a chapel; and Champlain, amused at
their exclamations of wonder, gave one of them a piece of citron. The
Huron tasted it, and, enraptured, demanded what it was. Champlain
replied, laughing, that it was the rind of a French pumpkin. The fame of
this delectable production was instantly spread abroad; and, at every
window, eager voices and outstretched hands petitioned for a share of
the marvellous vegetable. They were at length allowed to enter the
chapel, which had lately been decorated with a few hangings, images, and
pieces of plate. These unwonted splendors filled them with admiration.
They asked if the dove over the altar was the bird that makes the
thunder; and, pointing to the images of Loyola and Xavier, inquired if
they were okies, or spirits: nor was their perplexity much diminished by
Brébeuf's explanation of their true character. Three images of the
Virgin next engaged their attention; and, in answer to their questions,
they were told that they were the mother of Him who made the world. This
greatly amused them, and they demanded if he had three mothers. "Oh!"
exclaims the Father Superior, "had we but images of all the holy
mysteries of our faith! They are a great assistance, for they speak
their own lesson." [10] The mission was not doomed long to suffer from a
dearth of these inestimable auxiliaries.

[10] Relation, 1633, 38.

The eve of departure came. The three priests packed their baggage, and
Champlain paid their passage, or, in other words, made presents to the
Indians who were to carry them in their canoes. They lodged that night
in the storehouse of the fur company, around which the Hurons were
encamped; and Le Jeune and De Nouë stayed with them to bid them farewell
in the morning. At eleven at night, they were roused by a loud voice in
the Indian camp, and saw Le Borgne, the one-eyed chief of Allumette
Island, walking round among the huts, haranguing as he went. Brébeuf,
listening, caught the import of his words. "We have begged the French
captain to spare the life of the Algonquin of the Petite Nation whom he
keeps in prison; but he will not listen to us. The prisoner will die.
Then his people will revenge him. They will try to kill the three
black-robes whom you are about to carry to your country. If you do not
defend them, the French will be angry, and charge you with their death.
But if you do, then the Algonquins will make war on you, and the river
will be closed. If the French captain will not let the prisoner go, then
leave the three black-robes where they are; for, if you take them with
you, they will bring you to trouble."

Such was the substance of Le Borgne's harangue. The anxious priests
hastened up to the fort, gained admittance, and roused Champlain from
his slumbers. He sent his interpreter with a message to the Hurons, that
he wished to speak to them before their departure; and, accordingly, in
the morning an Indian crier proclaimed through their camp that none
should embark till the next day. Champlain convoked the chiefs, and
tried persuasion, promises, and threats; but Le Borgne had been busy
among them with his intrigues, and now he declared in the council, that,
unless the prisoner were released, the missionaries would be murdered on
their way, and war would ensue. The politic savage had two objects in
view. On the one hand, he wished to interrupt the direct intercourse
between the French and the Hurons; and, on the other, he thought to gain
credit and influence with the nation of the prisoner by effecting his
release. His first point was won. Champlain would not give up the
murderer, knowing those with whom he was dealing too well to take a
course which would have proclaimed the killing of a Frenchman a venial
offence. The Hurons thereupon refused to carry the missionaries to their
country; coupling the refusal with many regrets and many protestations
of love, partly, no doubt, sincere,--for the Jesuits had contrived to
gain no little favor in their eyes. The council broke up, the Hurons
embarked, and the priests returned to their convent.

Here, under the guidance of Brébeuf, they employed themselves, amid
their other avocations, in studying the Huron tongue. A year passed, and
again the Indian traders descended from their villages. In the
meanwhile, grievous calamities had befallen the nation. They had
suffered deplorable reverses at the hands of the Iroquois; while a
pestilence, similar to that which a few years before had swept off the
native populations of New England, had begun its ravages among them.
They appeared at Three Rivers--this year the place of trade--in small
numbers, and in a miserable state of dejection and alarm. Du Plessis
Bochart, commander of the French fleet, called them to a council,
harangued them, feasted them, and made them presents; but they refused
to take the Jesuits. In private, however, some of them were gained over;
then again refused; then, at the eleventh hour, a second time consented.
On the eve of embarkation, they once more wavered. All was confusion,
doubt, and uncertainty, when Brébeuf bethought him of a vow to St.
Joseph. The vow was made. At once, he says, the Indians became
tractable; the Fathers embarked, and, amid salvos of cannon from the
ships, set forth for the wild scene of their apostleship.

They reckoned the distance at nine hundred miles; but distance was the
least repellent feature of this most arduous journey. Barefoot, lest
their shoes should injure the frail vessel, each crouched in his canoe,
toiling with unpractised hands to propel it. Before him, week after
week, he saw the same lank, unkempt hair, the same tawny shoulders, and
long, naked arms ceaselessly plying the paddle. The canoes were soon
separated; and, for more than a month, the Frenchmen rarely or never
met. Brébeuf spoke a little Huron, and could converse with his escort;
but Daniel and Davost were doomed to a silence unbroken save by the
occasional unintelligible complaints and menaces of the Indians, of whom
many were sick with the epidemic, and all were terrified, desponding,
and sullen. Their only food was a pittance of Indian corn, crushed
between two stones and mixed with water. The toil was extreme. Brébeuf
counted thirty-five portages, where the canoes were lifted from the
water, and carried on the shoulders of the voyagers around rapids or
cataracts. More than fifty times, besides, they were forced to wade in
the raging current, pushing up their empty barks, or dragging them with
ropes. Brébeuf tried to do his part; but the boulders and sharp rocks
wounded his naked feet, and compelled him to desist. He and his
companions bore their share of the baggage across the portages,
sometimes a distance of several miles. Four trips, at the least, were
required to convey the whole. The way was through the dense forest,
incumbered with rocks and logs, tangled with roots and underbrush, damp
with perpetual shade, and redolent of decayed leaves and mouldering
wood. [11] The Indians themselves were often spent with fatigue.
Brébeuf, a man of iron frame and a nature unconquerably resolute,
doubted if his strength would sustain him to the journey's end. He
complains that he had no moment to read his breviary, except by the
moonlight or the fire, when stretched out to sleep on a bare rock by
some savage cataract of the Ottawa, or in a damp nook of the adjacent
forest.

[11] "Adioustez à ces difficultez, qu'il faut coucher sur la terre nuë,
ou sur quelque dure roche, faute de trouuer dix ou douze pieds de terre
en quarré pour placer vne chetiue cabane; qu'il faut sentir incessamment
la puanteur des Sauuages recreus, marcher dans les eaux, dans les
fanges, dans l'obscurité et l'embarras des forest, où les piqueures
d'vne multitude infinie de mousquilles et cousins vous importunent
fort."--Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1635, 25, 26.

All the Jesuits, as well as several of their countrymen who accompanied
them, suffered more or less at the hands of their ill-humored
conductors. [12] Davost's Indian robbed him of a part of his baggage,
threw a part into the river, including most of the books and
writing-materials of the three priests, and then left him behind, among
the Algonquins of Allumette Island. He found means to continue the
journey, and at length reached the Huron towns in a lamentable state of
bodily prostration. Daniel, too, was deserted, but fortunately found
another party who received him into their canoe. A young Frenchman,
named Martin, was abandoned among the Nipissings; another, named Baron,
on reaching the Huron country, was robbed by his conductors of all he
had, except the weapons in his hands. Of these he made good use,
compelling the robbers to restore a part of their plunder.

[12] "En ce voyage, il nous a fallu tous commencer par ces experiences à
porter la Croix que Nostre Seigneur nous presente pour son honneur, et
pour le salut de ces pauures Barbares. Certes ie me suis trouué
quelquesfois si las, que le corps n'en pouuoit plus. Mais d'ailleurs mon
âme ressentoit de tres-grands contentemens, considerant que ie souffrois
pour Dieu: nul ne le sçait, s'il ne l'experimente. Tous n'en ont pas
esté quittes à si bon marché."--Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1635, 26.

Three years afterwards, a paper was printed by the Jesuits of Paris,
called Instruction pour les Pères de nostre Compagnie qui seront enuoiez
aux Hurons, and containing directions for their conduct on this route by
the Ottawa. It is highly characteristic, both of the missionaries and of
the Indians. Some of the points are, in substance, as follows.--You
should love the Indians like brothers, with whom you are to spend the
rest of your life.--Never make them wait for you in embarking.--Take a
flint and steel to light their pipes and kindle their fire at night; for
these little services win their hearts.--Try to eat their sagamite as
they cook it, bad and dirty as it is.--Fasten up the skirts of your
cassock, that you may not carry water or sand into the canoe.--Wear no
shoes or stockings in the canoe; but you may put them on in crossing the
portages.--Do not make yourself troublesome, even to a single
Indian.--Do not ask them too many questions.--Bear their faults in
silence, and appear always cheerful.--Buy fish for them from the tribes
you will pass; and for this purpose take with you some awls, beads,
knives, and fish-hooks.--Be not ceremonious with the Indians; take at
once what they offer you: ceremony offends them.--Be very careful, when
in the canoe, that the brim of your hat does not annoy them. Perhaps it
would be better to wear your night-cap. There is no such thing as
impropriety among Indians.--Remember that it is Christ and his cross
that you are seeking; and if you aim at anything else, you will get
nothing but affliction for body and mind.

Descending French River, and following the lonely shores of the great
Georgian Bay, the canoe which carried Brébeuf at length neared its
destination, thirty days after leaving Three Rivers. Before him,
stretched in savage slumber, lay the forest shore of the Hurons. Did his
spirit sink as he approached his dreary home, oppressed with a dark
foreboding of what the future should bring forth? There is some reason
to think so. Yet it was but the shadow of a moment; for his masculine
heart had lost the sense of fear, and his intrepid nature was fired with
a zeal before which doubts and uncertainties fled like the mists of the
morning. Not the grim enthusiasm of negation, tearing up the weeds of
rooted falsehood, or with bold hand felling to the earth the baneful
growth of overshadowing abuses: his was the ancient faith uncurtailed,
redeemed from the decay of centuries, kindled with a new life, and
stimulated to a preternatural growth and fruitfulness.

Brébeuf and his Huron companions having landed, the Indians, throwing
the missionary's baggage on the ground, left him to his own resources;
and, without heeding his remonstrances, set forth for their respective
villages, some twenty miles distant. Thus abandoned, the priest kneeled,
not to implore succor in his perplexity, but to offer thanks to the
Providence which had shielded him thus far. Then, rising, he pondered as
to what course he should take. He knew the spot well. It was on the
borders of the small inlet called Thunder Bay. In the neighboring Huron
town of Toanché he had lived three years, preaching and baptizing; [13]
but Toanché had now ceased to exist. Here, Étienne Brulé, Champlain's
adventurous interpreter, had recently been murdered by the inhabitants,
who, in excitement and alarm, dreading the consequences of their deed,
had deserted the spot, and built, at the distance of a few miles, a new
town, called Ihonatiria. [14] Brébeuf hid his baggage in the woods,
including the vessels for the Mass, more precious than all the rest, and
began his search for this new abode. He passed the burnt remains of
Toanché, saw the charred poles that had formed the frame of his little
chapel of bark, and found, as he thought, the spot where Brulé had
fallen. [15] Evening was near, when, after following, bewildered and
anxious, a gloomy forest path, he issued upon a wild clearing, and saw
before him the bark roofs of Ihonatiria.

[13] From 1626 to 1629. There is no record of the events of this first
mission, which was ended with the English occupation of Quebec. Brébeuf
had previously spent the winter of 1625-26 among the Algonquins, like Le
Jeune in 1633-34.--Lettre du P. Charles Lalemant au T. R. P. Mutio
Vitelleschi, 1 Aug., 1626, in Carayon.
[14] Concerning Brulé, see "Pioneers of France," 377-380.
[15] "Ie vis pareillement l'endroit où le pauure Estienne Brulé auoit
esté barbarement et traîtreusement assommé; ce qui me fit penser que
quelque iour on nous pourroit bien traitter de la sorte, et desirer au
moins que ce fust en pourchassant la gloire de N. Seigneur."--Brébeuf,
Relation des Hurons, 1635, 28, 29.--The missionary's prognostics were
but too well founded.

A crowd ran out to meet him. "Echom has come again! Echom has come
again!" they cried, recognizing in the distance the stately figure,
robed in black, that advanced from the border of the forest. They led
him to the town, and the whole population swarmed about him. After a
short rest, he set out with a number of young Indians in quest of his
baggage, returning with it at one o'clock in the morning. There was a
certain Awandoay in the village, noted as one of the richest and most
hospitable of the Hurons,--a distinction not easily won where
hospitality was universal. His house was large, and amply stored with
beans and corn; and though his prosperity had excited the jealousy of
the villagers, he had recovered their good-will by his generosity. With
him Brébeuf made his abode, anxiously waiting, week after week, the
arrival of his companions. One by one, they appeared: Daniel, weary and
worn; Davost, half dead with famine and fatigue; and their French
attendants, each with his tale of hardship and indignity. At length, all
were assembled under the roof of the hospitable Indian, and once more
the Huron mission was begun.

CHAPTER VI.
1634, 1635.

BRÉBEUF AND HIS ASSOCIATES.

Where should the Fathers make their abode? Their first thought had been
to establish themselves at a place called by the French Rochelle, the
largest and most important town of the Huron confederacy; but Brébeuf
now resolved to remain at Ihonatiria. Here he was well known; and here,
too, he flattered himself, seeds of the Faith had been planted, which,
with good nurture, would in time yield fruit.

By the ancient Huron custom, when a man or a family wanted a house, the
whole village joined in building one. In the present case, not
Ihonatiria only, but the neighboring town of Wenrio also, took part in
the work,--though not without the expectation of such gifts as the
priests had to bestow. Before October, the task was finished. The house
was constructed after the Huron model. [1] It was thirty-six feet long
and about twenty feet wide, framed with strong sapling poles planted in
the earth to form the sides, with the ends bent into an arch for the
roof,--the whole lashed firmly together, braced with cross-poles, and
closely covered with overlapping sheets of bark. Without, the structure
was strictly Indian; but within, the priests, with the aid of their
tools, made innovations which were the astonishment of all the country.
They divided their dwelling by transverse partitions into three
apartments, each with its wooden door,--a wondrous novelty in the eyes
of their visitors. The first served as a hall, an anteroom, and a place
of storage for corn, beans, and dried fish. The second--the largest of
the three--was at once kitchen, workshop, dining-room, drawing-room,
school-room, and bed-chamber. The third was the chapel. Here they made
their altar, and here were their images, pictures, and sacred vessels.
Their fire was on the ground, in the middle of the second apartment, the
smoke escaping by a hole in the roof. At the sides were placed two wide
platforms, after the Huron fashion, four feet from the earthen floor. On
these were chests in which they kept their clothing and vestments, and
beneath them they slept, reclining on sheets of bark, and covered with
skins and the garments they wore by day. Rude stools, a hand-mill, a
large Indian mortar of wood for crushing corn, and a clock, completed
the furniture of the room.

[1] See Introduction.

There was no lack of visitors, for the house of the black-robes
contained marvels [2] the fame of which was noised abroad to the
uttermost confines of the Huron nation. Chief among them was the clock.
The guests would sit in expectant silence by the hour, squatted on the
ground, waiting to hear it strike. They thought it was alive, and asked
what it ate. As the last stroke sounded, one of the Frenchmen would cry
"Stop!"--and, to the admiration of the company, the obedient clock was
silent. The mill was another wonder, and they were never tired of
turning it. Besides these, there was a prism and a magnet; also a
magnifying-glass, wherein a flea was transformed to a frightful monster,
and a multiplying lens, which showed them the same object eleven times
repeated. "All this," says Brébeuf, "serves to gain their affection, and
make them more docile in respect to the admirable and incomprehensible
mysteries of our Faith; for the opinion they have of our genius and
capacity makes them believe whatever we tell them." [3]

[2] "Ils ont pensé qu'elle entendoit, principalement quand, pour rire,
quelqu'vn de nos François s'escrioit au dernier coup de marteau, c'est
assez sonné, et que tout aussi tost elle se taisoit. Ils l'appellent le
Capitaine du iour. Quand elle sonne, ils disent qu'elle parle, et
demandent, quand ils nous viennent veoir, combien de fois le Capitaine a
desia parlé. Ils nous interrogent de son manger. Ils demeurent les
heures entieres, et quelquesfois plusieurs, afin de la pouuoir ouyr
parler."--Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1635, 33.
[3] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1635, 33.

"What does the Captain say?" was the frequent question; for by this
title of honor they designated the clock.

"When he strikes twelve times, he says, 'Hang on the kettle'; and when
he strikes four times, he says, 'Get up, and go home.'"

Both interpretations were well remembered. At noon, visitors were never
wanting, to share the Fathers' sagamite; but at the stroke of four, all
rose and departed, leaving the missionaries for a time in peace. Now the
door was barred, and, gathering around the fire, they discussed the
prospects of the mission, compared their several experiences, and took
counsel for the future. But the standing topic of their evening talk was
the Huron language. Concerning this each had some new discovery to
relate, some new suggestion to offer; and in the task of analyzing its
construction and deducing its hidden laws, these intelligent and highly
cultivated minds found a congenial employment. [4]

[4] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1639, 17 (Cramoisy).

But while zealously laboring to perfect their knowledge of the language,
they spared no pains to turn their present acquirements to account. Was
man, woman, or child sick or suffering, they were always at hand with
assistance and relief,--adding, as they saw opportunity, explanations of
Christian doctrine, pictures of Heaven and Hell, and exhortations to
embrace the Faith. Their friendly offices did not cease here, but
included matters widely different. The Hurons lived in constant fear of
the Iroquois. At times the whole village population would fly to the
woods for concealment, or take refuge in one of the neighboring
fortified towns, on the rumor of an approaching war-party. The Jesuits
promised them the aid of the four Frenchmen armed with arquebuses, who
had come with them from Three Rivers. They advised the Hurons to make
their palisade forts, not, as hitherto, in a circular form, but
rectangular, with small flanking towers at the corners for the
arquebuse-men. The Indians at once saw the value of the advice, and soon
after began to act on it in the case of their great town of Ossossané,
or Rochelle. [5]

[5] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 86.

At every opportunity, the missionaries gathered together the children of
the village at their house. On these occasions, Brébeuf, for greater
solemnity, put on a surplice, and the close, angular cap worn by Jesuits
in their convents. First he chanted the Pater Noster, translated by
Father Daniel into Huron rhymes,--the children chanting in their turn.
Next he taught them the sign of the cross; made them repeat the Ave, the
Credo, and the Commandments; questioned them as to past instructions;
gave them briefly a few new ones; and dismissed them with a present of
two or three beads, raisins, or prunes. A great emulation was kindled
among this small fry of heathendom. The priests, with amusement and
delight, saw them gathered in groups about the village, vying with each
other in making the sign of the cross, or in repeating the rhymes they
had learned.

At times, the elders of the people, the repositories of its ancient
traditions, were induced to assemble at the house of the Jesuits, who
explained to them the principal points of their doctrine, and invited
them to a discussion. The auditors proved pliant to a fault, responding,
"Good," or "That is true," to every proposition; but, when urged to
adopt the faith which so readily met their approval, they had always the
same reply: "It is good for the French; but we are another people, with
different customs." On one occasion, Brébeuf appeared before the chiefs
and elders at a solemn national council, described Heaven and Hell with
images suited to their comprehension, asked to which they preferred to
go after death, and then, in accordance with the invariable Huron custom
in affairs of importance, presented a large and valuable belt of wampum,
as an invitation to take the path to Paradise. [6]

[6] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 81. For the use of wampum belts,
see Introduction.

Notwithstanding all their exhortations, the Jesuits, for the present,
baptized but few. Indeed, during the first year or more, they baptized
no adults except those apparently at the point of death; for, with
excellent reason, they feared backsliding and recantation. They found
especial pleasure in the baptism of dying infants, rescuing them from
the flames of perdition, and changing them, to borrow Le Jeune's phrase,
"from little Indians into little angels." [7]

[7] "Le seiziesme du mesme mois, deux petits Sauvages furent changez en
deux petits Anges."--Relation, 1636, 89 (Cramoisy).

"O mon cher frère, vous pourrois-je expliquer quelle consolation ce
m'etoit quand je voyois un pauure baptisé mourir deux heures, une demi
journée, une ou deux journées, après son baptesme, particulièrement
quand c'etoit un petit enfant!"--Lettre du Père Garnier à son Frère,
MS.--This form of benevolence is beyond heretic appreciation.

"La joye qu'on a quand on a baptisé un Sauvage qui se meurt peu apres, &
qui s'envole droit au Ciel, pour devenir un Ange, certainement c'est un
joye qui surpasse tout ce qu'on se peut imaginer."--Le Jeune, Relation,
1635, 221 (Cramoisy).

The Fathers' slumbers were brief and broken. Winter was the season of
Huron festivity; and, as they lay stretched on their hard couch,
suffocating with smoke and tormented by an inevitable multitude of
fleas, the thumping of the drum resounded all night long from a
neighboring house, mingled with the sound of the tortoise-shell rattle,
the stamping of moccasined feet, and the cadence of voices keeping time
with the dancers. Again, some ambitious villager would give a feast, and
invite all the warriors of the neighboring towns; or some grand wager of
gambling, with its attendant drumming, singing, and outcries, filled the
night with discord.

But these were light annoyances, compared with the insane rites to cure
the sick, prescribed by the "medicine-men," or ordained by the eccentric
inspiration of dreams. In one case, a young sorcerer, by alternate
gorging and fasting,--both in the interest of his profession,--joined
with excessive exertion in singing to the spirits, contracted a disorder
of the brain, which caused him, in mid-winter, to run naked about the
village, howling like a wolf. The whole population bestirred itself to
effect a cure. The patient had, or pretended to have, a dream, in which
the conditions of his recovery were revealed to him. These were equally
ridiculous and difficult; but the elders met in council, and all the
villagers lent their aid, till every requisition was fulfilled, and the
incongruous mass of gifts which the madman's dream had demanded were all
bestowed upon him. This cure failing, a "medicine-feast" was tried; then
several dances in succession. As the patient remained as crazy as
before, preparations were begun for a grand dance, more potent than all
the rest. Brébeuf says, that, except the masquerades of the Carnival
among Christians, he never saw a folly equal to it. "Some," he adds,
"had sacks over their heads, with two holes for the eyes. Some were as
naked as your hand, with horns or feathers on their heads, their bodies
painted white, and their faces black as devils. Others were daubed with
red, black, and white. In short, every one decked himself as
extravagantly as he could, to dance in this ballet, and contribute
something towards the health of the sick man." [8] This remedy also
failing, a crowning effort of the medical art was essayed. Brébeuf does
not describe it, for fear, as he says, of being tedious; but, for the
time, the village was a pandemonium. [9] This, with other ceremonies,
was supposed to be ordered by a certain image like a doll, which a
sorcerer placed in his tobacco-pouch, whence it uttered its oracles, at
the same time moving as if alive. "Truly," writes Brébeuf, "here is
nonsense enough: but I greatly fear there is something more dark and
mysterious in it."

[8] Relation des Hurons, 1636, 116.
[9] "Suffit pour le present de dire en general, que iamais les
Bacchantes forcenées du temps passé ne firent rien de plus furieux en
leurs orgyes. C'est icy à s'entretuer, disent-ils, par des sorts qu'ils
s'entreiettent, dont la composition est d'ongles d'Ours, de dents de
Loup, d'ergots d'Aigles, de certaines pierres et de nerfs de Chien;
c'est à rendre du sang par la bouche et par les narines, ou plustost
d'vne poudre rouge qu'ils prennent subtilement, estans tombez sous le
sort, et blessez; et dix mille autres sottises que ie laisse
volontiers."--Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 117.

But all these ceremonies were outdone by the grand festival of the
Ononhara, or Dream Feast,--esteemed the most powerful remedy in cases of
sickness, or when a village was infested with evil spirits. The time and
manner of holding it were determined at a solemn council. This scene of
madness began at night. Men, women, and children, all pretending to have
lost their senses, rushed shrieking and howling from house to house,
upsetting everything in their way, throwing firebrands, beating those
they met or drenching them with water, and availing themselves of this
time of license to take a safe revenge on any who had ever offended
them. This scene of frenzy continued till daybreak. No corner of the
village was secure from the maniac crew. In the morning there was a
change. They ran from house to house, accosting the inmates by name, and
demanding of each the satisfaction of some secret want, revealed to the
pretended madman in a dream, but of the nature of which he gave no hint
whatever. The person addressed thereupon threw to him at random any
article at hand, as a hatchet, a kettle, or a pipe; and the applicant
continued his rounds till the desired gift was hit upon, when he gave an
outcry of delight, echoed by gratulatory cries from all present. If,
after all his efforts, he failed in obtaining the object of his dream,
he fell into a deep dejection, convinced that some disaster was in store
for him. [10]

[10] Brébeuf's account of the Dream Feast is brief. The above
particulars are drawn chiefly from Charlevoix, Journal Historique, 356,
and Sagard, Voyage du Pays des Hurons, 280. See also Lafitau, and other
early writers. This ceremony was not confined to the Hurons, but
prevailed also among the Iroquois, and doubtless other kindred tribes.
The Jesuit Dablon saw it in perfection at Onondaga. It usually took
place in February, occupying about three days, and was often attended
with great indecencies. The word ononhara means turning of the brain.

The approach of summer brought with it a comparative peace. Many of the
villagers dispersed,--some to their fishing, some to expeditions of
trade, and some to distant lodges by their detached corn-fields. The
priests availed themselves of the respite to engage in those exercises
of private devotion which the rule of St. Ignatius enjoins. About
midsummer, however, their quiet was suddenly broken. The crops were
withering under a severe drought, a calamity which the sandy nature of
the soil made doubly serious. The sorcerers put forth their utmost
power, and, from the tops of the houses, yelled incessant invocations to
the spirits. All was in vain; the pitiless sky was cloudless. There was
thunder in the east and thunder in the west; but over Ihonatiria all was
serene. A renowned "rain-maker," seeing his reputation tottering under
his repeated failures, bethought him of accusing the Jesuits, and gave
out that the red color of the cross which stood before their house
scared the bird of thunder, and caused him to fly another way. [11] On
this a clamor arose. The popular ire turned against the priests, and the
obnoxious cross was condemned to be hewn down. Aghast at the threatened
sacrilege, they attempted to reason away the storm, assuring the crowd
that the lightning was not a bird, but certain hot and fiery
exhalations, which, being imprisoned, darted this way and that, trying
to escape. As this philosophy failed to convince the hearers, the
missionaries changed their line of defence.

[11] The following is the account of the nature of thunder, given to
Brébeuf on a former occasion by another sorcerer.

"It is a man in the form of a turkey-cock. The sky is his palace, and he
remains in it when the air is clear. When the clouds begin to grumble,
he descends to the earth to gather up snakes, and other objects which
the Indians call okies. The lightning flashes whenever he opens or
closes his wings. If the storm is more violent than usual, it is because
is young are with him, and aiding in the noise as well as they
can."--Relation des Hurons, 1636, 114.

The word oki is here used to denote any object endued with supernatural
power. A belief similar to the above exists to this day among the
Dacotahs. Some of the Hurons and Iroquois, however, held that the
thunder was a giant in human form. According to one story, he vomited
from time to time a number of snakes, which, falling to the earth,
caused the appearance of lightning.

"You say that the red color of the cross frightens the bird of
thunder. Then paint the cross white, and see if the thunder will come."

This was accordingly done; but the clouds still kept aloof. The Jesuits
followed up their advantage.

"Your spirits cannot help you, and your sorcerers have deceived you with
lies. Now ask the aid of Him who made the world, and perhaps He will
listen to your prayers." And they added, that, if the Indians would
renounce their sins and obey the true God, they would make a procession
daily to implore his favor towards them.

There was no want of promises. The processions were begun, as were also
nine masses to St. Joseph; and, as heavy rains occurred soon after, the
Indians conceived a high idea of the efficacy of the French "medicine."
[12]

[12] "Nous deuons aussi beaucoup au glorieux sainct Ioseph, espoux de
Nostre Dame, et protecteur des Hurons, dont nous auons touché au doigt
l'assistance plusieurs fois. Ce fut vne chose remarquable, que le iour
de sa feste et durant l'Octaue, les commoditez nous venoient de toutes
parts."--Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1635, 41.

The above extract is given as one out of many illustrations of the
confidence with which the priests rested on the actual and direct aid of
their celestial guardians. To St. Joseph, in particular, they find no
words for their gratitude.

In spite of the hostility of the sorcerers, and the transient commotion
raised by the red cross, the Jesuits had gained the confidence and
good-will of the Huron population. Their patience, their kindness, their
intrepidity, their manifest disinterestedness, the blamelessness of
their lives, and the tact which, in the utmost fervors of their zeal,
never failed them, had won the hearts of these wayward savages; and
chiefs of distant villages came to urge that they would make their abode
with them. [13] As yet, the results of the mission had been faint and
few; but the priests toiled on courageously, high in hope that an
abundant harvest of souls would one day reward their labors.

[13] Brébeuf preserves a speech made to him by one of these chiefs, as a
specimen of Huron eloquence.--Relation des Hurons, 1636, 123.

CHAPTER VII.
1636, 1637.

THE FEAST OF THE DEAD.

Mention has been made of those great depositories of human bones found
at the present day in the ancient country of the Hurons. [1] They have
been a theme of abundant speculation; [2] yet their origin is a subject,
not of conjecture, but of historic certainty. The peculiar rites to
which they owe their existence were first described at length by
Brébeuf, who, in the summer of the year 1636, saw them at the town of
Ossossané.

[1] See Introduction.
[2] Among those who have wondered and speculated over these remains is
Mr. Schoolcraft. A slight acquaintance with the early writers would have
solved his doubts.

The Jesuits had long been familiar with the ordinary rites of sepulture
among the Hurons: the corpse placed in a crouching posture in the midst
of the circle of friends and relatives; the long, measured wail of the
mourners; the speeches in praise of the dead, and consolation to the
living; the funeral feast; the gifts at the place of burial; the funeral
games, where the young men of the village contended for prizes; and the
long period of mourning to those next of kin. The body was usually laid
on a scaffold, or, more rarely, in the earth. This, however, was not its
final resting-place. At intervals of ten or twelve years, each of the
four nations which composed the Huron Confederacy gathered together its
dead, and conveyed them all to a common place of sepulture. Here was
celebrated the great "Feast of the Dead,"--in the eyes of the Hurons,
their most solemn and important ceremonial.

In the spring of 1636, the chiefs and elders of the Nation of the
Bear--the principal nation of the Confederacy, and that to which
Ihonatiria belonged--assembled in a general council, to prepare for the
great solemnity. There was an unwonted spirit of dissension. Some causes
of jealousy had arisen, and three or four of the Bear villages announced
their intention of holding their Feast of the Dead apart from the rest.
As such a procedure was thought abhorrent to every sense of propriety
and duty, the announcement excited an intense feeling; yet Brébeuf, who
was present, describes the debate which ensued as perfectly calm, and
wholly free from personal abuse or recrimination. The secession,
however, took place, and each party withdrew to its villages to gather
and prepare its dead.

The corpses were lowered from their scaffolds, and lifted from their
graves. Their coverings were removed by certain functionaries appointed
for the office, and the hideous relics arranged in a row, surrounded by
the weeping, shrieking, howling concourse. The spectacle was frightful.
Here were all the village dead of the last twelve years. The priests,
connoisseurs in such matters, regarded it as a display of mortality so
edifying, that they hastened to summon their French attendants to
contemplate and profit by it. Each family reclaimed its own, and
immediately addressed itself to removing what remained of flesh from the
bones. These, after being tenderly caressed, with tears and
lamentations, were wrapped in skins and adorned with pendent robes of
fur. In the belief of the mourners, they were sentient and conscious. A
soul was thought still to reside in them; [3] and to this notion, very
general among Indians, is in no small degree due that extravagant
attachment to the remains of their dead, which may be said to mark the
race.

[3] In the general belief, the soul took flight after the great ceremony
was ended. Many thought that there were two souls, one remaining with
the bones, while the other went to the land of spirits.

These relics of mortality, together with the recent corpses,--which were
allowed to remain entire, but which were also wrapped carefully in
furs,--were now carried to one of the largest houses, and hung to the
numerous cross-poles, which, like rafters, supported the roof. Here the
concourse of mourners seated themselves at a funeral feast; and, as the
squaws of the household distributed the food, a chief harangued the
assembly, lamenting the loss of the deceased, and extolling their
virtues. This solemnity over, the mourners began their march for
Ossossané, the scene of the final rite. The bodies remaining entire were
borne on a kind of litter, while the bundles of bones were slung at the
shoulders of the relatives, like fagots. Thus the procession slowly
defiled along the forest pathways, with which the country of the Hurons
was everywhere intersected; and as they passed beneath the dull shadow
of the pines, they uttered at intervals, in unison, a dreary, wailing
cry, designed to imitate the voices of disembodied souls winging their
way to the land of spirits, and believed to have an effect peculiarly
soothing to the conscious relics which each man bore. When, at night,
they stopped to rest at some village on the way, the inhabitants came
forth to welcome them with a grave and mournful hospitality.

From every town of the Nation of the Bear,--except the rebellious few
that had seceded,--processions like this were converging towards
Ossossané. This chief town of the Hurons stood on the eastern margin of
Nottawassaga Bay, encompassed with a gloomy wilderness of fir and pine.
Thither, on the urgent invitation of the chiefs, the Jesuits repaired.
The capacious bark houses were filled to overflowing, and the
surrounding woods gleamed with camp-fires: for the processions of
mourners were fast arriving, and the throng was swelled by invited
guests of other tribes. Funeral games were in progress, the young men
and women practising archery and other exercises, for prizes offered by
the mourners in the name of their dead relatives. [4] Some of the chiefs
conducted Brébeuf and his companions to the place prepared for the
ceremony. It was a cleared area in the forest, many acres in extent. In
the midst was a pit, about ten feet deep and thirty feet wide. Around it
was reared a high and strong scaffolding; and on this were planted
numerous upright poles, with cross-poles extended between, for hanging
the funeral gifts and the remains of the dead.

[4] Funeral games were not confined to the Hurons and Iroquois: Perrot
mentions having seen them among the Ottawas. An illustrated description
of them will be found in Lafitau.

Meanwhile there was a long delay. The Jesuits were lodged in a house
where more than a hundred of these bundles of mortality were hanging
from the rafters. Some were mere shapeless rolls; others were made up
into clumsy effigies, adorned with feathers, beads, and belts of dyed
porcupine-quills. Amidst this throng of the living and the dead, the
priests spent a night which the imagination and the senses conspired to
render almost insupportable.

At length the officiating chiefs gave the word to prepare for the
ceremony. The relics were taken down, opened for the last time, and the
bones caressed and fondled by the women amid paroxysms of lamentation.
[5] Then all the processions were formed anew, and, each bearing its
dead, moved towards the area prepared for the last solemn rites. As they
reached the ground, they defiled in order, each to a spot assigned to
it, on the outer limits of the clearing. Here the bearers of the dead
laid their bundles on the ground, while those who carried the funeral
gifts outspread and displayed them for the admiration of the beholders.
Their number was immense, and their value relatively very great. Among
them were many robes of beaver and other rich furs, collected and
preserved for years, with a view to this festival. Fires were now
lighted, kettles slung, and, around the entire circle of the clearing,
the scene was like a fair or caravansary. This continued till three
o'clock in the afternoon, when the gifts were repacked, and the bones
shouldered afresh. Suddenly, at a signal from the chiefs, the crowd ran
forward from every side towards the scaffold, like soldiers to the
assault of a town, scaled it by rude ladders with which it was
furnished, and hung their relics and their gifts to the forest of poles
which surmounted it. Then the ladders were removed; and a number of
chiefs, standing on the scaffold, harangued the crowd below, praising
the dead, and extolling the gifts, which the relatives of the departed
now bestowed, in their names, upon their surviving friends.

[5] "I'admiray la tendresse d'vne femme enuers son pere et ses enfans;
elle est fille d'vn Capitaine, qui est mort fort âgé, et a esté
autrefois fort considerable dans le Païs: elle luy peignoit sa
cheuelure, elle manioit ses os les vns apres les autres, auec la mesme
affection que si elle luy eust voulu rendre la vie; elle luy mit aupres
de luy son Atsatone8ai, c'est à dire son pacquet de buchettes de
Conseil, qui sont tous les liures et papiers du Païs. Pour ses petits
enfans, elle leur mit des brasselets de Pourcelaine et de rassade aux
bras, et baigna leurs os de ses larmes; on ne l'en pouuoit quasi
separer, mais on pressoit, et il fallut incontinent partir."--Brébeuf,
Relation des Hurons, 1636, 134.

During these harangues, other functionaries were lining the grave
throughout with rich robes of beaver-skin. Three large copper kettles
were next placed in the middle, [6] and then ensued a scene of hideous
confusion. The bodies which had been left entire were brought to the
edge of the grave, flung in, and arranged in order at the bottom by ten
or twelve Indians stationed there for the purpose, amid the wildest
excitement and the uproar of many hundred mingled voices. [7] When this
part of the work was done, night was fast closing in. The concourse
bivouacked around the clearing, and lighted their camp-fires under the
brows of the forest which hedged in the scene of the dismal solemnity.
Brébeuf and his companions withdrew to the village, where, an hour
before dawn, they were roused by a clamor which might have wakened the
dead. One of the bundles of bones, tied to a pole on the scaffold, had
chanced to fall into the grave. This accident had precipitated the
closing act, and perhaps increased its frenzy. Guided by the unearthly
din, and the broad glare of flames fed with heaps of fat pine logs, the
priests soon reached the spot, and saw what seemed, in their eyes, an
image of Hell. All around blazed countless fires, and the air resounded
with discordant outcries. [8] The naked multitude, on, under, and around
the scaffold, were flinging the remains of their dead, discharged from
their envelopments of skins, pell-mell into the pit, where Brébeuf
discerned men who, as the ghastly shower fell around them, arranged the
bones in their places with long poles. All was soon over; earth, logs,
and stones were cast upon the grave, and the clamor subsided into a
funereal chant,--so dreary and lugubrious, that it seemed to the Jesuits
the wail of despairing souls from the abyss of perdition. [9]

[6] In some of these graves, recently discovered, five or six large
copper kettles have been found, in a position corresponding with the
account of Brébeuf. In one, there were no less than twenty-six kettles.
[7] "Iamais rien ne m'a mieux figuré la confusion qui est parmy les
damnez. Vous eussiez veu décharger de tous costez des corps à demy
pourris, et de tous costez on entendoit vn horrible tintamarre de voix
confuses de personnes qui parloient et ne s'entendoient pas."--Brébeuf,
Relation des Hurons, 1636, 135.
[8] "Approchans, nous vismes tout à fait une image de l'Enfer: cette
grande place estoit toute remplie de feux & de flammes, & l'air
retentissoit de toutes parts des voix confuses de ces Barbares,"
etc.--Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 209 (Cramoisy).
[9] "Se mirent à chanter, mais d'un ton si lamentable & si lugubre,
qu'il nous representoit l'horrible tristesse & l'abysme du desespoir
dans lequel sont plongées pour iamais ces âmes malheureuses."--Ibid.,
210.

For other descriptions of these rites, see Charlevoix, Bressani, Du
Creux, and especially Lafitau, in whose work they are illustrated with
engravings. In one form or another, they were widely prevalent. Bartram
found them among the Floridian tribes. Traces of a similar practice have
been observed in recent times among the Dacotahs. Remains of places of
sepulture, evidently of kindred origin, have been found in Tennessee,
Missouri, Kentucky, and Ohio. Many have been discovered in several parts
of New York, especially near the River Niagara. (See Squier, Aboriginal
Monuments of New York.) This was the eastern extremity of the ancient
territory of the Neuters. One of these deposits is said to have
contained the bones of several thousand individuals. There is a large
mound on Tonawanda Island, said by the modern Senecas to be a Neuter
burial-place. (See Marshall, Historical Sketches of the Niagara
Frontier, 8.) In Canada West, they are found throughout the region once
occupied by the Neuters, and are frequent in the Huron district.

Dr. Taché writes to me,--"I have inspected sixteen bone-pits," (in the
Huron country,) "the situation of which is indicated on the little
pencil map I send you. They contain from six hundred to twelve hundred
skeletons each, of both sexes and all ages, all mixed together
purposely. With one exception, these pits also contain pipes of stone or
clay, small earthen pots, shells, and wampum wrought of these shells,
copper ornaments, beads of glass, and other trinkets. Some pits
contained articles of copper of aboriginal Mexican fabric."

This remarkable fact, together with the frequent occurrence in these
graves of large conch-shells, of which wampum was made, and which could
have been procured only from the Gulf of Mexico, or some part of the
southern coast of the United States, proves the extent of the relations
of traffic by which certain articles were passed from tribe to tribe
over a vast region. The transmission of pipes from the famous Red
Pipe-Stone Quarry of the St. Peter's to tribes more than a thousand
miles distant is an analogous modern instance, though much less
remarkable.

The Taché Museum, at the Laval University of Quebec, contains a large
collection of remains from these graves. In one instance, the human
bones are of a size that may be called gigantic.

In nearly every case, the Huron graves contain articles of use or
ornament of European workmanship. From this it may be inferred, that the
nation itself, or its practice of inhumation, does not date back to a
period long before the arrival of the French.

The Northern Algonquins had also a solemn Feast of the Dead; but it was
widely different from that of the Hurons.--See the very curious account
of it by Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1642, 94, 95.

Such was the origin of one of those strange sepulchres which are the
wonder and perplexity of the modern settler in the abandoned forests of
the Hurons.

The priests were soon to witness another and a more terrible rite, yet
one in which they found a consolation, since it signalized the saving of
a soul,--the snatching from perdition of one of that dreaded race, into
whose very midst they hoped, with devoted daring, to bear hereafter the
cross of salvation. A band of Huron warriors had surprised a small party
of Iroquois, killed several, and captured the rest. One of the prisoners
was led in triumph to a village where the priests then were. He had
suffered greatly; his hands, especially, were frightfully lacerated.
Now, however, he was received with every mark of kindness. "Take
courage," said a chief, addressing him; "you are among friends." The
best food was prepared for him, and his captors vied with each other in
offices of good-will. [10] He had been given, according to Indian
custom, to a warrior who had lost a near relative in battle, and the
captive was supposed to be adopted in place of the slain. His actual
doom was, however, not for a moment in doubt. The Huron received him
affectionately, and, having seated him in his lodge, addressed him in a
tone of extreme kindness. "My nephew, when I heard that you were coming,
I was very glad, thinking that you would remain with me to take the
place of him I have lost. But now that I see your condition, and your
hands crushed and torn so that you will never use them, I change my
mind. Therefore take courage, and prepare to die tonight like a brave
man."

[10] This pretended kindness in the treatment of a prisoner destined to
the torture was not exceptional. The Hurons sometimes even supplied
their intended victim with a temporary wife.

The prisoner coolly asked what should be the manner of his death.

"By fire," was the reply.

"It is well," returned the Iroquois.

Meanwhile, the sister of the slain Huron, in whose place the prisoner
was to have been adopted, brought him a dish of food, and, her eyes
flowing with tears, placed it before him with an air of the utmost
tenderness; while, at the same time, the warrior brought him a pipe,
wiped the sweat from his brow, and fanned him with a fan of feathers.

About noon he gave his farewell feast, after the custom of those who
knew themselves to be at the point of death. All were welcome to this
strange banquet; and when the company were gathered, the host addressed
them in a loud, firm voice: "My brothers, I am about to die. Do your
worst to me. I do not fear torture or death." Some of those present
seemed to have visitings of real compassion; and a woman asked the
priests if it would be wrong to kill him, and thus save him from the
fire.

The Jesuits had from the first lost no opportunity of accosting him;
while he, grateful for a genuine kindness amid the cruel hypocrisy that
surrounded him, gave them an attentive ear, till at length, satisfied
with his answers, they baptized him. His eternal bliss secure, all else
was as nothing; and they awaited the issue with some degree of
composure.

A crowd had gathered from all the surrounding towns, and after nightfall
the presiding chief harangued them, exhorting them to act their parts
well in the approaching sacrifice, since they would be looked upon by
the Sun and the God of War. [11] It is needless to dwell on the scene
that ensued. It took place in the lodge of the great war-chief, Atsan.
Eleven fires blazed on the ground, along the middle of this capacious
dwelling. The platforms on each side were closely packed with
spectators; and, betwixt these and the fires, the younger warriors stood
in lines, each bearing lighted pine-knots or rolls of birch-bark. The
heat, the smoke, the glare of flames, the wild yells, contorted visages,
and furious gestures of these human devils, as their victim, goaded by
their torches, bounded through the fires again and again, from end to
end of the house, transfixed the priests with horror. But when, as day
dawned, the last spark of life had fled, they consoled themselves with
the faith that the tortured wretch had found his rest at last in
Paradise. [12]

[11] Areskoui (see Introduction). He was often regarded as identical
with the Sun. The semi-sacrificial character of the torture in this case
is also shown by the injunction, "que pour ceste nuict on n'allast point
folastrer dans les bois."--Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 114.
[12] Le Mercier's long and minute account of the torture of this
prisoner is too revolting to be dwelt upon. One of the most atrocious
features of the scene was the alternation of raillery and ironical
compliment which attended it throughout, as well as the pains taken to
preserve life and consciousness in the victim as long as possible.
Portions of his flesh were afterwards devoured.

CHAPTER VIII.
1636, 1637.

THE HURON AND THE JESUIT.

Meanwhile from Old France to New came succors and reinforcements to the
missions of the forest. More Jesuits crossed the sea to urge on the work
of conversion. These were no stern exiles, seeking on barbarous shores
an asylum for a persecuted faith. Rank, wealth, power, and royalty
itself, smiled on their enterprise, and bade them God-speed. Yet,
withal, a fervor more intense, a self-abnegation more complete, a
self-devotion more constant and enduring, will scarcely find its record
on the page of human history.

Holy Mother Church, linked in sordid wedlock to governments and thrones,
numbered among her servants a host of the worldly and the proud, whose
service of God was but the service of themselves,--and many, too, who,
in the sophistry of the human heart, thought themselves true soldiers of
Heaven, while earthly pride, interest, and passion were the life-springs
of their zeal. This mighty Church of Rome, in her imposing march along
the high road of history, heralded as infallible and divine, astounds
the gazing world with prodigies of contradiction: now the protector of
the oppressed, now the right arm of tyrants; now breathing charity and
love, now dark with the passions of Hell; now beaming with celestial
truth, now masked in hypocrisy and lies; now a virgin, now a harlot; an
imperial queen, and a tinselled actress. Clearly, she is of earth, not
of heaven; and her transcendently dramatic life is a type of the good
and ill, the baseness and nobleness, the foulness and purity, the love
and hate, the pride, passion, truth, falsehood, fierceness, and
tenderness, that battle in the restless heart of man.

It was her nobler and purer part that gave life to the early missions of
New France. That gloomy wilderness, those hordes of savages, had nothing
to tempt the ambitious, the proud, the grasping, or the indolent.
Obscure toil, solitude, privation, hardship, and death were to be the
missionary's portion. He who set sail for the country of the Hurons left
behind him the world and all its prizes. True, he acted under
orders,--obedient, like a soldier, to the word of command: but the
astute Society of Jesus knew its members, weighed each in the balance,
gave each his fitting task; and when the word was passed to embark for
New France, it was but the response to a secret longing of the fervent
heart. The letters of these priests, departing for the scene of their
labors, breathe a spirit of enthusiastic exaltation, which, to a colder
nature and a colder faith, may sometimes seem overstrained, but which is
in no way disproportionate to the vastness of the effort and the
sacrifice demanded of them. [1]

[1] The following are passages from letters of missionaries at this
time. See "Divers Sentimens," appended to the Relation of 1635.

"On dit que les premiers qui fondent les Eglises d'ordinaire sont
saincts: cette pensée m'attendrit si fort le cœur, que quoy que ie me
voye icy fort inutile dans ceste fortunée Nouuelle France, si faut-il
que i'auoüe que ie ne me sçaurois defendre d'vne pensée qui me presse le
cœur: Cupio impendi, et superimpendi pro vobis, Pauure Nouuelle France,
ie desire me sacrifier pour ton bien, et quand il me deuroit couster
mille vies, moyennant que ie puisse aider à sauuer vne seule âme, ie
seray trop heureux, et ma vie tres bien employée."

"Ma consolation parmy les Hurons, c'est que tous les iours ie me
confesse, et puis ie dis la Messe, comme si ie deuois prendre le
Viatique et mourir ce iour là, et ie ne crois pas qu'on puisse mieux
viure, ny auec plus de satisfaction et de courage, et mesme de merites,
que viure en un lieu, où on pense pouuoir mourir tous les iours, et
auoir la deuise de S. Paul, Quotidie morior, fratres, etc. mes freres,
je fais estat de mourir tous les iours."

"Qui ne void la Nouuelle France que par les yeux de chair et de nature,
il n'y void que des bois et des croix; mais qui les considere auec les
yeux de la grace et d'vne bonne vocation, il n'y void que Dieu, les
vertus et les graces, et on y trouue tant et de si solides consolations,
que si ie pouuois acheter la Nouuelle France, en donnant tout le Paradis
Terrestre, certainement ie l'acheterois. Mon Dieu, qu'il fait bon estre
au lieu où Dieu nous a mis de sa grace! veritablement i'ay trouué icy ce
que i'auois esperé, vn cœur selon le cœur de Dieu, qui ne cherche que
Dieu."

All turned with longing eyes towards the mission of the Hurons; for here
the largest harvest promised to repay their labor, and here hardships
and dangers most abounded. Two Jesuits, Pijart and Le Mercier, had been
sent thither in 1635; and in midsummer of the next year three more
arrived,--Jogues, Chatelain, and Garnier. When, after their long and
lonely journey, they reached Ihonatiria one by one, they were received
by their brethren with scanty fare indeed, but with a fervor of
affectionate welcome which more than made amends; for among these
priests, united in a community of faith and enthusiasm, there was far
more than the genial comradeship of men joined in a common enterprise of
self-devotion and peril. [2] On their way, they had met Daniel and
Davost descending to Quebec, to establish there a seminary of Huron
children,--a project long cherished by Brébeuf and his companions.

[2] "Ie luy preparay de ce que nous auions, pour le receuoir, mais quel
festin! vne poignée de petit poisson sec auec vn peu de farine;
i'enuoyay chercher quelques nouueaux espics, que nous luy fismes rostir
à la façon du pays; mais il est vray que dans son cœur et à l'entendre,
il ne fit iamais meilleure chere. La ioye qui se ressent à ces
entreueuës semble estre quelque image du contentement des bien-heureux à
leur arriuée dans le Ciel, tant elle est pleine de suauité."--Le
Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 106.

Scarcely had the new-comers arrived, when they were attacked by a
contagious fever, which turned their mission-house into a hospital.
Jogues, Garnier, and Chatelain fell ill in turn; and two of their
domestics also were soon prostrated, though the only one of the number
who could hunt fortunately escaped. Those who remained in health
attended the sick, and the sufferers vied with each other in efforts
often beyond their strength to relieve their companions in misfortune.
[3] The disease in no case proved fatal; but scarcely had health begun
to return to their household, when an unforeseen calamity demanded the
exertion of all their energies.

[3] Lettre de Brébeuf au T. R. P. Mutio Vitelleschi, 20 Mai, 1637, in
Carayon, 157. Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 120, 123.

The pestilence, which for two years past had from time to time visited
the Huron towns, now returned with tenfold violence, and with it soon
appeared a new and fearful scourge,--the small-pox. Terror was
universal. The contagion increased as autumn advanced; and when winter
came, far from ceasing, as the priests had hoped, its ravages were
appalling. The season of Huron festivity was turned to a season of
mourning; and such was the despondency and dismay, that suicide became
frequent. The Jesuits, singly or in pairs, journeyed in the depth of
winter from village to village, ministering to the sick, and seeking to
commend their religious teachings by their efforts to relieve bodily
distress. Happily, perhaps, for their patients, they had no medicine but
a little senna. A few raisins were left, however; and one or two of
these, with a spoonful of sweetened water, were always eagerly accepted
by the sufferers, who thought them endowed with some mysterious and
sovereign efficacy. No house was left unvisited. As the missionary,
physician at once to body and soul, entered one of these smoky dens, he
saw the inmates, their heads muffled in their robes of skins, seated
around the fires in silent dejection. Everywhere was heard the wail of
sick and dying children; and on or under the platforms at the sides of
the house crouched squalid men and women, in all the stages of the
distemper. The Father approached, made inquiries, spoke words of
kindness, administered his harmless remedies, or offered a bowl of broth
made from game brought in by the Frenchman who hunted for the mission.
[4] The body cared for, he next addressed himself to the soul. "This
life is short, and very miserable. It matters little whether we live or
die." The patient remained silent, or grumbled his dissent. The Jesuit,
after enlarging for a time, in broken Huron, on the brevity and
nothingness of mortal weal or woe, passed next to the joys of Heaven and
the pains of Hell, which he set forth with his best rhetoric. His
pictures of infernal fires and torturing devils were readily
comprehended, if the listener had consciousness enough to comprehend
anything; but with respect to the advantages of the French Paradise, he
was slow of conviction. "I wish to go where my relations and ancestors
have gone," was a common reply. "Heaven is a good place for Frenchmen,"
said another; "but I wish to be among Indians, for the French will give
me nothing to eat when I get there." [5] Often the patient was stolidly
silent; sometimes he was hopelessly perverse and contradictory. Again,
Nature triumphed over Grace. "Which will you choose," demanded the
priest of a dying woman, "Heaven or Hell?" "Hell, if my children are
there, as you say," returned the mother. "Do they hunt in Heaven, or
make war, or go to feasts?" asked an anxious inquirer. "Oh, no!" replied
the Father. "Then," returned the querist, "I will not go. It is not good
to be lazy." But above all other obstacles was the dread of starvation
in the regions of the blest. Nor, when the dying Indian had been induced
at last to express a desire for Paradise, was it an easy matter to bring
him to a due contrition for his sins; for he would deny with indignation
that he had ever committed any. When at length, as sometimes happened,
all these difficulties gave way, and the patient had been brought to
what seemed to his instructor a fitting frame for baptism, the priest,
with contentment at his heart, brought water in a cup or in the hollow
of his hand, touched his forehead with the mystic drop, and snatched him
from an eternity of woe. But the convert, even after his baptism, did
not always manifest a satisfactory spiritual condition. "Why did you
baptize that Iroquois?" asked one of the dying neophytes, speaking of
the prisoner recently tortured; "he will get to Heaven before us, and,
when he sees us coming, he will drive us out." [6]

[4] Game was so scarce in the Huron country, that it was greatly prized
as a luxury. Le Mercier speaks of an Indian, sixty years of age, who
walked twelve miles to taste the wild-fowl killed by the French hunter.
The ordinary food was corn, beans, pumpkins, and fish.
[5] It was scarcely possible to convince the Indians, that there was but
one God for themselves and the whites. The proposition was met by such
arguments as this: "If we had been of one father, we should know how to
make knives and coats as well as you."--Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons,
1637, 147.
[6] Most of the above traits are drawn from Le Mercier's report of 1637.
The rest are from Brébeuf.

Thus did these worthy priests, too conscientious to let these
unfortunates die in peace, follow them with benevolent persecutions to
the hour of their death.

It was clear to the Fathers, that their ministrations were valued solely
because their religion was supposed by many to be a "medicine," or
charm, efficacious against famine, disease, and death. They themselves,
indeed, firmly believed that saints and angels were always at hand with
temporal succors for the faithful. At their intercession, St. Joseph had
interposed to procure a happy delivery to a squaw in protracted pains of
childbirth; [7] and they never doubted, that, in the hour of need, the
celestial powers would confound the unbeliever with intervention direct
and manifest. At the town of Wenrio, the people, after trying in vain
all the feasts, dances, and preposterous ceremonies by which their
medicine-men sought to stop the pest, resolved to essay the "medicine"
of the French, and, to that end, called the priests to a council. "What
must we do, that your God may take pity on us?" Brébeuf's answer was
uncompromising:--

[7] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 89. Another woman was delivered
on touching a relic of St. Ignatius. Ibid., 90.

"Believe in Him; keep His commandments; abjure your faith in dreams;
take but one wife, and be true to her; give up your superstitious
feasts; renounce your assemblies of debauchery; eat no human flesh;
never give feasts to demons; and make a vow, that, if God will deliver
you from this pest, you will build a chapel to offer Him thanksgiving
and praise." [8]

[8] Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 114, 116 (Cramoisy).

The terms were too hard. They would fain bargain to be let off with
building the chapel alone; but Brébeuf would bate them nothing, and the
council broke up in despair.

At Ossossané, a few miles distant, the people, in a frenzy of terror,
accepted the conditions, and promised to renounce their superstitions
and reform their manners. It was a labor of Hercules, a cleansing of
Augean stables; but the scared savages were ready to make any promise
that might stay the pestilence. One of their principal sorcerers
proclaimed in a loud voice through the streets of the town, that the God
of the French was their master, and that thenceforth all must live
according to His will. "What consolation," exclaims Le Mercier, "to see
God glorified by the lips of an imp of Satan!" [9]

[9] Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 127, 128 (Cramoisy).

Their joy was short. The proclamation was on the twelfth of December. On
the twenty-first, a noted sorcerer came to Ossossané. He was of a
dwarfish, hump-backed figure,--most rare among this symmetrical
people,--with a vicious face, and a dress consisting of a torn and
shabby robe of beaver-skin. Scarcely had he arrived, when, with ten or
twelve other savages, he ensconced himself in a kennel of bark made for
the occasion. In the midst were placed several stones, heated red-hot.
On these the sorcerer threw tobacco, producing a stifling fumigation; in
the midst of which, for a full half-hour, he sang, at the top of his
throat, those boastful, yet meaningless, rhapsodies of which Indian
magical songs are composed. Then came a grand "medicine-feast"; and the
disappointed Jesuits saw plainly that the objects of their spiritual
care, unwilling to throw away any chance of cure, were bent on invoking
aid from God and the Devil at once.

The hump-backed sorcerer became a thorn in the side of the Fathers, who
more than half believed his own account of his origin. He was, he said,
not a man, but an oki,--a spirit, or, as the priests rendered it, a
demon,--and had dwelt with other okies under the earth, when the whim
seized him to become a man. Therefore he ascended to the upper world, in
company with a female spirit. They hid beside a path, and, when they saw
a woman passing, they entered her womb. After a time they were born, but
not until the male oki had quarrelled with and strangled his female
companion, who came dead into the world. [10] The character of the
sorcerer seems to have comported reasonably well with this story of his
origin. He pretended to have an absolute control over the pestilence,
and his prescriptions were scrupulously followed.

[10] Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 72 (Cramoisy). This "petit
sorcier" is often mentioned elsewhere.

He had several conspicuous rivals, besides a host of humbler
competitors. One of these magician-doctors, who was nearly blind, made
for himself a kennel at the end of his house, where he fasted for seven
days. [11] On the sixth day the spirits appeared, and, among other
revelations, told him that the disease could be frightened away by means
of images of straw, like scarecrows, placed on the tops of the houses.
Within forty-eight hours after this announcement, the roofs of
Onnentisati and the neighboring villages were covered with an army of
these effigies. The Indians tried to persuade the Jesuits to put them on
the mission-house; but the priests replied, that the cross before their
door was a better protector; and, for further security, they set another
on their roof, declaring that they would rely on it to save them from
infection. [12] The Indians, on their part, anxious that their
scarecrows should do their office well, addressed them in loud harangues
and burned offerings of tobacco to them. [13]

[11] See Introduction.
[12] "Qu'en vertu de ce signe nous ne redoutions point les demons, et
esperions que Dieu preserueroit nostre petite maison de cette maladie
contagieuse."--Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 150.
[13] Ibid., 157.

There was another sorcerer, whose medical practice was so extensive,
that, unable to attend to all his patients, he sent substitutes to the
surrounding towns, first imparting to them his own mysterious power. One
of these deputies came to Ossossané while the priests were there. The
principal house was thronged with expectant savages, anxiously waiting
his arrival. A chief carried before him a kettle of mystic water, with
which the envoy sprinkled the company, [14] at the same time fanning
them with the wing of a wild turkey. Then came a grand medicine-feast,
followed by a medicine-dance of women.

[14] The idea seems to have been taken from the holy water of the
French. Le Mercier says that a Huron who had been to Quebec once asked
him the use of the vase of water at the door of the chapel. The priest
told him that it was "to frighten away the devils". On this, he begged
earnestly to have some of it.

Opinion was divided as to the nature of the pest; but the greater number
were agreed that it was a malignant oki, who came from Lake Huron. [15]
As it was of the last moment to conciliate or frighten him, no means to
these ends were neglected. Feasts were held for him, at which, to do him
honor, each guest gorged himself like a vulture. A mystic fraternity
danced with firebrands in their mouths; while other dancers wore masks,
and pretended to be hump-backed. Tobacco was burned to the Demon of the
Pest, no less than to the scarecrows which were to frighten him. A chief
climbed to the roof of a house, and shouted to the invisible monster,
"If you want flesh, go to our enemies, go to the Iroquois!"--while, to
add terror to persuasion, the crowd in the dwelling below yelled with
all the force of their lungs, and beat furiously with sticks on the
walls of bark.

[15] Many believed that the country was bewitched by wicked sorcerers,
one of whom, it was said, had been seen at night roaming around the
villages, vomiting fire. (Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 134.)
This superstition of sorcerers vomiting fire was common among the
Iroquois of New York.--Others held that a sister of Étienne Brulé caused
the evil, in revenge for the death of her brother, murdered some years
before. She was said to have been seen flying over the country,
breathing forth pestilence.

Besides these public efforts to stay the pestilence, the sufferers, each
for himself, had their own methods of cure, dictated by dreams or
prescribed by established usage. Thus two of the priests, entering a
house, saw a sick man crouched in a corner, while near him sat three
friends. Before each of these was placed a huge portion of
food,--enough, the witness declares, for four,--and though all were
gorged to suffocation, with starting eyeballs and distended veins, they
still held staunchly to their task, resolved at all costs to devour the
whole, in order to cure the patient, who meanwhile ceased not, in feeble
tones, to praise their exertions, and implore them to persevere. [16]

[16] "En fin il leur fallut rendre gorge, ce qu'ils firent à diuerses
reprises, ne laissants pas pour cela de continuer à vuider leur
plat."--Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 142.--This beastly
superstition exists in some tribes at the present day. A kindred
superstition once fell under the writer's notice, in the case of a
wounded Indian, who begged of every one he met to drink a large bowl of
water, in order that he, the Indian, might be cured.

Turning from these eccentricities of the "noble savage" [17] to the
zealots who were toiling, according to their light, to snatch him from
the clutch of Satan, we see the irrepressible Jesuits roaming from town
to town in restless quest of subjects for baptism. In the case of
adults, they thought some little preparation essential; but their
efforts to this end, even with the aid of St. Joseph, whom they
constantly invoked, [18] were not always successful; and, cheaply as
they offered salvation, they sometimes railed to find a purchaser. With
infants, however, a simple drop of water sufficed for the transfer from
a prospective Hell to an assured Paradise. The Indians, who at first had
sought baptism as a cure, now began to regard it as a cause of death;
and when the priest entered a lodge where a sick child lay in extremity,
the scowling parents watched him with jealous distrust, lest unawares
the deadly drop should be applied. The Jesuits were equal to the
emergency. Father Le Mercier will best tell his own story.

[17] In the midst of these absurdities we find recorded one of the best
traits of the Indian character. At Ihonatiria, a house occupied by a
family of orphan children was burned to the ground, leaving the inmates
destitute. The villagers united to aid them. Each contributed something,
and they were soon better provided for than before.
[18] "C'est nostre refuge ordinaire en semblables necessitez, et
d'ordinaire auec tels succez, que nous auons sujet d'en benir Dieu à
iamais, qui nous fait cognoistre en cette barbarie le credit de ce S.
Patriarche aupres de son infinie misericorde."--Le Mercier, Relation des
Hurons, 1637, 153.--In the case of a woman at Onnentisati, "Dieu nous
inspira de luy vouër quelques Messes en l'honneur de S. Joseph." The
effect was prompt. In half an hour the woman was ready for baptism. On
the same page we have another subject secured to Heaven, "sans doute par
les merites du glorieux Patriarche S. Joseph."

"On the third of May, Father Pierre Pijart baptized at Anonatea a little
child two months old, in manifest danger of death, without being seen by
the parents, who would not give their consent. This is the device which
he used. Our sugar does wonders for us. He pretended to make the child
drink a little sugared water, and at the same time dipped a finger in
it. As the father of the infant began to suspect something, and called
out to him not to baptize it, he gave the spoon to a woman who was near,
and said to her, 'Give it to him yourself.' She approached and found the
child asleep; and at the same time Father Pijart, under pretence of
seeing if he was really asleep, touched his face with his wet finger,
and baptized him. At the end of forty-eight hours he went to Heaven.

"Some days before, the missionary had used the same device (industrie)
for baptizing a little boy six or seven years old. His father, who was
very sick, had several times refused to receive baptism; and when asked
if he would not be glad to have his son baptized, he had answered, No.
'At least,' said Father Pijart, 'you will not object to my giving him a
little sugar.' 'No; but you must not baptize him.' The missionary gave
it to him once; then again; and at the third spoonful, before he had put
the sugar into the water, he let a drop of it fall on the child, at the
same time pronouncing the sacramental words. A little girl, who was
looking at him, cried out, 'Father, he is baptizing him!' The child's
father was much disturbed; but the missionary said to him, 'Did you not
see that I was giving him sugar?' The child died soon after; but God
showed His grace to the father, who is now in perfect health." [19]

[19] Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 165. Various other cases of
the kind are mentioned in the Relations.

That equivocal morality, lashed by the withering satire of Pascal,--a
morality built on the doctrine that all means are permissible for saving
souls from perdition, and that sin itself is no sin when its object is
the "greater glory of God,"--found far less scope in the rude wilderness
of the Hurons than among the interests, ambitions, and passions of
civilized life. Nor were these men, chosen from the purest of their
Order, personally well fitted to illustrate the capabilities of this
elastic system. Yet now and then, by the light of their own writings, we
may observe that the teachings of the school of Loyola had not been
wholly without effect in the formation of their ethics.

But when we see them, in the gloomy February of 1637, and the gloomier
months that followed, toiling on foot from one infected town to another,
wading through the sodden snow, under the bare and dripping forests,
drenched with incessant rains, till they descried at length through the
storm the clustered dwellings of some barbarous hamlet,--when we see
them entering, one after another, these wretched abodes of misery and
darkness, and all for one sole end, the baptism of the sick and dying,
we may smile at the futility of the object, but we must needs admire the
self-sacrificing zeal with which it was pursued.

CHAPTER IX.
1637.

CHARACTER OF THE CANADIAN JESUITS.

Jean de Brébeuf • Charles Garnier • Joseph Marie Chaumonot • Noël
Chabanel • Isaac Jogues • Other Jesuits • Nature of their Faith •
Supernaturalism • Visions • Miracles

Before pursuing farther these obscure, but noteworthy, scenes in the
drama of human history, it will be well to indicate, so far as there are
means of doing so, the distinctive traits of some of the chief actors.
Mention has often been made of Brébeuf,--that masculine apostle of the
Faith,--the Ajax of the mission. Nature had given him all the passions
of a vigorous manhood, and religion had crushed them, curbed them, or
tamed them to do her work,--like a dammed-up torrent, sluiced and guided
to grind and saw and weave for the good of man. Beside him, in strange
contrast, stands his co-laborer, Charles Garnier. Both were of noble
birth and gentle nurture; but here the parallel ends. Garnier's face was
beardless, though he was above thirty years old. For this he was laughed
at by his friends in Paris, but admired by the Indians, who thought him
handsome. [1] His constitution, bodily or mental, was by no means
robust. From boyhood, he had shown a delicate and sensitive nature, a
tender conscience, and a proneness to religious emotion. He had never
gone with his schoolmates to inns and other places of amusement, but
kept his pocket-money to give to beggars. One of his brothers relates of
him, that, seeing an obscene book, he bought and destroyed it, lest
other boys should be injured by it. He had always wished to be a Jesuit,
and, after a novitiate which is described as most edifying, he became a
professed member of the Order. The Church, indeed, absorbed the greater
part, if not the whole, of this pious family,--one brother being a
Carmelite, another a Capuchin, and a third a Jesuit, while there seems
also to have been a fourth under vows. Of Charles Garnier there remain
twenty-four letters, written at various times to his father and two of
his brothers, chiefly during his missionary life among the Hurons. They
breathe the deepest and most intense Roman Catholic piety, and a spirit
enthusiastic, yet sad, as of one renouncing all the hopes and prizes of
the world, and living for Heaven alone. The affections of his sensitive
nature, severed from earthly objects, found relief in an ardent
adoration of the Virgin Mary. With none of the bone and sinew of rugged
manhood, he entered, not only without hesitation, but with eagerness, on
a life which would have tried the boldest; and, sustained by the spirit
within him, he was more than equal to it. His fellow-missionaries
thought him a saint; and had he lived a century or two earlier, he would
perhaps have been canonized: yet, while all his life was a willing
martyrdom, one can discern, amid his admirable virtues, some slight
lingerings of mortal vanity. Thus, in three several letters, he speaks
of his great success in baptizing, and plainly intimates that he had
sent more souls to Heaven than the other Jesuits. [2]

[1] "C'est pourquoi j'ai bien gagne à quitter la France, où vous me
fesiez la guerre de n'avoir point de barbe; car c'est ce qui me fait
estimer beau des Sauvages."--Lettres de Garnier, MSS.
[2] The above sketch of Garnier is drawn from various sources.
Observations du P. Henri de St. Joseph, Carme, sur son Frère le P.
Charles Garnier, MS.--Abrégé de la Vie du R. Père Charles Garnier, MS.
This unpublished sketch bears the signature of the Jesuit Ragueneau,
with the date 1652. For the opportunity of consulting it I am indebted
to Rev. Felix Martin, S. J.--Lettres du P. Charles Garnier, MSS. These
embrace his correspondence from the Huron country, and are exceedingly
characteristic and striking. There is another letter in Carayon,
Première Mission.--Garnier's family was wealthy, as well as noble. Its
members seem to have been strongly attached to each other, and the young
priest's father was greatly distressed at his departure for Canada.

Next appears a young man of about twenty-seven years, Joseph Marie
Chaumonot. Unlike Brébeuf and Garnier, he was of humble origin,--his
father being a vine-dresser, and his mother the daughter of a poor
village schoolmaster. At an early age they sent him to Châtillon on the
Seine, where he lived with his uncle, a priest, who taught him to speak
Latin, and awakened his religious susceptibilities, which were naturally
strong. This did not prevent him from yielding to the persuasions of one
of his companions to run off to Beaune, a town of Burgundy, where the
fugitives proposed to study music under the Fathers of the Oratory. To
provide funds for the journey, he stole a sum of about the value of a
dollar from his uncle, the priest. This act, which seems to have been a
mere peccadillo of boyish levity, determined his future career. Finding
himself in total destitution at Beaune, he wrote to his mother for
money, and received in reply an order from his father to come home.
Stung with the thought of being posted as a thief in his native village,
he resolved not to do so, but to set out forthwith on a pilgrimage to
Rome; and accordingly, tattered and penniless, he took the road for the
sacred city. Soon a conflict began within him between his misery and the
pride which forbade him to beg. The pride was forced to succumb. He
begged from door to door; slept under sheds by the wayside, or in
haystacks; and now and then found lodging and a meal at a convent. Thus,
sometimes alone, sometimes with vagabonds whom he met on the road, he
made his way through Savoy and Lombardy in a pitiable condition of
destitution, filth, and disease. At length he reached Ancona, when the
thought occured to him of visiting the Holy House of Loretto, and
imploring the succor of the Virgin Mary. Nor were his hopes
disappointed. He had reached that renowned shrine, knelt, paid his
devotions, and offered his prayer, when, as he issued from the door of
the chapel, he was accosted by a young man, whom he conjectures to have
been an angel descended to his relief, and who was probably some
penitent or devotee bent on works of charity or self-mortification. With
a voice of the greatest kindness, he proffered his aid to the wretched
boy, whose appearance was alike fitted to awaken pity and disgust. The
conquering of a natural repugnance to filth, in the interest of charity
and humility, is a conspicuous virtue in most of the Roman Catholic
saints; and whatever merit may attach to it was acquired in an
extraordinary degree by the young man in question. Apparently, he was a
physician; for he not only restored the miserable wanderer to a
condition of comparative decency, but cured him of a grievous malady,
the result of neglect. Chaumonot went on his way, thankful to his
benefactor, and overflowing with an enthusiasm of gratitude to Our Lady
of Loretto. [3]

[3] "Si la moindre dame m'avoit fait rendre ce service par le dernier de
ses valets, n'aurois-je pas dus lui en rendre toutes les reconnoissances
possibles? Et si après une telle charité elle s'étoit offerte à me
servir toujours de mesme, comment aurois-je dû l'honorer, lui obéir,
l'aimer toute ma vie! Pardon, Reine des Anges et des hommes! pardon de
ce qu'après avoir reçu de vous tant de marques, par lesquelles vous
m'avez convaincu que vous m'avez adopté pour votre fils, j'ai eu
l'ingratitude pendant des années entières de me comporter encore plutôt
en esclave de Satan qu'en enfant d'une Mère Vierge. O que vous êtes
bonne et charitable! puisque quelques obstacles que mes péchés ayent pu
mettre à vos graces, vous n'avez jamais cessé de m'attirer au bien;
jusque là que vous m'avez fait admettre dans la Sainte Compagnie de
Jésus, votre fils."--Chaumonot, Vie, 20. The above is from the very
curious autobiography written by Chaumonot, at the command of his
Superior, in 1688. The original manuscript is at the Hôtel Dieu of
Quebec. Mr. Shea has printed it.

As he journeyed towards Rome, an old burgher, at whose door he had
begged, employed him as a servant. He soon became known to a Jesuit, to
whom he had confessed himself in Latin; and as his acquirements were
considerable for his years, he was eventually employed as teacher of a
low class in one of the Jesuit schools. Nature had inclined him to a
life of devotion. He would fain be a hermit, and, to that end, practised
eating green ears of wheat; but, finding he could not swallow them,
conceived that he had mistaken his vocation. Then a strong desire grew
up within him to become a Récollet, a Capuchin, or, above all, a Jesuit;
and at length the wish of his heart was answered. At the age of
twenty-one, he was admitted to the Jesuit novitiate. [4] Soon after its
close, a small duodecimo volume was placed in his hands. It was a
Relation of the Canadian mission, and contained one of those narratives
of Brébeuf which have been often cited in the preceding pages. Its
effect was immediate. Burning to share those glorious toils, the young
priest asked to be sent to Canada; and his request was granted.

[4] His age, when he left his uncle, the priest, is not mentioned. But
he must have been a mere child; for, at the end of his novitiate, he had
forgotten his native language, and was forced to learn it a second time.

"Jamais y eut-il homme sur terre plus obligé que moi à la Sainte Famille
de Jésus, de Marie et de Joseph! Marie en me guérissant de ma vilaine
galle ou teigne, me délivra d'une infinité de peines et d'incommodités
corporelles, que cette hideuse maladie qui me rongeoit m'avoit causé.
Joseph m'ayant obtenu la grace d'être incorporé à un corps aussi saint
qu'est celui des Jésuites, m'a preservé d'une infinité de misères
spirituelles, de tentations très dangereuses et de péchés très énormes.
Jésus n'ayant pas permis que j'entrasse dans aucun autre ordre qu'en
celui qu'il honore tout à la fois de son beau nom, de sa douce présence
et de sa protection spéciale. O Jésus! O Marie! O Joseph! qui méritoit
moins que moi vos divines faveurs, et envers qui avez vous été plus
prodigue?"--Chaumonot, Vie, 37.

Before embarking, he set out with the Jesuit Poncet, who was also
destined for Canada, on a pilgrimage from Rome to the shrine of Our Lady
of Loretto. They journeyed on foot, begging alms by the way. Chaumonot
was soon seized with a pain in the knee, so violent that it seemed
impossible to proceed. At San Severino, where they lodged with the
Barnabites, he bethought him of asking the intercession of a certain
poor woman of that place, who had died some time before with the
reputation of sanctity. Accordingly he addressed to her his prayer,
promising to publish her fame on every possible occasion, if she would
obtain his cure from God. [5] The intercession was accepted; the
offending limb became sound again, and the two pilgrims pursued their
journey. They reached Loretto, and, kneeling before the Queen of Heaven,
implored her favor and aid; while Chaumonot, overflowing with devotion
to this celestial mistress of his heart, conceived the purpose of
building in Canada a chapel to her honor, after the exact model of the
Holy House of Loretto. They soon afterwards embarked together, and
arrived among the Hurons early in the autumn of 1639.

[5] "Je me recommandai à elle en lui promettant de la faire connoître
dans toutes les occasions que j'en aurois jamais, si elle m'obtenoit de
Dieu ma guérison."--Chaumonot, Vie, 46.

Noël Chabanel came later to the mission; for he did not reach the Huron
country until 1643. He detested the Indian life,--the smoke, the vermin,
the filthy food, the impossibility of privacy. He could not study by the
smoky lodge-fire, among the noisy crowd of men and squaws, with their
dogs, and their restless, screeching children. He had a natural
inaptitude to learning the language, and labored at it for five years
with scarcely a sign of progress. The Devil whispered a suggestion into
his ear: Let him procure his release from these barren and revolting
toils, and return to France, where congenial and useful employments
awaited him. Chabanel refused to listen; and when the temptation still
beset him, he bound himself by a solemn vow to remain in Canada to the
day of his death. [6]

[6] Abrégé de la Vie du Père Noël Chabanel, MS. This anonymous paper
bears the signature of Ragueneau, in attestation of its truth. See also
Ragueneau, Relation, 1650, 17, 18. Chabanel's vow is here given
verbatim.

Isaac Jogues was of a character not unlike Garnier. Nature had given him
no especial force of intellect or constitutional energy, yet the man was
indomitable and irrepressible, as his history will show. We have but few
means of characterizing the remaining priests of the mission otherwise
than as their traits appear on the field of their labors. Theirs was no
faith of abstractions and generalities. For them, heaven was very near
to earth, touching and mingling with it at many points. On high, God the
Father sat enthroned; and, nearer to human sympathies, Divinity
incarnate in the Son, with the benign form of his immaculate mother, and
her spouse, St. Joseph, the chosen patron of New France. Interceding
saints and departed friends bore to the throne of grace the petitions of
those yet lingering in mortal bondage, and formed an ascending chain
from earth to heaven.

These priests lived in an atmosphere of supernaturalism. Every day had
its miracle. Divine power declared itself in action immediate and
direct, controlling, guiding, or reversing the laws of Nature. The
missionaries did not reject the ordinary cures for disease or wounds;
but they relied far more on a prayer to the Virgin, a vow to St. Joseph,
or the promise of a neuvaine, or nine days' devotion, to some other
celestial personage; while the touch of a fragment of a tooth or bone of
some departed saint was of sovereign efficacy to cure sickness, solace
pain, or relieve a suffering squaw in the throes of childbirth. Once,
Chaumonot, having a headache, remembered to have heard of a sick man who
regained his health by commending his case to St. Ignatius, and at the
same time putting a medal stamped with his image into his mouth.
Accordingly he tried a similar experiment, putting into his mouth a
medal bearing a representation of the Holy Family, which was the object
of his especial devotion. The next morning found him cured. [7]

[7] Chaumonot, Vie, 73.

The relation between this world and the next was sometimes of a nature
curiously intimate. Thus, when Chaumonot heard of Garnier's death, he
immediately addressed his departed colleague, and promised him the
benefit of all the good works which he, Chaumonot, might perform during
the next week, provided the defunct missionary would make him heir to
his knowledge of the Huron tongue. [8] And he ascribed to the deceased
Garnier's influence the mastery of that language which he afterwards
acquired.

[8] "Je n'eus pas plutôt appris sa glorieuse mort, que je lui promis
tout ce que je ferois de bien pendant huit jours, à condition qu'il me
feroit son héritier dans la connoissance parfaite qu'il avoit du
Huron."--Chaumonot, Vie, 61.

The efforts of the missionaries for the conversion of the savages were
powerfully seconded from the other world, and the refractory subject who
was deaf to human persuasions softened before the superhuman agencies
which the priest invoked to his aid. [9]

[9] As these may be supposed to be exploded ideas of the past, the
writer may recall an incident of his youth, while spending a few days in
the convent of the Passionists, near the Coliseum at Rome. These worthy
monks, after using a variety of arguments for his conversion, expressed
the hope that a miraculous interposition would be vouchsafed to that
end, and that the Virgin would manifest herself to him in a nocturnal
vision. To this end they gave him a small brass medal, stamped with her
image, to be worn at his neck, while they were to repeat a certain
number of Aves and Paters, in which he was urgently invited to join; as
the result of which, it was hoped the Virgin would appear on the same
night. No vision, however, occurred.

It is scarcely necessary to add, that signs and voices from another
world, visitations from Hell and visions from Heaven, were incidents of
no rare occurrence in the lives of these ardent apostles. To Brébeuf,
whose deep nature, like a furnace white hot, glowed with the still
intensity of his enthusiasm, they were especially frequent. Demons in
troops appeared before him, sometimes in the guise of men, sometimes as
bears, wolves, or wild-cats. He called on God, and the apparitions
vanished. Death, like a skeleton, sometimes menaced him, and once, as he
faced it with an unquailing eye, it fell powerless at his feet. A demon,
in the form of a woman, assailed him with the temptation which beset St.
Benedict among the rocks of Subiaco; but Brébeuf signed the cross, and
the infernal siren melted into air. He saw the vision of a vast and
gorgeous palace; and a miraculous voice assured him that such was to be
the reward of those who dwelt in savage hovels for the cause of God.
Angels appeared to him; and, more than once, St. Joseph and the Virgin
were visibly present before his sight. Once, when he was among the
Neutral Nation, in the winter of 1640, he beheld the ominous apparition
of a great cross slowly approaching from the quarter where lay the
country of the Iroquois. He told the vision to his comrades. "What was
it like? How large was it?" they eagerly demanded. "Large enough,"
replied the priest, "to crucify us all." [10] To explain such phenomena
is the province of psychology, and not of history. Their occurrence is
no matter of surprise, and it would be superfluous to doubt that they
were recounted in good faith, and with a full belief in their reality.

[10] Quelques Remarques sur la Vie du Père Jean de Brébeuf, MS. On the
margin of this paper, opposite several of the statements repeated above,
are the words, signed by Ragueneau, "Ex ipsius autographo," indicating
that the statements were made in writing by Brébeuf himself.

Still other visions are recorded by Chaumonot as occurring to Brébeuf,
when they were together in the Neutral country. See also the long notice
of Brébeuf, written by his colleague, Ragueneau, in the Relation of
1649; and Tanner, Societas Jesu Militans, 533.

In these enthusiasts we shall find striking examples of one of the
morbid forces of human nature; yet in candor let us do honor to what was
genuine in them,--that principle of self-abnegation which is the life of
true religion, and which is vital no less to the highest forms of
heroism.

CHAPTER X.
1637-1640.

PERSECUTION.

The town of Ossossané, or Rochelle, stood, as we have seen, on the
borders of Lake Huron, at the skirts of a gloomy wilderness of pine.
Thither, in May, 1637, repaired Father Pijart, to found, in this, one of
the largest of the Huron towns, the new mission of the Immaculate
Conception. [1] The Indians had promised Brébeuf to build a house for
the black-robes, and Pijart found the work in progress. There were at
this time about fifty dwellings in the town, each containing eight or
ten families. The quadrangular fort already alluded to had now been
completed by the Indians, under the instruction of the priests. [2]

[1] The doctrine of the immaculate conception of the Virgin, recently
sanctioned by the Pope, has long been a favorite tenet of the Jesuits.
[2] Lettres de Garnier, MSS. It was of upright pickets, ten feet high,
with flanking towers at two angles.

The new mission-house was about seventy feet in length. No sooner had
the savage workmen secured the bark covering on its top and sides than
the priests took possession, and began their preparations for a notable
ceremony. At the farther end they made an altar, and hung such
decorations as they had on the rough walls of bark throughout half the
length of the structure. This formed their chapel. On the altar was a
crucifix, with vessels and ornaments of shining metal; while above hung
several pictures,--among them a painting of Christ, and another of the
Virgin, both of life-size. There was also a representation of the Last
Judgment, wherein dragons and serpents might be seen feasting on the
entrails of the wicked, while demons scourged them into the flames of
Hell. The entrance was adorned with a quantity of tinsel, together with
green boughs skilfully disposed. [3]

[3] "Nostre Chapelle estoit extraordinairement bien ornée, ... nous
auions dressé vn portique entortillé de feüillage, meslé d'oripeau, en
vn mot nous auions estallé tout ce que vostre R. nous a enuoié de beau,"
etc., etc.--Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 175, 176.--In his
Relation of the next year he recurs to the subject, and describes the
pictures displayed on this memorable occasion.--Relation des Hurons,
1638, 33.

Never before were such splendors seen in the land of the Hurons. Crowds
gathered from afar, and gazed in awe and admiration at the marvels of
the sanctuary. A woman came from a distant town to behold it, and,
tremulous between curiosity and fear, thrust her head into the
mysterious recess, declaring that she would see it, though the look
should cost her life. [4]

[4] Ibid., 1637, 176.

One is forced to wonder at, if not to admire, the energy with which
these priests and their scarcely less zealous attendants [5] toiled to
carry their pictures and ornaments through the most arduous of journeys,
where the traveller was often famished from the sheer difficulty of
transporting provisions.

[5] The Jesuits on these distant missions were usually attended by
followers who had taken no vows, and could leave their service at will,
but whose motives were religious, and not mercenary. Probably this was
the character of their attendants in the present case. They were known
as donnés, or "given men." It appears from a letter of the Jesuit Du
Peron, that twelve hired laborers were soon after sent up to the
mission.

A great event had called forth all this preparation. Of the many
baptisms achieved by the Fathers in the course of their indefatigable
ministry, the subjects had all been infants, or adults at the point of
death; but at length a Huron, in full health and manhood, respected and
influential in his tribe, had been won over to the Faith, and was now to
be baptized with solemn ceremonial, in the chapel thus gorgeously
adorned. It was a strange scene. Indians were there in throngs, and the
house was closely packed: warriors, old and young, glistening in grease
and sunflower-oil, with uncouth locks, a trifle less coarse than a
horse's mane, and faces perhaps smeared with paint in honor of the
occasion; wenches in gay attire; hags muffled in a filthy discarded
deer-skin, their leathery visages corrugated with age and malice, and
their hard, glittering eyes riveted on the spectacle before them. The
priests, no longer in their daily garb of black, but radiant in their
surplices, the genuflections, the tinkling of the bell, the swinging of
the censer, the sweet odors so unlike the fumes of the smoky
lodge-fires, the mysterious elevation of the Host, (for a mass followed
the baptism,) and the agitation of the neophyte, whose Indian
imperturbability fairly deserted him,--all these combined to produce on
the minds of the savage beholders an impression that seemed to promise a
rich harvest for the Faith. To the Jesuits it was a day of triumph and
of hope. The ice had been broken; the wedge had entered; light had
dawned at last on the long night of heathendom. But there was one
feature of the situation which in their rejoicing they overlooked.

The Devil had taken alarm. He had borne with reasonable composure the
loss of individual souls snatched from him by former baptisms; but here
was a convert whose example and influence threatened to shake his Huron
empire to its very foundation. In fury and fear, he rose to the
conflict, and put forth all his malice and all his hellish ingenuity.
Such, at least, is the explanation given by the Jesuits of the scenes
that followed. [6] Whether accepting it or not, let us examine the
circumstances which gave rise to it.

[6] Several of the Jesuits allude to this supposed excitement among the
tenants of the nether world. Thus, Le Mercier says, "Le Diable se
sentoit pressé de prés, il ne pouuoit supporter le Baptesme solennel de
quelques Sauuages des plus signalez."--Relation des Hurons, 1638,
33.--Several other baptisms of less note followed that above described.
Garnier, writing to his brother, repeatedly alludes to the alarm excited
in Hell by the recent successes of the mission, and adds,--"Vous pouvez
juger quelle consolation nous étoit-ce de voir le diable s'armer contre
nous et se servir de ses esclaves pour nous attaquer et tâcher de nous
perdre en haine de J. C."

The mysterious strangers, garbed in black, who of late years had made
their abode among them, from motives past finding out, marvellous in
knowledge, careless of life, had awakened in the breasts of the Hurons
mingled emotions of wonder, perplexity, fear, respect, and awe. From the
first, they had held them answerable for the changes of the weather,
commending them when the crops were abundant, and upbraiding them in
times of scarcity. They thought them mighty magicians, masters of life
and death; and they came to them for spells, sometimes to destroy their
enemies, and sometimes to kill grasshoppers. And now it was whispered
abroad that it was they who had bewitched the nation, and caused the
pest which threatened to exterminate it.

It was Isaac Jogues who first heard this ominous rumor, at the town of
Onnentisati, and it proceeded from the dwarfish sorcerer already
mentioned, who boasted himself a devil incarnate. The slander spread
fast and far. Their friends looked at them askance; their enemies
clamored for their lives. Some said that they concealed in their houses
a corpse, which infected the country,--a perverted notion, derived from
some half-instructed neophyte, concerning the body of Christ in the
Eucharist. Others ascribed the evil to a serpent, others to a spotted
frog, others to a demon which the priests were supposed to carry in the
barrel of a gun. Others again gave out that they had pricked an infant
to death with awls in the forest, in order to kill the Huron children by
magic. "Perhaps," observes Father Le Mercier, "the Devil was enraged
because we had placed a great many of these little innocents in Heaven."
[7]

[7] "Le diable enrageoit peutestre de ce que nous avions placé dans le
ciel quantité de ces petits innocens."--Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons,
1638, 12 (Cramoisy).

The picture of the Last Judgment became an object of the utmost terror.
It was regarded as a charm. The dragons and serpents were supposed to be
the demons of the pest, and the sinners whom they were so busily
devouring to represent its victims. On the top of a spruce-tree, near
their house at Ihonatiria, the priests had fastened a small streamer, to
show the direction of the wind. This, too, was taken for a charm,
throwing off disease and death to all quarters. The clock, once an
object of harmless wonder, now excited the wildest alarm; and the
Jesuits were forced to stop it, since, when it struck, it was supposed
to sound the signal of death. At sunset, one would have seen knots of
Indians, their faces dark with dejection and terror, listening to the
measured sounds which issued from within the neighboring house of the
mission, where, with bolted doors, the priests were singing litanies,
mistaken for incantations by the awe-struck savages.

Had the objects of these charges been Indians, their term of life would
have been very short. The blow of a hatchet, stealthily struck in the
dusky entrance of a lodge, would have promptly avenged the victims of
their sorcery, and delivered the country from peril. But the priests
inspired a strange awe. Nocturnal councils were held; their death was
decreed; and, as they walked their rounds, whispering groups of children
gazed after them as men doomed to die. But who should be the
executioner? They were reviled and upbraided. The Indian boys threw
sticks at them as they passed, and then ran behind the houses. When they
entered one of these pestiferous dens, this impish crew clambered on the
roof, to pelt them with snowballs through the smoke-holes. The old squaw
who crouched by the fire scowled on them with mingled anger and fear,
and cried out, "Begone! there are no sick ones here." The invalids
wrapped their heads in their blankets; and when the priest accosted some
dejected warrior, the savage looked gloomily on the ground, and answered
not a word.

Yet nothing could divert the Jesuits from their ceaseless quest of dying
subjects for baptism, and above all of dying children. They penetrated
every house in turn. When, through the thin walls of bark, they heard
the wail of a sick infant, no menace and no insult could repel them from
the threshold. They pushed boldly in, asked to buy some trifle, spoke of
late news of Iroquois forays,--of anything, in short, except the
pestilence and the sick child; conversed for a while till suspicion was
partially lulled to sleep, and then, pretending to observe the sufferer
for the first time, approached it, felt its pulse, and asked of its
health. Now, while apparently fanning the heated brow, the dexterous
visitor touched it with a corner of his handkerchief, which he had
previously dipped in water, murmured the baptismal words with motionless
lips, and snatched another soul from the fangs of the "Infernal Wolf."
[8] Thus, with the patience of saints, the courage of heroes, and an
intent truly charitable, did the Fathers put forth a nimble-fingered
adroitness that would have done credit to the profession of which the
function is less to dispense the treasures of another world than to
grasp those which pertain to this.

[8] Ce loup infernal is a title often bestowed in the Relations on the
Devil. The above details are gathered from the narratives of Brébeuf, Le
Mercier, and Lalemant, and letters, published and unpublished, of
several other Jesuits.

In another case, an Indian girl was carrying on her back a sick child,
two months old. Two Jesuits approached, and while one of them amused the
girl with his rosary, "l'autre le baptise lestement; le pauure petit
n'attendoit que ceste faueur du Ciel pour s'y enuoler."

The Huron chiefs were summoned to a great council, to discuss the state
of the nation. The crisis demanded all their wisdom; for, while the
continued ravages of disease threatened them with annihilation, the
Iroquois scalping-parties infested the outskirts of their towns, and
murdered them in their fields and forests. The assembly met in August,
1637; and the Jesuits, knowing their deep stake in its deliberations,
failed not to be present, with a liberal gift of wampum, to show their
sympathy in the public calamities. In private, they sought to gain the
good-will of the deputies, one by one; but though they were successful
in some cases, the result on the whole was far from hopeful.

In the intervals of the council, Brébeuf discoursed to the crowd of
chiefs on the wonders of the visible heavens,--the sun, the moon, the
stars, and the planets. They were inclined to believe what he told them;
for he had lately, to their great amazement, accurately predicted an
eclipse. From the fires above he passed to the fires beneath, till the
listeners stood aghast at his hideous pictures of the flames of
perdition,--the only species of Christian instruction which produced any
perceptible effect on this unpromising auditory.

The council opened on the evening of the fourth of August, with all the
usual ceremonies; and the night was spent in discussing questions of
treaties and alliances, with a deliberation and good sense which the
Jesuits could not help admiring. [9] A few days after, the assembly took
up the more exciting question of the epidemic and its causes. Deputies
from three of the four Huron nations were present, each deputation
sitting apart. The Jesuits were seated with the Nation of the Bear, in
whose towns their missions were established. Like all important
councils, the session was held at night. It was a strange scene. The
light of the fires flickered aloft into the smoky vault and among the
soot-begrimed rafters of the great council-house, [10] and cast an
uncertain gleam on the wild and dejected throng that filled the
platforms and the floor. "I think I never saw anything more lugubrious,"
writes Le Mercier: "they looked at each other like so many corpses, or
like men who already feel the terror of death. When they spoke, it was
only with sighs, each reckoning up the sick and dead of his own family.
All this was to excite each other to vomit poison against us."

[9] Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1638, 38.
[10] It must have been the house of a chief. The Hurons, unlike some
other tribes, had no houses set apart for public occasions.

A grisly old chief, named Ontitarac, withered with age and stone-blind,
but renowned in past years for eloquence and counsel, opened the debate
in a loud, though tremulous voice. First he saluted each of the three
nations present, then each of the chiefs in turn,--congratulated them
that all were there assembled to deliberate on a subject of the last
importance to the public welfare, and exhorted them to give it a mature
and calm consideration. Next rose the chief whose office it was to
preside over the Feast of the Dead. He painted in dismal colors the
woful condition of the country, and ended with charging it all upon the
sorceries of the Jesuits. Another old chief followed him. "My brothers,"
he said, "you know well that I am a war-chief, and very rarely speak
except in councils of war; but I am compelled to speak now, since nearly
all the other chiefs are dead, and I must utter what is in my heart
before I follow them to the grave. Only two of my family are left alive,
and perhaps even these will not long escape the fury of the pest. I have
seen other diseases ravaging the country, but nothing that could compare
with this. In two or three moons we saw their end: but now we have
suffered for a year and more, and yet the evil does not abate. And what
is worst of all, we have not yet discovered its source." Then, with
words of studied moderation, alternating with bursts of angry invective,
he proceeded to accuse the Jesuits of causing, by their sorceries, the
unparalleled calamities that afflicted them; and in support of his
charge he adduced a prodigious mass of evidence. When he had spent his
eloquence, Brébeuf rose to reply, and in a few words exposed the
absurdities of his statements; whereupon another accuser brought a new
array of charges. A clamor soon arose from the whole assembly, and they
called upon Brébeuf with one voice to give up a certain charmed cloth
which was the cause of their miseries. In vain the missionary protested
that he had no such cloth. The clamor increased.

"If you will not believe me," said Brébeuf, "go to our house; search
everywhere; and if you are not sure which is the charm, take all our
clothing and all our cloth, and throw them into the lake."

"Sorcerers always talk in that way," was the reply.

"Then what will you have me say?" demanded Brébeuf.

"Tell us the cause of the pest."

Brébeuf replied to the best of his power, mingling his explanations with
instructions in Christian doctrine and exhortations to embrace the
Faith. He was continually interrupted; and the old chief, Ontitarac,
still called upon him to produce the charmed cloth. Thus the debate
continued till after midnight, when several of the assembly, seeing no
prospect of a termination, fell asleep, and others went away. One old
chief, as he passed out, said to Brébeuf, "If some young man should
split your head, we should have nothing to say." The priest still
continued to harangue the diminished conclave on the necessity of
obeying God and the danger of offending Him, when the chief of Ossossané
called out impatiently, "What sort of men are these? They are always
saying the same thing, and repeating the same words a hundred times.
They are never done with telling us about their Oki, and what he demands
and what he forbids, and Paradise and Hell." [11]

[11] The above account of the council is drawn from Le Mercier, Relation
des Hurons, 1638, Chap. II. See also Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 163.

"Here was the end of this miserable council," writes Le Mercier; ...
"and if less evil came of it than was designed, we owe it, after God, to
the Most Holy Virgin, to whom we had made a vow of nine masses in honor
of her immaculate conception."

The Fathers had escaped for the time; but they were still in deadly
peril. They had taken pains to secure friends in private, and there were
those who were attached to their interests; yet none dared openly take
their part. The few converts they had lately made came to them in
secret, and warned them that their death was determined upon. Their
house was set on fire; in public, every face was averted from them; and
a new council was called to pronounce the decree of death. They appeared
before it with a front of such unflinching assurance, that their judges,
Indian-like, postponed the sentence. Yet it seemed impossible that they
should much longer escape. Brébeuf, therefore, wrote a letter of
farewell to his Superior, Le Jeune, at Quebec, and confided it to some
converts whom he could trust, to be carried by them to its destination.

"We are perhaps," he says, "about to give our blood and our lives in the
cause of our Master, Jesus Christ. It seems that His goodness will
accept this sacrifice, as regards me, in expiation of my great and
numberless sins, and that He will thus crown the past services and
ardent desires of all our Fathers here.... Blessed be His name forever,
that He has chosen us, among so many better than we, to aid him to bear
His cross in this land! In all things, His holy will be done!" He then
acquaints Le Jeune that he has directed the sacred vessels, and all else
belonging to the service of the altar, to be placed, in case of his
death, in the hands of Pierre, the convert whose baptism has been
described, and that especial care will be taken to preserve the
dictionary and other writings on the Huron language. The letter closes
with a request for masses and prayers. [12]

[12] The following is the conclusion of the letter (Le Mercier, Relation
des Hurons, 1638, 43.)

"En tout, sa sainte volonté soit faite; s'il veut que dés ceste heure
nous mourions, ô la bonne heure pour nous! s'il veut nous reseruer à
d'autres trauaux, qu'il soit beny; si vous entendez que Dieu ait
couronné nos petits trauaux, ou plustost nos desirs, benissez-le: car
c'est pour luy que nous desirons viure et mourir, et c'est luy qui nous
en donne la grace. Au reste si quelques-vns suruiuent, i'ay donné ordre
de tout ce qu'ils doiuent faire. I'ay esté d'aduis que nos Peres et nos
domestiques se retirent chez ceux qu'ils croyront estre leurs meilleurs
amis; i'ay donné charge qu'on porte chez Pierre nostre premier Chrestien
tout ce qui est de la Sacristie, sur tout qu'on ait vn soin particulier
de mettre en lieu d'asseurance le Dictionnaire et tout ce que nous auons
de la langue. Pour moy, si Dieu me fait la grace d'aller au Ciel, ie
prieray Dieu pour eux, pour les pauures Hurons, et n'oublieray pas
Vostre Reuerence.

"Apres tout, nous supplions V. R. et tous nos Peres de ne nous oublier
en leurs saincts Sacrifices et prieres, afin qu'en la vie et apres la
mort, il nous fasse misericorde; nous sommes tous en la vie et à
l'Eternité,

"De vostre Reuerence tres-humbles et tres-affectionnez seruiteurs en
Nostre Seigneur,

"Iean de Brebevf.
François Ioseph Le Mercier.
Pierre Chastellain.
Charles Garnier.
Pavl Ragveneav.

"En la Residence de la Conception, à Ossossané,
ce 28 Octobre.

"I'ay laissé en la Residence de sainct Ioseph les Peres Pierre Piiart,
et Isaac Iogves, dans les mesmes sentimens."

The imperilled Jesuits now took a singular, but certainly a very wise
step. They gave one of those farewell feasts--festins d'adieu--which
Huron custom enjoined on those about to die, whether in the course of
Nature or by public execution. Being interpreted, it was a declaration
that the priests knew their danger, and did not shrink from it. It might
have the effect of changing overawed friends into open advocates, and
even of awakening a certain sympathy in the breasts of an assembly on
whom a bold bearing could rarely fail of influence. The house was packed
with feasters, and Brébeuf addressed them as usual on his unfailing
themes of God, Paradise, and Hell. The throng listened in gloomy
silence; and each, when he had emptied his bowl, rose and departed,
leaving his entertainers in utter doubt as to his feelings and
intentions. From this time forth, however, the clouds that overhung the
Fathers became less dark and threatening. Voices were heard in their
defence, and looks were less constantly averted. They ascribed the
change to the intercession of St. Joseph, to whom they had vowed a nine
days' devotion. By whatever cause produced, the lapse of a week wrought
a hopeful improvement in their prospects; and when they went out of
doors in the morning, it was no longer with the expectation of having a
hatchet struck into their brains as they crossed the threshold. [13]

[13] "Tant y a que depuis le 6. de Nouembre que nous acheuasmes nos
Messes votiues à son honneur, nous auons iouy d'vn repos incroyable,
nons nous en emerueillons nous-mesmes de iour en iour, quand nous
considerons en quel estat estoient nos affaires il n'y a que huict
iours."--Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1638, 44.

The persecution of the Jesuits as sorcerers continued, in an
intermittent form, for years; and several of them escaped very narrowly.
In a house at Ossossané, a young Indian rushed suddenly upon François Du
Peron, and lifted his tomahawk to brain him, when a squaw caught his
hand. Paul Ragueneau wore a crucifix, from which hung the image of a
skull. An Indian, thinking it a charm, snatched it from him. The priest
tried to recover it, when the savage, his eyes glittering with murder,
brandished his hatchet to strike. Ragueneau stood motionless, waiting
the blow. His assailant forbore, and withdrew, muttering. Pierre
Chaumonot was emerging from a house at the Huron town called by the
Jesuits St. Michel, where he had just baptized a dying girl, when her
brother, standing hidden in the doorway, struck him on the head with a
stone. Chaumonot, severely wounded, staggered without falling, when the
Indian sprang upon him with his tomahawk. The bystanders arrested the
blow. François Le Mercier, in the midst of a crowd of Indians in a house
at the town called St. Louis, was assailed by a noted chief, who rushed
in, raving like a madman, and, in a torrent of words, charged upon him
all the miseries of the nation. Then, snatching a brand from the fire,
he shook it in the Jesuit's face, and told him that he should be burned
alive. Le Mercier met him with looks as determined as his own, till,
abashed at his undaunted front and bold denunciations, the Indian stood
confounded. [14]

[14] The above incidents are from Le Mercier, Lalemant, Bressani, the
autobiography of Chaumonot, the unpublished writings of Garnier, and the
ancient manuscript volume of memoirs of the early Canadian missionaries,
at St. Mary's College, Montreal.

The belief that their persecutions were owing to the fury of the Devil,
driven to desperation by the home-thrusts he had received at their
hands, was an unfailing consolation to the priests. "Truly," writes Le
Mercier, "it is an unspeakable happiness for us, in the midst of this
barbarism, to hear the roaring of the demons, and to see Earth and Hell
raging against a handful of men who will not even defend themselves."
[15] In all the copious records of this dark period, not a line gives
occasion to suspect that one of this loyal band flinched or hesitated.
The iron Brébeuf, the gentle Garnier, the all-enduring Jogues, the
enthusiastic Chaumonot, Lalemant, Le Mercier, Chatelain, Daniel, Pijart,
Ragueneau, Du Peron, Poncet, Le Moyne,--one and all bore themselves with
a tranquil boldness, which amazed the Indians and enforced their
respect.

[15] "C'est veritablement un bonheur indicible pour nous, au milieu de
cette barbarie, d'entendre les rugissemens des demons, & de voir tout
l'Enfer & quasi tous les hommes animez & remplis de fureur contre une
petite poignée de gens qui ne voudroient pas se defendre."--Relation des
Hurons, 1640, 31 (Cramoisy).

Father Jerome Lalemant, in his journal of 1639, is disposed to draw an
evil augury for the mission from the fact that as yet no priest had been
put to death, inasmuch as it is a received maxim that the blood of the
martyrs is the seed of the Church. [16] He consoles himself with the
hope that the daily life of the missionaries may be accepted as a living
martyrdom; since abuse and threats without end, the smoke, fleas, filth,
and dogs of the Indian lodges,--which are, he says, little images of
Hell,--cold, hunger, and ceaseless anxiety, and all these continued for
years, are a portion to which many might prefer the stroke of a
tomahawk. Reasonable as the Father's hope may be, its expression proved
needless in the sequel; for the Huron church was not destined to suffer
from a lack of martyrdom in any form.

[16] "Nous auons quelque fois douté, sçauoir si on pouuoit esperer la
conuersion de ce païs sans qu'il y eust effusion de sang: le principe
reçeu ce semble dans l'Eglise de Dieu, que le sang des Martyrs est la
semence des Chrestiens, me faisoit conclure pour lors, que cela n'estoit
pas à esperer, voire mesme qu'il n'étoit pas à souhaiter, consideré la
gloire qui reuient à Dieu de la constance des Martyrs, du sang desquels
tout le reste de la terre ayant tantost esté abreuué, ce seroit vne
espece de malediction, que ce quartier du monde ne participast point au
bonheur d'auoir contribué à l'esclat de ceste gloire."--Lalemant,
Relation des Hurons, 1639, 56, 57.

CHAPTER XI.
1638-1640.

PRIEST AND PAGAN.

We have already touched on the domestic life of the Jesuits. That we may
the better know them, we will follow one of their number on his journey
towards the scene of his labors, and observe what awaited him on his
arrival.

Father François Du Peron came up the Ottawa in a Huron canoe in
September, 1638, and was well treated by the Indian owner of the vessel.
Lalemant and Le Moyne, who had set out from Three Rivers before him, did
not fare so well. The former was assailed by an Algonquin of Allumette
Island, who tried to strangle him in revenge for the death of a child,
which a Frenchman in the employ of the Jesuits had lately bled, but had
failed to restore to health by the operation. Le Moyne was abandoned by
his Huron conductors, and remained for a fortnight by the bank of the
river, with a French attendant who supported him by hunting. Another
Huron, belonging to the flotilla that carried Du Peron, then took him
into his canoe; but, becoming tired of him, was about to leave him on a
rock in the river, when his brother priest bribed the savage with a
blanket to carry him to his journey's end.

It was midnight, on the twenty-ninth of September, when Du Peron landed
on the shore of Thunder Bay, after paddling without rest since one
o'clock of the preceding morning. The night was rainy, and Ossossané was
about fifteen miles distant. His Indian companions were impatient to
reach their towns; the rain prevented the kindling of a fire; while the
priest, who for a long time had not heard mass, was eager to renew his
communion as soon as possible. Hence, tired and hungry as he was, he
shouldered his sack, and took the path for Ossossané without breaking
his fast. He toiled on, half-spent, amid the ceaseless pattering,
trickling, and whispering of innumerable drops among innumerable leaves,
till, as day dawned, he reached a clearing, and descried through the
mists a cluster of Huron houses. Faint and bedrenched, he entered the
principal one, and was greeted with the monosyllable "Shay!"--"Welcome!"
A squaw spread a mat for him by the fire, roasted four ears of Indian
corn before the coals, baked two squashes in the embers, ladled from her
kettle a dish of sagamite, and offered them to her famished guest.
Missionaries seem to have been a novelty at this place; for, while the
Father breakfasted, a crowd, chiefly of children, gathered about him,
and stared at him in silence. One examined the texture of his cassock;
another put on his hat; a third took the shoes from his feet, and tried
them on her own. Du Peron requited his entertainers with a few trinkets,
and begged, by signs, a guide to Ossossané. An Indian accordingly set
out with him, and conducted him to the mission-house, which he reached
at six o'clock in the evening.

Here he found a warm welcome, and little other refreshment. In respect
to the commodities of life, the Jesuits were but a step in advance of
the Indians. Their house, though well ventilated by numberless crevices
in its bark walls, always smelt of smoke, and, when the wind was in
certain quarters, was filled with it to suffocation. At their meals, the
Fathers sat on logs around the fire, over which their kettle was slung
in the Indian fashion. Each had his wooden platter, which, from the
difficulty of transportation, was valued, in the Huron country, at the
price of a robe of beaver-skin, or a hundred francs. [1] Their food
consisted of sagamite, or "mush," made of pounded Indian-corn, boiled
with scraps of smoked fish. Chaumonot compares it to the paste used for
papering the walls of houses. The repast was occasionally varied by a
pumpkin or squash baked in the ashes, or, in the season, by Indian corn
roasted in the ear. They used no salt whatever. They could bring their
cumbrous pictures, ornaments, and vestments through the savage journey
of the Ottawa; but they could not bring the common necessaries of life.
By day, they read and studied by the light that streamed in through the
large smoke-holes in the roof,--at night, by the blaze of the fire.
Their only candles were a few of wax, for the altar. They cultivated a
patch of ground, but raised nothing on it except wheat for making the
sacramental bread. Their food was supplied by the Indians, to whom they
gave, in return, cloth, knives, awls, needles, and various trinkets.
Their supply of wine for the Eucharist was so scanty, that they limited
themselves to four or five drops for each mass. [2]

[1] "Nos plats, quoyque de bois, nous coûtent plus cher que les vôtres;
ils sont de la valeur d'une robe de castor, c'est à dire cent
francs."--Lettre du P. Du Peron à son Frère, 27 Avril, 1639.--The
Father's appraisement seems a little questionable.
[2] The above particulars are drawn from a long letter of François Du
Peron to his brother, Joseph-Imbert Du Peron, dated at La Conception
(Ossossané), April 27, 1639, and from a letter, equally long, of
Chaumonot to Father Philippe Nappi, dated Du Pays des Hurons, May 26,
1640. Both are in Carayon. These private letters of the Jesuits, of
which many are extant, in some cases written on birch-bark, are
invaluable as illustrations of the subject.

The Jesuits soon learned to make wine from wild grapes. Those in Maine
and Acadia, at a later period, made good candles from the waxy fruit of
the shrub known locally as the "bayberry."

Their life was regulated with a conventual strictness. At four in the
morning, a bell roused them from the sheets of bark on which they slept.
Masses, private devotions, reading religious books, and breakfasting,
filled the time until eight, when they opened their door and admitted
the Indians. As many of these proved intolerable nuisances, they took
what Lalemant calls the honnête liberty of turning out the most
intrusive and impracticable,--an act performed with all tact and
courtesy, and rarely taken in dudgeon. Having thus winnowed their
company, they catechized those that remained, as opportunity offered. In
the intervals, the guests squatted by the fire and smoked their pipes.

As among the Spartan virtues of the Hurons that of thieving was
especially conspicuous, it was necessary that one or more of the Fathers
should remain on guard at the house all day. The rest went forth on
their missionary labors, baptizing and instructing, as we have seen. To
each priest who could speak Huron [3] was assigned a certain number of
houses,--in some instances, as many as forty; and as these often had
five or six fires, with two families to each, his spiritual flock was as
numerous as it was intractable. It was his care to see that none of the
number died without baptism, and by every means in his power to commend
the doctrines of his faith to the acceptance of those in health.

[3] At the end of the year 1638, there were seven priests who spoke
Huron, and three who had begun to learn it.

At dinner, which was at two o'clock, grace was said in Huron,--for the
benefit of the Indians present,--and a chapter of the Bible was read
aloud during the meal. At four or five, according to the season, the
Indians were dismissed, the door closed, and the evening spent in
writing, reading, studying the language, devotion, and conversation on
the affairs of the mission.

The local missions here referred to embraced Ossossané and the villages
of the neighborhood; but the priests by no means confined themselves
within these limits. They made distant excursions, two in company, until
every house in every Huron town had heard the annunciation of the new
doctrine. On these journeys, they carried blankets or large mantles at
their backs, for sleeping in at night, besides a supply of needles,
awls, beads, and other small articles, to pay for their lodging and
entertainment: for the Hurons, hospitable without stint to each other,
expected full compensation from the Jesuits.

At Ossossané, the house of the Jesuits no longer served the double
purpose of dwelling and chapel. In 1638, they had in their pay twelve
artisans and laborers, sent up from Quebec, [4] who had built, before
the close of the year, a chapel of wood. [5] Hither they removed their
pictures and ornaments; and here, in winter, several fires were kept
burning, for the comfort of the half-naked converts. [6] Of these they
now had at Ossossané about sixty,--a large, though evidently not a very
solid nucleus for the Huron church,--and they labored hard and anxiously
to confirm and multiply them. Of a Sunday morning in winter, one could
have seen them coming to mass, often from a considerable distance, "as
naked," says Lalemant, "as your hand, except a skin over their backs
like a mantle, and, in the coldest weather, a few skins around their
feet and legs." They knelt, mingled with the French mechanics, before
the altar,--very awkwardly at first, for the posture was new to
them,--and all received the sacrament together: a spectacle which, as
the missionary chronicler declares, repaid a hundred times all the labor
of their conversion. [7]

[4] Du Peron in Carayon, 173.
[5] "La chapelle est faite d'une charpente bien jolie, semblable
presque, en façon et grandeur, à notre chapelle de St. Julien."--Ibid.,
183.
[6] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1639, 62.
[7] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1639, 62.

Some of the principal methods of conversion are curiously illustrated in
a letter written by Garnier to a friend in France. "Send me," he says,
"a picture of Christ without a beard." Several Virgins are also
requested, together with a variety of souls in perdition--âmes
damnées--most of them to be mounted in a portable form. Particular
directions are given with respect to the demons, dragons, flames, and
other essentials of these works of art. Of souls in bliss--âmes
bienheureuses--he thinks that one will be enough. All the pictures must
be in full face, not in profile; and they must look directly at the
beholder, with open eyes. The colors should be bright; and there must be
no flowers or animals, as these distract the attention of the Indians.
[8]

[8] Garnier, Lettre 17me, MS. These directions show an excellent
knowledge of Indian peculiarities. The Indian dislike of a beard is well
known. Catlin, the painter, once caused a fatal quarrel among a party of
Sioux, by representing one of them in profile, whereupon he was jibed by
a rival as being but half a man.

The first point with the priests was of course to bring the objects of
their zeal to an acceptance of the fundamental doctrines of the Roman
Church; but, as the mind of the savage was by no means that beautiful
blank which some have represented it, there was much to be erased as
well as to be written. They must renounce a host of superstitions, to
which they were attached with a strange tenacity, or which may rather be
said to have been ingrained in their very natures. Certain points of
Christian morality were also strongly urged by the missionaries, who
insisted that the convert should take but one wife, and not cast her off
without grave cause, and that he should renounce the gross license
almost universal among the Hurons. Murder, cannibalism, and several
other offences, were also forbidden. Yet, while laboring at the work of
conversion with an energy never surpassed, and battling against the
powers of darkness with the mettle of paladins, the Jesuits never had
the folly to assume towards the Indians a dictatorial or overbearing
tone. Gentleness, kindness, and patience were the rule of their
intercourse. [9] They studied the nature of the savage, and conformed
themselves to it with an admirable tact. Far from treating the Indian as
an alien and barbarian, they would fain have adopted him as a
countryman; and they proposed to the Hurons that a number of young
Frenchmen should settle among them, and marry their daughters in solemn
form. The listeners were gratified at an overture so flattering. "But
what is the use," they demanded, "of so much ceremony? If the Frenchmen
want our women, they are welcome to come and take them whenever they
please, as they always used to do." [10]

[9] The following passage from the "Divers Sentimens," before cited,
will illustrate this point. "Pour conuertir les Sauuages, il n'y faut
pas tant de science que de bonté et vertu bien solide. Les quatre
Elemens d'vn homme Apostolique en la Nouuelle France sont l'Affabilité,
l'Humilité, la Patience et vne Charité genereuse. Le zele trop ardent
brusle plus qu'il n'eschauffe, et gaste tout; il faut vne grande
magnanimité et condescendance, pour attirer peu à peu ces Sauuages. Ils
n'entendent pas bien nostre Theologie, mais ils entendent parfaictement
bien nostre humilité et nostre affabilité, et se laissent gaigner."

So too Brébeuf, in a letter to Vitelleschi, General of the Jesuits (see
Carayon, 163): "Ce qu'il faut demander, avant tout, des ouvriers
destinés à cette mission, c'est une douceur inaltérable et une patience
à toute épreuve."
[10] Le Mercier, Relation des Hurons, 1637, 160.

The Fathers are well agreed that their difficulties did not arise from
any natural defect of understanding on the part of the Indians, who,
according to Chaumonot, were more intelligent than the French peasantry,
and who, in some instances, showed in their way a marked capacity. It
was the inert mass of pride, sensuality, indolence, and superstition
that opposed the march of the Faith, and in which the Devil lay
intrenched as behind impregnable breastworks. [11]

[11] In this connection, the following specimen of Indian reasoning is
worth noting. At the height of the pestilence, a Huron said to one of
the priests, "I see plainly that your God is angry with us because we
will not believe and obey him. Ihonatiria, where you first taught his
word, is entirely ruined. Then you came here to Ossossané, and we would
not listen; so Ossossané is ruined too. This year you have been all
through our country, and found scarcely any who would do what God
commands; therefore the pestilence is everywhere." After premises so
hopeful, the Fathers looked for a satisfactory conclusion; but the
Indian proceeded--"My opinion is, that we ought to shut you out from all
the houses, and stop our ears when you speak of God, so that we cannot
hear. Then we shall not be so guilty of rejecting the truth, and he will
not punish us so cruelly."--Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1640, 80.

It soon became evident that it was easier to make a convert than to keep
him. Many of the Indians clung to the idea that baptism was a safeguard
against pestilence and misfortune; and when the fallacy of this notion
was made apparent, their zeal cooled. Their only amusements consisted of
feasts, dances, and games, many of which were, to a greater or less
degree, of a superstitious character; and as the Fathers could rarely
prove to their own satisfaction the absence of the diabolic element in
any one of them, they proscribed the whole indiscriminately, to the
extreme disgust of the neophyte. His countrymen, too, beset him with
dismal prognostics: as, "You will kill no more game,"--"All your hair
will come out before spring," and so forth. Various doubts also assailed
him with regard to the substantial advantages of his new profession; and
several converts were filled with anxiety in view of the probable want
of tobacco in Heaven, saying that they could not do without it. [12] Nor
was it pleasant to these incipient Christians, as they sat in class
listening to the instructions of their teacher, to find themselves and
him suddenly made the targets of a shower of sticks, snowballs,
corn-cobs, and other rubbish, flung at them by a screeching rabble of
vagabond boys. [13]

[12] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1639, 80.
[13] Ibid., 78.

Yet, while most of the neophytes demanded an anxious and diligent
cultivation, there were a few of excellent promise; and of one or two
especially, the Fathers, in the fulness of their satisfaction, assure us
again and again "that they were savage only in name." [14]

[14] From June, 1639, to June, 1640, about a thousand persons were
baptized. Of these, two hundred and sixty were infants, and many more
were children. Very many died soon after baptism. Of the whole number,
less than twenty were baptized in health,--a number much below that of
the preceding year.

The following is a curious case of precocious piety. It is that of a
child at St. Joseph. "Elle n'a que deux ans, et fait joliment le signe
de la croix, et prend elle-même de l'eau bénite; et une fois se mit à
crier, sortant de la Chapelle, à cause que sa mère qui la portoit ne lui
avoit donné le loisir d'en prendre. Il l'a fallu reporter en
prendre."--Lettres de Garnier, MSS.

As the town of Ihonatiria, where the Jesuits had made their first abode,
was ruined by the pestilence, the mission established there, and known
by the name of St. Joseph, was removed, in the summer of 1638, to
Teanaustayé, a large town at the foot of a range of hills near the
southern borders of the Huron territory. The Hurons, this year, had had
unwonted successes in their war with the Iroquois, and had taken, at
various times, nearly a hundred prisoners. Many of these were brought to
the seat of the new mission of St. Joseph, and put to death with
frightful tortures, though not before several had been converted and
baptized. The torture was followed, in spite of the remonstrances of the
priests, by those cannibal feasts customary with the Hurons on such
occasions. Once, when the Fathers had been strenuous in their
denunciations, a hand of the victim, duly prepared, was flung in at
their door, as an invitation to join in the festivity. As the owner of
the severed member had been baptized, they dug a hole in their chapel,
and buried it with solemn rites of sepulture. [15]

[15] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1639, 70.

CHAPTER XII.
1639, 1640.

THE TOBACCO NATION--THE NEUTRALS.

It had been the first purpose of the Jesuits to form permanent missions
in each of the principal Huron towns; but, before the close of the year
1639, the difficulties and risks of this scheme had become fully
apparent. They resolved, therefore, to establish one central station, to
be a base of operations, and, as it were, a focus, whence the light of
the Faith should radiate through all the wilderness around. It was to
serve at once as residence, fort, magazine, hospital, and convent. Hence
the priests would set forth on missionary expeditions far and near; and
hither they might retire, as to an asylum, in times of sickness or
extreme peril. Here the neophytes could be gathered together, safe from
perverting influences; and here in time a Christian settlement, Hurons
mingled with Frenchmen, might spring up and thrive under the shadow of
the cross.

The site of the new station was admirably chosen. The little river Wye
flows from the southward into the Matchedash Bay of Lake Huron, and, at
about a mile from its mouth, passes through a small lake. The Jesuits
made choice of the right bank of the Wye, where it issues from this
lake,--gained permission to build from the Indians, though not without
difficulty,--and began their labors with an abundant energy, and a very
deficient supply of workmen and tools. The new establishment was called
Sainte Marie. The house at Teanaustayé, and the house and chapel at
Ossossané, were abandoned, and all was concentrated at this spot. On one
hand, it had a short water communication with Lake Huron; and on the
other, its central position gave the readiest access to every part of
the Huron territory.

During the summer before, the priests had made a survey of their field
of action, visited all the Huron towns, and christened each of them with
the name of a saint. This heavy draft on the calendar was followed by
another, for the designation of the nine towns of the neighboring and
kindred people of the Tobacco Nation. [1] The Huron towns were portioned
into four districts, while those of the Tobacco Nation formed a fifth,
and each district was assigned to the charge of two or more priests. In
November and December, they began their missionary excursions,--for the
Indians were now gathered in their settlements,--and journeyed on foot
through the denuded forests, in mud and snow, bearing on their backs the
vessels and utensils necessary for the service of the altar.

[1] See Introduction.

The new and perilous mission of the Tobacco Nation fell to Garnier and
Jogues. They were well chosen; and yet neither of them was robust by
nature, in body or mind, though Jogues was noted for personal activity.
The Tobacco Nation lay at the distance of a two days' journey from the
Huron towns, among the mountains at the head of Nottawassaga Bay. The
two missionaries tried to find a guide at Ossossané; but none would go
with them, and they set forth on their wild and unknown pilgrimage
alone.

The forests were full of snow; and the soft, moist flakes were still
falling thickly, obscuring the air, beplastering the gray trunks,
weighing to the earth the boughs of spruce and pine, and hiding every
footprint of the narrow path. The Fathers missed their way, and toiled
on till night, shaking down at every step from the burdened branches a
shower of fleecy white on their black cassocks. Night overtook them in a
spruce swamp. Here they made a fire with great difficulty, cut the
evergreen boughs, piled them for a bed, and lay down. The storm
presently ceased; and, "praised be God," writes one of the travellers,
"we passed a very good night." [2]

[2] Jogues and Garnier in Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1640, 95.

In the morning they breakfasted on a morsel of corn bread, and, resuming
their journey, fell in with a small party of Indians, whom they followed
all day without food. At eight in the evening they reached the first
Tobacco town, a miserable cluster of bark cabins, hidden among forests
and half buried in snow-drifts, where the savage children, seeing the
two black apparitions, screamed that Famine and the Pest were coming.
Their evil fame had gone before them. They were unwelcome guests;
nevertheless, shivering and famished as they were, in the cold and
darkness, they boldly pushed their way into one of these dens of
barbarism. It was precisely like a Huron house. Five or six fires blazed
on the earthen floor, and around them were huddled twice that number of
families, sitting, crouching, standing, or flat on the ground; old and
young, women and men, children and dogs, mingled pell-mell. The scene
would have been a strange one by daylight: it was doubly strange by the
flicker and glare of the lodge-fires. Scowling brows, sidelong looks of
distrust and fear, the screams of scared children, the scolding of
squaws, the growling of wolfish dogs,--this was the greeting of the
strangers. The chief man of the household treated them at first with the
decencies of Indian hospitality; but when he saw them kneeling in the
litter and ashes at their devotions, his suppressed fears found vent,
and he began a loud harangue, addressed half to them and half to the
Indians. "Now, what are these okies doing? They are making charms to
kill us, and destroy all that the pest has spared in this house. I heard
that they were sorcerers; and now, when it is too late, I believe it."
[3] It is wonderful that the priests escaped the tomahawk. Nowhere is
the power of courage, faith, and an unflinching purpose more strikingly
displayed than in the record of these missions.

[3] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1640, 96.

In other Tobacco towns their reception was much the same; but at the
largest, called by them St. Peter and St. Paul, they fared worse. They
reached it on a winter afternoon. Every door of its capacious bark
houses was closed against them; and they heard the squaws within calling
on the young men to go out and split their heads, while children
screamed abuse at the black-robed sorcerers. As night approached, they
left the town, when a band of young men followed them, hatchet in hand,
to put them to death. Darkness, the forest, and the mountain favored
them; and, eluding their pursuers, they escaped. Thus began the mission
of the Tobacco Nation.

In the following November, a yet more distant and perilous mission was
begun. Brébeuf and Chaumonot set out for the Neutral Nation. This fierce
people, as we have already seen, occupied that part of Canada which lies
immediately north of Lake Erie, while a wing of their territory extended
across the Niagara into Western New York. [4] In their athletic
proportions, the ferocity of their manners, and the extravagance of
their superstitions, no American tribe has ever exceeded them. They
carried to a preposterous excess the Indian notion, that insanity is
endowed with a mysterious and superhuman power. Their country was full
of pretended maniacs, who, to propitiate their guardian spirits, or
okies, and acquire the mystic virtue which pertained to madness, raved
stark naked through the villages, scattering the brands of the
lodge-fires, and upsetting everything in their way.

[4] Introduction.--The river Niagara was at this time, 1640, well known
to the Jesuits, though none of them had visited it. Lalemant speaks of
it as the "famous river of this nation" (the Neutrals). The following
translation, from his Relation of 1641, shows that both Lake Ontario and
Lake Erie had already taken their present names.

"This river" (the Niagara) "is the same by which our great lake of the
Hurons, or Fresh Sea, discharges itself, in the first place, into Lake
Erie (le lac d'Erié), or the Lake of the Cat Nation. Then it enters the
territories of the Neutral Nation, and takes the name of Onguiaahra
(Niagara), until it discharges itself into Ontario, or the Lake of St.
Louis; whence at last issues the river which passes before Quebec, and
is called the St. Lawrence." He makes no allusion to the cataract, which
is first mentioned as follows by Ragueneau, in the Relation of 1648.

"Nearly south of this same Neutral Nation there is a great lake, about
two hundred leagues in circuit, named Erie (Erié), which is formed by
the discharge of the Fresh Sea, and which precipitates itself by a
cataract of frightful height into a third lake, named Ontario, which we
call Lake St. Louis."--Relation des Hurons, 1648, 46.

The two priests left Sainte Marie on the second of November, found a
Huron guide at St. Joseph, and, after a dreary march of five days
through the forest, reached the first Neutral town. Advancing thence,
they visited in turn eighteen others; and their progress was a storm of
maledictions. Brébeuf especially was accounted the most pestilent of
sorcerers. The Hurons, restrained by a superstitious awe, and unwilling
to kill the priests, lest they should embroil themselves with the French
at Quebec, conceived that their object might be safely gained by
stirring up the Neutrals to become their executioners. To that end, they
sent two emissaries to the Neutral towns, who, calling the chiefs and
young warriors to a council, denounced the Jesuits as destroyers of the
human race, and made their auditors a gift of nine French hatchets on
condition that they would put them to death. It was now that Brébeuf,
fully conscious of the danger, half starved and half frozen, driven with
revilings from every door, struck and spit upon by pretended maniacs,
beheld in a vision that great cross, which, as we have seen, moved
onward through the air, above the wintry forests that stretched towards
the land of the Iroquois. [5]

[5] See ante, (page 109).

Chaumonot records yet another miracle. "One evening, when all the chief
men of the town were deliberating in council whether to put us to death,
Father Brébeuf, while making his examination of conscience, as we were
together at prayers, saw the vision of a spectre, full of fury, menacing
us both with three javelins which he held in his hands. Then he hurled
one of them at us; but a more powerful hand caught it as it flew: and
this took place a second and a third time, as he hurled his two
remaining javelins.... Late at night our host came back from the
council, where the two Huron emissaries had made their gift of hatchets
to have us killed. He wakened us to say that three times we had been at
the point of death; for the young men had offered three times to strike
the blow, and three times the old men had dissuaded them. This explained
the meaning of Father Brébeuf's vision." [6]

[6] Chaumonot, Vie, 55.

They had escaped for the time; but the Indians agreed among themselves,
that thenceforth no one should give them shelter. At night, pierced with
cold and faint with hunger, they found every door closed against them.
They stood and watched, saw an Indian issue from a house, and, by a
quick movement, pushed through the half-open door into this abode of
smoke and filth. The inmates, aghast at their boldness, stared in
silence. Then a messenger ran out to carry the tidings, and an angry
crowd collected.

"Go out, and leave our country," said an old chief, "or we will put you
into the kettle, and make a feast of you."

"I have had enough of the dark-colored flesh of our enemies," said a
young brave; "I wish to know the taste of white meat, and I will eat
yours."

A warrior rushed in like a madman, drew his bow, and aimed the arrow at
Chaumonot. "I looked at him fixedly," writes the Jesuit, "and commended
myself in full confidence to St. Michael. Without doubt, this great
archangel saved us; for almost immediately the fury of the warrior was
appeased, and the rest of our enemies soon began to listen to the
explanation we gave them of our visit to their country." [7]

[7] Ibid., 57.

The mission was barren of any other fruit than hardship and danger, and
after a stay of four months the two priests resolved to return. On the
way, they met a genuine act of kindness. A heavy snow-storm arresting
their progress, a Neutral woman took them into her lodge, entertained
them for two weeks with her best fare, persuaded her father and
relatives to befriend them, and aided them to make a vocabulary of the
dialect. Bidding their generous hostess farewell, they journeyed
northward, through the melting snows of spring, and reached Sainte Marie
in safety. [8]

[8] Lalemant, in his Relation of 1641, gives the narrative of this
mission at length. His account coincides perfectly with the briefer
notice of Chaumonot in his Autobiography. Chaumonot describes the
difficulties of the journey very graphically in a letter to his friend,
Father Nappi, dated Aug. 3, 1640, preserved in Carayon. See also the
next letter, Brébeuf au T. R. P. Mutio Vitelleschi, 20 Août, 1641.

The Récollet La Roche Dallion had visited the Neutrals fourteen years
before, (see Introduction, note,) and, like his two successors, had been
seriously endangered by Huron intrigues.

The Jesuits had borne all that the human frame seems capable of bearing.
They had escaped as by miracle from torture and death. Did their zeal
flag or their courage fail? A fervor intense and unquenchable urged them
on to more distant and more deadly ventures. The beings, so near to
mortal sympathies, so human, yet so divine, in whom their faith
impersonated and dramatized the great principles of Christian
truth,--virgins, saints, and angels,--hovered over them, and held before
their raptured sight crowns of glory and garlands of immortal bliss.
They burned to do, to suffer, and to die; and now, from out a living
martyrdom, they turned their heroic gaze towards an horizon dark with
perils yet more appalling, and saw in hope the day when they should bear
the cross into the blood-stained dens of the Iroquois. [9]

[9] This zeal was in no degree due to success; for in 1641, after seven
years of toil, the mission counted only about fifty living
converts,--a falling off from former years.

But, in this exaltation and tension of the powers, was there no moment
when the recoil of Nature claimed a temporary sway? When, an exile from
his kind, alone, beneath the desolate rock and the gloomy pine-trees,
the priest gazed forth on the pitiless wilderness and the hovels of its
dark and ruthless tenants, his thoughts, it may be, flew longingly
beyond those wastes of forest and sea that lay between him and the home
of his boyhood: or rather, led by a deeper attraction, they revisited
the ancient centre of his faith, and he seemed to stand once more in
that gorgeous temple, where, shrined in lazuli and gold, rest the
hallowed bones of Loyola. Column and arch and dome rise upon his vision,
radiant in painted light, and trembling with celestial music. Again he
kneels before the altar, from whose tablature beams upon him that
loveliest of shapes in which the imagination of man has embodied the
spirit of Christianity. The illusion overpowers him. A thrill shakes his
frame, and he bows in reverential rapture. No longer a memory, no longer
a dream, but a visioned presence, distinct and luminous in the forest
shades, the Virgin stands before him. Prostrate on the rocky earth, he
adores the benign angel of his ecstatic faith, then turns with rekindled
fervors to his stern apostleship.

Now, by the shores of Thunder Bay, the Huron traders freight their birch
vessels for their yearly voyage; and, embarked with them, let us, too,
revisit the rock of Quebec.

CHAPTER XIII.
1636-1646.

QUEBEC AND ITS TENANTS.

I have traced, in another volume, the life and death of the noble
founder of New France, Samuel de Champlain. It was on Christmas Day,
1635, that his heroic spirit bade farewell to the frame it had animated,
and to the rugged cliff where he had toiled so long to lay the
corner-stone of a Christian empire.

Quebec was without a governor. Who should succeed Champlain? and would
his successor be found equally zealous for the Faith, and friendly to
the mission? These doubts, as he himself tells us, agitated the mind of
the Father Superior, Le Jeune; but they were happily set at rest, when,
on a morning in June, he saw a ship anchoring in the basin below, and,
hastening with his brethren to the landing-place, was there met by
Charles Huault de Montmagny, a Knight of Malta, followed by a train of
officers and gentlemen. As they all climbed the rock together, Montmagny
saw a crucifix planted by the path. He instantly fell on his knees
before it; and nobles, soldiers, sailors, and priests imitated his
example. The Jesuits sang Te Deum at the church, and the cannon roared
from the adjacent fort. Here the new governor was scarcely installed,
when a Jesuit came in to ask if he would be godfather to an Indian about
to be baptized. "Most gladly," replied the pious Montmagny. He repaired
on the instant to the convert's hut, with a company of gayly apparelled
gentlemen; and while the inmates stared in amazement at the scarlet and
embroidery, he bestowed on the dying savage the name of Joseph, in honor
of the spouse of the Virgin and the patron of New France. [1] Three days
after, he was told that a dead proselyte was to be buried; on which,
leaving the lines of the new fortification he was tracing, he took in
hand a torch, De Lisle, his lieutenant, took another, Repentigny and St.
Jean, gentlemen of his suite, with a band of soldiers followed, two
priests bore the corpse, and thus all moved together in procession to
the place of burial. The Jesuits were comforted. Champlain himself had
not displayed a zeal so edifying. [2]

[1] Le Jeune, Relation, 1636, 5 (Cramoisy). "Monsieur le Gouverneur se
transporte aux Cabanes de ces pauures barbares, suivy d'une leste
Noblesse. Je vous laisse à penser quel estonnement à ces Peuples de voir
tant d'écarlate, tant de personnes bien faites sous leurs toits
d'écorce!"
[2] Ibid., 83 (Cramoisy).

A considerable reinforcement came out with Montmagny, and among the rest
several men of birth and substance, with their families and dependants.
"It was a sight to thank God for," exclaims Father Le Jeune, "to behold
these delicate young ladies and these tender infants issuing from their
wooden prison, like day from the shades of night." The Father, it will
be remembered, had for some years past seen nothing but squaws, with
papooses swathed like mummies and strapped to a board.

He was even more pleased with the contents of a huge packet of letters
that was placed in his hands, bearing the signatures of nuns, priests,
soldiers, courtiers, and princesses. A great interest in the mission had
been kindled in France. Le Jeune's printed Relations had been read with
avidity; and his Jesuit brethren, who, as teachers, preachers, and
confessors, had spread themselves through the nation, had successfully
fanned the rising flame. The Father Superior finds no words for his joy.
"Heaven," he exclaims, "is the conductor of this enterprise. Nature's
arms are not long enough to touch so many hearts." [3] He reads how in a
single convent, thirteen nuns have devoted themselves by a vow to the
work of converting the Indian women and children; how, in the church of
Montmartre, a nun lies prostrate day and night before the altar, praying
for the mission; [4] how "the Carmelites are all on fire, the Ursulines
full of zeal, the sisters of the Visitation have no words to speak their
ardor"; [5] how some person unknown, but blessed of Heaven, means to
found a school for Huron children; how the Duchesse d'Aiguillon has sent
out six workmen to build a hospital for the Indians; how, in every house
of the Jesuits, young priests turn eager eyes towards Canada; and how,
on the voyage thither, the devils raised a tempest, endeavoring, in vain
fury, to drown the invaders of their American domain. [6]

[3] "C'est Dieu qui conduit cette entreprise. La Nature n'a pas les bras
assez longs," etc.--Relation, 1636, 3.
[4] Brébeuf, Relation des Hurons, 1636, 76.
[5] Le Jeune, Relation, 1636, 6. Compare "Divers Sentimens," appended to
the Relation of 1635.
[6] "L'Enfer enrageant de nous veoir aller en la Nouuelle France pour
conuertir les infidelles et diminuer sa puissance, par dépit il
sousleuoit tous les Elemens contre nous, et vouloit abysmer la
flotte."--Divers Sentimens.

Great was Le Jeune's delight at the exalted rank of some of those who
gave their patronage to the mission; and again and again his
satisfaction flows from his pen in mysterious allusions to these eminent
persons. [7] In his eyes, the vicious imbecile who sat on the throne of
France was the anointed champion of the Faith, and the cruel and
ambitious priest who ruled king and nation alike was the chosen
instrument of Heaven. Church and State, linked in alliance close and
potential, played faithfully into each other's hands; and that
enthusiasm, in which the Jesuit saw the direct inspiration of God, was
fostered by all the prestige of royalty and all the patronage of power.
And, as often happens where the interests of a hierarchy are identified
with the interests of a ruling class, religion was become a fashion, as
graceful and as comforting as the courtier's embroidered mantle or the
court lady's robe of fur.

[7] Among his correspondents was the young Duc d'Enghien, afterwards the
Great Condé, at this time fifteen years old. "Dieu soit loüé! tout le
ciel de nostre chere Patrie nous promet de fauorables influences,
iusques à ce nouuel astre, qui commence à paroistre parmy ceux de la
premiere grandeur."--Le Jeune, Relation, 1636, 3, 4.

Such, we may well believe, was the complexion of the enthusiasm which
animated some of Le Jeune's noble and princely correspondents. But there
were deeper fervors, glowing in the still depths of convent cells, and
kindling the breasts of their inmates with quenchless longings. Yet we
hear of no zeal for the mission among religious communities of men. The
Jesuits regarded the field as their own, and desired no rivals. They
looked forward to the day when Canada should be another Paraguay. [8] It
was to the combustible hearts of female recluses that the torch was most
busily applied; and here, accordingly, blazed forth a prodigious and
amazing flame. "If all had their pious will," writes Le Jeune, "Quebec
would soon be flooded with nuns." [9]

[8] "Que si celuy qui a escrit cette lettre a leu la Relation de ce qui
se passe au Paraguais, qu'il a veu ce qui se fera un jour en la Nouuelle
France."--Le Jeune, Relation, 1637, 304 (Cramoisy).
[9] Chaulmer, Le Nouveau Monde Chrestien, 41, is eloquent on this theme.

Both Montmagny and De Lisle were half churchmen, for both were Knights
of Malta. More and more the powers spiritual engrossed the colony. As
nearly as might be, the sword itself was in priestly hands. The Jesuits
were all in all. Authority, absolute and without appeal, was vested in a
council composed of the governor, Le Jeune, and the syndic, an official
supposed to represent the interests of the inhabitants. [10] There was
no tribunal of justice, and the governor pronounced summarily on all
complaints. The church adjoined the fort; and before it was planted a
stake bearing a placard with a prohibition against blasphemy,
drunkenness, or neglect of mass and other religious rites. To the stake
was also attached a chain and iron collar; and hard by was a wooden
horse, whereon a culprit was now and then mounted by way of example and
warning. [11] In a community so absolutely priest-governed, overt
offences were, however, rare; and, except on the annual arrival of the
ships from France, when the rock swarmed with godless sailors, Quebec
was a model of decorum, and wore, as its chroniclers tell us, an aspect
unspeakably edifying.

[10] Le Clerc, Établissement de la Foy, Chap. XV.
[11] Le Jeune, Relation, 1636, 153, 154 (Cramoisy).

In the year 1640, various new establishments of religion and charity
might have been seen at Quebec. There was the beginning of a college and
a seminary for Huron children, an embryo Ursuline convent, an incipient
hospital, and a new Algonquin mission at a place called Sillery, four
miles distant. Champlain's fort had been enlarged and partly rebuilt in
stone by Montmagny, who had also laid out streets on the site of the
future city, though as yet the streets had no houses. Behind the fort,
and very near it, stood the church and a house for the Jesuits. Both
were of pine wood; and this year, 1640, both were burned to the ground,
to be afterwards rebuilt in stone. The Jesuits, however, continued to
occupy their rude mission-house of Notre-Dame des Anges, on the St.
Charles, where we first found them.

The country around Quebec was still an unbroken wilderness, with the
exception of a small clearing made by the Sieur Giffard on his seigniory
of Beauport, another made by M. de Puiseaux between Quebec and Sillery,
and possibly one or two feeble attempts in other quarters. [12] The
total population did not much exceed two hundred, including women and
children. Of this number, by far the greater part were agents of the fur
company known as the Hundred Associates, and men in their employ. Some
of these had brought over their families. The remaining inhabitants were
priests, nuns, and a very few colonists.

[12] For Giffard, Puiseaux, and other colonists, compare Langevin, Notes
sur les Archives de Notre-Dame de Beauport, 5, 6, 7; Ferland, Notes sur
les Archives de N. D. de Québec, 22, 24 (1863); Ibid., Cours d'Histoire
du Canada, I. 266; Le Jeune, Relation, 1636, 45; Faillon, Histoire de la
Colonie Française, I. c. iv., v.

The Company of the Hundred Associates was bound by its charter to send
to Canada four thousand colonists before the year 1643. [13] It had
neither the means nor the will to fulfil this engagement. Some of its
members were willing to make personal sacrifices for promoting the
missions, and building up a colony purely Catholic. Others thought only
of the profits of trade; and the practical affairs of the company had
passed entirely into the hands of this portion of its members. They
sought to evade obligations the fulfilment of which would have ruined
them. Instead of sending out colonists, they granted lands with the
condition that the grantees should furnish a certain number of settlers
to clear and till them, and these were to be credited to the Company.
[14] The grantees took the land, but rarely fulfilled the condition.
Some of these grants were corrupt and iniquitous. Thus, a son of Lauson,
president of the Company, received, in the name of a third person, a
tract of land on the south side of the St. Lawrence of sixty leagues
front. To this were added all the islands in that river, excepting those
of Montreal and Orleans, together with the exclusive right of fishing in
it through its whole extent. [15] Lauson sent out not a single colonist
to these vast concessions.

[13] See "Pioneers of France," 399.
[14] This appears in many early grants of the Company. Thus, in a grant
to Simon Le Maître, Jan. 15, 1636, "que les hommes que le dit ... fera
passer en la N. F. tourneront à la décharge de la dite Compagnie," etc.,
etc.--See Pièces sur la Tenure Seigneuriale, published by the Canadian
government, passim.
[15] Archives du Séminaire de Villemarie, cited by Faillon, I. 350.
Lauson's father owned Montreal. The son's grant extended from the River
St. Francis to a point far above Montreal.--La Fontaine, Mémoire sur la
Famille de Lauson.

There was no real motive for emigration. No persecution expelled the
colonist from his home; for none but good Catholics were tolerated in
New France. The settler could not trade with the Indians, except on
condition of selling again to the Company at a fixed price. He might
hunt, but he could not fish; and he was forced to beg or buy food for
years before he could obtain it from that rude soil in sufficient
quantity for the wants of his family. The Company imported provisions
every year for those in its employ; and of these supplies a portion was
needed for the relief of starving settlers. Giffard and his seven men on
his seigniory of Beauport were for some time the only
settlers--excepting, perhaps, the Hébert family--who could support
themselves throughout the year. The rigor of the climate repelled the
emigrant; nor were the attractions which Father Le Jeune held
forth--"piety, freedom, and independence"--of a nature to entice him
across the sea, when it is remembered that this freedom consisted in
subjection to the arbitrary will of a priest and a soldier, and in the
liability, should he forget to go to mass, of being made fast to a post
with a collar and chain, like a dog.

Aside from the fur trade of the Company, the whole life of the colony
was in missions, convents, religious schools, and hospitals. Here on the
rock of Quebec were the appendages, useful and otherwise, of an
old-established civilization. While as yet there were no inhabitants,
and no immediate hope of any, there were institutions for the care of
children, the sick, and the decrepit. All these were supported by a
charity in most cases precarious. The Jesuits relied chiefly on the
Company, who, by the terms of their patent, were obliged to maintain
religious worship. [16] Of the origin of the convent, hospital, and
seminary I shall soon have occasion to speak.

[16] It is a principle of the Jesuits, that each of its establishments
shall find a support of its own, and not be a burden on the general
funds of the Society. The Relations are full of appeals to the charity
of devout persons in behalf of the missions.

"Of what use to the country at this period could have been two
communities of cloistered nuns?" asks the modern historian of the
Ursulines of Quebec. And he answers by citing the words of Pope Gregory
the Great, who, when Rome was ravaged by famine, pestilence, and the
barbarians, declared that his only hope was in the prayers of the three
thousand nuns then assembled in the holy city.--Les Ursulines de Québec.
Introd., XI.

Quebec wore an aspect half military, half monastic. At sunrise and
sunset, a squad of soldiers in the pay of the Company paraded in the
fort; and, as in Champlain's time, the bells of the church rang morning,
noon, and night. Confessions, masses, and penances were punctiliously
observed; and, from the governor to the meanest laborer, the Jesuit
watched and guided all. The social atmosphere of New England itself was
not more suffocating. By day and by night, at home, at church, or at his
daily work, the colonist lived under the eyes of busy and over-zealous
priests. At times, the denizens of Quebec grew restless. In 1639,
deputies were covertly sent to beg relief in France, and "to represent
the hell in which the consciences of the colony were kept by the union
of the temporal and spiritual authority in the same hands." [17] In
1642, partial and ineffective measures were taken, with the countenance
of Richelieu, for introducing into New France an Order less greedy of
seigniories and endowments than the Jesuits, and less prone to political
encroachment. [18] No favorable result followed; and the colony remained
as before, in a pitiful state of cramping and dwarfing vassalage.

[17] "Pour leur representer la gehenne où estoient les consciences de la
Colonie, de se voir gouverné par les mesmes personnes pour le spirituel
et pour le temporel."--Le Clerc, I. 478.
[18] Declaration de Pierre Breant, par devant les Notaires du Roy, MS.
The Order was that of the Capuchins, who, like the Récollets, are a
branch of the Franciscans. Their introduction into Canada was prevented;
but they established themselves in Maine.

This is the view of a heretic. It was the aim of the founders of New
France to build on a foundation purely and supremely Catholic. What this
involved is plain; for no degree of personal virtue is a guaranty
against the evils which attach to the temporal rule of ecclesiastics.
Burning with love and devotion to Christ and his immaculate Mother, the
fervent and conscientious priest regards with mixed pity and indignation
those who fail in this supreme allegiance. Piety and charity alike
demand that he should bring back the rash wanderer to the fold of his
divine Master, and snatch him from the perdition into which his guilt
must otherwise plunge him. And while he, the priest, himself yields
reverence and obedience to the Superior, in whom he sees the
representative of Deity, it behooves him, in his degree, to require
obedience from those whom he imagines that God has confided to his
guidance. His conscience, then, acts in perfect accord with the love of
power innate in the human heart. These allied forces mingle with a
perplexing subtlety; pride, disguised even from itself, walks in the
likeness of love and duty; and a thousand times on the pages of history
we find Hell beguiling the virtues of Heaven to do its work. The
instinct of domination is a weed that grows rank in the shadow of the
temple, climbs over it, possesses it, covers its ruin, and feeds on its
decay. The unchecked sway of priests has always been the most
mischievous of tyrannies; and even were they all well-meaning and
sincere, it would be so still.

To the Jesuits, the atmosphere of Quebec was well-nigh celestial. "In
the climate of New France," they write, "one learns perfectly to seek
only God, to have no desire but God, no purpose but for God." And again:
"To live in New France is in truth to live in the bosom of God." "If,"
adds Le Jeune, "any one of those who die in this country goes to
perdition, I think he will be doubly guilty." [19]

[19] "La Nouuelle France est vn vray climat où on apprend parfaictement
bien à ne chercher que Dieu, ne desirer que Dieu seul, auoir l'intention
purement à Dieu, etc.... Viure en la Nouuelle France, c'est à vray dire
viure dans le sein de Dieu, et ne respirer que l'air de sa Diuine
conduite."--Divers Sentimens. "Si quelqu'un de ceux qui meurent en ces
contrées se damne, je croy qu'il sera doublement coupable."--Relation,
1640, 5 (Cramoisy).

The very amusements of this pious community were acts of religion. Thus,
on the fête-day of St. Joseph, the patron of New France, there was a
show of fireworks to do him honor. In the forty volumes of the Jesuit
Relations there is but one pictorial illustration; and this represents
the pyrotechnic contrivance in question, together with a figure of the
Governor in the act of touching it off. [20] But, what is more curious,
a Catholic writer of the present day, the Abbé Faillon, in an elaborate
and learned work, dilates at length on the details of the display; and
this, too, with a gravity which evinces his conviction that squibs,
rockets, blue-lights, and serpents are important instruments for the
saving of souls. [21] On May-Day of the same year, 1637, Montmagny
planted before the church a May-pole surmounted by a triple crown,
beneath which were three symbolical circles decorated with wreaths, and
bearing severally the names, Iesus, Maria, Ioseph; the soldiers drew up
before it, and saluted it with a volley of musketry. [22]

[20] Relation, 1637, 8. The Relations, as originally published,
comprised about forty volumes.
[21] Histoire de la Colonie Française, I. 291, 292.
[22] Relation, 1637, 82.

On the anniversary of the Dauphin's birth there was a dramatic
performance, in which an unbeliever, speaking Algonquin for the profit
of the Indians present, was hunted into Hell by fiends. [23] Religious
processions were frequent. In one of them, the Governor in a court dress
and a baptized Indian in beaver-skins were joint supporters of the
canopy which covered the Host. [24] In another, six Indians led the van,
arrayed each in a velvet coat of scarlet and gold sent them by the King.
Then came other Indian converts, two and two; then the foundress of the
Ursuline convent, with Indian children in French gowns; then all the
Indian girls and women, dressed after their own way; then the priests;
then the Governor; and finally the whole French population, male and
female, except the artillery-men at the fort, who saluted with their
cannon the cross and banner borne at the head of the procession. When
all was over, the Governor and the Jesuits rewarded the Indians with a
feast. [25]

[23] Vimont, Relation, 1640, 6.
[24] Le Jeune, Relation, 1638, 6.
[25] Le Jeune, Relation, 1639, 3.

Now let the stranger enter the church of Notre-Dame de la Recouvrance,
after vespers. It is full, to the very porch: officers in slouched hats
and plumes, musketeers, pikemen, mechanics, and laborers. Here is
Montmagny himself; Repentigny and Poterie, gentlemen of good birth;
damsels of nurture ill fitted to the Canadian woods; and, mingled with
these, the motionless Indians, wrapped to the throat in embroidered
moose-hides. Le Jeune, not in priestly vestments, but in the common
black dress of his Order, is before the altar; and on either side is a
row of small red-skinned children listening with exemplary decorum,
while, with a cheerful, smiling face, he teaches them to kneel, clasp
their hands, and sign the cross. All the principal members of this
zealous community are present, at once amused and edified at the grave
deportment, and the prompt, shrill replies of the infant catechumens;
while their parents in the crowd grin delight at the gifts of beads and
trinkets with which Le Jeune rewards his most proficient pupils. [26]

[26] Le Jeune, Relation, 1637, 122 (Cramoisy).

We have seen the methods of conversion practised among the Hurons. They
were much the same at Quebec. The principal appeal was to fear. [27]
"You do good to your friends," said Le Jeune to an Algonquin chief, "and
you burn your enemies. God does the same." And he painted Hell to the
startled neophyte as a place where, when he was hungry, he would get
nothing to eat but frogs and snakes, and, when thirsty, nothing to drink
but flames. [28] Pictures were found invaluable. "These holy
representations," pursues the Father Superior, "are half the instruction
that can be given to the Indians. I wanted some pictures of Hell and
souls in perdition, and a few were sent us on paper; but they are too
confused. The devils and the men are so mixed up, that one can make out
nothing without particular attention. If three, four, or five devils
were painted tormenting a soul with different punishments,--one applying
fire, another serpents, another tearing him with pincers, and another
holding him fast with a chain,--this would have a good effect,
especially if everything were made distinct, and misery, rage, and
desperation appeared plainly in his face." [29]

[27] Ibid., 1636, 119, and 1637, 32 (Cramoisy). "La crainte est l'auan
couriere de la foy dans ces esprits barbares."
[28] Le Jeune, Relation, 1637, 80-82 (Cramoisy). "Avoir faim et ne
manger que des serpens et des crapaux, avoir soif et ne boire que des
flammes."
[29] "Les heretiques sont grandement blasmables, de condamner et de
briser les images qui ont de si bons effets. Ces sainctes figures sont
la moitié de l'instruction qu'on peut donner aux Sauuages. I'auois
desiré quelques portraits de l'enfer et de l'âme damnée; on nous en a
enuoyé quelques vns en papier, mais cela est trop confus. Les diables
sont tellement meslez auec les hommes, qu'on n'y peut rien recognoistre,
qu'auec vne particuliere attention. Qui depeindroit trois ou quatre ou
cinq demons, tourmentans vne âme de diuers supplices, l'vn luy
appliquant des feux, l'autre des serpens, l'autre la tenaillant, l'autre
la tenant liée auec des chaisnes, cela auroit vn bon effet, notamment si
tout estoit bien distingué, et que la rage et la tristesse parussent
bien en la face de cette âme desesperée"--Relation, 1637, 32 (Cramoisy).

The preparation of the convert for baptism was often very slight. A
dying Algonquin, who, though meagre as a skeleton, had thrown himself,
with a last effort of expiring ferocity, on an Iroquois prisoner, and
torn off his ear with his teeth, was baptized almost immediately. [30]
In the case of converts in health there was far more preparation; yet
these often apostatized. The various objects of instruction may all be
included in one comprehensive word, submission,--an abdication of will
and judgment in favor of the spiritual director, who was the interpreter
and vicegerent of God. The director's function consisted in the
enforcement of dogmas by which he had himself been subdued, in which he
believed profoundly, and to which he often clung with an absorbing
enthusiasm. The Jesuits, an Order thoroughly and vehemently reactive,
had revived in Europe the mediæval type of Christianity, with all its
attendant superstitions. Of these the Canadian missions bear abundant
marks. Yet, on the whole, the labors of the missionaries tended greatly
to the benefit of the Indians. Reclaimed, as the Jesuits tried to
reclaim them, from their wandering life, settled in habits of peaceful
industry, and reduced to a passive and childlike obedience, they would
have gained more than enough to compensate them for the loss of their
ferocious and miserable independence. At least, they would have escaped
annihilation. The Society of Jesus aspired to the mastery of all New
France; but the methods of its ambition were consistent with a Christian
benevolence. Had this been otherwise, it would have employed other
instruments. It would not have chosen a Jogues or a Garnier. The Society
had men for every work, and it used them wisely. It utilized the
apostolic virtues of its Canadian missionaries, fanned their enthusiasm,
and decorated itself with their martyr crowns. With joy and gratulation,
it saw them rival in another hemisphere the noble memory of its saint
and hero, Francis Xavier. [31]

[30] "Ce seroit vne estrange cruauté de voir descendre vne âme toute
viuante dans les enfers, par le refus d'vn bien que Iesus Christ luy a
acquis au prix de son sang."--Relation, 1637, 66

"Considerez d'autre coté la grande appréhension que nous avions sujet de
redouter la guérison; pour autant que bien souvent étant guéris il ne
leur reste du St. Baptême que le caractère."--Lettres de Garnier, MSS.

It was not very easy to make an Indian comprehend the nature of baptism.
An Iroquois at Montreal, hearing a missionary speaking of the water
which cleansed the soul from sin, said that he was well acquainted with
it, as the Dutch had once given him so much that they were forced to tie
him, hand and foot, to prevent him from doing mischief.--Faillon, II.
43.

[31] Enemies of the Jesuits, while denouncing them in unmeasured terms,
speak in strong eulogy of many of the Canadian missionaries. See, for
example, Steinmetz, History of the Jesuits, II. 415.

I have spoken of the colonists as living in a state of temporal and
spiritual vassalage. To this there was one exception,--a small class of
men whose home was the forest, and their companions savages. They
followed the Indians in their roamings, lived with them, grew familiar
with their language, allied themselves with their women, and often
became oracles in the camp and leaders on the war-path. Champlain's bold
interpreter, Étienne Brulé, whose adventures I have recounted elsewhere,
[32] may be taken as a type of this class. Of the rest, the most
conspicuous were Jean Nicollet, Jacques Hertel, François Marguerie, and
Nicolas Marsolet. [33] Doubtless, when they returned from their rovings,
they often had pressing need of penance and absolution; yet, for the
most part, they were good Catholics, and some of them were zealous for
the missions. Nicollet and others were at times settled as interpreters
at Three Rivers and Quebec. Several of them were men of great
intelligence and an invincible courage. From hatred of restraint, and
love of a wild and adventurous independence, they encountered privations
and dangers scarcely less than those to which the Jesuit exposed himself
from motives widely different,--he from religious zeal, charity, and the
hope of Paradise; they simply because they liked it. Some of the best
families of Canada claim descent from this vigorous and hardy stock.

[32] "Pioneers of France," 377.
[33] See Ferland, Notes sur les Registres de N. D. de Québec, 30.

Nicollet, especially, was a remarkable man. As early as 1639, he
ascended the Green Bay of Lake Michigan, and crossed to the waters of
the Mississippi. This was first shown by the researches of Mr. Shea. See
his Discovery and Exploration of the Mississippi Valley, XX.

CHAPTER XIV.
1636-1652.

DEVOTEES AND NUNS.

Quebec, as we have seen, had a seminary, a hospital, and a convent,
before it had a population. It will be well to observe the origin of
these institutions.

The Jesuits from the first had cherished the plan of a seminary for
Huron boys at Quebec. The Governor and the Company favored the design;
since not only would it be an efficient means of spreading the Faith and
attaching the tribe to the French interest, but the children would be
pledges for the good behavior of the parents, and hostages for the
safety of missionaries and traders in the Indian towns. [1] In the
summer of 1636, Father Daniel, descending from the Huron country, worn,
emaciated, his cassock patched and tattered, and his shirt in rags,
brought with him a boy, to whom two others were soon added; and through
the influence of the interpreter, Nicollet, the number was afterwards
increased by several more. One of them ran away, two ate themselves to
death, a fourth was carried home by his father, while three of those
remaining stole a canoe, loaded it with all they could lay their hands
upon, and escaped in triumph with their plunder. [2]

[1] "M. de Montmagny cognoit bien l'importance de ce Seminaire pour la
gloire de Nostre Seigneur, et pour le commerce de ces
Messieurs"--Relation, 1637, 209 (Cramoisy).
[2] Le Jeune, Relation, 1637, 55-59. Ibid., Relation, 1638, 23.

The beginning was not hopeful; but the Jesuits persevered, and at length
established their seminary on a firm basis. The Marquis de Gamache had
given the Society six thousand crowns for founding a college at Quebec.
In 1637, a year before the building of Harvard College, the Jesuits
began a wooden structure in the rear of the fort; and here, within one
inclosure, was the Huron seminary and the college for French boys.

Meanwhile the female children of both races were without instructors;
but a remedy was at hand. At Alençon, in 1603, was born Marie Madeleine
de Chauvigny, a scion of the haute noblesse of Normandy. Seventeen years
later she was a young lady, abundantly wilful and superabundantly
enthusiastic,--one who, in other circumstances, might perhaps have made
a romantic elopement and a mésalliance. [3] But her impressible and
ardent nature was absorbed in other objects. Religion and its ministers
possessed her wholly, and all her enthusiasm was spent on works of
charity and devotion. Her father, passionately fond of her, resisted her
inclination for the cloister, and sought to wean her back to the world;
but she escaped from the chateau to a neighboring convent, where she
resolved to remain. Her father followed, carried her home, and engaged
her in a round of fêtes and hunting parties, in the midst of which she
found herself surprised into a betrothal to M. de la Peltrie, a young
gentleman of rank and character. The marriage proved a happy one, and
Madame de la Peltrie, with an excellent grace, bore her part in the
world she had wished to renounce. After a union of five years, her
husband died, and she was left a widow and childless at the age of
twenty-two. She returned to the religious ardors of her girlhood, again
gave all her thoughts to devotion and charity, and again resolved to be
a nun. She had heard of Canada; and when Le Jeune's first Relations
appeared, she read them with avidity. "Alas!" wrote the Father, "is
there no charitable and virtuous lady who will come to this country to
gather up the blood of Christ, by teaching His word to the little Indian
girls?" His appeal found a prompt and vehement response from the breast
of Madame de la Peltrie. Thenceforth she thought of nothing but Canada.
In the midst of her zeal, a fever seized her. The physicians despaired;
but, at the height of the disease, the patient made a vow to St. Joseph,
that, should God restore her to health, she would build a house in honor
of Him in Canada, and give her life and her wealth to the instruction of
Indian girls. On the following morning, say her biographers, the fever
had left her.

[3] There is a portrait of her, taken at a later period, of which a
photograph is before me. She has a semi-religious dress, hands clasped
in prayer, large dark eyes, a smiling and mischievous mouth, and a face
somewhat pretty and very coquettish. An engraving from the portrait is
prefixed to the "Notice Biographique de Madame de la Peltrie" in Les
Ursulines de Québec, I. 348.

Meanwhile her relatives, or those of her husband, had confirmed her
pious purposes by attempting to thwart them. They pronounced her a
romantic visionary, incompetent to the charge of her property. Her
father, too, whose fondness for her increased with his advancing age,
entreated her to remain with him while he lived, and to defer the
execution of her plans till he should be laid in his grave. From
entreaties he passed to commands, and at length threatened to disinherit
her, if she persisted. The virtue of obedience, for which she is
extolled by her clerical biographers, however abundantly exhibited in
respect to those who held charge of her conscience, was singularly
wanting towards the parent who, in the way of Nature, had the best claim
to its exercise; and Madame de la Peltrie was more than ever resolved to
go to Canada. Her father, on his part, was urgent that she should marry
again. On this she took counsel of a Jesuit, [4] who, "having seriously
reflected before God," suggested a device, which to the heretical mind
is a little startling, but which commended itself to Madame de la
Peltrie as fitted at once to soothe the troubled spirit of her father,
and to save her from the sin involved in the abandonment of her pious
designs.

[4] "Partagée ainsi entre l'amour filial et la religion, en proie aux
plus poignantes angoisses, elle s'adressa à un religieux de la Compagnie
de Jésus, dont elle connaissait la prudence consommée, et le supplia de
l'éclairer de ses lumières. Ce religieux, après y avoir sérieusement
réfléchi devant Dieu, lui répondit qu'il croyait avoir trouvé un moyen
de tout concilier."--Casgrain, Vie de Marie de l'Incarnation, 243.

Among her acquaintance was M. de Bernières, a gentleman of high rank,
great wealth, and zealous devotion. She wrote to him, explained the
situation, and requested him to feign a marriage with her. His sense of
honor recoiled: moreover, in the fulness of his zeal, he had made a vow
of chastity, and an apparent breach of it would cause scandal. He
consulted his spiritual director and a few intimate friends. All agreed
that the glory of God was concerned, and that it behooved him to accept
the somewhat singular overtures of the young widow, [5] and request her
hand from her father. M. de Chauvigny, who greatly esteemed Bernières,
was delighted; and his delight was raised to transport at the dutiful
and modest acquiescence of his daughter. [6] A betrothal took place; all
was harmony, and for a time no more was said of disinheriting Madame de
la Peltrie, or putting her in wardship.

[5] "Enfin après avoir longtemps imploré les lumières du ciel, il remit
toute l'affaire entre les mains de son directeur et de quelques amis
intimes. Tous, d'un commun accord, lui déclarèrent que la gloire de Dieu
y était interessée, et qu'il devait accepter."--Ibid., 244.
[6] "The prudent young widow answered him with much respect and modesty,
that, as she knew M. de Bernières to be a favorite with him, she also
preferred him to all others."

The above is from a letter of Marie de l'Incarnation, translated by
Mother St. Thomas, of the Ursuline convent of Quebec, in her Life of
Madame de la Peltrie, 41. Compare Les Ursulines de Québec, 10, and the
"Notice Biographique" in the same volume.

Bernières's scruples returned. Divided between honor and conscience, he
postponed the marriage, until at length M. de Chauvigny conceived
misgivings, and again began to speak of disinheriting his daughter,
unless the engagement was fulfilled. [7] Bernières yielded, and went
with Madame de la Peltrie to consult "the most eminent divines." [8] A
sham marriage took place, and she and her accomplice appeared in public
as man and wife. Her relatives, however, had already renewed their
attempts to deprive her of the control of her property. A suit, of what
nature does not appear, had been decided against her at Caen, and she
had appealed to the Parliament of Normandy. Her lawyers were in despair;
but, as her biographer justly observes, "the saints have resources which
others have not." A vow to St. Joseph secured his intercession and
gained her case. Another thought now filled her with agitation. Her
plans were laid, and the time of action drew near. How could she endure
the distress of her father, when he learned that she had deluded him
with a false marriage, and that she and all that was hers were bound for
the wilderness of Canada? Happily for him, he fell ill, and died in
ignorance of the deceit that had been practised upon him. [9]

[7] "Our virtuous widow did not lose courage. As she had given her
confidence to M. de Bernières, she informed him of all that passed,
while she flattered her father each day, telling him that this nobleman
was too honorable to fail in keeping his word."--St. Thomas, Life of
Madame de la Peltrie, 42.
[8] "He" (Bernières) "went to stay at the house of a mutual friend,
where they had frequent opportunities of seeing each other, and
consulting the most eminent divines on the means of effecting this
pretended marriage."--Ibid., 43.
[9] It will be of interest to observe the view taken of this pretended
marriage by Madame de la Peltrie's Catholic biographers. Charlevoix
tells the story without comment, but with apparent approval. Sainte-Foi,
in his Premières Ursulines de France, says, that, as God had taken her
under His guidance, we should not venture to criticize her. Casgrain, in
his Vie de Marie de l'Incarnation, remarks:--

"Une telle conduite peut encore aujourd'hui paraître étrange à bien des
personnes; mais outre que l'avenir fit bien voir que c'était une
inspiration du ciel, nous pouvons répondre, avec un savant et pieux
auteur, que nous ne devons point juger ceux que Dieu se charge lui-même
de conduire."--p. 247.

Mother St. Thomas highly approves the proceeding, and says:--

"Thus ended the pretended engagement of this virtuous lady and
gentleman, which caused, at the time, so much inquiry and excitement
among the nobility in France, and which, after a lapse of two hundred
years, cannot fail exciting feelings of admiration in the heart of every
virtuous woman!"

Surprising as it may appear, the book from which the above is taken was
written a few years since, in so-called English, for the instruction of
the pupils in the Ursuline Convent at Quebec.

Whatever may be thought of the quality of Madame de la Peltrie's
devotion, there can be no reasonable doubt of its sincerity or its
ardor; and yet one can hardly fail to see in her the signs of that
restless longing for éclat, which, with some women, is a ruling passion.
When, in company with Bernières, she passed from Alençon to Tours, and
from Tours to Paris, an object of attention to nuns, priests, and
prelates,--when the Queen herself summoned her to an interview,--it may
be that the profound contentment of soul ascribed to her had its origin
in sources not exclusively of the spirit. At Tours, she repaired to the
Ursuline convent. The Superior and all the nuns met her at the entrance
of the cloister, and, separating into two rows as she appeared, sang the
Veni Creator, while the bell of the monastery sounded its loudest peal.
Then they led her in triumph to their church, sang Te Deum, and, while
the honored guest knelt before the altar, all the sisterhood knelt
around her in a semicircle. Their hearts beat high within them. That day
they were to know who of their number were chosen for the new convent of
Quebec, of which Madame de la Peltrie was to be the foundress; and when
their devotions were over, they flung themselves at her feet, each
begging with tears that the lot might fall on her. Aloof from this
throng of enthusiastic suppliants stood a young nun, Marie de St.
Bernard, too timid and too modest to ask the boon for which her fervent
heart was longing. It was granted without asking. This delicate girl was
chosen, and chosen wisely. [10]

[10] Casgrain, Vie de Marie de l'Incarnation, 271-273. There is a long
account of Marie de St. Bernard, by Ragueneau, in the Relation of 1652.
Here it is said that she showed an unaccountable indifference as to
whether she went to Canada or not, which, however, was followed by an
ardent desire to go.

There was another nun who stood apart, silent and motionless,--a stately
figure, with features strongly marked and perhaps somewhat masculine;
[11] but, if so, they belied her, for Marie de l'Incarnation was a woman
to the core. For her there was no need of entreaties; for she knew that
the Jesuits had made her their choice, as Superior of the new convent.
She was born, forty years before, at Tours, of a good bourgeois family.
As she grew up towards maturity, her qualities soon declared themselves.
She had uncommon talents and strong religious susceptibilities, joined
to a vivid imagination,--an alliance not always desirable under a form
of faith where both are excited by stimulants so many and so powerful.
Like Madame de la Peltrie, she married, at the desire of her parents, in
her eighteenth year. The marriage was not happy. Her biographers say
that there was no fault on either side. Apparently, it was a severe case
of "incompatibility." She sought her consolation in the churches; and,
kneeling in dim chapels, held communings with Christ and the angels. At
the end of two years her husband died, leaving her with an infant son.
She gave him to the charge of her sister, abandoned herself to solitude
and meditation, and became a mystic of the intense and passional school.
Yet a strong maternal instinct battled painfully in her breast with a
sense of religious vocation. Dreams, visions, interior voices,
ecstasies, revulsions, periods of rapture and periods of deep dejection,
made up the agitated tissue of her life. She fasted, wore hair-cloth,
scourged herself, washed dishes among the servants, and did their most
menial work. She heard, in a trance, a miraculous voice. It was that of
Christ, promising to become her spouse. Months and years passed, full of
troubled hopes and fears, when again the voice sounded in her ear, with
assurance that the promise was fulfilled, and that she was indeed his
bride. Now ensued phenomena which are not infrequent among Roman
Catholic female devotees, when unmarried, or married unhappily, and
which have their source in the necessities of a woman's nature. To her
excited thought, her divine spouse became a living presence; and her
language to him, as recorded by herself, is that of the most intense
passion. She went to prayer, agitated and tremulous, as if to a meeting
with an earthly lover. "O my Love!" she exclaimed, "when shall I embrace
you? Have you no pity on me in the torments that I suffer? Alas! alas!
my Love, my Beauty, my Life! instead of healing my pain, you take
pleasure in it. Come, let me embrace you, and die in your sacred arms!"
And again she writes: "Then, as I was spent with fatigue, I was forced
to say, 'My divine Love, since you wish me to live, I pray you let me
rest a little, that I may the better serve you'; and I promised him that
afterward I would suffer myself to consume in his chaste and divine
embraces." [12]

[11] There is an engraved portrait of her, taken some years later, of
which a photograph is before me. When she was "in the world," her
stately proportions are said to have attracted general attention. Her
family name was Marie Guyard. She was born on the eighteenth of October,
1599.
[12] "Allant à l'oraison, je tressaillois en moi-même, et disois: Allons
dans la solitude, mon cher amour, afin que je vous embrasse à mon aise,
et que, respirant mon âme en vous, elle ne soit plus que vous-même par
union d'amour.... Puis, mon corps étant brisé de fatigues, j'étois
contrainte de dire: Mon divin amour, je vous prie de me laisser prendre
un peu de repos, afin que je puisse mieux vous servir, puisque vous
voulez que je vive.... Je le priois de me laisser agir; lui promettant
de me laisser après cela consumer dans ses chastes et divins
embrassemens.... O amour! quand vous embrasserai-je? N'avez-vous point
pitié de moi dans le tourment que je souffre? helas! helas! mon amour,
ma beauté, ma vie! au lieu de me guérir, vous vous plaisez à mes maux.
Venez donc que je vous embrasse, et que je meure entre vos bras sacréz!"

The above passages, from various pages of her journal, will suffice,
though they give but an inadequate idea of these strange extravagances.
What is most astonishing is, that a man of sense like Charlevoix, in his
Life of Marie de l'Incarnation, should extract them in full, as matter
of edification and evidence of saintship. Her recent biographer, the
Abbé Casgrain, refrains from quoting them, though he mentions them
approvingly as evincing fervor. The Abbé Racine, in his Discours à
l'Occasion du 192ème Anniversaire de l'heureuse Mort de la Vén. Mère de
l'Incarnation, delivered at Quebec in 1864, speaks of them as
transcendent proofs of the supreme favor of Heaven.--Some of the pupils
of Marie de l'Incarnation also had mystical marriages with Christ; and
the impassioned rhapsodies of one of them being overheard, she nearly
lost her character, as it was thought that she was apostrophsizing an
earthly lover.

Clearly, here is a case for the physiologist as well as the theologian;
and the "holy widow," as her biographers call her, becomes an example,
and a lamentable one, of the tendency of the erotic principle to ally
itself with high religious excitement.

But the wings of imagination will tire and droop, the brightest
dream-land of contemplative fancy grow dim, and an abnormal tension of
the faculties find its inevitable reaction at last. From a condition of
highest exaltation, a mystical heaven of light and glory, the unhappy
dreamer fell back to a dreary earth, or rather to an abyss of darkness
and misery. Her biographers tell us that she became a prey to dejection,
and thoughts of infidelity, despair, estrangement from God, aversion to
mankind, pride, vanity, impurity, and a supreme disgust at the rites of
religion. Exhaustion produced common-sense, and the dreams which had
been her life now seemed a tissue of illusions. Her confessor became a
weariness to her, and his words fell dead on her ear. Indeed, she
conceived a repugnance to the holy man. Her old and favorite confessor,
her oracle, guide, and comforter, had lately been taken from her by
promotion in the Church,--which may serve to explain her dejection; and
the new one, jealous of his predecessor, told her that all his counsels
had been visionary and dangerous to her soul. Having overwhelmed her
with this announcement, he left her, apparently out of patience with her
refractory and gloomy mood; and she remained for several months deprived
of spiritual guidance. [13] Two years elapsed before her mind recovered
its tone, when she soared once more in the seventh heaven of imaginative
devotion.

[13] Casgrain, 195-197.

Marie de l'Incarnation, we have seen, was unrelenting in every practice
of humiliation; dressed in mean attire, did the servants' work, nursed
sick beggars, and, in her meditations, taxed her brain with metaphysical
processes of self-annihilation. And yet, when one reads her "Spiritual
Letters," the conviction of an enormous spiritual pride in the writer
can hardly be repressed. She aspired to that inner circle of the
faithful, that aristocracy of devotion, which, while the common herd of
Christians are busied with the duties of life, eschews the visible and
the present, and claims to live only for God. In her strong maternal
affection she saw a lure to divert her from the path of perfect
saintship. Love for her child long withheld her from becoming a nun; but
at last, fortified by her confessor, she left him to his fate, took the
vows, and immured herself with the Ursulines of Tours. The boy, frenzied
by his desertion, and urged on by indignant relatives, watched his
opportunity, and made his way into the refectory of the convent,
screaming to the horrified nuns to give him back his mother. As he grew
older, her anxiety increased; and at length she heard in her seclusion
that he had fallen into bad company, had left the relative who had
sheltered him, and run off, no one knew whither. The wretched mother,
torn with anguish, hastened for consolation to her confessor, who met
her with stern upbraidings. Yet, even in this her intensest ordeal, her
enthusiasm and her native fortitude enabled her to maintain a semblance
of calmness, till she learned that the boy had been found and brought
back.

Strange as it may seem, this woman, whose habitual state was one of
mystical abstraction, was gifted to a rare degree with the faculties
most useful in the practical affairs of life. She had spent several
years in the house of her brother-in-law. Here, on the one hand, her
vigils, visions, and penances set utterly at nought the order of a
well-governed family; while, on the other, she made amends to her
impatient relative by able and efficient aid in the conduct of his
public and private affairs. Her biographers say, and doubtless with
truth, that her heart was far away from these mundane interests; yet her
talent for business was not the less displayed. Her spiritual guides
were aware of it, and saw clearly that gifts so useful to the world
might be made equally useful to the Church. Hence it was that she was
chosen Superior of the convent which Madame de la Peltrie was about to
endow at Quebec. [14]

[14] The combination of religious enthusiasm, however extravagant and
visionary, with a talent for business, is not very rare. Nearly all the
founders of monastic Orders are examples of it.

Yet it was from heaven itself that Marie de l'Incarnation received her
first "vocation" to Canada. The miracle was in this wise.

In a dream she beheld a lady unknown to her. She took her hand; and the
two journeyed together westward, towards the sea. They soon met one of
the Apostles, clothed all in white, who, with a wave of his hand,
directed them on their way. They now entered on a scene of surpassing
magnificence. Beneath their feet was a pavement of squares of white
marble, spotted with vermilion, and intersected with lines of vivid
scarlet; and all around stood monasteries of matchless architecture. But
the two travellers, without stopping to admire, moved swiftly on till
they beheld the Virgin seated with her Infant Son on a small temple of
white marble, which served her as a throne. She seemed about fifteen
years of age, and was of a "ravishing beauty." Her head was turned
aside; she was gazing fixedly on a wild waste of mountains and valleys,
half concealed in mist. Marie de l'Incarnation approached with
outstretched arms, adoring. The vision bent towards her, and, smiling,
kissed her three times; whereupon, in a rapture, the dreamer awoke. [15]

[15] Marie de l'Incarnation recounts this dream at great length in her
letters; and Casgrain copies the whole, verbatim, as a revelation from
God.

She told the vision to Father Dinet, a Jesuit of Tours. He was at no
loss for an interpretation. The land of mists and mountains was Canada,
and thither the Virgin called her. Yet one mystery remained unsolved.
Who was the unknown companion of her dream? Several years had passed,
and signs from heaven and inward voices had raised to an intense fervor
her zeal for her new vocation, when, for the first time, she saw Madame
de la Peltrie on her visit to the convent at Tours, and recognized, on
the instant, the lady of her nocturnal vision. No one can be surprised
at this who has considered with the slightest attention the phenomena of
religious enthusiasm.

On the fourth of May, 1639, Madame de la Peltrie, Marie de
l'Incarnation, Marie de St. Bernard, and another Ursuline, embarked at
Dieppe for Canada. In the ship were also three young hospital nuns, sent
out to found at Quebec a Hôtel-Dieu, endowed by the famous niece of
Richelieu, the Duchesse d'Aiguillon. [16] Here, too, were the Jesuits
Chaumonot and Poncet, on the way to their mission, together with Father
Vimont, who was to succeed Le Jeune in his post of Superior. To the
nuns, pale from their cloistered seclusion, there was a strange and
startling novelty in this new world of life and action,--the ship, the
sailors, the shouts of command, the flapping of sails, the salt wind,
and the boisterous sea. The voyage was long and tedious. Sometimes they
lay in their berths, sea-sick and woe-begone; sometimes they sang in
choir on deck, or heard mass in the cabin. Once, on a misty morning, a
wild cry of alarm startled crew and passengers alike. A huge iceberg was
drifting close upon them. The peril was extreme. Madame de la Peltrie
clung to Marie de l'Incarnation, who stood perfectly calm, and gathered
her gown about her feet that she might drown with decency. It is
scarcely necessary to say that they were saved by a vow to the Virgin
and St. Joseph. Vimont offered it in behalf of all the company, and the
ship glided into the open sea unharmed.

[16] Juchereau, Histoire de l'Hôtel-Dieu de Québec, 4.

They arrived at Tadoussac on the fifteenth of July; and the nuns
ascended to Quebec in a small craft deeply laden with salted codfish, on
which, uncooked, they subsisted until the first of August, when they
reached their destination. Cannon roared welcome from the fort and
batteries; all labor ceased; the storehouses were closed; and the
zealous Montmagny, with a train of priests and soldiers, met the
new-comers at the landing. All the nuns fell prostrate, and kissed the
sacred soil of Canada. [17] They heard mass at the church, dined at the
fort, and presently set forth to visit the new settlement of Sillery,
four miles above Quebec.

[17] Juchereau, 14; Le Clerc, II. 33; Ragueneau, Vie de Catherine de St.
Augustin, "Epistre dédicatoire;" Le Jeune, Relation, 1639, Chap. II.;
Charlevoix, Vie de Marie de l'Incarnation, 264; "Acte de Reception," in
Les Ursulines de Québec, I. 21.

Noel Brulart de Sillery, a Knight of Malta, who had once filled the
highest offices under the Queen Marie de Médicis, had now severed his
connection with his Order, renounced the world, and become a priest. He
devoted his vast revenues--for a dispensation of the Pope had freed him
from his vow of poverty--to the founding of religious establishments.
[18] Among other endowments, he had placed an ample fund in the hands of
the Jesuits for the formation of a settlement of Christian Indians at
the spot which still bears his name. On the strand of Sillery, between
the river and the woody heights behind, were clustered the small
log-cabins of a number of Algonquin converts, together with a church, a
mission-house, and an infirmary,--the whole surrounded by a palisade. It
was to this place that the six nuns were now conducted by the Jesuits.
The scene delighted and edified them; and, in the transports of their
zeal, they seized and kissed every female Indian child on whom they
could lay hands, "without minding," says Father Le Jeune, "whether they
were dirty or not." "Love and charity," he adds, "triumphed over every
human consideration." [19]

[18] See Vie de l'Illustre Serviteur de Dieu Noel Brulart de Sillery;
also Études et Recherches Bioqraphiques sur le Chevalier Noel Brulart de
Sillery; and several documents in Martin's translation of Bressani,
Appendix IV.
[19] "... sans prendre garde si ces petits enfans sauvages estoient
sales ou non; ... la loy d'amour et de charité l'emportoit par dessus
toutes les considerations humaines."--Relation, 1639, 26 (Cramoisy).

The nuns of the Hôtel-Dieu soon after took up their abode at Sillery,
whence they removed to a house built for them at Quebec by their
foundress, the Duchesse d'Aiguillon. The Ursulines, in the absence of
better quarters, were lodged at first in a small wooden tenement under
the rock of Quebec, at the brink of the river. Here they were soon beset
with such a host of children, that the floor of their wretched tenement
was covered with beds, and their toil had no respite. Then came the
small-pox, carrying death and terror among the neighboring Indians.
These thronged to Quebec in misery and desperation, begging succor from
the French. The labors both of the Ursulines and of the hospital nuns
were prodigious. In the infected air of their miserable hovels, where
sick and dying savages covered the floor, and were packed one above
another in berths,--amid all that is most distressing and most
revolting, with little food and less sleep, these women passed the rough
beginning of their new life. Several of them fell ill. But the excess of
the evil at length brought relief; for so many of the Indians died in
these pest-houses that the survivors shunned them in horror.

But how did these women bear themselves amid toils so arduous? A
pleasant record has come down to us of one of them,--that fair and
delicate girl, Marie de St. Bernard, called, in the convent, Sister St.
Joseph, who had been chosen at Tours as the companion of Marie de
l'Incarnation. Another Ursuline, writing at a period when the severity
of their labors was somewhat relaxed, says, "Her disposition is
charming. In our times of recreation, she often makes us cry with
laughing: it would be hard to be melancholy when she is near." [20]

[20] Lettre de la Mère Ste Claire à une de ses Sœurs Ursulines de Paris.
Québec, 2 Sept., 1640.--See Les Ursulines de Québec, I. 38.

It was three years later before the Ursulines and their pupils took
possession of a massive convent of stone, built for them on the site
which they still occupy. Money had failed before the work was done, and
the interior was as unfinished as a barn. [21] Beside the cloister stood
a large ash-tree; and it stands there still. Beneath its shade, says the
convent tradition, Marie de l'Incarnation and her nuns instructed the
Indian children in the truths of salvation; but it might seem rash to
affirm that their teachings were always either wise or useful, since
Father Vimont tells us approvingly, that they reared their pupils in so
chaste a horror of the other sex, that a little girl, whom a man had
playfully taken by the hand, ran crying to a bowl of water to wash off
the unhallowed influence. [22]

[21] The interior was finished after a year or two, with cells as usual.
There were four chimneys, with fireplaces burning a hundred and
seventy-five cords of wood in a winter; and though the nuns were boxed
up in beds which closed like chests, Marie de l'Incarnation complains
bitterly of the cold. See her letter of Aug. 26, 1644.
[22] Vimont, Relation, 1642, 112 (Cramoisy).

Now and henceforward one figure stands nobly conspicuous in this devoted
sisterhood. Marie de l'Incarnation, no longer lost in the vagaries of an
insane mysticism, but engaged in the duties of Christian charity and the
responsibilities of an arduous post, displays an ability, a fortitude,
and an earnestness which command respect and admiration. Her mental
intoxication had ceased, or recurred only at intervals; and false
excitements no longer sustained her. She was racked with constant
anxieties about her son, and was often in a condition described by her
biographers as a "deprivation of all spiritual consolations." Her
position was a very difficult one. She herself speaks of her life as a
succession of crosses and humiliations. Some of these were due to Madame
de la Peltrie, who, in a freak of enthusiasm, abandoned her Ursulines
for a time, as we shall presently see, leaving them in the utmost
destitution. There were dissensions to be healed among them; and money,
everything, in short, to be provided. Marie de l'Incarnation, in her
saddest moments, neither failed in judgment nor slackened in effort. She
carried on a vast correspondence, embracing every one in France who
could aid her infant community with money or influence; she harmonized
and regulated it with excellent skill; and, in the midst of relentless
austerities, she was loved as a mother by her pupils and dependants.
Catholic writers extol her as a saint. [23] Protestants may see in her a
Christian heroine, admirable, with all her follies and her faults.

[23] There is a letter extant from Sister Anne de Ste Claire, an
Ursuline who came to Quebec in 1640, written soon after her arrival, and
containing curious evidence that a reputation of saintship already
attached to Marie de l'Incarnation. "When I spoke to her," writes Sister
Anne, speaking of her first interview, "I perceived in the air a certain
odor of sanctity, which gave me the sensation of an agreeable perfume."
See the letter in a recent Catholic work, Les Ursulines de Québec, I.
38, where the passage is printed in Italics, as worthy the especial
attention of the pious reader.

The traditions of the Ursulines are full of the virtues of Madame de la
Peltrie,--her humility, her charity, her penances, and her acts of
mortification. No doubt, with some little allowance, these traditions
are true; but there is more of reason than of uncharitableness in the
belief, that her zeal would have been less ardent and sustained, if it
had had fewer spectators. She was now fairly committed to the conventual
life, her enthusiasm was kept within prescribed bounds, and she was no
longer mistress of her own movements. On the one hand, she was anxious
to accumulate merits against the Day of Judgment; and, on the other, she
had a keen appreciation of the applause which the sacrifice of her
fortune and her acts of piety had gained for her. Mortal vanity takes
many shapes. Sometimes it arrays itself in silk and jewels; sometimes it
walks in sackcloth, and speaks the language of self-abasement. In the
convent, as in the world, the fair devotee thirsted for admiration. The
halo of saintship glittered in her eyes like a diamond crown, and she
aspired to outshine her sisters in humility. She was as sincere as
Simeon Stylites on his column; and, like him, found encouragement and
comfort in the gazing and wondering eyes below. [24]

[24] Madame de la Peltrie died in her convent in 1671. Marie de
l'Incarnation died the following year. She had the consolation of
knowing that her son had fulfilled her ardent wishes, and become a
priest.

CHAPTER XV.
1636-1642.

VILLEMARIE DE MONTREAL.

We come now to an enterprise as singular in its character as it proved
important in its results.

At La Flèche, in Anjou, dwelt one Jérôme le Royer de la Dauversière,
receiver of taxes. His portrait shows us a round, bourgeois face,
somewhat heavy perhaps, decorated with a slight moustache, and redeemed
by bright and earnest eyes. On his head he wears a black skull-cap; and
over his ample shoulders spreads a stiff white collar, of wide expanse
and studious plainness. Though he belonged to the noblesse, his look is
that of a grave burgher, of good renown and sage deportment. Dauversière
was, however, an enthusiastic devotee, of mystical tendencies, who
whipped himself with a scourge of small chains till his shoulders were
one wound, wore a belt with more than twelve hundred sharp points, and
invented for himself other torments, which filled his confessor with
admiration. [1] One day, while at his devotions, he heard an inward
voice commanding him to become the founder of a new Order of hospital
nuns; and he was further ordered to establish, on the island called
Montreal, in Canada, a hospital, or Hôtel-Dieu, to be conducted by these
nuns. But Montreal was a wilderness, and the hospital would have no
patients. Therefore, in order to supply them, the island must first be
colonized. Dauversière was greatly perplexed. On the one hand, the voice
of Heaven must be obeyed; on the other, he had a wife, six children, and
a very moderate fortune. [2]

[1] Fancamp in Faillon, Vie de Mlle Mance. Introduction.
[2] Faillon, Vie de Mlle Mance, Introduction; Dollier de Casson, Hist.
de Montreal, MS.; Les Véritables Motifs des Messieurs et Dames de
Montreal, 25; Juchereau, 33.

Again: there was at Paris a young priest, about twenty-eight years of
age,--Jean Jacques Olier, afterwards widely known as founder of the
Seminary of St. Sulpice. Judged by his engraved portrait, his
countenance, though marked both with energy and intellect, was anything
but prepossessing. Every lineament proclaims the priest. Yet the Abbé
Olier has high titles to esteem. He signalized his piety, it is true, by
the most disgusting exploits of self-mortification; but, at the same
time, he was strenuous in his efforts to reform the people and the
clergy. So zealous was he for good morals, that he drew upon himself the
imputation of a leaning to the heresy of the Jansenists,--a suspicion
strengthened by his opposition to certain priests, who, to secure the
faithful in their allegiance, justified them in lives of licentiousness.
[3] Yet Olier's catholicity was past attaintment, and in his horror of
Jansenists he yielded to the Jesuits alone.

[3] Faillon, Vie de M. Olier, II. 188.

He was praying in the ancient church of St. Germain des Prés, when, like
Dauversière, he thought he heard a voice from Heaven, saying that he was
destined to be a light to the Gentiles. It is recorded as a mystic
coincidence attending this miracle, that the choir was at that very time
chanting the words, Lumen ad revelationem Gentium; [4] and it seems to
have occurred neither to Olier nor to his biographer, that, falling on
the ear of the rapt worshipper, they might have unconsciously suggested
the supposed revelation. But there was a further miracle. An inward
voice told Olier that he was to form a society of priests, and establish
them on the island called Montreal, in Canada, for the propagation of
the True Faith; and writers old and recent assert, that, while both he
and Dauversière were totally ignorant of Canadian geography, they
suddenly found themselves in possession, they knew not how, of the most
exact details concerning Montreal, its size, shape, situation, soil,
climate, and productions.

[4] Mémoires Autographes de M. Olier, cited by Faillon, in Histoire de
la Colonie Française, I. 384.

The annual volumes of the Jesuit Relations, issuing from the renowned
press of Cramoisy, were at this time spread broadcast throughout France;
and, in the circles of haute devotion, Canada and its missions were
everywhere the themes of enthusiastic discussion; while Champlain, in
his published works, had long before pointed out Montreal as the proper
site for a settlement. But we are entering a region of miracle, and it
is superfluous to look far for explanations. The illusion, in these
cases, is a part of the history.

Dauversière pondered the revelation he had received; and the more he
pondered, the more was he convinced that it came from God. He therefore
set out for Paris, to find some means of accomplishing the task assigned
him. Here, as he prayed before an image of the Virgin in the church of
Notre-Dame, he fell into an ecstasy, and beheld a vision. "I should be
false to the integrity of history," writes his biographer, "if I did not
relate it here." And he adds, that the reality of this celestial favor
is past doubting, inasmuch as Dauversière himself told it to his
daughters. Christ, the Virgin, and St. Joseph appeared before him. He
saw them distinctly. Then he heard Christ ask three times of his Virgin
Mother, Where can I find a faithful servant? On which, the Virgin,
taking him (Dauversière) by the hand, replied, See, Lord, here is that
faithful servant!--and Christ, with a benignant smile, received him into
his service, promising to bestow on him wisdom and strength to do his
work. [5] From Paris he went to the neighboring chateau of Meudon, which
overlooks the valley of the Seine, not far from St. Cloud. Entering the
gallery of the old castle, he saw a priest approaching him. It was
Olier. Now we are told that neither of these men had ever seen or heard
of the other; and yet, says the pious historian, "impelled by a kind of
inspiration, they knew each other at once, even to the depths of their
hearts; saluted each other by name, as we read of St. Paul, the Hermit,
and St. Anthony, and of St. Dominic and St. Francis; and ran to embrace
each other, like two friends who had met after a long separation." [6]

[5] Faillon, Vie de Mlle Mance, Introduction, xxviii. The Abbé Ferland,
in his Histoire du Canada, passes over the miracles in silence.
[6] Ibid., La Colonie Française, I. 390.

"Monsieur," exclaimed Olier, "I know your design, and I go to commend it
to God at the holy altar."

And he went at once to say mass in the chapel. Dauversière received the
communion at his hands; and then they walked for three hours in the
park, discussing their plans. They were of one mind, in respect both to
objects and means; and when they parted, Olier gave Dauversière a
hundred louis, saying, "This is to begin the work of God."

They proposed to found at Montreal three religious communities,--three
being the mystic number,--one of secular priests to direct the colonists
and convert the Indians, one of nuns to nurse the sick, and one of nuns
to teach the Faith to the children, white and red. To borrow their own
phrases, they would plant the banner of Christ in an abode of desolation
and a haunt of demons; and to this end a band of priests and women were
to invade the wilderness, and take post between the fangs of the
Iroquois. But first they must make a colony, and to do so must raise
money. Olier had pious and wealthy penitents; Dauversière had a friend,
the Baron de Fancamp, devout as himself and far richer. Anxious for his
soul, and satisfied that the enterprise was an inspiration of God, he
was eager to bear part in it. Olier soon found three others; and the six
together formed the germ of the Society of Notre-Dame de Montreal. Among
them they raised the sum of seventy-five thousand livres, equivalent to
about as many dollars at the present day. [7]

[7] Dollier de Casson, Histoire de Montreal, MS.; also Belmont, Histoire
du Canada, 2. Juchereau doubles the sum. Faillon agrees with Dollier.

On all that relates to the early annals of Montreal a flood of new light
has been thrown by the Abbé Faillon. As a priest of St. Sulpice, he had
ready access to the archives of the Seminaries of Montreal and Paris,
and to numerous other ecclesiastical depositories, which would have been
closed hopelessly against a layman and a heretic. It is impossible to
commend too highly the zeal, diligence, exactness, and extent of his
conscientious researches. His credulity is enormous, and he is
completely in sympathy with the supernaturalists of whom he writes: in
other words, he identifies himself with his theme, and is indeed a
fragment of the seventeenth century, still extant in the nineteenth. He
is minute to prolixity, and abounds in extracts and citations from the
ancient manuscripts which his labors have unearthed. In short, the Abbé
is a prodigy of patience and industry; and if he taxes the patience of
his readers, he also rewards it abundantly. Such of his original
authorities as have proved accessible are before me, including a
considerable number of manuscripts. Among these, that of Dollier de
Casson, Histoire de Montreal, as cited above, is the most important. The
copy in my possession was made from the original in the Mazarin Library.

Now to look for a moment at their plan. Their eulogists say, and with
perfect truth, that, from a worldly point of view, it was mere folly.
The partners mutually bound themselves to seek no return for the money
expended. Their profit was to be reaped in the skies: and, indeed, there
was none to be reaped on earth. The feeble settlement at Quebec was at
this time in danger of utter ruin; for the Iroquois, enraged at the
attacks made on them by Champlain, had begun a fearful course of
retaliation, and the very existence of the colony trembled in the
balance. But if Quebec was exposed to their ferocious inroads, Montreal
was incomparably more so. A settlement here would be a perilous
outpost,--a hand thrust into the jaws of the tiger. It would provoke
attack, and lie almost in the path of the war-parties. The associates
could gain nothing by the fur-trade; for they would not be allowed to
share in it. On the other hand, danger apart, the place was an excellent
one for a mission; for here met two great rivers: the St. Lawrence, with
its countless tributaries, flowed in from the west, while the Ottawa
descended from the north; and Montreal, embraced by their uniting
waters, was the key to a vast inland navigation. Thither the Indians
would naturally resort; and thence the missionaries could make their way
into the heart of a boundless heathendom. None of the ordinary motives
of colonization had part in this design. It owed its conception and its
birth to religious zeal alone.

The island of Montreal belonged to Lauson, former president of the great
company of the Hundred Associates; and, as we have seen, his son had a
monopoly of fishing in the St. Lawrence. Dauversière and Fancamp, after
much diplomacy, succeeded in persuading the elder Lauson to transfer his
title to them; and, as there was a defect in it, they also obtained a
grant of the island from the Hundred Associates, its original owners,
who, however, reserved to themselves its western extremity as a site for
a fort and storehouses. [8] At the same time, the younger Lauson granted
them a right of fishery within two leagues of the shores of the island,
for which they were to make a yearly acknowledgment of ten pounds of
fish. A confirmation of these grants was obtained from the King.
Dauversière and his companions were now seigneurs of Montreal. They were
empowered to appoint a governor, and to establish courts, from which
there was to be an appeal to the Supreme Court of Quebec, supposing such
to exist. They were excluded from the fur-trade, and forbidden to build
castles or forts other than such as were necessary for defence against
the Indians.

[8] Donation et Transport de la Concession de l'Isle de Montreal par M.
Jean de Lauzon aux Sieurs Chevrier de Fouancant (Fancamp) et le Royer de
la Doversière, MS.

Concession d'une Partie de l'Isle de Montreal accordée par la Compagnie
de la Nouvelle France aux Sieurs Chevrier et le Royer, MS.

Lettres de Ratification, MS.

Acte qui prouve que les Sieurs Chevrier de Fancamps et Royer de la
Dauversière n'ont stipulé qu'au nom de la Compagnie de Montreal, MS.

From copies of other documents before me, it appears that in 1659 the
reserved portion of the island was also ceded to the Company of
Montreal.

See also Edits, Ordonnances Royaux, etc., I. 20-26 (Quebec, 1854).

Their title assured, they matured their plan. First they would send out
forty men to take possession of Montreal, intrench themselves, and raise
crops. Then they would build a house for the priests, and two convents
for the nuns. Meanwhile, Olier was toiling at Vaugirard, on the
outskirts of Paris, to inaugurate the seminary of priests, and
Dauversière at La Flèche, to form the community of hospital nuns. How
the school nuns were provided for we shall see hereafter. The colony, it
will be observed, was for the convents, not the convents for the colony.

The Associates needed a soldier-governor to take charge of their forty
men; and, directed as they supposed by Providence, they found one wholly
to their mind. This was Paul de Chomedey, Sieur de Maisonneuve, a devout
and valiant gentleman, who in long service among the heretics of Holland
had kept his faith intact, and had held himself resolutely aloof from
the license that surrounded him. He loved his profession of arms, and
wished to consecrate his sword to the Church. Past all comparison, he is
the manliest figure that appears in this group of zealots. The piety of
the design, the miracles that inspired it, the adventure and the peril,
all combined to charm him; and he eagerly embraced the enterprise. His
father opposed his purpose; but he met him with a text of St. Mark,
"There is no man that hath left house or brethren or sisters or father
for my sake, but he shall receive an hundred-fold." On this the elder
Maisonneuve, deceived by his own worldliness, imagined that the plan
covered some hidden speculation, from which enormous profits were
expected, and therefore withdrew his opposition. [9]

[9] Faillon, La Colonie Française, I. 409.

Their scheme was ripening fast, when both Olier and Dauversière were
assailed by one of those revulsions of spirit, to which saints of the
ecstatic school are naturally liable. Dauversière, in particular, was a
prey to the extremity of dejection, uncertainty, and misgiving. What had
he, a family man, to do with ventures beyond sea? Was it not his first
duty to support his wife and children? Could he not fulfil all his
obligations as a Christian by reclaiming the wicked and relieving the
poor at La Flèche? Plainly, he had doubts that his vocation was genuine.
If we could raise the curtain of his domestic life, perhaps we should
find him beset by wife and daughters, tearful and wrathful, inveighing
against his folly, and imploring him to provide a support for them
before squandering his money to plant a convent of nuns in a wilderness.
How long his fit of dejection lasted does not appear; but at length [10]
he set himself again to his appointed work. Olier, too, emerging from
the clouds and darkness, found faith once more, and again placed himself
at the head of the great enterprise. [11]

[10] Faillon, Vie de Mlle Mance, Introduction, xxxv.
[11] Faillon (Vie de M. Olier) devotes twenty-one pages to the history
of his fit of nervous depression.

There was imperative need of more money; and Dauversière, under
judicious guidance, was active in obtaining it. This miserable victim of
illusions had a squat, uncourtly figure, and was no proficient in the
graces either of manners or of speech: hence his success in commending
his objects to persons of rank and wealth is set down as one of the many
miracles which attended the birth of Montreal. But zeal and earnestness
are in themselves a power; and the ground had been well marked out and
ploughed for him in advance. That attractive, though intricate, subject
of study, the female mind, has always engaged the attention of priests,
more especially in countries where, as in France, women exert a strong
social and political influence. The art of kindling the flames of zeal,
and the more difficult art of directing and controlling them, have been
themes of reflection the most diligent and profound. Accordingly we find
that a large proportion of the money raised for this enterprise was
contributed by devout ladies. Many of them became members of the
Association of Montreal, which was eventually increased to about
forty-five persons, chosen for their devotion and their wealth.

Olier and his associates had resolved, though not from any collapse of
zeal, to postpone the establishment of the seminary and the college
until after a settlement should be formed. The hospital, however, might,
they thought, be begun at once; for blood and blows would be the assured
portion of the first settlers. At least, a discreet woman ought to
embark with the first colonists as their nurse and housekeeper. Scarcely
was the need recognized when it was supplied.

Mademoiselle Jeanne Mance was born of an honorable family of
Nogent-le-Roi, and in 1640 was thirty-four years of age. These Canadian
heroines began their religious experiences early. Of Marie de
l'Incarnation we read, that at the age of seven Christ appeared to her
in a vision; [12] and the biographer of Mademoiselle Mance assures us,
with admiring gravity, that, at the same tender age, she bound herself
to God by a vow of perpetual chastity. [13] This singular infant in due
time became a woman, of a delicate constitution, and manners graceful,
yet dignified. Though an earnest devotee, she felt no vocation for the
cloister; yet, while still "in the world," she led the life of a nun.
The Jesuit Relations, and the example of Madame de la Peltrie, of whom
she had heard, inoculated her with the Canadian enthusiasm, then so
prevalent; and, under the pretence of visiting relatives, she made a
journey to Paris, to take counsel of certain priests. Of one thing she
was assured: the Divine will called her to Canada, but to what end she
neither knew nor asked to know; for she abandoned herself as an atom to
be borne to unknown destinies on the breath of God. At Paris, Father St.
Jure, a Jesuit, assured her that her vocation to Canada was, past doubt,
a call from Heaven; while Father Rapin, a Récollet, spread abroad the
fame of her virtues, and introduced her to many ladies of rank, wealth,
and zeal. Then, well supplied with money for any pious work to which she
might be summoned, she journeyed to Rochelle, whence ships were to sail
for New France. Thus far she had been kept in ignorance of the plan with
regard to Montreal; but now Father La Place, a Jesuit, revealed it to
her. On the day after her arrival at Rochelle, as she entered the Church
of the Jesuits, she met Dauversière coming out. "Then," says her
biographer, "these two persons, who had never seen nor heard of each
other, were enlightened supernaturally, whereby their most hidden
thoughts were mutually made known, as had happened already with M. Olier
and this same M. de la Dauversière." [14] A long conversation ensued
between them; and the delights of this interview were never effaced from
the mind of Mademoiselle Mance. "She used to speak of it like a seraph,"
writes one of her nuns, "and far better than many a learned doctor could
have done." [15]

[12] Casgrain, Vie de Marie de l'Incarnation, 78.
[13] Faillon, Vie de Mlle Mance, I. 3.
[14] Faillon, Vie de Mlle Mance, I. 18. Here again the Abbé Ferland,
with his usual good sense, tacitly rejects the supernaturalism.
[15] La Sœur Morin, Annales des Hospitalières de Villemarie, MS., cited
by Faillon.

She had found her destiny. The ocean, the wilderness, the solitude, the
Iroquois,--nothing daunted her. She would go to Montreal with
Maisonneuve and his forty men. Yet, when the vessel was about to sail, a
new and sharp misgiving seized her. How could she, a woman, not yet
bereft of youth or charms, live alone in the forest, among a troop of
soldiers? Her scruples were relieved by two of the men, who, at the last
moment, refused to embark without their wives,--and by a young woman,
who, impelled by enthusiasm, escaped from her friends, and took passage,
in spite of them, in one of the vessels.

All was ready; the ships set sail; but Olier, Dauversière, and Fancamp
remained at home, as did also the other Associates, with the exception
of Maisonneuve and Mademoiselle Mance. In the following February, an
impressive scene took place in the Church of Notre Dame, at Paris. The
Associates, at this time numbering about forty-five, [16] with Olier at
their head, assembled before the altar of the Virgin, and, by a solemn
ceremonial, consecrated Montreal to the Holy Family. Henceforth it was
to be called Villemarie de Montreal, [17]--a sacred town, reared to the
honor and under the patronage of Christ, St. Joseph, and the Virgin, to
be typified by three persons on earth, founders respectively of the
three destined communities,--Olier, Dauversière, and a maiden of Troyes,
Marguerite Bourgeoys: the seminary to be consecrated to Christ, the
Hôtel-Dieu to St. Joseph, and the college to the Virgin.

[16] Dollier de Casson, A.D. 1641-42, MS. Vimont says thirty five.
[17] Vimont, Relation, 1642, 37. Compare Le Clerc, Établissement de la
Foy, II. 49.

But we are anticipating a little; for it was several years as yet before
Marguerite Bourgeoys took an active part in the work of Montreal. She
was the daughter of a respectable tradesman, and was now twenty-two
years of age. Her portrait has come down to us; and her face is a mirror
of frankness, loyalty, and womanly tenderness. Her qualities were those
of good sense, conscientiousness, and a warm heart. She had known no
miracles, ecstasies, or trances; and though afterwards, when her
religious susceptibilities had reached a fuller development, a few such
are recorded of her, yet even the Abbé Faillon, with the best
intentions, can credit her with but a meagre allowance of these
celestial favors. Though in the midst of visionaries, she distrusted the
supernatural, and avowed her belief, that, in His government of the
world, God does not often set aside its ordinary laws. Her religion was
of the affections, and was manifested in an absorbing devotion to duty.
She had felt no vocation to the cloister, but had taken the vow of
chastity, and was attached, as an externe, to the Sisters of the
Congregation of Troyes, who were fevered with eagerness to go to Canada.
Marguerite, however, was content to wait until there was a prospect that
she could do good by going; and it was not till the year 1653, that,
renouncing an inheritance, and giving all she had to the poor, she
embarked for the savage scene of her labors. To this day, in crowded
school-rooms of Montreal and Quebec, fit monuments of her unobtrusive
virtue, her successors instruct the children of the poor, and embalm the
pleasant memory of Marguerite Bourgeoys. In the martial figure of
Maisonneuve, and the fair form of this gentle nun, we find the true
heroes of Montreal. [18]

[18] For Marguerite Bourgeoys, see her life by Faillon.

Maisonneuve, with his forty men and four women, reached Quebec too late
to ascend to Montreal that season. They encountered distrust, jealousy,
and opposition. The agents of the Company of the Hundred Associates
looked on them askance; and the Governor of Quebec, Montmagny, saw a
rival governor in Maisonneuve. Every means was used to persuade the
adventurers to abandon their project, and settle at Quebec. Montmagny
called a council of the principal persons of his colony, who gave it as
their opinion that the new-comers had better exchange Montreal for the
Island of Orleans, where they would be in a position to give and receive
succor; while, by persisting in their first design, they would expose
themselves to destruction, and be of use to nobody. [19] Maisonneuve,
who was present, expressed his surprise that they should assume to
direct his affairs. "I have not come here," he said, "to deliberate, but
to act. It is my duty and my honor to found a colony at Montreal; and I
would go, if every tree were an Iroquois!" [20]

[19] Juchereau, 32; Faillon, Colonie Française, I. 423.
[20] La Tour, Mémoire de Laval, Liv. VIII; Belmont, Histoire du Canada,
3.

At Quebec there was little ability and no inclination to shelter the new
colonists for the winter; and they would have fared ill, but for the
generosity of M. Puiseaux, who lived not far distant, at a place called
St. Michel. This devout and most hospitable person made room for them
all in his rough, but capacious dwelling. Their neighbors were the
hospital nuns, then living at the mission of Sillery, in a substantial,
but comfortless house of stone; where, amidst destitution, sickness, and
irrepressible disgust at the filth of the savages whom they had in
charge, they were laboring day and night with devoted assiduity. Among
the minor ills which beset them were the eccentricities of one of their
lay sisters, crazed with religious enthusiasm, who had the care of their
poultry and domestic animals, of which she was accustomed to inquire,
one by one, if they loved God; when, not receiving an immediate answer
in the affirmative, she would instantly put them to death, telling them
that their impiety deserved no better fate. [21]

[21] Juchereau, 45. A great mortification to these excellent nuns was
the impossibility of keeping their white dresses clean among their
Indian patients, so that they were forced to dye them with butternut
juice. They were the Hospitalières who had come over in 1639.

At St. Michel, Maisonneuve employed his men in building boats to ascend
to Montreal, and in various other labors for the behoof of the future
colony. Thus the winter wore away; but, as celestial minds are not
exempt from ire, Montmagny and Maisonneuve fell into a quarrel. The
twenty-fifth of January was Maisonneuve's fête day; and, as he was
greatly beloved by his followers, they resolved to celebrate the
occasion. Accordingly, an hour and a half before daylight, they made a
general discharge of their muskets and cannon. The sound reached Quebec,
two or three miles distant, startling the Governor from his morning
slumbers; and his indignation was redoubled when he heard it again at
night: for Maisonneuve, pleased at the attachment of his men, had
feasted them and warmed their hearts with a distribution of wine.
Montmagny, jealous of his authority, resented these demonstrations as an
infraction of it, affirming that they had no right to fire their pieces
without his consent; and, arresting the principal offender, one Jean
Gory, he put him in irons. On being released, a few days after, his
companions welcomed him with great rejoicing, and Maisonneuve gave them
all a feast. He himself came in during the festivity, drank the health
of the company, shook hands with the late prisoner, placed him at the
head of the table, and addressed him as follows:--

"Jean Gory, you have been put in irons for me: you had the pain, and I
the affront. For that, I add ten crowns to your wages." Then, turning to
the others: "My boys," he said, "though Jean Gory has been misused, you
must not lose heart for that, but drink, all of you, to the health of
the man in irons. When we are once at Montreal, we shall be our own
masters, and can fire our cannon when we please." [22]

[22] Documents Divers, MSS., now or lately in possession of G. B.
Faribault, Esq.; Ferland, Notes sur les Registres de N. D. de Québec,
25; Faillon, La Colonie Française, I. 433.

Montmagny was wroth when this was reported to him; and, on the ground
that what had passed was "contrary to the service of the King and the
authority of the Governor," he summoned Gory and six others before him,
and put them separately under oath. Their evidence failed to establish a
case against their commander; but thenceforth there was great coldness
between the powers of Quebec and Montreal.

Early in May, Maisonneuve and his followers embarked. They had gained an
unexpected recruit during the winter, in the person of Madame de la
Peltrie. The piety, the novelty, and the romance of their enterprise,
all had their charms for the fair enthusiast; and an irresistible
impulse--imputed by a slandering historian to the levity of her sex
[23]--urged her to share their fortunes. Her zeal was more admired by
the Montrealists whom she joined than by the Ursulines whom she
abandoned. She carried off all the furniture she had lent them, and left
them in the utmost destitution. [24] Nor did she remain quiet after
reaching Montreal, but was presently seized with a longing to visit the
Hurons, and preach the Faith in person to those benighted heathen. It
needed all the eloquence of a Jesuit, lately returned from that most
arduous mission, to convince her that the attempt would be as useless as
rash. [25]

[23] La Tour, Mémoire de Laval, Liv. VIII.
[24] Charlevoix, Vie de Marie de l'Incarnation, 279; Casgrain, Vie de
Marie de l'Incarnation, 333.
[25] St. Thomas, Life of Madame de la Peltrie, 98.

It was the eighth of May when Maisonneuve and his followers embarked at
St. Michel; and as the boats, deep-laden with men, arms, and stores,
moved slowly on their way, the forest, with leaves just opening in the
warmth of spring, lay on their right hand and on their left, in a
flattering semblance of tranquillity and peace. But behind woody islets,
in tangled thickets and damp ravines, and in the shade and stillness of
the columned woods, lurked everywhere a danger and a terror.

What shall we say of these adventurers of Montreal,--of these who
bestowed their wealth, and, far more, of these who sacrificed their
peace and risked their lives, on an enterprise at once so romantic and
so devout? Surrounded as they were with illusions, false lights, and
false shadows,--breathing an atmosphere of miracle,--compassed about
with angels and devils,--urged with stimulants most powerful, though
unreal,--their minds drugged, as it were, to preternatural
excitement,--it is very difficult to judge of them. High merit, without
doubt, there was in some of their number; but one may beg to be spared
the attempt to measure or define it. To estimate a virtue involved in
conditions so anomalous demands, perhaps, a judgment more than human.

The Roman Church, sunk in disease and corruption when the Reformation
began, was roused by that fierce trumpet-blast to purge and brace
herself anew. Unable to advance, she drew back to the fresher and
comparatively purer life of the past; and the fervors of mediæval
Christianity were renewed in the sixteenth century. In many of its
aspects, this enterprise of Montreal belonged to the time of the first
Crusades. The spirit of Godfrey de Bouillon lived again in Chomedey de
Maisonneuve; and in Marguerite Bourgeoys was realized that fair ideal of
Christian womanhood, a flower of Earth expanding in the rays of Heaven,
which soothed with gentle influence the wildness of a barbarous age.

On the seventeenth of May, 1642, Maisonneuve's little flotilla--a
pinnace, a flat-bottomed craft moved by sails, and two row-boats
[26]--approached Montreal; and all on board raised in unison a hymn of
praise. Montmagny was with them, to deliver the island, in behalf of the
Company of the Hundred Associates, to Maisonneuve, representative of the
Associates of Montreal. [27] And here, too, was Father Vimont, Superior
of the missions; for the Jesuits had been prudently invited to accept
the spiritual charge of the young colony. On the following day, they
glided along the green and solitary shores now thronged with the life of
a busy city, and landed on the spot which Champlain, thirty-one years
before, had chosen as the fit site of a settlement. [28] It was a tongue
or triangle of land, formed by the junction of a rivulet with the St.
Lawrence, and known afterwards as Point Callière. The rivulet was
bordered by a meadow, and beyond rose the forest with its vanguard of
scattered trees. Early spring flowers were blooming in the young grass,
and birds of varied plumage flitted among the boughs. [29]

[26] Dollier de Casson, A.D. 1641-42, MS.
[27] Le Clerc, II. 50, 51.
[28] "Pioneers of France," 333. It was the Place Royale of Champlain.
[29] Dollier de Casson, A.D. 1641-42, MS.

Maisonneuve sprang ashore, and fell on his knees. His followers imitated
his example; and all joined their voices in enthusiastic songs of
thanksgiving. Tents, baggage, arms, and stores were landed. An altar was
raised on a pleasant spot near at hand; and Mademoiselle Mance, with
Madame de la Peltrie, aided by her servant, Charlotte Barré, decorated
it with a taste which was the admiration of the beholders. [30] Now all
the company gathered before the shrine. Here stood Vimont, in the rich
vestments of his office. Here were the two ladies, with their servant;
Montmagny, no very willing spectator; and Maisonneuve, a warlike figure,
erect and tall, his men clustering around him,--soldiers, sailors,
artisans, and laborers,--all alike soldiers at need. They kneeled in
reverent silence as the Host was raised aloft; and when the rite was
over, the priest turned and addressed them:--

[30] Morin, Annales, MS., cited by Faillon, La Colonie Française, I.
440; also Dollier de Casson, A.D. 1641-42, MS.

"You are a grain of mustard-seed, that shall rise and grow till its
branches overshadow the earth. You are few, but your work is the work of
God. His smile is on you, and your children shall fill the Land." [31]

[31] Dollier de Casson, MS., as above. Vimont, in the Relation of 1642,
p. 37, briefly mentions the ceremony.

The afternoon waned; the sun sank behind the western forest, and
twilight came on. Fireflies were twinkling over the darkened meadow.
They caught them, tied them with threads into shining festoons, and hung
them before the altar, where the Host remained exposed. Then they
pitched their tents, lighted their bivouac fires, stationed their
guards, and lay down to rest. Such was the birth-night of Montreal. [32]

[32] The Associates of Montreal published, in 1643, a thick pamphlet in
quarto, entitled Les Véritables Motifs de Messieurs et Dames de la
Société de Notre-Dame de Montréal, pour la Conversion des Sauvages de la
Nouvelle France. It was written as an answer to aspersions cast upon
them, apparently by persons attached to the great Company of New France
known as the "Hundred Associates," and affords a curious exposition of
the spirit of their enterprise. It is excessively rare; but copies of
the essential portions are before me. The following is a characteristic
extract:--

"Vous dites que l'entreprise de Montréal est d'une dépense infinie, plus
convenable à un roi qu'à quelques particuliers, trop faibles pour la
soutenir; & vous alléguez encore les périls de la navigation & les
naufrages qui peuvent la ruiner. Vous avez mieux rencontré que vous ne
pensiez, en disant que c'est une œuvre de roi, puisque le Roi des rois
s'en mêle, lui à qui obéissent la mer & les vents. Nous ne craignons
donc pas les naufrages; il n'en suscitera que lorsque nous en aurons
besoin, & qu'il sera plus expédient pour sa gloire, que nous cherchons
uniquement. Comment avez-vous pu mettre dans votre esprit qu'appuyés de
nos propres forces, nous eussions présumé de penser à un si glorieux
dessein? Si Dieu n'est point dans l'affaire de Montréal, si c'est une
invention humaine, ne vous en mettez point en peine, elle ne durera
guère. Ce que vous prédisez arrivera, & quelque chose de pire encore;
mais si Dieu l'a ainsi voulu, qui êtes-vous pour lui contredire? C'était
la reflexion que le docteur Gamaliel faisait aux Juifs, en faveur des
Apôtres; pour vous, qui ne pouvez ni croire, ni faire, laissez les
autres en liberté de faire ce qu'ils croient que Dieu demande d'eux.
Vous assurez qu'il ne se fait plus de miracles; mais qui vous l'a dit?
où cela est-il écrit? Jésus-Christ assure, au contraire, que ceux qui
auront autant de Foi qu'un grain de senevé, feront, en son nom, des
miracles plus grands que ceux qu'il a faits lui-même. Depuis quand
êtes-vous les directeurs des operations divines, pour les réduire à
certains temps & dans la conduite ordinaire? Tant de saints mouvements,
d'inspirations & de vues intérieures, qu'il lui plaît de donner à
quelques âmes dont il se sert pour l'avancement de cette œuvre, sont des
marques de son bon plaisir. Jusqu'-ici, il a pourvu au nécessaire; nous
ne voulons point d'abondance, & nous espérons que sa Providence
continuera."

Is this true history, or a romance of Christian chivalry? It is both.

CHAPTER XVI.
1641-1644.

ISAAC JOGUES.

The waters of the St. Lawrence rolled through a virgin wilderness,
where, in the vastness of the lonely woodlands, civilized man found a
precarious harborage at three points only,--at Quebec, at Montreal, and
at Three Rivers. Here and in the scattered missions was the whole of New
France,--a population of some three hundred souls in all. And now, over
these miserable settlements, rose a war-cloud of frightful portent.

It was thirty-two years since Champlain had first attacked the Iroquois.
[1] They had nursed their wrath for more than a generation, and at
length their hour was come. The Dutch traders at Fort Orange, now
Albany, had supplied them with fire-arms. The Mohawks, the most easterly
of the Iroquois nations, had, among their seven or eight hundred
warriors, no less than three hundred armed with the arquebuse, a weapon
somewhat like the modern carbine. [2] They were masters of the
thunderbolts which, in the hands of Champlain, had struck terror into
their hearts.

[1] See "Pioneers of France," 318.
[2] Vimont, Relation, 1643, 62. The Mohawks were the Agniés, or
Agneronons, of the old French writers.

According to the Journal of New Netherland, a contemporary Dutch
document, (see Colonial Documents of New York, I. 179,) the Dutch at
Fort Orange had supplied the Mohawks with four hundred guns; the profits
of the trade, which was free to the settlers, blinding them to the
danger.

We have surveyed in the introductory chapter the character and
organization of this ferocious people; their confederacy of five
nations, bound together by a peculiar tie of clanship; their chiefs,
half hereditary, half elective; their government, an oligarchy in form
and a democracy in spirit; their minds, thoroughly savage, yet marked
here and there with traits of a vigorous development. The war which they
had long waged with the Hurons was carried on by the Senecas and the
other Western nations of their league; while the conduct of hostilities
against the French and their Indian allies in Lower Canada was left to
the Mohawks. In parties of from ten to a hundred or more, they would
leave their towns on the River Mohawk, descend Lake Champlain and the
River Richelieu, lie in ambush on the banks of the St. Lawrence, and
attack the passing boats or canoes. Sometimes they hovered about the
fortifications of Quebec and Three Rivers, killing stragglers, or luring
armed parties into ambuscades. They followed like hounds on the trail of
travellers and hunters; broke in upon unguarded camps at midnight; and
lay in wait, for days and weeks, to intercept the Huron traders on their
yearly descent to Quebec. Had they joined to their ferocious courage the
discipline and the military knowledge that belong to civilization, they
could easily have blotted out New France from the map, and made the
banks of the St. Lawrence once more a solitude; but, though the most
formidable of savages, they were savages only.

In the early morning of the second of August, 1642, [3] twelve Huron
canoes were moving slowly along the northern shore of the expansion of
the St. Lawrence known as the Lake of St. Peter. There were on board
about forty persons, including four Frenchmen, one of them being the
Jesuit, Isaac Jogues, whom we have already followed on his missionary
journey to the towns of the Tobacco Nation. In the interval he had not
been idle. During the last autumn, (1641,) he, with Father Charles
Raymbault, had passed along the shore of Lake Huron northward, entered
the strait through which Lake Superior discharges itself, pushed on as
far as the Sault Sainte Marie, and preached the Faith to two thousand
Ojibwas, and other Algonquins there assembled. [4] He was now on his
return from a far more perilous errand. The Huron mission was in a state
of destitution. There was need of clothing for the priests, of vessels
for the altars, of bread and wine for the eucharist, of writing
materials,--in short, of everything; and, early in the summer of the
present year, Jogues had descended to Three Rivers and Quebec with the
Huron traders, to procure the necessary supplies. He had accomplished
his task, and was on his way back to the mission. With him were a few
Huron converts, and among them a noted Christian chief, Eustache
Ahatsistari. Others of the party were in course of instruction for
baptism; but the greater part were heathen, whose canoes were deeply
laden with the proceeds of their bargains with the French fur-traders.

[3] For the date, see Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1647, 18.
[4] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1642, 97.

Jogues sat in one of the leading canoes. He was born at Orleans in 1607,
and was thirty-five years of age. His oval face and the delicate mould
of his features indicated a modest, thoughtful, and refined nature. He
was constitutionally timid, with a sensitive conscience and great
religious susceptibilities. He was a finished scholar, and might have
gained a literary reputation; but he had chosen another career, and one
for which he seemed but ill fitted. Physically, however, he was well
matched with his work; for, though his frame was slight, he was so
active, that none of the Indians could surpass him in running. [5]

[5] Buteux, Narré de la Prise du Père Jogues, MS.; Mémoire touchant le
Père Jogues, MS.

There is a portrait of him prefixed to Mr. Shea's admirable edition in
quarto of Jogues's Novum Belgium.

With him were two young men, René Goupil and Guillaume Couture, donnés
of the mission,--that is to say, laymen who, from a religious motive and
without pay, had attached themselves to the service of the Jesuits.
Goupil had formerly entered upon the Jesuit novitiate at Paris, but
failing health had obliged him to leave it. As soon as he was able, he
came to Canada, offered his services to the Superior of the mission, was
employed for a time in the humblest offices, and afterwards became an
attendant at the hospital. At length, to his delight, he received
permission to go up to the Hurons, where the surgical skill which he had
acquired was greatly needed; and he was now on his way thither. [6] His
companion, Couture, was a man of intelligence and vigor, and of a
character equally disinterested. [7] Both were, like Jogues, in the
foremost canoes; while the fourth Frenchman was with the unconverted
Hurons, in the rear.

[6] Jogues, Notice sur René Goupil.
[7] For an account of him, see Ferland, Notes sur les Registres de N. D.
de Québec, 83 (1863).

The twelve canoes had reached the western end of the Lake of St. Peter,
where it is filled with innumerable islands. [8] The forest was close on
their right, they kept near the shore to avoid the current, and the
shallow water before them was covered with a dense growth of tall
bulrushes. Suddenly the silence was frightfully broken. The war-whoop
rose from among the rushes, mingled with the reports of guns and the
whistling of bullets; and several Iroquois canoes, filled with warriors,
pushed out from their concealment, and bore down upon Jogues and his
companions. The Hurons in the rear were seized with a shameful panic.
They leaped ashore; left canoes, baggage, and weapons; and fled into the
woods. The French and the Christian Hurons made fight for a time; but
when they saw another fleet of canoes approaching from the opposite
shores or islands, they lost heart, and those escaped who could. Goupil
was seized amid triumphant yells, as were also several of the Huron
converts. Jogues sprang into the bulrushes, and might have escaped; but
when he saw Goupil and the neophytes in the clutches of the Iroquois, he
had no heart to abandon them, but came out from his hiding-place, and
gave himself up to the astonished victors. A few of them had remained to
guard the prisoners; the rest were chasing the fugitives. Jogues
mastered his agony, and began to baptize those of the captive converts
who needed baptism.

[8] Buteux, Narré de le Prise du Père Jogues, MS. This document leaves
no doubt as to the locality.

Couture had eluded pursuit; but when he thought of Jogues and of what
perhaps awaited him, he resolved to share his fate, and, turning,
retraced his steps. As he approached, five Iroquois ran forward to meet
him; and one of them snapped his gun at his breast, but it missed fire.
In his confusion and excitement, Couture fired his own piece, and laid
the savage dead. The remaining four sprang upon him, stripped off all
his clothing, tore away his finger-nails with their teeth, gnawed his
fingers with the fury of famished dogs, and thrust a sword through one
of his hands. Jogues broke from his guards, and, rushing to his friend,
threw his arms about his neck. The Iroquois dragged him away, beat him
with their fists and war-clubs till he was senseless, and, when he
revived, lacerated his fingers with their teeth, as they had done those
of Couture. Then they turned upon Goupil, and treated him with the same
ferocity. The Huron prisoners were left for the present unharmed. More
of them were brought in every moment, till at length the number of
captives amounted in all to twenty-two, while three Hurons had been
killed in the fight and pursuit. The Iroquois, about seventy in number,
now embarked with their prey; but not until they had knocked on the head
an old Huron, whom Jogues, with his mangled hands, had just baptized,
and who refused to leave the place. Then, under a burning sun, they
crossed to the spot on which the town of Sorel now stands, at the mouth
of the river Richelieu, where they encamped. [9]

[9] The above, with much of what follows, rests on three documents. The
first is a long letter, written in Latin, by Jogues, to the Father
Provincial at Paris. It is dated at Rensselaerswyck (Albany), Aug. 5,
1643, and is preserved in the Societas Jesu Militans of Tanner, and in
the Mortes Illustres et Gesta eorum de Societate Jesu, etc., of
Alegambe. There is a French translation in Martin's Bressani, and an
English translation, by Mr. Shea, in the New York Hist. Coll. of 1857.
The second document is an old manuscript, entitled Narré de la Prise du
Père Jogues. It was written by the Jesuit Buteux, from the lips of
Jogues. Father Martin, S.J., in whose custody it was, kindly permitted
me to have a copy made from it. Besides these, there is a long account
in the Relation des Hurons of 1647, and a briefer one in that of 1644.
All these narratives show the strongest internal evidence of truth, and
are perfectly concurrent. They are also supported by statements of
escaped Huron prisoners, and by several letters and memoirs of the Dutch
at Rensselaerswyck.

Their course was southward, up the River Richelieu and Lake Champlain;
thence, by way of Lake George, to the Mohawk towns. The pain and fever
of their wounds, and the clouds of mosquitoes, which they could not
drive off, left the prisoners no peace by day nor sleep by night. On the
eighth day, they learned that a large Iroquois war-party, on their way
to Canada, were near at hand; and they soon approached their camp, on a
small island near the southern end of Lake Champlain. The warriors, two
hundred in number, saluted their victorious countrymen with volleys from
their guns; then, armed with clubs and thorny sticks, ranged themselves
in two lines, between which the captives were compelled to pass up the
side of a rocky hill. On the way, they were beaten with such fury, that
Jogues, who was last in the line, fell powerless, drenched in blood and
half dead. As the chief man among the French captives, he fared the
worst. His hands were again mangled, and fire applied to his body; while
the Huron chief, Eustache, was subjected to tortures even more
atrocious. When, at night, the exhausted sufferers tried to rest, the
young warriors came to lacerate their wounds and pull out their hair and
beards.

In the morning they resumed their journey. And now the lake narrowed to
the semblance of a tranquil river. Before them was a woody mountain,
close on their right a rocky promontory, and between these flowed a
stream, the outlet of Lake George. On those rocks, more than a hundred
years after, rose the ramparts of Ticonderoga. They landed, shouldered
their canoes and baggage, took their way through the woods, passed the
spot where the fierce Highlanders and the dauntless regiments of England
breasted in vain the storm of lead and fire, and soon reached the shore
where Abercrombie landed and Lord Howe fell. First of white men, Jogues
and his companions gazed on the romantic lake that bears the name, not
of its gentle discoverer, but of the dull Hanoverian king. Like a fair
Naiad of the wilderness, it slumbered between the guardian mountains
that breathe from crag and forest the stern poetry of war. But all then
was solitude; and the clang of trumpets, the roar of cannon, and the
deadly crack of the rifle had never as yet awakened their angry echoes.
[10]

[10] Lake George, according to Jogues, was called by the Mohawks
"Andiatarocte," or Place where the Lake closes. "Andiataraque" is found
on a map of Sanson. Spofford, Gazetteer of New York, article "Lake
George," says that it was called "Canideri-oit," or Tail of the Lake.
Father Martin, in his notes on Bressani, prefixes to this name that of
"Horicon," but gives no original authority.

I have seen an old Latin map on which the name "Horiconi" is set down as
belonging to a neighboring tribe. This seems to be only a misprint for
"Horicoui," that is, "Irocoui," or "Iroquois." In an old English map,
prefixed to the rare tract, A Treatise of New England, the "Lake of
Hierocoyes" is laid down. The name "Horicon," as used by Cooper in his
Last of the Mohicans, seems to have no sufficient historical foundation.
In 1646, the lake, as we shall see, was named "Lac St. Sacrement."

Again the canoes were launched, and the wild flotilla glided on its
way,--now in the shadow of the heights, now on the broad expanse, now
among the devious channels of the narrows, beset with woody islets,
where the hot air was redolent of the pine, the spruce, and the
cedar,--till they neared that tragic shore, where, in the following
century, New-England rustics baffled the soldiers of Dieskau, where
Montcalm planted his batteries, where the red cross waved so long amid
the smoke, and where at length the summer night was hideous with
carnage, and an honored name was stained with a memory of blood. [11]

[11] The allusion is, of course, to the siege of Fort William Henry in
1757, and the ensuing massacre by Montcalm's Indians. Charlevoix, with
his usual carelessness, says that Jogues's captors took a circuitous
route to avoid enemies. In truth, however, they were not in the
slightest danger of meeting any; and they followed the route which,
before the present century, was the great highway between Canada and New
Holland, or New York.

The Iroquois landed at or near the future site of Fort William Henry,
left their canoes, and, with their prisoners, began their march for the
nearest Mohawk town. Each bore his share of the plunder. Even Jogues,
though his lacerated hands were in a frightful condition and his body
covered with bruises, was forced to stagger on with the rest under a
heavy load. He with his fellow-prisoners, and indeed the whole party,
were half starved, subsisting chiefly on wild berries. They crossed the
upper Hudson, and, in thirteen days after leaving the St. Lawrence,
neared the wretched goal of their pilgrimage, a palisaded town, standing
on a hill by the banks of the River Mohawk.

The whoops of the victors announced their approach, and the savage hive
sent forth its swarms. They thronged the side of the hill, the old and
the young, each with a stick, or a slender iron rod, bought from the
Dutchmen on the Hudson. They ranged themselves in a double line,
reaching upward to the entrance of the town; and through this "narrow
road of Paradise," as Jogues calls it, the captives were led in single
file, Couture in front, after him a half-score of Hurons, then Goupil,
then the remaining Hurons, and at last Jogues. As they passed, they were
saluted with yells, screeches, and a tempest of blows. One, heavier than
the others, knocked Jogues's breath from his body, and stretched him on
the ground; but it was death to lie there, and, regaining his feet, he
staggered on with the rest. [12] When they reached the town, the blows
ceased, and they were all placed on a scaffold, or high platform, in the
middle of the place. The three Frenchmen had fared the worst, and were
frightfully disfigured. Goupil, especially, was streaming with blood,
and livid with bruises from head to foot.

[12] This practice of forcing prisoners to "run the gauntlet" was by no
means peculiar to the Iroquois, but was common to many tribes.

They were allowed a few minutes to recover their breath, undisturbed,
except by the hootings and gibes of the mob below. Then a chief called
out, "Come, let us caress these Frenchmen!"--and the crowd, knife in
hand, began to mount the scaffold. They ordered a Christian Algonquin
woman, a prisoner among them, to cut off Jogues's left thumb, which she
did; and a thumb of Goupil was also severed, a clam-shell being used as
the instrument, in order to increase the pain. It is needless to specify
further the tortures to which they were subjected, all designed to cause
the greatest possible suffering without endangering life. At night, they
were removed from the scaffold, and placed in one of the houses, each
stretched on his back, with his limbs extended, and his ankles and
wrists bound fast to stakes driven into the earthen floor. The children
now profited by the examples of their parents, and amused themselves by
placing live coals and red-hot ashes on the naked bodies of the
prisoners, who, bound fast, and covered with wounds and bruises which
made every movement a torture, were sometimes unable to shake them off.

In the morning, they were again placed on the scaffold, where, during
this and the two following days, they remained exposed to the taunts of
the crowd. Then they were led in triumph to the second Mohawk town, and
afterwards to the third, [13] suffering at each a repetition of
cruelties, the detail of which would be as monotonous as revolting.

[13] The Mohawks had but three towns. The first, and the lowest on the
river, was Osseruenon; the second, two miles above, was Andagaron; and
the third, Teonontogen: or, as Megapolensis, in his Sketch of the
Mohawks, writes the names, Asserué, Banagiro, and Thenondiogo. They all
seem to have been fortified in the Iroquois manner, and their united
population was thirty-five hundred, or somewhat more. At a later period,
1720, there were still three towns, named respectively Teahtontaioga,
Ganowauga, and Ganeganaga. See the map in Morgan, League of the
Iroquois.

In a house in the town of Teonontogen, Jogues was hung by the wrists
between two of the upright poles which supported the structure, in such
a manner that his feet could not touch the ground; and thus he remained
for some fifteen minutes, in extreme torture, until, as he was on the
point of swooning, an Indian, with an impulse of pity, cut the cords and
released him. While they were in this town, four fresh Huron prisoners,
just taken, were brought in, and placed on the scaffold with the rest.
Jogues, in the midst of his pain and exhaustion, took the opportunity to
convert them. An ear of green corn was thrown to him for food, and he
discovered a few rain-drops clinging to the husks. With these he
baptized two of the Hurons. The remaining two received baptism soon
after from a brook which the prisoners crossed on the way to another
town.

Couture, though he had incensed the Indians by killing one of their
warriors, had gained their admiration by his bravery; and, after
torturing him most savagely, they adopted him into one of their
families, in place of a dead relative. Thenceforth he was comparatively
safe. Jogues and Goupil were less fortunate. Three of the Hurons had
been burned to death, and they expected to share their fate. A council
was held to pronounce their doom; but dissensions arose, and no result
was reached. They were led back to the first village, where they
remained, racked with suspense and half dead with exhaustion. Jogues,
however, lost no opportunity to baptize dying infants, while Goupil
taught children to make the sign of the cross. On one occasion, he made
the sign on the forehead of a child, grandson of an Indian in whose
lodge they lived. The superstition of the old savage was aroused. Some
Dutchmen had told him that the sign of the cross came from the Devil,
and would cause mischief. He thought that Goupil was bewitching the
child; and, resolving to rid himself of so dangerous a guest, applied
for aid to two young braves. Jogues and Goupil, clad in their squalid
garb of tattered skins, were soon after walking together in the forest
that adjoined the town, consoling themselves with prayer, and mutually
exhorting each other to suffer patiently for the sake of Christ and the
Virgin, when, as they were returning, reciting their rosaries, they met
the two young Indians, and read in their sullen visages an augury of
ill. The Indians joined them, and accompanied them to the entrance of
the town, where one of the two, suddenly drawing a hatchet from beneath
his blanket, struck it into the head of Goupil, who fell, murmuring the
name of Christ. Jogues dropped on his knees, and, bowing his head in
prayer, awaited the blow, when the murderer ordered him to get up and go
home. He obeyed but not until he had given absolution to his still
breathing friend, and presently saw the lifeless body dragged through
the town amid hootings and rejoicings.

Jogues passed a night of anguish and desolation, and in the morning,
reckless of life, set forth in search of Goupil's remains. "Where are
you going so fast?" demanded the old Indian, his master. "Do you not see
those fierce young braves, who are watching to kill you?" Jogues
persisted, and the old man asked another Indian to go with him as a
protector. The corpse had been flung into a neighboring ravine, at the
bottom of which ran a torrent; and here, with the Indian's help, Jogues
found it, stripped naked, and gnawed by dogs. He dragged it into the
water, and covered it with stones to save it from further mutilation,
resolving to return alone on the following day and secretly bury it. But
with the night there came a storm; and when, in the gray of the morning,
Jogues descended to the brink of the stream, he found it a rolling,
turbid flood, and the body was nowhere to be seen. Had the Indians or
the torrent borne it away? Jogues waded into the cold current; it was
the first of October; he sounded it with his feet and with his stick; he
searched the rocks, the thicket, the forest; but all in vain. Then,
crouched by the pitiless stream, he mingled his tears with its waters,
and, in a voice broken with groans, chanted the service of the dead.
[14]

[14] Jogues in Tanner, Societas Militans, 519; Bressani, 216; Lalemant,
Relation, 1647, 25, 26; Buteux, Narré, MS.; Jogues, Notice sur René
Goupil.

The Indians, it proved, and not the flood, had robbed him of the remains
of his friend. Early in the spring, when the snows were melting in the
woods, he was told by Mohawk children that the body was lying, where it
had been flung, in a lonely spot lower down the stream. He went to seek
it; found the scattered bones, stripped by the foxes and the birds; and,
tenderly gathering them up, hid them in a hollow tree, hoping that a day
might come when he could give them a Christian burial in consecrated
ground.

After the murder of Goupil, Jogues's life hung by a hair. He lived in
hourly expectation of the tomahawk, and would have welcomed it as a
boon. By signs and words, he was warned that his hour was near; but, as
he never shunned his fate, it fled from him, and each day, with renewed
astonishment, he found himself still among the living.

Late in the autumn, a party of the Indians set forth on their yearly
deer-hunt, and Jogues was ordered to go with them. Shivering and half
famished, he followed them through the chill November forest, and shared
their wild bivouac in the depths of the wintry desolation. The game they
took was devoted to Areskoui, their god, and eaten in his honor. Jogues
would not taste the meat offered to a demon; and thus he starved in the
midst of plenty. At night, when the kettle was slung, and the savage
crew made merry around their fire, he crouched in a corner of the hut,
gnawed by hunger, and pierced to the bone with cold. They thought his
presence unpropitious to their hunting, and the women especially hated
him. His demeanor at once astonished and incensed his masters. He
brought them fire-wood, like a squaw; he did their bidding without a
murmur, and patiently bore their abuse; but when they mocked at his God,
and laughed at his devotions, their slave assumed an air and tone of
authority, and sternly rebuked them. [15]

[15] Lalemant, Relation, 1647, 41.

He would sometimes escape from "this Babylon," as he calls the hut, and
wander in the forest, telling his beads and repeating passages of
Scripture. In a remote and lonely spot, he cut the bark in the form of a
cross from the trunk of a great tree; and here he made his prayers. This
living martyr, half clad in shaggy furs, kneeling on the snow among the
icicled rocks and beneath the gloomy pines, bowing in adoration before
the emblem of the faith in which was his only consolation and his only
hope, is alike a theme for the pen and a subject for the pencil.

The Indians at last grew tired of him, and sent him back to the village.
Here he remained till the middle of March, baptizing infants and trying
to convert adults. He told them of the sun, moon, planets, and stars.
They listened with interest; but when from astronomy he passed to
theology, he spent his breath in vain. In March, the old man with whom
he lived set forth for his spring fishing, taking with him his squaw,
and several children. Jogues also was of the party. They repaired to a
lake, perhaps Lake Saratoga, four days distant. Here they subsisted for
some time on frogs, the entrails of fish, and other garbage. Jogues
passed his days in the forest, repeating his prayers, and carving the
name of Jesus on trees, as a terror to the demons of the wilderness. A
messenger at length arrived from the town; and on the following day,
under the pretence that signs of an enemy had been seen, the party broke
up their camp, and returned home in hot haste. The messenger had brought
tidings that a war-party, which had gone out against the French, had
been defeated and destroyed, and that the whole population were
clamoring to appease their grief by torturing Jogues to death. This was
the true cause of the sudden and mysterious return; but when they
reached the town, other tidings had arrived. The missing warriors were
safe, and on their way home in triumph with a large number of prisoners.
Again Jogues's life was spared; but he was forced to witness the torture
and butchery of the converts and allies of the French. Existence became
unendurable to him, and he longed to die. War-parties were continually
going out. Should they be defeated and cut off, he would pay the forfeit
at the stake; and if they came back, as they usually did, with booty and
prisoners, he was doomed to see his countrymen and their Indian friends
mangled, burned, and devoured.

Jogues had shown no disposition to escape, and great liberty was
therefore allowed him. He went from town to town, giving absolution to
the Christian captives, and converting and baptizing the heathen. On one
occasion, he baptized a woman in the midst of the fire, under pretence
of lifting a cup of water to her parched lips. There was no lack of
objects for his zeal. A single war-party returned from the Huron country
with nearly a hundred prisoners, who were distributed among the Iroquois
towns, and the greater part burned. [16] Of the children of the Mohawks
and their neighbors, he had baptized, before August, about seventy;
insomuch that he began to regard his captivity as a Providential
interposition for the saving of souls.

[16] The Dutch clergyman, Megapolensis, at this time living at Fort
Orange, bears the strongest testimony to the ferocity with which his
friends, the Mohawks, treated their prisoners. He mentions the same
modes of torture which Jogues describes, and is very explicit as to
cannibalism. "The common people," he says, "eat the arms, buttocks, and
trunk; but the chiefs eat the head and the heart." (Short Sketch of the
Mohawk Indians.) This feast was of a religious character.

At the end of July, he went with a party of Indians to a fishing-place
on the Hudson, about twenty miles below Fort Orange. While here, he
learned that another war-party had lately returned with prisoners, two
of whom had been burned to death at Osseruenon. On this, his conscience
smote him that he had not remained in the town to give the sufferers
absolution or baptism; and he begged leave of the old woman who had him
in charge to return at the first opportunity. A canoe soon after went up
the river with some of the Iroquois, and he was allowed to go in it.
When they reached Rensselaerswyck, the Indians landed to trade with the
Dutch, and took Jogues with them.

The centre of this rude little settlement was Fort Orange, a miserable
structure of logs, standing on a spot now within the limits of the city
of Albany. [17] It contained several houses and other buildings; and
behind it was a small church, recently erected, and serving as the abode
of the pastor, Dominie Megapolensis, known in our day as the writer of
an interesting, though short, account of the Mohawks. Some twenty-five
or thirty houses, roughly built of boards and roofed with thatch, were
scattered at intervals on or near the borders of the Hudson, above and
below the fort. Their inhabitants, about a hundred in number, were for
the most part rude Dutch farmers, tenants of Van Rensselaer, the
patroon, or lord of the manor. They raised wheat, of which they made
beer, and oats, with which they fed their numerous horses. They traded,
too, with the Indians, who profited greatly by the competition among
them, receiving guns, knives, axes, kettles, cloth, and beads, at
moderate rates, in exchange for their furs. [18] The Dutch were on
excellent terms with their red neighbors, met them in the forest without
the least fear, and sometimes intermarried with them. They had known of
Jogues's captivity, and, to their great honor, had made efforts for his
release, offering for that purpose goods to a considerable value, but
without effect. [19]

[17] The site of the Phœnix Hotel.--Note by Mr. Shea to Jogues's Novum
Belgium.
[18] Jogues, Novum Belgium; Barnes, Settlement of Albany, 50-55;
O'Callaghan, New Netherland, Chap. VI.

On the relations of the Mohawks and Dutch, see Megapolensis, Short
Sketch of the Mohawk Indians, and portions of the letter of Jogues to
his Superior, dated Rensselaerswyck, Aug. 30, 1643.

[19] See a long letter of Arendt Van Curler (Corlaer) to Van Rensselaer,
June 16, 1643, in O'Callaghan's New Netherland, Appendix L. "We
persuaded them so far," writes Van Curler, "that they promised not to
kill them.... The French captives ran screaming after us, and besought
us to do all in our power to release them out of the hands of the
barbarians."

At Fort Orange Jogues heard startling news. The Indians of the village
where he lived were, he was told, enraged against him, and determined to
burn him. About the first of July, a war-party had set out for Canada,
and one of the warriors had offered to Jogues to be the bearer of a
letter from him to the French commander at Three Rivers, thinking
probably to gain some advantage under cover of a parley. Jogues knew
that the French would be on their guard; and he felt it his duty to lose
no opportunity of informing them as to the state of affairs among the
Iroquois. A Dutchman gave him a piece of paper; and he wrote a letter,
in a jargon of Latin, French, and Huron, warning his countrymen to be on
their guard, as war-parties were constantly going out, and they could
hope for no respite from attack until late in the autumn. [20] When the
Iroquois reached the mouth of the River Richelieu, where a small fort
had been built by the French the preceding summer, the messenger asked
for a parley, and gave Jogues's letter to the commander of the post,
who, after reading it, turned his cannon on the savages. They fled in
dismay, leaving behind them their baggage and some of their guns; and,
returning home in a fury, charged Jogues with having caused their
discomfiture. Jogues had expected this result, and was prepared to meet
it; but several of the principal Dutch settlers, and among them Van
Curler, who had made the previous attempt to rescue him, urged that his
death was certain, if he returned to the Indian town, and advised him to
make his escape. In the Hudson, opposite the settlement, lay a small
Dutch vessel nearly ready to sail. Van Curler offered him a passage in
her to Bordeaux or Rochelle,--representing that the opportunity was too
good to be lost, and making light of the prisoner's objection, that a
connivance in his escape on the part of the Dutch would excite the
resentment of the Indians against them. Jogues thanked him warmly; but,
to his amazement, asked for a night to consider the matter, and take
counsel of God in prayer.

[20] See a French rendering of the letter in Vimont, Relation, 1643, p.
75.

He spent the night in great agitation, tossed by doubt, and full of
anxiety lest his self-love should beguile him from his duty. [21] Was it
not possible that the Indians might spare his life, and that, by a
timely drop of water, he might still rescue souls from torturing devils,
and eternal fires of perdition? On the other hand, would he not, by
remaining to meet a fate almost inevitable, incur the guilt of suicide?
And even should he escape torture and death, could he hope that the
Indians would again permit him to instruct and baptize their prisoners?
Of his French companions, one, Goupil, was dead; while Couture had urged
Jogues to flight, saying that he would then follow his example, but
that, so long as the Father remained a prisoner, he, Couture, would
share his fate. Before morning, Jogues had made his decision. God, he
thought, would be better pleased should he embrace the opportunity given
him. He went to find his Dutch friends, and, with a profusion of thanks,
accepted their offer. They told him that a boat should be left for him
on the shore, and that he must watch his time, and escape in it to the
vessel, where he would be safe.

[21] Buteux, Narré, MS.

He and his Indian masters were lodged together in a large building, like
a barn, belonging to a Dutch farmer. It was a hundred feet long, and had
no partition of any kind. At one end the farmer kept his cattle; at the
other he slept with his wife, a Mohawk squaw, and his children, while
his Indian guests lay on the floor in the middle. [22] As he is
described as one of the principal persons of the colony, it is clear
that the civilization of Rensselaerswyck was not high.

[22] Buteux, Narré, MS.

In the evening, Jogues, in such a manner as not to excite the suspicion
of the Indians, went out to reconnoitre. There was a fence around the
house, and, as he was passing it, a large dog belonging to the farmer
flew at him, and bit him very severely in the leg. The Dutchman, hearing
the noise, came out with a light, led Jogues back into the building, and
bandaged his wound. He seemed to have some suspicion of the prisoner's
design; for, fearful perhaps that his escape might exasperate the
Indians, he made fast the door in such a manner that it could not
readily be opened. Jogues now lay down among the Indians, who, rolled in
their blankets, were stretched around him. He was fevered with
excitement; and the agitation of his mind, joined to the pain of his
wound, kept him awake all night. About dawn, while the Indians were
still asleep, a laborer in the employ of the farmer came in with a
lantern, and Jogues, who spoke no Dutch, gave him to understand by signs
that he needed his help and guidance. The man was disposed to aid him,
silently led the way out, quieted the dogs, and showed him the path to
the river. It was more than half a mile distant, and the way was rough
and broken. Jogues was greatly exhausted, and his wounded limb gave him
such pain that he walked with the utmost difficulty. When he reached the
shore, the day was breaking, and he found, to his dismay, that the ebb
of the tide had left the boat high and dry. He shouted to the vessel,
but no one heard him. His desperation gave him strength; and, by working
the boat to and fro, he pushed it at length, little by little, into the
water, entered it, and rowed to the vessel. The Dutch sailors received
him kindly, and hid him in the bottom of the hold, placing a large box
over the hatchway.

He remained two days, half stifled, in this foul lurking-place, while
the Indians, furious at his escape, ransacked the settlement in vain to
find him. They came off to the vessel, and so terrified the officers,
that Jogues was sent on shore at night, and led to the fort. Here he was
hidden in the garret of a house occupied by a miserly old man, to whose
charge he was consigned. Food was sent to him; but, as his host
appropriated the larger part to himself, Jogues was nearly starved.
There was a compartment of his garret, separated from the rest by a
partition of boards. Here the old Dutchman, who, like many others of the
settlers, carried on a trade with the Mohawks, kept a quantity of goods
for that purpose; and hither he often brought his customers. The boards
of the partition had shrunk, leaving wide crevices; and Jogues could
plainly see the Indians, as they passed between him and the light. They,
on their part, might as easily have seen him, if he had not, when he
heard them entering the house, hidden himself behind some barrels in the
corner, where he would sometimes remain crouched for hours, in a
constrained and painful posture, half suffocated with heat, and afraid
to move a limb. His wounded leg began to show dangerous symptoms; but he
was relieved by the care of a Dutch surgeon of the fort. The minister,
Megapolensis, also visited him, and did all in his power for the comfort
of his Catholic brother, with whom he seems to have been well pleased,
and whom he calls "a very learned scholar." [23]

[23] Megapolensis, A Short Sketch of the Mohawk Indians.

When Jogues had remained for six weeks in this hiding-place, his Dutch
friends succeeded in satisfying his Indian masters by the payment of a
large ransom. [24] A vessel from Manhattan, now New York, soon after
brought up an order from the Director-General, Kieft, that he should be
sent to him. Accordingly he was placed in a small vessel, which carried
him down the Hudson. The Dutch on board treated him with great kindness;
and, to do him honor, named after him one of the islands in the river.
At Manhattan he found a dilapidated fort, garrisoned by sixty soldiers,
and containing a stone church and the Director-General's house, together
with storehouses and barracks. Near it were ranges of small houses,
occupied chiefly by mechanics and laborers; while the dwellings of the
remaining colonists, numbering in all four or five hundred, were
scattered here and there on the island and the neighboring shores. The
settlers were of different sects and nations, but chiefly Dutch
Calvinists. Kieft told his guest that eighteen different languages were
spoken at Manhattan. [25] The colonists were in the midst of a bloody
Indian war, brought on by their own besotted cruelty; and while Jogues
was at the fort, some forty of the Dutchmen were killed on the
neighboring farms, and many barns and houses burned. [26]

[24] Lettre de Jogues à Lalemant, Rennes, Jan. 6, 1644.--See Relation,
1643, p. 79.--Goods were given the Indians to the value of three hundred
livres.
[25] Jogues, Novum Belgium.
[26] This war was with Algonquin tribes of the neighborhood.--See
O'Callaghan, New Netherland, I., Chap. III.

The Director-General, with a humanity that was far from usual with him,
exchanged Jogues's squalid and savage dress for a suit of Dutch cloth,
and gave him passage in a small vessel which was then about to sail. The
voyage was rough and tedious; and the passenger slept on deck or on a
coil of ropes, suffering greatly from cold, and often drenched by the
waves that broke over the vessel's side. At length she reached Falmouth,
on the southern coast of England, when all the crew went ashore for a
carouse, leaving Jogues alone on board. A boat presently came alongside
with a gang of desperadoes, who boarded her, and rifled her of
everything valuable, threatened Jogues with a pistol, and robbed him of
his hat and coat. He obtained some assistance from the crew of a French
ship in the harbor, and, on the day before Christmas, took passage in a
small coal vessel for the neighboring coast of Brittany. In the
following afternoon he was set on shore a little to the north of Brest,
and, seeing a peasant's cottage not far off, he approached it, and asked
the way to the nearest church. The peasant and his wife, as the
narrative gravely tells us, mistook him, by reason of his modest
deportment, for some poor, but pious Irishman, and asked him to share
their supper, after finishing his devotions, an invitation which Jogues,
half famished as he was, gladly accepted. He reached the church in time
for the evening mass, and with an unutterable joy knelt before the
altar, and renewed the communion of which he had been deprived so long.
When he returned to the cottage, the attention of his hosts was at once
attracted to his mutilated and distorted hands. They asked with
amazement how he could have received such injuries; and when they heard
the story of his tortures, their surprise and veneration knew no bounds.
Two young girls, their daughters, begged him to accept all they had to
give,--a handful of sous; while the peasant made known the character of
his new guest to his neighbors. A trader from Rennes brought a horse to
the door, and offered the use of it to Jogues, to carry him to the
Jesuit college in that town. He gratefully accepted it; and, on the
morning of the fifth of January, 1644, reached his destination.

He dismounted, and knocked at the door of the college. The porter opened
it, and saw a man wearing on his head an old woollen nightcap, and in an
attire little better than that of a beggar. Jogues asked to see the
Rector; but the porter answered, coldly, that the Rector was busied in
the Sacristy. Jogues begged him to say that a man was at the door with
news from Canada. The missions of Canada were at this time an object of
primal interest to the Jesuits, and above all to the Jesuits of France.
A letter from Jogues, written during his captivity, had already reached
France, as had also the Jesuit Relation of 1643, which contained a long
account of his capture; and he had no doubt been an engrossing theme of
conversation in every house of the French Jesuits. The Father Rector was
putting on his vestments to say mass; but when he heard that a poor man
from Canada had asked for him at the door, he postponed the service, and
went to meet him. Jogues, without discovering himself, gave him a letter
from the Dutch Director-General attesting his character. The Rector,
without reading it, began to question him as to the affairs of Canada,
and at length asked him if he knew Father Jogues.

"I knew him very well," was the reply.

"The Iroquois have taken him," pursued the Rector. "Is he dead? Have
they murdered him?"

"No," answered Jogues; "he is alive and at liberty, and I am he." And he
fell on his knees to ask his Superior's blessing.

That night was a night of jubilation and thanksgiving in the college of
Rennes. [27]

[27] For Jogues's arrival in Brittany, see Lettre de Jogues à Lalemant,
Rennes, Jan. 6, 1644; Lettre de Jogues à------, Rennes, Jan. 5, 1644,
(in Relation, 1643,) and the long account in the Relation of 1647.

Jogues became a centre of curiosity and reverence. He was summoned to
Paris. The Queen, Anne of Austria, wished to see him; and when the
persecuted slave of the Mohawks was conducted into her presence, she
kissed his mutilated hands, while the ladies of the Court thronged
around to do him homage. We are told, and no doubt with truth, that
these honors were unwelcome to the modest and single-hearted missionary,
who thought only of returning to his work of converting the Indians. A
priest with any deformity of body is debarred from saying mass. The
teeth and knives of the Iroquois had inflicted an injury worse than the
torturers imagined, for they had robbed Jogues of the privilege which
was the chief consolation of his life; but the Pope, by a special
dispensation, restored it to him, and with the opening spring he sailed
again for Canada.

CHAPTER XVII.
1641-1646.

THE IROQUOIS--BRESSANI--DE NOUË.

Two forces were battling for the mastery of Canada: on the one side,
Christ, the Virgin, and the Angels, with their agents, the priests; on
the other, the Devil, and his tools, the Iroquois. Such at least was the
view of the case held in full faith, not by the Jesuit Fathers alone,
but by most of the colonists. Never before had the fiend put forth such
rage, and in the Iroquois he found instruments of a nature not
uncongenial with his own.

At Quebec, Three Rivers, Montreal, and the little fort of Richelieu,
that is to say, in all Canada, no man could hunt, fish, till the fields,
or cut a tree in the forest, without peril to his scalp. The Iroquois
were everywhere, and nowhere. A yell, a volley of bullets, a rush of
screeching savages, and all was over. The soldiers hastened to the spot
to find silence, solitude, and a mangled corpse.

"I had as lief," writes Father Vimont, "be beset by goblins as by the
Iroquois. The one are about as invisible as the other. Our people on the
Richelieu and at Montreal are kept in a closer confinement than ever
were monks or nuns in our smallest convents in France."

The Confederates at this time were in a flush of unparalleled audacity.
They despised white men as base poltroons, and esteemed themselves
warriors and heroes, destined to conquer all mankind. [1] The fire-arms
with which the Dutch had rashly supplied them, joined to their united
councils, their courage, and ferocity, gave them an advantage over the
surrounding tribes which they fully understood. Their passions rose with
their sense of power. They boasted that they would wipe the Hurons, the
Algonquins, and the French from the face of the earth, and carry the
"white girls," meaning the nuns, to their villages. This last event,
indeed, seemed more than probable; and the Hospital nuns left their
exposed station at Sillery, and withdrew to the ramparts and palisades
of Quebec. The St. Lawrence and the Ottawa were so infested, that
communication with the Huron country was cut off; and three times the
annual packet of letters sent thither to the missionaries fell into the
hands of the Iroquois.

[1] Bressani, when a prisoner among them, writes to this effect in a
letter to his Superior.--See Relation Abrégée, 131.

The anonymous author of the Relation of 1660 says, that, in their
belief, if their nation were destroyed, a general confusion and
overthrow of mankind must needs be the consequence.--Relation, 1660, 6.

It was towards the close of the year 1640 that the scourge of Iroquois
war had begun to fall heavily on the French. At that time, a party of
their warriors waylaid and captured Thomas Godefroy and François
Marguerie, the latter a young man of great energy and daring, familiar
with the woods, a master of the Algonquin language, and a scholar of no
mean acquirements. [2] To the great joy of the colonists, he and his
companion were brought back to Three Rivers by their captors, and given
up, in the vain hope that the French would respond with a gift of
fire-arms. Their demand for them being declined, they broke off the
parley in a rage, fortified themselves, fired on the French, and
withdrew under cover of night.

[2] During his captivity, he wrote, on a beaver-skin, a letter to the
Dutch in French, Latin, and English.

Open war now ensued, and for a time all was bewilderment and terror. How
to check the inroads of an enemy so stealthy and so keen for blood was
the problem that taxed the brain of Montmagny, the Governor. He thought
he had found a solution, when he conceived the plan of building a fort
at the mouth of the River Richelieu, by which the Iroquois always made
their descents to the St. Lawrence. Happily for the perishing colony,
the Cardinal de Richelieu, in 1642, sent out thirty or forty soldiers
for its defence. [3] Ten times the number would have been scarcely
sufficient; but even this slight succor was hailed with delight, and
Montmagny was enabled to carry into effect his plan of the fort, for
which hitherto he had had neither builders nor garrison. He took with
him, besides the new-comers, a body of soldiers and armed laborers from
Quebec, and, with a force of about a hundred men in all, [4] sailed for
the Richelieu, in a brigantine and two or three open boats.

[3] Faillon, Colonie Française, II. 2; Vimont, Relation, 1642, 2, 44.
[4] Marie de l'Incarnation, Lettre, Sept. 29, 1642.

On the thirteenth of August he reached his destination, and landed where
the town of Sorel now stands. It was but eleven days before that Jogues
and his companions had been captured, and Montmagny's followers found
ghastly tokens of the disaster. The heads of the slain were stuck on
poles by the side of the river; and several trees, from which portions
of the bark had been peeled, were daubed with the rude picture-writing
in which the victors recorded their exploit. [5] Among the rest, a
representation of Jogues himself was clearly distinguishable. The heads
were removed, the trees cut down, and a large cross planted on the spot.
An altar was raised, and all heard mass; then a volley of musketry was
fired; and then they fell to their work. They hewed an opening into the
forest, dug up the roots, cleared the ground, and cut, shaped, and
planted palisades. Thus a week passed, and their defences were nearly
completed, when suddenly the war-whoop rang in their ears, and two
hundred Iroquois rushed upon them from the borders of the clearing. [6]

[5] Vimont, Relation, 1642, 52.

This practice was common to many tribes, and is not yet extinct. The
writer has seen similar records, made by recent war-parties of Crows or
Blackfeet, in the remote West. In this case, the bark was removed from
the trunks of large cotton-wood trees, and the pictures traced with
charcoal and vermilion. There were marks for scalps, for prisoners, and
for the conquerors themselves.
[6] The Relation of 1642 says three hundred. Jogues, who had been among
them to his cost, is the better authority.

It was the party of warriors that Jogues had met on an island in Lake
Champlain. But for the courage of Du Rocher, a corporal, who was on
guard, they would have carried all before them. They were rushing
through an opening in the palisade, when he, with a few soldiers, met
them with such vigor and resolution, that they were held in check long
enough for the rest to snatch their arms. Montmagny, who was on the
river in his brigantine, hastened on shore, and the soldiers, encouraged
by his arrival, fought with great determination.

The Iroquois, on their part, swarmed up to the palisade, thrust their
guns through the loop-holes, and fired on those within; nor was it till
several of them had been killed and others wounded that they learned to
keep a more prudent distance. A tall savage, wearing a crest of the hair
of some animal, dyed scarlet and bound with a fillet of wampum, leaped
forward to the attack, and was shot dead. Another shared his fate, with
seven buck-shot in his shield, and as many in his body. The French, with
shouts, redoubled their fire, and the Indians at length lost heart and
fell back. The wounded dropped guns, shields, and war-clubs, and the
whole band withdrew to the shelter of a fort which they had built in the
forest, three miles above. On the part of the French, one man was killed
and four wounded. They had narrowly escaped a disaster which might have
proved the ruin of the colony; and they now gained time so far to
strengthen their defences as to make them reasonably secure against any
attack of savages. [7] The new fort, however, did not effectually answer
its purpose of stopping the inroads of the Iroquois. They would land a
mile or more above it, carry their canoes through the forest across an
intervening tongue of land, and then launch them in the St. Lawrence,
while the garrison remained in total ignorance of their movements.

[7] Vimont, Relation, 1642, 50, 51.

Assaults by Indians on fortified places are rare. The Iroquois are
known, however, to have made them with success in several cases, some of
the most remarkable of which will appear hereafter. The courage of
Indians is uncertain and spasmodic. They are capable, at times, of a
furious temerity, approaching desperation; but this is liable to sudden
and extreme reaction. Their courage, too, is much oftener displayed in
covert than in open attacks.

While the French were thus beset, their Indian allies fared still worse.
The effect of Iroquois hostilities on all the Algonquin tribes of
Canada, from the Saguenay to the Lake of the Nipissings, had become
frightfully apparent. Famine and pestilence had aided the ravages of
war, till these wretched bands seemed in the course of rapid
extermination. Their spirit was broken. They became humble and docile in
the hands of the missionaries, ceased their railings against the new
doctrine, and leaned on the French as their only hope in this extremity
of woe. Sometimes they would appear in troops at Sillery or Three
Rivers, scared out of their forests by the sight of an Iroquois
footprint; then some new terror would seize them, and drive them back to
seek a hiding-place in the deepest thickets of the wilderness. Their
best hunting-grounds were beset by the enemy. They starved for weeks
together, subsisting on the bark of trees or the thongs of raw hide
which formed the net-work of their snow-shoes. The mortality among them
was prodigious. "Where, eight years ago," writes Father Vimont, "one
would see a hundred wigwams, one now sees scarcely five or six. A chief
who once had eight hundred warriors has now but thirty or forty; and in
place of fleets of three or four hundred canoes, we see less than a
tenth of that number." [8]

[8] Relation, 1644, 3.

These Canadian tribes were undergoing that process of extermination,
absorption, or expatriation, which, as there is reason to believe, had
for many generations formed the gloomy and meaningless history of the
greater part of this continent. Three or four hundred Dutch guns, in the
hands of the conquerors, gave an unwonted quickness and decision to the
work, but in no way changed its essential character. The horrible nature
of this warfare can be known only through examples; and of these one or
two will suffice.

A band of Algonquins, late in the autumn of 1641, set forth from Three
Rivers on their winter hunt, and, fearful of the Iroquois, made their
way far northward, into the depths of the forests that border the
Ottawa. Here they thought themselves safe, built their lodges, and began
to hunt the moose and beaver. But a large party of their enemies, with a
persistent ferocity that is truly astonishing, had penetrated even here,
found the traces of the snow-shoes, followed up their human prey, and
hid at nightfall among the rocks and thickets around the encampment. At
midnight, their yells and the blows of their war-clubs awakened their
sleeping victims. In a few minutes all were in their power. They bound
the prisoners hand and foot, rekindled the fire, slung the kettles, cut
the bodies of the slain to pieces, and boiled and devoured them before
the eyes of the wretched survivors. "In a word," says the narrator,
"they ate men with as much appetite and more pleasure than hunters eat a
boar or a stag." [9]

[9] Vimont, Relation, 1642, 46.

Meanwhile they amused themselves with bantering their prisoners.
"Uncle," said one of them to an old Algonquin, "you are a dead man. You
are going to the land of souls. Tell them to take heart: they will have
good company soon, for we are going to send all the rest of your nation
to join them. This will be good news for them." [10]

[10] Vimont, Relation, 1642, 45.

This old man, who is described as no less malicious than his captors,
and even more crafty, soon after escaped, and brought tidings of the
disaster to the French. In the following spring, two women of the party
also escaped; and, after suffering almost incredible hardships, reached
Three Rivers, torn with briers, nearly naked, and in a deplorable state
of bodily and mental exhaustion. One of them told her story to Father
Buteux, who translated it into French, and gave it to Vimont to be
printed in the Relation of 1642. Revolting as it is, it is necessary to
recount it. Suffice it to say, that it is sustained by the whole body of
contemporary evidence in regard to the practices of the Iroquois and
some of the neighboring tribes.

The conquerors feasted in the lodge till nearly daybreak, and then,
after a short rest, began their march homeward with their prisoners.
Among these were three women, of whom the narrator was one, who had each
a child of a few weeks or months old. At the first halt, their captors
took the infants from them, tied them to wooden spits, placed them to
die slowly before a fire, and feasted on them before the eyes of the
agonized mothers, whose shrieks, supplications, and frantic efforts to
break the cords that bound them were met with mockery and laughter.
"They are not men, they are wolves!" sobbed the wretched woman, as she
told what had befallen her to the pitying Jesuit. [11] At the Fall of
the Chaudière, another of the women ended her woes by leaping into the
cataract. When they approached the first Iroquois town, they were met,
at the distance of several leagues, by a crowd of the inhabitants, and
among them a troop of women, bringing food to regale the triumphant
warriors. Here they halted, and passed the night in songs of victory,
mingled with the dismal chant of the prisoners, who were forced to dance
for their entertainment.

[11] Vimont, Relation, 1642, 46.

On the morrow, they entered the town, leading the captive Algonquins,
fast bound, and surrounded by a crowd of men, women, and children, all
singing at the top of their throats. The largest lodge was ready to
receive them; and as they entered, the victims read their doom in the
fires that blazed on the earthen floor, and in the aspect of the
attendant savages, whom the Jesuit Father calls attendant demons, that
waited their coming. The torture which ensued was but preliminary,
designed to cause all possible suffering without touching life. It
consisted in blows with sticks and cudgels, gashing their limbs with
knives, cutting off their fingers with clam-shells, scorching them with
firebrands, and other indescribable torments. [12] The women were
stripped naked, and forced to dance to the singing of the male
prisoners, amid the applause and laughter of the crowd. They then gave
them food, to strengthen them for further suffering.

[12] "Cette pauure creature qui s'est sauuée, a les deux pouces couppez,
ou plus tost hachez. Quand ils me les eurent couppez, disoit-elle, ils
me les voulurent faire manger; mais ie les mis sur mon giron, et leur
dis qu'ils me tuassent s'ils vouloient, que ie ne leur pouuois
obeir."--Buteux in Relation, 1642, 47.

On the following morning, they were placed on a large scaffold, in sight
of the whole population. It was a gala-day. Young and old were gathered
from far and near. Some mounted the scaffold, and scorched them with
torches and firebrands; while the children, standing beneath the bark
platform, applied fire to the feet of the prisoners between the
crevices. The Algonquin women were told to burn their husbands and
companions; and one of them obeyed, vainly thinking to appease her
tormentors. The stoicism of one of the warriors enraged his captors
beyond measure. "Scream! why don't you scream?" they cried, thrusting
their burning brands at his naked body. "Look at me," he answered; "you
cannot make me wince. If you were in my place, you would screech like
babies." At this they fell upon him with redoubled fury, till their
knives and firebrands left in him no semblance of humanity. He was
defiant to the last, and when death came to his relief, they tore out
his heart and devoured it; then hacked him in pieces, and made their
feast of triumph on his mangled limbs. [13]

[13] The diabolical practices described above were not peculiar to the
Iroquois. The Neutrals and other kindred tribes were no whit less cruel.
It is a remark of Mr. Gallatin, and I think a just one, that the Indians
west of the Mississippi are less ferocious than those east of it. The
burning of prisoners is rare among the prairie tribes, but is not
unknown. An Ogillallah chief, in whose lodge I lived for several weeks
in 1846, described to me, with most expressive pantomime, how he had
captured and burned a warrior of the Snake Tribe, in a valley of the
Medicine Bow Mountains, near which we were then encamped.

All the men and all the old women of the party were put to death in a
similar manner, though but few displayed the same amazing fortitude. The
younger women, of whom there were about thirty, after passing their
ordeal of torture, were permitted to live; and, disfigured as they were,
were distributed among the several villages, as concubines or slaves to
the Iroquois warriors. Of this number were the narrator and her
companion, who, being ordered to accompany a war-party and carry their
provisions, escaped at night into the forest, and reached Three Rivers,
as we have seen.

While the Indian allies of the French were wasting away beneath this
atrocious warfare, the French themselves, and especially the travelling
Jesuits, had their full share of the infliction. In truth, the puny and
sickly colony seemed in the gasps of dissolution. The beginning of
spring, particularly, was a season of terror and suspense; for with the
breaking up of the ice, sure as a destiny, came the Iroquois. As soon as
a canoe could float, they were on the war-path; and with the cry of the
returning wild-fowl mingled the yell of these human tigers. They did not
always wait for the breaking ice, but set forth on foot, and, when they
came to open water, made canoes and embarked.

Well might Father Vimont call the Iroquois "the scourge of this infant
church." They burned, hacked, and devoured the neophytes; exterminated
whole villages at once; destroyed the nations whom the Fathers hoped to
convert; and ruined that sure ally of the missions, the fur-trade. Not
the most hideous nightmare of a fevered brain could transcend in horror
the real and waking perils with which they beset the path of these
intrepid priests.

In the spring of 1644, Joseph Bressani, an Italian Jesuit, born in Rome,
and now for two years past a missionary in Canada, was ordered by his
Superior to go up to the Hurons. It was so early in the season that
there seemed hope that he might pass in safety; and as the Fathers in
that wild mission had received no succor for three years, Bressani was
charged with letters to them, and such necessaries for their use as he
was able to carry. With him were six young Hurons, lately converted, and
a French boy in his service. The party were in three small canoes.
Before setting out, they all confessed and prepared for death.

They left Three Rivers on the twenty-seventh of April, and found ice
still floating in the river, and patches of snow lying in the naked
forests. On the first day, one of the canoes overset, nearly drowning
Bressani, who could not swim. On the third day, a snow-storm began, and
greatly retarded their progress. The young Indians foolishly fired their
guns at the wild-fowl on the river, and the sound reached the ears of a
war-party of Iroquois, one of ten that had already set forth for the St.
Lawrence, the Ottawa, and the Huron towns. [14] Hence it befell, that,
as they crossed the mouth of a small stream entering the St. Lawrence,
twenty-seven Iroquois suddenly issued from behind a point, and attacked
them in canoes. One of the Hurons was killed, and all the rest of the
party captured without resistance.

[14] Vimont, Relation, 1644, 41.

On the fifteenth of July following, Bressani wrote from the Iroquois
country to the General of the Jesuits at Rome:--"I do not know if your
Paternity will recognize the handwriting of one whom you once knew very
well. The letter is soiled and ill-written; because the writer has only
one finger of his right hand left entire, and cannot prevent the blood
from his wounds, which are still open, from staining the paper. His ink
is gunpowder mixed with water, and his table is the earth." [15]

[15] This letter is printed anonymously in the Second Part, Chap. II, of
Bressani's Relation Abrégée. A comparison with Vimont's account, in the
Relation of 1644, makes its authorship apparent. Vimont's narrative
agrees in all essential points. His informant was "vne personne digne de
foy, qui a esté tesmoin oculaire de tout ce qu'il a souffert pendant sa
captiuité."--Vimont, Relation, 1644, 43.

Then follows a modest narrative of what he endured at the hands of his
captors. First they thanked the Sun for their victory; then plundered
the canoes; then cut up, roasted, and devoured the slain Huron before
the eyes of the prisoners. On the next day they crossed to the southern
shore, and ascended the River Richelieu as far as the rapids of Chambly,
whence they pursued their march on foot among the brambles, rocks, and
swamps of the trackless forest. When they reached Lake Champlain, they
made new canoes and re-embarked, landed at its southern extremity six
days afterwards, and thence made for the Upper Hudson. Here they found a
fishing camp of four hundred Iroquois, and now Bressani's torments began
in earnest. They split his hand with a knife, between the little finger
and the ring finger; then beat him with sticks, till he was covered with
blood; and afterwards placed him on one of their torture-scaffolds of
bark, as a spectacle to the crowd. Here they stripped him, and while he
shivered with cold from head to foot they forced him to sing. After
about two hours they gave him up to the children, who ordered him to
dance, at the same time thrusting sharpened sticks into his flesh, and
pulling out his hair and beard. "Sing!" cried one; "Hold your tongue!"
screamed another; and if he obeyed the first, the second burned him. "We
will burn you to death; we will eat you." "I will eat one of your
hands." "And I will eat one of your feet." [16] These scenes were
renewed every night for a week. Every evening a chief cried aloud
through the camp, "Come, my children, come and caress our
prisoners!"--and the savage crew thronged jubilant to a large hut, where
the captives lay. They stripped off the torn fragment of a cassock,
which was the priest's only garment; burned him with live coals and
red-hot stones; forced him to walk on hot cinders; burned off now a
finger-nail and now the joint of a finger,--rarely more than one at a
time, however, for they economized their pleasures, and reserved the
rest for another day. This torture was protracted till one or two
o'clock, after which they left him on the ground, fast bound to four
stakes, and covered only with a scanty fragment of deer-skin. [17] The
other prisoners had their share of torture; but the worst fell upon the
Jesuit, as the chief man of the party. The unhappy boy who attended him,
though only twelve or thirteen years old, was tormented before his eyes
with a pitiless ferocity.

[16] "Ils me répétaient sans cesse: Nous te brûlerons; nous te
mangerons;--je te mangerai un pied;--et moi, une main," etc.--Bressani,
in Relation Abrégée, 137.
[17] "Chaque nuit après m'avoir fait chanter, et m'avoir tourmenté comme
ie l'ai dit, ils passaient environ un quart d'heure à me brûler un ongle
ou un doigt. Il ne m'en reste maintenant qu'un seul entier, et encore
ils en ont arraché l'ongle avec les dents. Un soir ils m'enlevaient un
ongle, le lendemain la première phalange, le jour suivant la seconde. En
six fois, ils en brûlèrent presque six. Aux mains seules, ils m'ont
appliqué le feu et le fer plus de 18 fois, et i'étais obligé de chanter
pendant ce supplice. Ils ne cessaient de me tourmenter qu'à une ou deux
heures de la nuit."--Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 122.

Bressani speaks in another passage of tortures of a nature yet more
excruciating. They were similar to those alluded to by the anonymous
author of the Relation of 1660: "Ie ferois rougir ce papier, et les
oreilles frémiroient, si ie rapportois les horribles traitemens que les
Agnieronnons" (the Mohawk nation of the Iroquois) "ont faits sur
quelques captifs." He adds, that past ages have never heard of
such.--Relation, 1660, 7, 8.

At length they left this encampment, and, after a march of several
days,--during which Bressani, in wading a rocky stream, fell from
exhaustion and was nearly drowned,--they reached an Iroquois town. It is
needless to follow the revolting details of the new torments that
succeeded. They hung him by the feet with chains; placed food for their
dogs on his naked body, that they might lacerate him as they ate; and at
last had reduced his emaciated frame to such a condition, that even they
themselves stood in horror of him. "I could not have believed," he
writes to his Superior, "that a man was so hard to kill." He found among
them those who, from compassion, or from a refinement of cruelty, fed
him, for he could not feed himself. They told him jestingly that they
wished to fatten him before putting him to death.

The council that was to decide his fate met on the nineteenth of June,
when, to the prisoner's amazement, and, as it seemed, to their own
surprise, they resolved to spare his life. He was given, with due
ceremony, to an old woman, to take the place of a deceased relative;
but, since he was as repulsive, in his mangled condition, as, by the
Indian standard, he was useless, she sent her son with him to Fort
Orange, to sell him to the Dutch. With the same humanity which they had
shown in the case of Jogues, they gave a generous ransom for him,
supplied him with clothing, kept him till his strength was in some
degree recruited, and then placed him on board a vessel bound for
Rochelle. Here he arrived on the fifteenth of November; and in the
following spring, maimed and disfigured, but with health restored,
embarked to dare again the knives and firebrands of the Iroquois. [18]

[18] Immediately on his return to Canada he was ordered to set out again
for the Hurons. More fortunate than on his first attempt, he arrived
safely, early in the autumn of 1645.--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons,
1646, 73.

On Bressani, besides the authorities cited, see Du Creux, Historia
Canadensis, 399-403; Juchereau, Histoire de l'Hôtel-Dieu, 53; and
Martin, Biographie du P. François-Joseph Bressani, prefixed to the
Relation Abrégée.

He made no converts while a prisoner, but he baptized a Huron catechumen
at the stake, to the great fury of the surrounding Iroquois. He has
left, besides his letters, some interesting notes on his captivity,
preserved in the Relation Abrégée.

It should be noticed, in justice to the Iroquois, that, ferocious and
cruel as past all denial they were, they were not so bereft of the
instincts of humanity as at first sight might appear. An inexorable
severity towards enemies was a very essential element, in their savage
conception, of the character of the warrior. Pity was a cowardly
weakness, at which their pride revolted. This, joined to their thirst
for applause and their dread of ridicule, made them smother every
movement of compassion, [19] and conspired with their native fierceness
to form a character of unrelenting cruelty rarely equalled.

[19] Thus, when Bressani, tortured by the tightness of the cords that
bound him, asked an Indian to loosen them, he would reply by mockery, if
others were present; but if no one saw him, he usually complied.

The perils which beset the missionaries did not spring from the fury of
the Iroquois alone, for Nature herself was armed with terror in this
stern wilderness of New France. On the thirtieth of January, 1646,
Father Anne de Nouë set out from Three Rivers to go to the fort built by
the French at the mouth of the River Richelieu, where he was to say mass
and hear confessions. De Nouë was sixty-three years old, and had come to
Canada in 1625. [20] As an indifferent memory disabled him from
mastering the Indian languages, he devoted himself to the spiritual
charge of the French, and of the Indians about the forts, within reach
of an interpreter. For the rest, he attended the sick, and, in times of
scarcity, fished in the river or dug roots in the woods for the
subsistence of his flock. In short, though sprung from a noble family of
Champagne, he shrank from no toil, however humble, to which his idea of
duty or his vow of obedience called him. [21]

[20] See "Pioneers of France," 393.
[21] He was peculiarly sensitive as regarded the cardinal Jesuit virtue
of obedience; and both Lalemant and Bressani say, that, at the age of
sixty and upwards, he was sometimes seen in tears, when he imagined that
he had not fulfilled to the utmost the commands of his Superior.

The old missionary had for companions two soldiers and a Huron Indian.
They were all on snow-shoes, and the soldiers dragged their baggage on
small sledges. Their highway was the St. Lawrence, transformed to solid
ice, and buried, like all the country, beneath two or three feet of
snow, which, far and near, glared dazzling white under the clear winter
sun. Before night they had walked eighteen miles, and the soldiers,
unused to snow-shoes, were greatly fatigued. They made their camp in the
forest, on the shore of the great expansion of the St. Lawrence called
the Lake of St. Peter,--dug away the snow, heaped it around the spot as
a barrier against the wind, made their fire on the frozen earth in the
midst, and lay down to sleep. At two o'clock in the morning De Nouë
awoke. The moon shone like daylight over the vast white desert of the
frozen lake, with its bordering fir-trees bowed to the ground with snow;
and the kindly thought struck the Father, that he might ease his
companions by going in advance to Fort Richelieu, and sending back men
to aid them in dragging their sledges. He knew the way well. He directed
them to follow the tracks of his snow-shoes in the morning; and, not
doubting to reach the fort before night, left behind his blanket and his
flint and steel. For provisions, he put a morsel of bread and five or
six prunes in his pocket, told his rosary, and set forth.

Before dawn the weather changed. The air thickened, clouds hid the moon,
and a snow-storm set in. The traveller was in utter darkness. He lost
the points of the compass, wandered far out on the lake, and when day
appeared could see nothing but the snow beneath his feet, and the
myriads of falling flakes that encompassed him like a curtain,
impervious to the sight. Still he toiled on, winding hither and thither,
and at times unwittingly circling back on his own footsteps. At night he
dug a hole in the snow under the shore of an island, and lay down,
without fire, food, or blanket.

Meanwhile the two soldiers and the Indian, unable to trace his
footprints, which the snow had hidden, pursued their way for the fort;
but the Indian was ignorant of the country, and the Frenchmen were
unskilled. They wandered from their course, and at evening encamped on
the shore of the island of St. Ignace, at no great distance from De
Nouë. Here the Indian, trusting to his instinct, left them and set forth
alone in search of their destination, which he soon succeeded in
finding. The palisades of the feeble little fort, and the rude buildings
within, were whitened with snow, and half buried in it. Here, amid the
desolation, a handful of men kept watch and ward against the Iroquois.
Seated by the blazing logs, the Indian asked for De Nouë, and, to his
astonishment, the soldiers of the garrison told him that he had not been
seen. The captain of the post was called; all was anxiety; but nothing
could be done that night.

At daybreak parties went out to search. The two soldiers were readily
found; but they looked in vain for the missionary. All day they were
ranging the ice, firing their guns and shouting; but to no avail, and
they returned disconsolate. There was a converted Indian, whom the
French called Charles, at the fort, one of four who were spending the
winter there. On the next morning, the second of February, he and one of
his companions, together with Baron, a French soldier, resumed the
search; and, guided by the slight depressions in the snow which had
fallen on the wanderer's footprints, the quick-eyed savages traced him
through all his windings, found his camp by the shore of the island, and
thence followed him beyond the fort. He had passed near without
discovering it,--perhaps weakness had dimmed his sight,--stopped to rest
at a point a league above, and thence made his way about three leagues
farther. Here they found him. He had dug a circular excavation in the
snow, and was kneeling in it on the earth. His head was bare, his eyes
open and turned upwards, and his hands clasped on his breast. His hat
and his snow-shoes lay at his side. The body was leaning slightly
forward, resting against the bank of snow before it, and frozen to the
hardness of marble.

Thus, in an act of kindness and charity, died the first martyr of the
Canadian mission. [22]

[22] Lalemant, Relation, 1646, 9; Marie de l'Incarnation, Lettre, 10
Sept., 1646; Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 175.

One of the Indians who found the body of De Nouë was killed by the
Iroquois at Ossossané, in the Huron country, three years after. He
received the death-blow in a posture like that in which he had seen the
dead missionary. His body was found with the hands still clasped on the
breast.--Lettre de Chaumonot à Lalemant, 1 Juin, 1649.

The next death among the Jesuits was that of Masse, who died at Sillery,
on the twelfth of May of this year, 1646, at the age of seventy-two. He
had come with Biard to Acadia as early as 1611. (See "Pioneers of
France," 262.) Lalemant, in the Relation of 1646, gives an account of
him, and speaks of penances which he imposed on himself, some of which
are to the last degree disgusting.

CHAPTER XVIII.
1642-1644.

VILLEMARIE.

Let us now ascend to the island of Montreal. Here, as we have seen, an
association of devout and zealous persons had essayed to found a
mission-colony under the protection of the Holy Virgin; and we left the
adventurers, after their landing, bivouacked on the shore, on an evening
in May. There was an altar in the open air, decorated with a taste that
betokened no less of good nurture than of piety; and around it clustered
the tents that sheltered the commandant, Maisonneuve, the two ladies,
Madame de la Peltrie and Mademoiselle Mance, and the soldiers and
laborers of the expedition.

In the morning they all fell to their work, Maisonneuve hewing down the
first tree,--and labored with such good-will, that their tents were soon
inclosed with a strong palisade, and their altar covered by a
provisional chapel, built, in the Huron mode, of bark. Soon afterward,
their canvas habitations were supplanted by solid structures of wood,
and the feeble germ of a future city began to take root.

The Iroquois had not yet found them out; nor did they discover them till
they had had ample time to fortify themselves. Meanwhile, on a Sunday,
they would stroll at their leisure over the adjacent meadow and in the
shade of the bordering forest, where, as the old chronicler tells us,
the grass was gay with wild-flowers, and the branches with the flutter
and song of many strange birds. [1]

[1] Dollier de Casson, MS.

The day of the Assumption of the Virgin was celebrated with befitting
solemnity. There was mass in their bark chapel; then a Te Deum; then
public instruction of certain Indians who chanced to be at Montreal;
then a procession of all the colonists after vespers, to the admiration
of the redskinned beholders. Cannon, too, were fired, in honor of their
celestial patroness. "Their thunder made all the island echo," writes
Father Vimont; "and the demons, though used to thunderbolts, were scared
at a noise which told them of the love we bear our great Mistress; and I
have scarcely any doubt that the tutelary angels of the savages of New
France have marked this day in the calendar of Paradise." [2]

[2] Vimont, Relation, 1642, 38. Compare Le Clerc, Premier Etablissement
de la Foy, II. 51.

The summer passed prosperously, but with the winter their faith was put
to a rude test. In December, there was a rise of the St. Lawrence,
threatening to sweep away in a night the results of all their labor.
They fell to their prayers; and Maisonneuve planted a wooden cross in
face of the advancing deluge, first making a vow, that, should the peril
be averted, he, Maisonneuve, would bear another cross on his shoulders
up the neighboring mountain, and place it on the summit. The vow seemed
in vain. The flood still rose, filled the fort ditch, swept the foot of
the palisade, and threatened to sap the magazine; but here it stopped,
and presently began to recede, till at length it had withdrawn within
its lawful channel, and Villemarie was safe. [3]

[3] A little MS. map in M. Jacques Viger's copy of Le Petit Registre de
la Cure de Montreal, lays down the position and shape of the fort at
this time, and shows the spot where Maisonneuve planted the cross.

Now it remained to fulfil the promise from which such happy results had
proceeded. Maisonneuve set his men at work to clear a path through the
forest to the top of the mountain. A large cross was made, and solemnly
blessed by the priest; then, on the sixth of January, the Jesuit Du
Peron led the way, followed in procession by Madame de la Peltrie, the
artisans, and soldiers, to the destined spot. The commandant, who with
all the ceremonies of the Church had been declared First Soldier of the
Cross, walked behind the rest, bearing on his shoulder a cross so heavy
that it needed his utmost strength to climb the steep and rugged path.
They planted it on the highest crest, and all knelt in adoration before
it. Du Peron said mass; and Madame de la Peltrie, always romantic and
always devout, received the sacrament on the mountain-top, a spectacle
to the virgin world outstretched below. Sundry relics of saints had been
set in the wood of the cross, which remained an object of pilgrimage to
the pious colonists of Villemarie. [4]

[4] Vimont, Relation, 1643, 52, 53.

Peace and harmony reigned within the little fort; and so edifying was
the demeanor of the colonists, so faithful were they to the
confessional, and so constant at mass, that a chronicler of the day
exclaims, in a burst of enthusiasm, that the deserts lately a resort of
demons were now the abode of angels. [5] The two Jesuits who for the
time were their pastors had them well in hand. They dwelt under the same
roof with most of their flock, who lived in community, in one large
house, and vied with each other in zeal for the honor of the Virgin and
the conversion of the Indians.

[5] Véritables Motifs, cited by Faillon, I. 453, 454.

At the end of August, 1643, a vessel arrived at Villemarie with a
reinforcement commanded by Louis d'Ailleboust de Coulonges, a pious
gentleman of Champagne, and one of the Associates of Montreal. [6] Some
years before, he had asked in wedlock the hand of Barbe de Boulogne; but
the young lady had, when a child, in the ardor of her piety, taken a vow
of perpetual chastity. By the advice of her Jesuit confessor, she
accepted his suit, on condition that she should preserve, to the hour of
her death, the state to which Holy Church has always ascribed a peculiar
merit. [7] D'Ailleboust married her; and when, soon after, he conceived
the purpose of devoting his life to the work of the Faith in Canada, he
invited his maiden spouse to go with him. She refused, and forbade him
to mention the subject again. Her health was indifferent, and about this
time she fell ill. As a last resort, she made a promise to God, that, if
He would restore her, she would go to Canada with her husband; and
forthwith her maladies ceased. Still her reluctance continued; she
hesitated, and then refused again, when an inward light revealed to her
that it was her duty to cast her lot in the wilderness. She accordingly
embarked with d'Ailleboust, accompanied by her sister, Mademoiselle
Philippine de Boulogne, who had caught the contagion of her zeal. The
presence of these damsels would, to all appearance, be rather a burden
than a profit to the colonists, beset as they then were by Indians, and
often in peril of starvation; but the spectacle of their ardor, as
disinterested as it was extravagant, would serve to exalt the religious
enthusiasm in which alone was the life of Villemarie.

[6] Chaulmer, 101; Juchereau, 91.
[7] Juchereau, Histoire de l'Hôtel-Dieu de Québec, 276. The confessor
told D'Ailleboust, that, if he persuaded his wife to break her vow of
continence, "God would chastise him terribly." The nun historian adds,
that, undeterred by the menace, he tried and failed.

Their vessel passed in safety the Iroquois who watched the St. Lawrence,
and its arrival filled the colonists with joy. D'Ailleboust was a
skilful soldier, specially versed in the arts of fortification; and,
under his direction, the frail palisades which formed their sole defence
were replaced by solid ramparts and bastions of earth. He brought news
that the "unknown benefactress," as a certain generous member of the
Association of Montreal was called, in ignorance of her name, had given
funds, to the amount, as afterwards appeared, of forty-two thousand
livres, for the building of a hospital at Villemarie. [8] The source of
the gift was kept secret, from a religious motive; but it soon became
known that it proceeded from Madame de Bullion, a lady whose rank and
wealth were exceeded only by her devotion. It is true that the hospital
was not wanted, as no one was sick at Villemarie, and one or two
chambers would have sufficed for every prospective necessity; but it
will be remembered that the colony had been established in order that a
hospital might be built, and Madame de Bullion would not hear to any
other application of her money. [9] Instead, therefore, of tilling the
land to supply their own pressing needs, all the laborers of the
settlement were set at this pious, though superfluous, task. [10] There
was no room in the fort, which, moreover, was in danger of inundation;
and the hospital was accordingly built on higher ground adjacent. To
leave it unprotected would be to abandon its inmates to the Iroquois; it
was therefore surrounded by a strong palisade, and, in time of danger, a
part of the garrison was detailed to defend it. Here Mademoiselle Mance
took up her abode, and waited the day when wounds or disease should
bring patients to her empty wards.

[8] Archives du Séminaire de Villemarie, cited by Faillon, I. 466. The
amount of the gift was not declared until the next year.
[9] Mademoiselle Mance wrote to her, to urge that the money should be
devoted to the Huron mission; but she absolutely refused.--Dollier de
Casson, MS.
[10] Journal des Supérieurs des Jésuites, MS.

The hospital was sixty feet long and twenty-four feet wide, with a
kitchen, a chamber for Mademoiselle Mance, others for servants, and two
large apartments for the patients. It was amply provided with furniture,
linen, medicines, and all necessaries; and had also two oxen, three
cows, and twenty sheep. A small oratory of stone was built adjoining it.
The inclosure was four arpents in extent.--Archives du Séminaire de
Villemarie, cited by Faillon.

Dauversière, who had first conceived this plan of a hospital in the
wilderness, was a senseless enthusiast, who rejected as a sin every
protest of reason against the dreams which governed him; yet one
rational and practical element entered into the motives of those who
carried the plan into execution. The hospital was intended not only to
nurse sick Frenchmen, but to nurse and convert sick Indians; in other
words, it was an engine of the mission.

From Maisonneuve to the humblest laborer, these zealous colonists were
bent on the work of conversion. To that end, the ladies made pilgrimages
to the cross on the mountain, sometimes for nine days in succession, to
pray God to gather the heathen into His fold. The fatigue was great; nor
was the danger less; and armed men always escorted them, as a precaution
against the Iroquois. [11] The male colonists were equally fervent; and
sometimes as many as fifteen or sixteen persons would kneel at once
before the cross, with the same charitable petition. [12] The ardor of
their zeal may be inferred from the fact, that these pious expeditions
consumed the greater part of the day, when time and labor were of a
value past reckoning to the little colony. Besides their pilgrimages,
they used other means, and very efficient ones, to attract and gain over
the Indians. They housed, fed, and clothed them at every opportunity;
and though they were subsisting chiefly on provisions brought at great
cost from France, there was always a portion for the hungry savages who
from time to time encamped near their fort. If they could persuade any
of them to be nursed, they were consigned to the tender care of
Mademoiselle Mance; and if a party went to war, their women and children
were taken in charge till their return. As this attention to their
bodies had for its object the profit of their souls, it was accompanied
with incessant catechizing. This, with the other influences of the
place, had its effect; and some notable conversions were made. Among
them was that of the renowned chief, Tessouat, or Le Borgne, as the
French called him,--a crafty and intractable savage, whom, to their own
surprise, they succeeded in taming and winning to the Faith. [13] He was
christened with the name of Paul, and his squaw with that of Madeleine.
Maisonneuve rewarded him with a gun, and celebrated the day by a feast
to all the Indians present. [14]

[11] Morin, Annales de l'Hôtel-Dieu de St. Joseph, MS., cited by
Faillon, I. 457.
[12] Marguerite Bourgeoys, Écrits Autographes, MS., extracts in Faillon,
I. 458.
[13] Vimont, Relation, 1643, 54, 55. Tessouat was chief of Allumette
Island, in the Ottawa. His predecessor, of the same name, was
Champlain's host in 1613.--See "Pioneers of France," Chap. XII.
[14] It was the usual practice to give guns to converts, "pour attirer
leur compatriotes à la Foy." They were never given to heathen Indians.
"It seems," observes Vimont, "that our Lord wishes to make use of this
method in order that Christianity may become acceptable in this
country."--Relation, 1643, 71.

The French hoped to form an agricultural settlement of Indians in the
neighborhood of Villemarie; and they spared no exertion to this end,
giving them tools, and aiding them to till the fields. They might have
succeeded, but for that pest of the wilderness, the Iroquois, who
hovered about them, harassed them with petty attacks, and again and
again drove the Algonquins in terror from their camps. Some time had
elapsed, as we have seen, before the Iroquois discovered Villemarie; but
at length ten fugitive Algonquins, chased by a party of them, made for
the friendly settlement as a safe asylum; and thus their astonished
pursuers became aware of its existence. They reconnoitred the place, and
went back to their towns with the news. [15] From that time forth the
colonists had no peace; no more excursions for fishing and hunting; no
more Sunday strolls in woods and meadows. The men went armed to their
work, and returned at the sound of a bell, marching in a compact body,
prepared for an attack.

[15] Dollier de Casson, MS.

Early in June, 1643, sixty Hurons came down in canoes for traffic, and,
on reaching the place now called Lachine, at the head of the rapids of
St. Louis, and a few miles above Villemarie, they were amazed at finding
a large Iroquois war-party in a fort hastily built of the trunks and
boughs of trees. Surprise and fright seem to have infatuated them. They
neither fought nor fled, but greeted their inveterate foes as if they
were friends and allies, and, to gain their good graces, told them all
they knew of the French settlement, urging them to attack it, and
promising an easy victory. Accordingly, the Iroquois detached forty of
their warriors, who surprised six Frenchmen at work hewing timber within
a gunshot of the fort, killed three of them, took the remaining three
prisoners, and returned in triumph. The captives were bound with the
usual rigor; and the Hurons taunted and insulted them, to please their
dangerous companions. Their baseness availed them little; for at night,
after a feast of victory, when the Hurons were asleep or off their
guard, their entertainers fell upon them, and killed or captured the
greater part. The rest ran for Villemarie, where, as their treachery was
as yet unknown, they were received with great kindness. [16]

[16] I have followed Dollier de Casson. Vimont's account is different.
He says that the Iroquois fell upon the Hurons at the outset, and took
twenty-three prisoners, killing many others; after which they made the
attack at Villemarie.--Relation, 1643, 62.

Faillon thinks that Vimont was unwilling to publish the treachery of the
Hurons, lest the interests of the Huron mission should suffer in
consequence.

Belmont, Histoire du Canada, 1643, confirms the account of the Huron
treachery.

The next morning the Iroquois decamped, carrying with them their
prisoners, and the furs plundered from the Huron canoes. They had taken
also, and probably destroyed, all the letters from the missionaries in
the Huron country, as well as a copy of their Relation of the preceding
year. Of the three French prisoners, one escaped and reached Montreal;
the remaining two were burned alive.

At Villemarie it was usually dangerous to pass beyond the ditch of the
fort or the palisades of the hospital. Sometimes a solitary warrior
would lie hidden for days, without sleep and almost without food, behind
a log in the forest, or in a dense thicket, watching like a lynx for
some rash straggler. Sometimes parties of a hundred or more made
ambuscades near by, and sent a few of their number to lure out the
soldiers by a petty attack and a flight. The danger was much diminished,
however, when the colonists received from France a number of dogs, which
proved most efficient sentinels and scouts. Of the instinct of these
animals the writers of the time speak with astonishment. Chief among
them was a bitch named Pilot, who every morning made the rounds of the
forests and fields about the fort, followed by a troop of her offspring.
If one of them lagged behind, she hit him to remind him of his duty; and
if any skulked and ran home, she punished them severely in the same
manner on her return. When she discovered the Iroquois, which she was
sure to do by the scent, if any were near, she barked furiously, and ran
at once straight to the fort, followed by the rest. The Jesuit
chronicler adds, with an amusing naïveté, that, while this was her duty,
"her natural inclination was for hunting squirrels." [17]

[17] Lalemant, Relation, 1647, 74, 75. "Son attrait naturel estoit la
chasse aux écurieux." Dollier de Casson also speaks admiringly of her
and her instinct. Faillon sees in it a manifest proof of the protecting
care of God over Villemarie.

Maisonneuve was as brave a knight of the cross as ever fought in
Palestine for the sepulchre of Christ; but he could temper his valor
with discretion. He knew that he and his soldiers were but indifferent
woodsmen; that their crafty foe had no equal in ambuscades and
surprises; and that, while a defeat might ruin the French, it would only
exasperate an enemy whose resources in men were incomparably greater.
Therefore, when the dogs sounded the alarm, he kept his followers close,
and stood patiently on the defensive. They chafed under this Fabian
policy, and at length imputed it to cowardice. Their murmurings grew
louder, till they reached the ear of Maisonneuve. The religion which
animated him had not destroyed the soldierly pride which takes root so
readily and so strongly in a manly nature; and an imputation of
cowardice from his own soldiers stung him to the quick. He saw, too,
that such an opinion of him must needs weaken his authority, and impair
the discipline essential to the safety of the colony.

On the morning of the thirtieth of March, Pilot was heard barking with
unusual fury in the forest eastward from the fort; and in a few moments
they saw her running over the clearing, where the snow was still deep,
followed by her brood, all giving tongue together. The excited Frenchmen
flocked about their commander.

"Monsieur, les ennemis sont dans le bois; ne les irons-nous jamais
voir?" [18]

[18] Dollier de Casson, MS.

Maisonneuve, habitually composed and calm, answered sharply,--

"Yes, you shall see the enemy. Get yourselves ready at once, and take
care that you are as brave as you profess to be. I shall lead you
myself."

All was bustle in the fort. Guns were loaded, pouches filled, and
snow-shoes tied on by those who had them and knew how to use them. There
were not enough, however, and many were forced to go without them. When
all was ready, Maisonneuve sallied forth at the head of thirty men,
leaving d'Ailleboust, with the remainder, to hold the fort. They crossed
the snowy clearing and entered the forest, where all was silent as the
grave. They pushed on, wading through the deep snow, with the countless
pitfalls hidden beneath it, when suddenly they were greeted with the
screeches of eighty Iroquois, [19] who sprang up from their
lurking-places, and showered bullets and arrows upon the advancing
French. The emergency called, not for chivalry, but for woodcraft; and
Maisonneuve ordered his men to take shelter, like their assailants,
behind trees. They stood their ground resolutely for a long time; but
the Iroquois pressed them close, three of their number were killed,
others were wounded, and their ammunition began to fail. Their only
alternatives were destruction or retreat; and to retreat was not easy.
The order was given. Though steady at first, the men soon became
confused, and over-eager to escape the galling fire which the Iroquois
sent after them. Maisonneuve directed them towards a sledge-track which
had been used in dragging timber for building the hospital, and where
the snow was firm beneath the foot. He himself remained to the last,
encouraging his followers and aiding the wounded to escape. The French,
as they struggled through the snow, faced about from time to time, and
fired back to check the pursuit; but no sooner had they reached the
sledge-track than they gave way to their terror, and ran in a body for
the fort. Those within, seeing this confused rush of men from the
distance, mistook them for the enemy; and an over-zealous soldier
touched the match to a cannon which had been pointed to rake the
sledge-track. Had not the piece missed fire, from dampness of the
priming, he would have done more execution at one shot than the Iroquois
in all the fight of that morning.

[19] Vimont, Relation, 1644, 42. Dollier de Casson says two hundred, but
it is usually safe in these cases to accept the smaller number, and
Vimont founds his statement on the information of an escaped prisoner.

Maisonneuve was left alone, retreating backwards down the track, and
holding his pursuers in check, with a pistol in each hand. They might
easily have shot him; but, recognizing him as the commander of the
French, they were bent on taking him alive. Their chief coveted this
honor for himself, and his followers held aloof to give him the
opportunity. He pressed close upon Maisonneuve, who snapped a pistol at
him, which missed fire. The Iroquois, who had ducked to avoid the shot,
rose erect, and sprang forward to seize him, when Maisonneuve, with his
remaining pistol, shot him dead. Then ensued a curious spectacle, not
infrequent in Indian battles. The Iroquois seemed to forget their enemy,
in their anxiety to secure and carry off the body of their chief; and
the French commander continued his retreat unmolested, till he was safe
under the cannon of the fort. From that day, he was a hero in the eyes
of his men. [20]

[20] Dollier de Casson, MS. Vimont's mention of the affair is brief. He
says that two Frenchmen were made prisoners, and burned. Belmont,
Histoire du Canada, 1645, gives a succinct account of the fight, and
indicates the scene of it. It seems to have been a little below the site
of the Place d'Armes, on which stands the great Parish Church of
Villemarie, commonly known to tourists as the "Cathedral." Faillon
thinks that Maisonneuve's exploit was achieved on this very spot.

Marguerite Bourgeoys also describes the affair in her unpublished
writings.

Quebec and Montreal are happy in their founders. Samuel de Champlain and
Chomedey de Maisonneuve are among the names that shine with a fair and
honest lustre on the infancy of nations.

CHAPTER XIX.
1644, 1645.

PEACE.

Iroquois Prisoners • Piskaret • His Exploits • More Prisoners • Iroquois
Embassy • The Orator • The Great Council • Speeches of Kiotsaton •
Muster of Savages • Peace Confirmed

In the damp and freshness of a midsummer morning, when the sun had not
yet risen, but when the river and the sky were red with the glory of
approaching day, the inmates of the fort at Three Rivers were roused by
a tumult of joyous and exultant voices. They thronged to the
shore,--priests, soldiers, traders, and officers, mingled with warriors
and shrill-voiced squaws from Huron and Algonquin camps in the
neighboring forest. Close at hand they saw twelve or fifteen canoes
slowly drifting down the current of the St. Lawrence, manned by eighty
young Indians, all singing their songs of victory, and striking their
paddles against the edges of their bark vessels in cadence with their
voices. Among them three Iroquois prisoners stood upright, singing loud
and defiantly, as men not fearing torture or death.

A few days before, these young warriors, in part Huron and in part
Algonquin, had gone out on the war-path to the River Richelieu, where
they had presently found themselves entangled among several bands of
Iroquois. They withdrew in the night, after a battle in the dark with an
Iroquois canoe, and, as they approached Fort Richelieu, had the good
fortune to discover ten of their enemy ambuscaded in a clump of bushes
and fallen trees, watching to waylay some of the soldiers on their
morning visit to the fishing-nets in the river hard by. They captured
three of them, and carried them back in triumph.

The victors landed amid screams of exultation. Two of the prisoners were
assigned to the Hurons, and the third to the Algonquins, who immediately
took him to their lodges near the fort at Three Rivers, and began the
usual "caress," by burning his feet with red-hot stones, and cutting off
his fingers. Champfleur, the commandant, went out to them with urgent
remonstrances, and at length prevailed on them to leave their victim
without further injury, until Montmagny, the Governor, should arrive. He
came with all dispatch,--not wholly from a motive of humanity, but
partly in the hope that the three captives might be made instrumental in
concluding a peace with their countrymen.

A council was held in the fort at Three Rivers. Montmagny made valuable
presents to the Algonquins and the Hurons, to induce them to place the
prisoners in his hands. The Algonquins complied; and the unfortunate
Iroquois, gashed, maimed, and scorched, was given up to the French, who
treated him with the greatest kindness. But neither the Governor's gifts
nor his eloquence could persuade the Hurons to follow the example of
their allies; and they departed for their own country with their two
captives,--promising, however, not to burn them, but to use them for
negotiations of peace. With this pledge, scarcely worth the breath that
uttered it, Montmagny was forced to content himself. [1]

[1] Vimont, Relation, 1644, 45-49.

Thus it appeared that the fortune of war did not always smile even on
the Iroquois. Indeed, if there is faith in Indian tradition, there had
been a time, scarcely half a century past, when the Mohawks, perhaps the
fiercest and haughtiest of the confederate nations, had been nearly
destroyed by the Algonquins, whom they now held in contempt. [2] This
people, whose inferiority arose chiefly from the want of that compact
organization in which lay the strength of the Iroquois, had not lost
their ancient warlike spirit; and they had one champion of whom even the
audacious confederates stood in awe. His name was Piskaret; and he dwelt
on that great island in the Ottawa of which Le Borgne was chief. He had
lately turned Christian, in the hope of French favor and
countenance,--always useful to an ambitious Indian,--and perhaps, too,
with an eye to the gun and powder-horn which formed the earthly reward
of the convert. [3] Tradition tells marvellous stories of his exploits.
Once, it is said, he entered an Iroquois town on a dark night. His first
care was to seek out a hiding-place, and he soon found one in the midst
of a large wood-pile. [4] Next he crept into a lodge, and, finding the
inmates asleep, killed them with his war-club, took their scalps, and
quietly withdrew to the retreat he had prepared. In the morning a howl
of lamentation and fury rose from the astonished villagers. They ranged
the fields and forests in vain pursuit of the mysterious enemy, who
remained all day in the wood-pile, whence, at midnight, he came forth
and repeated his former exploit. On the third night, every family placed
its sentinels; and Piskaret, stealthily creeping from lodge to lodge,
and reconnoitring each through crevices in the bark, saw watchers
everywhere. At length he descried a sentinel who had fallen asleep near
the entrance of a lodge, though his companion at the other end was still
awake and vigilant. He pushed aside the sheet of bark that served as a
door, struck the sleeper a deadly blow, yelled his war-cry, and fled
like the wind. All the village swarmed out in furious chase; but
Piskaret was the swiftest runner of his time, and easily kept in advance
of his pursuers. When daylight came, he showed himself from time to time
to lure them on, then yelled defiance, and distanced them again. At
night, all but six had given over the chase; and even these, exhausted
as they were, had begun to despair. Piskaret, seeing a hollow tree,
crept into it like a bear, and hid himself; while the Iroquois, losing
his traces in the dark, lay down to sleep near by. At midnight he
emerged from his retreat, stealthily approached his slumbering enemies,
nimbly brained them all with his war-club, and then, burdened with a
goodly bundle of scalps, journeyed homeward in triumph. [5]

[2] Relation, 1660, 6 (anonymous).

Both Perrot and La Potherie recount traditions of the ancient
superiority of the Algonquins over the Iroquois, who formerly, it is
said, dwelt near Montreal and Three Rivers, whence the Algonquins
expelled them. They withdrew, first to the neighborhood of Lake Erie,
then to that of Lake Ontario, their historic seat. There is much to
support the conjecture that the Indians found by Cartier at Montreal in
1535 were Iroquois (See "Pioneers of France," 189.) That they belonged
to the same family of tribes is certain. For the traditions alluded to,
see Perrot, 9, 12, 79, and La Potherie, I. 288-295.

[3] "Simon Pieskaret ... n'estoit Chrestien qu'en apparence et par
police."--Lalemant, Relation, 1647, 68.--He afterwards became a convert
in earnest.
[4] Both the Iroquois and the Hurons collected great quantities of wood
in their villages in the autumn.
[5] This story is told by La Potherie, I. 299, and, more briefly, by
Perrot, 107. La Potherie, writing more than half a century after the
time in question, represents the Iroquois as habitually in awe of the
Algonquins. In this all the contemporary writers contradict him.

This is but one of several stories that tradition has preserved of his
exploits; and, with all reasonable allowances, it is certain that the
crafty and valiant Algonquin was the model of an Indian warrior. That
which follows rests on a far safer basis.

Early in the spring of 1645, Piskaret, with six other converted Indians,
some of them better Christians than he, set out on a war-party, and,
after dragging their canoes over the frozen St. Lawrence, launched them
on the open stream of the Richelieu. They ascended to Lake Champlain,
and hid themselves in the leafless forests of a large island, watching
patiently for their human prey. One day they heard a distant shot.
"Come, friends," said Piskaret, "let us get our dinner: perhaps it will
be the last, for we must dine before we run." Having dined to their
contentment, the philosophic warriors prepared for action. One of them
went to reconnoitre, and soon reported that two canoes full of Iroquois
were approaching the island. Piskaret and his followers crouched in the
bushes at the point for which the canoes were making, and, as the
foremost drew near, each chose his mark, and fired with such good
effect, that, of seven warriors, all but one were killed. The survivor
jumped overboard, and swam for the other canoe, where he was taken in.
It now contained eight Iroquois, who, far from attempting to escape,
paddled in haste for a distant part of the shore, in order to land, give
battle, and avenge their slain comrades. But the Algonquins, running
through the woods, reached the landing before them, and, as one of them
rose to fire, they shot him. In his fall he overset the canoe. The water
was shallow, and the submerged warriors, presently finding foothold,
waded towards the shore, and made desperate fight. The Algonquins had
the advantage of position, and used it so well, that they killed all but
three of their enemies, and captured two of the survivors. Next they
sought out the bodies, carefully scalped them, and set out in triumph on
their return. To the credit of their Jesuit teachers, they treated their
prisoners with a forbearance hitherto without example. One of them, who
was defiant and abusive, received a blow to silence him; but no further
indignity was offered to either. [6]

[6] According to Marie de l'Incarnation, Lettre, 14 Sept., 1645,
Piskaret was for torturing the captives; but a convert, named Bernard by
the French, protested against it.

As the successful warriors approached the little mission settlement of
Sillery, immediately above Quebec, they raised their song of triumph,
and beat time with their paddles on the edges of their canoes; while,
from eleven poles raised aloft, eleven fresh scalps fluttered in the
wind. The Father Jesuit and all his flock were gathered on the strand to
welcome them. The Indians fired their guns, and screeched in jubilation;
one Jean Baptiste, a Christian chief of Sillery, made a speech from the
shore; Piskaret replied, standing upright in his canoe; and, to crown
the occasion, a squad of soldiers, marching in haste from Quebec, fired
a salute of musketry, to the boundless delight of the Indians. Much to
the surprise of the two captives, there was no running of the gantlet,
no gnawing off of finger-nails or cutting off of fingers; but the scalps
were hung, like little flags, over the entrances of the lodges, and all
Sillery betook itself to feasting and rejoicing. [7] One old woman,
indeed, came to the Jesuit with a pathetic appeal: "Oh, my Father! let
me caress these prisoners a little: they have killed, burned, and eaten
my father, my husband, and my children." But the missionary answered
with a lecture on the duty of forgiveness. [8]

[7] Vimont, Relation, 1645, 19-21.
[8] Vimont, Relation, 1645, 21, 22.

On the next day, Montmagny came to Sillery, and there was a grand
council in the house of the Jesuits. Piskaret, in a solemn harangue,
delivered his captives to the Governor, who replied with a speech of
compliment and an ample gift. The two Iroquois were present, seated with
a seeming imperturbability, but great anxiety of heart; and when at
length they comprehended that their lives were safe, one of them, a man
of great size and symmetry, rose and addressed Montmagny:--

"Onontio, [9] I am saved from the fire; my body is delivered from death.
Onontio, you have given me my life. I thank you for it. I will never
forget it. All my country will be grateful to you. The earth will be
bright; the river calm and smooth; there will be peace and friendship
between us. The shadow is before my eyes no longer. The spirits of my
ancestors slain by the Algonquins have disappeared. Onontio, you are
good: we are bad. But our anger is gone; I have no heart but for peace
and rejoicing." As he said this, he began to dance, holding his hands
upraised, as if apostrophizing the sky. Suddenly he snatched a hatchet,
brandished it for a moment like a madman, and then flung it into the
fire, saying, as he did so, "Thus I throw down my anger! thus I cast
away the weapons of blood! Farewell, war! Now I am your friend forever!"
[10]

[9] Onontio, Great Mountain, a translation of Montmagny's name. It was
the Iroquois name ever after for the Governor of Canada. In the same
manner, Onas, Feather or Quill, became the official name of William
Penn, and all succeeding Governors of Pennsylvania. We have seen that
the Iroquois hereditary chiefs had official names, which are the same
to-day that they were at the period of this narrative.
[10] Vimont, Relation, 1645, 22, 23. He adds, that, "if these people are
barbarous in deed, they have thoughts worthy of Greeks and Romans."

The two prisoners were allowed to roam at will about the settlement,
withheld from escaping by an Indian point of honor. Montmagny soon after
sent them to Three Rivers, where the Iroquois taken during the last
summer had remained all winter. Champfleur, the commandant, now received
orders to clothe, equip, and send him home, with a message to his nation
that Onontio made them a present of his life, and that he had still two
prisoners in his hands, whom he would also give them, if they saw fit to
embrace this opportunity of making peace with the French and their
Indian allies.

This was at the end of May. On the fifth of July following, the
liberated Iroquois reappeared at Three Rivers, bringing with him two men
of renown, ambassadors of the Mohawk nation. There was a fourth man of
the party, and, as they approached, the Frenchmen on the shore
recognized, to their great delight, Guillaume Couture, the young man
captured three years before with Father Jogues, and long since given up
as dead. In dress and appearance he was an Iroquois. He had gained a
great influence over his captors, and this embassy of peace was due in
good measure to his persuasions. [11]

[11] Marie de l'Incarnation, Lettre, 14 Sept., 1645.

The chief of the Iroquois, Kiotsaton, a tall savage, covered from head
to foot with belts of wampum, stood erect in the prow of the sail-boat
which had brought him and his companions from Richelieu, and in a loud
voice announced himself as the accredited envoy of his nation. The boat
fired a swivel, the fort replied with a cannon-shot, and the envoys
landed in state. Kiotsaton and his colleague were conducted to the room
of the commandant, where, seated on the floor, they were regaled
sumptuously, and presented in due course with pipes of tobacco. They had
never before seen anything so civilized, and were delighted with their
entertainment. "We are glad to see you," said Champfleur to Kiotsaton;
"you may be sure that you are safe here. It is as if you were among your
own people, and in your own house."

"Tell your chief that he lies," replied the honored guest, addressing
the interpreter.

Champfleur, though he probably knew that this was but an Indian mode of
expressing dissent, showed some little surprise; when Kiotsaton, after
tranquilly smoking for a moment, proceeded:--

"Your chief says it is as if I were in my own country. This is not true;
for there I am not so honored and caressed. He says it is as if I were
in my own house; but in my own house I am some times very ill served,
and here you feast me with all manner of good cheer." From this and many
other replies, the French conceived that they had to do with a man of
esprit. [12]

[12] Vimont, Relation, 1645, 24.

He undoubtedly belonged to that class of professed orators who, though
rarely or never claiming the honors of hereditary chieftainship, had
great influence among the Iroquois, and were employed in all affairs of
embassy and negotiation. They had memories trained to an astonishing
tenacity, were perfect in all the conventional metaphors in which the
language of Indian diplomacy and rhetoric mainly consisted, knew by
heart the traditions of the nation, and were adepts in the parliamentary
usages, which, among the Iroquois, were held little less than sacred.

The ambassadors were feasted for a week, not only by the French, but
also by the Hurons and Algonquins; and then the grand peace council took
place. Montmagny had come up from Quebec, and with him the chief men of
the colony. It was a bright midsummer day; and the sun beat hot upon the
parched area of the fort, where awnings were spread to shelter the
assembly. On one side sat Montmagny, with officers and others who
attended him. Near him was Vimont, Superior of the Mission, and other
Jesuits,--Jogues among the rest. Immediately before them sat the
Iroquois, on sheets of spruce-bark spread on the ground like mats: for
they had insisted on being near the French, as a sign of the extreme
love they had of late conceived towards them. On the opposite side of
the area were the Algonquins, in their several divisions of the
Algonquins proper, the Montagnais, and the Atticamegues, [13] sitting,
lying, or squatting on the ground. On the right hand and on the left
were Hurons mingled with Frenchmen. In the midst was a large open space
like the arena of a prize-ring; and here were planted two poles with a
line stretched from one to the other, on which, in due time, were to be
hung the wampum belts that represented the words of the orator. For the
present, these belts were in part hung about the persons of the two
ambassadors, and in part stored in a bag carried by one of them.

[13] The Atticamegues, or tribe of the White Fish, dwelt in the forests
north of Three Rivers. They much resembled their Montagnais kindred.

When all was ready, Kiotsaton arose, strode into the open space, and,
raising his tall figure erect, stood looking for a moment at the sun.
Then he gazed around on the assembly, took a wampum belt in his hand,
and began:--

"Onontio, give ear. I am the mouth of all my nation. When you listen to
me, you listen to all the Iroquois. There is no evil in my heart. My
song is a song of peace. We have many war-songs in our country; but we
have thrown them all away, and now we sing of nothing but gladness and
rejoicing."

Hereupon he began to sing, his countrymen joining with him. He walked to
and fro, gesticulated towards the sky, and seemed to apostrophize the
sun; then, turning towards the Governor, resumed his harangue. First he
thanked him for the life of the Iroquois prisoner released in the
spring, but blamed him for sending him home without company or escort.
Then he led forth the young Frenchman, Guillaume Couture, and tied a
wampum belt to his arm.

"With this," he said, "I give you back this prisoner. I did not say to
him, 'Nephew, take a canoe and go home to Quebec.' I should have been
without sense, had I done so. I should have been troubled in my heart,
lest some evil might befall him. The prisoner whom you sent back to us
suffered every kind of danger and hardship on the way." Here he
proceeded to represent the difficulties of the journey in pantomime, "so
natural," says Father Vimont, "that no actor in France could equal it."
He counterfeited the lonely traveller toiling up some rocky portage
track, with a load of baggage on his head, now stopping as if half
spent, and now tripping against a stone. Next he was in his canoe,
vainly trying to urge it against the swift current, looking around in
despair on the foaming rapids, then recovering courage, and paddling
desperately for his life. "What did you mean," demanded the orator,
resuming his harangue, "by sending a man alone among these dangers? I
have not done so. 'Come, nephew,' I said to the prisoner there before
you,"--pointing to Couture,--"'follow me: I will see you home at the
risk of my life.'" And to confirm his words, he hung another belt on the
line.

The third belt was to declare that the nation of the speaker had sent
presents to the other nations to recall their war-parties, in view of
the approaching peace. The fourth was an assurance that the memory of
the slain Iroquois no longer stirred the living to vengeance. "I passed
near the place where Piskaret and the Algonquins slew our warriors in
the spring. I saw the scene of the fight where the two prisoners here
were taken. I passed quickly; I would not look on the blood of my
people. Their bodies lie there still; I turned away my eyes, that I
might not be angry." Then, stooping, he struck the ground and seemed to
listen. "I heard the voice of my ancestors, slain by the Algonquins,
crying to me in a tone of affection, 'My grandson, my grandson, restrain
your anger: think no more of us, for you cannot deliver us from death;
think of the living; rescue them from the knife and the fire.' When I
heard these voices, I went on my way, and journeyed hither to deliver
those whom you still hold in captivity."

The fifth, sixth, and seventh belts were to open the passage by water
from the French to the Iroquois, to chase hostile canoes from the river,
smooth away the rapids and cataracts, and calm the waves of the lake.
The eighth cleared the path by land. "You would have said," writes
Vimont, "that he was cutting down trees, hacking off branches, dragging
away bushes, and filling up holes."--"Look!" exclaimed the orator, when
he had ended this pantomime, "the road is open, smooth, and straight";
and he bent towards the earth, as if to see that no impediment remained.
"There is no thorn, or stone, or log in the way. Now you may see the
smoke of our villages from Quebec to the heart of our country."

Another belt, of unusual size and beauty, was to bind the Iroquois, the
French, and their Indian allies together as one man. As he presented it,
the orator led forth a Frenchman and an Algonquin from among his
auditors, and, linking his arms with theirs, pressed them closely to his
sides, in token of indissoluble union.

The next belt invited the French to feast with the Iroquois. "Our
country is full of fish, venison, moose, beaver, and game of every kind.
Leave these filthy swine that run about among your houses, feeding on
garbage, and come and eat good food with us. The road is open; there is
no danger."

There was another belt to scatter the clouds, that the sun might shine
on the hearts of the Indians and the French, and reveal their sincerity
and truth to all; then others still, to confirm the Hurons in thoughts
of peace. By the fifteenth belt, Kiotsaton declared that the Iroquois
had always wished to send home Jogues and Bressani to their friends, and
had meant to do so; but that Jogues was stolen from them by the Dutch,
and they had given Bressani to them because he desired it. "If he had
but been patient," added the ambassador, "I would have brought him back
myself. Now I know not what has befallen him. Perhaps he is drowned.
Perhaps he is dead." Here Jogues said, with a smile, to the Jesuits near
him, "They had the pile laid to burn me. They would have killed me a
hundred times, if God had not saved my life."

Two or three more belts were hung on the line, each with its appropriate
speech; and then the speaker closed his harangue: "I go to spend what
remains of the summer in my own country, in games and dances and
rejoicing for the blessing of peace." He had interspersed his discourse
throughout with now a song and now a dance; and the council ended in a
general dancing, in which Iroquois, Hurons, Algonquins, Montagnais,
Atticamegues, and French, all took part, after their respective
fashions.

In spite of one or two palpable falsehoods that embellished his oratory,
the Jesuits were delighted with him. "Every one admitted," says Vimont,
"that he was eloquent and pathetic. In short, he showed himself an
excellent actor, for one who has had no instructor but Nature. I
gathered only a few fragments of his speech from the mouth of the
interpreter, who gave us but broken portions of it, and did not
translate consecutively." [14]

[14] Vimont describes the council at length in the Relation of 1645.
Marie de l'Incarnation also describes it in a letter to her son, of
Sept. 14, 1645. She evidently gained her information from Vimont and the
other Jesuits present.

Two days after, another council was called, when the Governor gave his
answer, accepting the proffered peace, and confirming his acceptance by
gifts of considerable value. He demanded as a condition, that the Indian
allies of the French should be left unmolested, until their principal
chiefs, who were not then present, should make a formal treaty with the
Iroquois in behalf of their several nations. Piskaret then made a
present to wipe away the remembrance of the Iroquois he had slaughtered,
and the assembly was dissolved.

In the evening, Vimont invited the ambassadors to the mission-house, and
gave each of them a sack of tobacco and a pipe. In return, Kiotsaton
made him a speech: "When I left my country, I gave up my life; I went to
meet death, and I owe it to you that I am yet alive. I thank you that I
still see the sun; I thank you for all your words and acts of kindness;
I thank you for your gifts. You have covered me with them from head to
foot. You left nothing free but my mouth; and now you have stopped that
with a handsome pipe, and regaled it with the taste of the herb we love.
I bid you farewell,--not for a long time, for you will hear from us
soon. Even if we should be drowned on our way home, the winds and the
waves will bear witness to our countrymen of your favors; and I am sure
that some good spirit has gone before us to tell them of the good news
that we are about to bring." [15]

[15] Vimont, Relation, 1645, 28.

On the next day, he and his companion set forth on their return.
Kiotsaton, when he saw his party embarked, turned to the French and
Indians who lined the shore, and said with a loud voice, "Farewell,
brothers! I am one of your relations now." Then turning to the
Governor,--"Onontio, your name will be great over all the earth. When I
came hither, I never thought to carry back my head, I never thought to
come out of your doors alive; and now I return loaded with honors,
gifts, and kindness." "Brothers,"--to the Indians,--"obey Onontio and
the French. Their hearts and their thoughts are good. Be friends with
them, and do as they do. You shall hear from us soon."

The Indians whooped and fired their guns; there was a cannon-shot from
the fort; and the sail-boat that bore the distinguished visitors moved
on its way towards the Richelieu.

But the work was not done. There must be more councils, speeches,
wampum-belts, and gifts of all kinds,--more feasts, dances, songs, and
uproar. The Indians gathered at Three Rivers were not sufficient in
numbers or in influence to represent their several tribes; and more were
on their way. The principal men of the Hurons were to come down this
year, with Algonquins of many tribes, from the North and the Northwest;
and Kiotsaton had promised that Iroquois ambassadors, duly empowered,
should meet them at Three Rivers, and make a solemn peace with them all,
under the eye of Onontio. But what hope was there that this swarm of
fickle and wayward savages could be gathered together at one time and at
one place,--or that, being there, they could be restrained from cutting
each other's throats? Yet so it was; and in this happy event the Jesuits
saw the interposition of God, wrought upon by the prayers of those pious
souls in France who daily and nightly besieged Heaven with supplications
for the welfare of the Canadian missions. [16]

[16] Vimont, Relation, 1645, 29.

First came a band of Montagnais; next followed Nipissings, Atticamegues,
and Algonquins of the Ottawa, their canoes deep-laden with furs. Then,
on the tenth of September, appeared the great fleet of the Hurons, sixty
canoes, bearing a host of warriors, among whom the French recognized the
tattered black cassock of Father Jerome Lalemant. There were twenty
French soldiers, too, returning from the Huron country, whither they had
been sent the year before, to guard the Fathers and their flock.

Three Rivers swarmed like an ant-hill with savages. The shore was lined
with canoes; the forests and the fields were alive with busy camps. The
trade was brisk; and in its attendant speeches, feasts, and dances,
there was no respite.

But where were the Iroquois? Montmagny and the Jesuits grew very
anxious. In a few days more the concourse would begin to disperse, and
the golden moment be lost. It was a great relief when a canoe appeared
with tidings that the promised embassy was on its way; and yet more,
when, on the seventeenth, four Iroquois approached the shore, and, in a
loud voice, announced themselves as envoys of their nation. The tumult
was prodigious. Montmagny's soldiers formed a double rank, and the
savage rabble, with wild eyes and faces smeared with grease and paint,
stared over the shoulders and between the gun-barrels of the musketeers,
as the ambassadors of their deadliest foe stalked, with unmoved visages,
towards the fort.

Now council followed council, with an insufferable prolixity of
speech-making. There were belts to wipe out the memory of the slain;
belts to clear the sky, smooth the rivers, and calm the lakes; a belt to
take the hatchet from the hands of the Iroquois; another to take away
their guns; another to take away their shields; another to wash the
war-paint from their faces; and another to break the kettle in which
they boiled their prisoners. [17] In short, there were belts past
numbering, each with its meaning, sometimes literal, sometimes
figurative, but all bearing upon the great work of peace. At length all
was ended. The dances ceased, the songs and the whoops died away, and
the great muster dispersed,--some to their smoky lodges on the distant
shores of Lake Huron, and some to frozen hunting-grounds in northern
forests.

[17] Vimont, Relation, 1645, 34.

There was peace in this dark and blood-stained wilderness. The lynx, the
panther, and the wolf had made a covenant of love; but who should be
their surety? A doubt and a fear mingled with the joy of the Jesuit
Fathers; and to their thanksgivings to God they joined a prayer, that
the hand which had given might still be stretched forth to preserve.

CHAPTER XX.
1645, 1646.

THE PEACE BROKEN.

Uncertainties • The Mission of Jogues • He reaches the Mohawks • His
Reception • His Return • His Second Mission • Warnings of Danger • Rage
of the Mohawks • Murder of Jogues

There is little doubt that the Iroquois negotiators acted, for the
moment, in sincerity. Guillaume Couture, who returned with them and
spent the winter in their towns, saw sufficient proof that they
sincerely desired peace. And yet the treaty had a double defect. First,
the wayward, capricious, and ungoverned nature of the Indian parties to
it, on both sides, made a speedy rupture more than likely. Secondly, in
spite of their own assertion to the contrary, the Iroquois envoys
represented, not the confederacy of the five nations, but only one of
these nations, the Mohawks: for each of the members of this singular
league could, and often did, make peace and war independently of the
rest.

It was the Mohawks who had made war on the French and their Indian
allies on the lower St. Lawrence. They claimed, as against the other
Iroquois, a certain right of domain to all this region; and though the
warriors of the four upper nations had sometimes poached on the Mohawk
preserve, by murdering both French and Indians at Montreal, they
employed their energies for the most part in attacks on the Hurons, the
Upper Algonquins, and other tribes of the interior. These attacks still
continued, unaffected by the peace with the Mohawks. Imperfect, however,
as the treaty was, it was invaluable, could it but be kept inviolate;
and to this end Montmagny, the Jesuits, and all the colony, anxiously
turned their thoughts. [1]

[1] The Mohawks were at this time more numerous, as compared with the
other four nations of the Iroquois, than they were a few years later.
They seem to have suffered more reverses in war than any of the others.
At this time they may be reckoned at six or seven hundred warriors. A
war with the Mohegans, and another with the Andastes, besides their war
with the Algonquins and the French of Canada soon after, told severely
on their strength. The following are estimates of the numbers of the
Iroquois warriors made in 1660 by the author of the Relation of that
year, and by Wentworth Greenhalgh in 1677, from personal
inspection:--

1660 1677
Mohawks 500 300
Oneidas 100 200
Onondagas 300 350
Cayugas 300 300
Senecas 1,000 1,000
2,200 2,150

It was to hold the Mohawks to their faith that Couture had bravely gone
back to winter among them; but an agent of more acknowledged weight was
needed, and Father Isaac Jogues was chosen. No white man, Couture
excepted, knew their language and their character so well. His errand
was half political, half religious; for not only was he to be the bearer
of gifts, wampum-belts, and messages from the Governor, but he was also
to found a new mission, christened in advance with a prophetic
name,--the Mission of the Martyrs.

For two years past, Jogues had been at Montreal; and it was here that he
received the order of his Superior to proceed to the Mohawk towns. At
first, nature asserted itself, and he recoiled involuntarily at the
thought of the horrors of which his scarred body and his mutilated hands
were a living memento. [2] It was a transient weakness; and he prepared
to depart with more than willingness, giving thanks to Heaven that he
had been found worthy to suffer and to die for the saving of souls and
the greater glory of God.

[2] Lettre du P. Isaac Jogues au R. P. Jérosme L'Allemant. Montreal, 2
Mai, 1646. MS.

He felt a presentiment that his death was near, and wrote to a friend,
"I shall go, and shall not return." [3] An Algonquin convert gave him
sage advice. "Say nothing about the Faith at first, for there is nothing
so repulsive, in the beginning, as our doctrine, which seems to destroy
everything that men hold dear; and as your long cassock preaches, as
well as your lips, you had better put on a short coat." Jogues,
therefore, exchanged the uniform of Loyola for a civilian's doublet and
hose; "for," observes his Superior, "one should be all things to all
men, that he may gain them all to Jesus Christ." [4] It would be well,
if the application of the maxim had always been as harmless.

[3] "Ibo et non redibo." Lettre du P. Jogues au R. P. No date.
[4] Lalemant, Relation, 1646, 15.

Jogues left Three Rivers about the middle of May, with the Sieur
Bourdon, engineer to the Governor, two Algonquins with gifts to confirm
the peace, and four Mohawks as guides and escort. He passed the
Richelieu and Lake Champlain, well-remembered scenes of former miseries,
and reached the foot of Lake George on the eve of Corpus Christi. Hence
he called the lake Lac St. Sacrement; and this name it preserved, until,
a century after, an ambitious Irishman, in compliment to the sovereign
from whom he sought advancement, gave it the name it bears. [5]

[5] Mr. Shea very reasonably suggests, that a change from Lake George to
Lake Jogues would be equally easy and appropriate.

From Lake George they crossed on foot to the Hudson, where, being
greatly fatigued by their heavy loads of gifts, they borrowed canoes at
an Iroquois fishing station, and descended to Fort Orange. Here Jogues
met the Dutch friends to whom he owed his life, and who now kindly
welcomed and entertained him. After a few days he left them, and
ascended the River Mohawk to the first Mohawk town. Crowds gathered from
the neighboring towns to gaze on the man whom they had known as a
scorned and abused slave, and who now appeared among them as the
ambassador of a power which hitherto, indeed, they had despised, but
which in their present mood they were willing to propitiate.

There was a council in one of the lodges; and while his crowded auditory
smoked their pipes, Jogues stood in the midst, and harangued them. He
offered in due form the gifts of the Governor, with the wampum belts and
their messages of peace, while at every pause his words were echoed by a
unanimous grunt of applause from the attentive concourse. Peace speeches
were made in return; and all was harmony. When, however, the Algonquin
deputies stood before the council, they and their gifts were coldly
received. The old hate, maintained by traditions of mutual atrocity,
burned fiercely under a thin semblance of peace; and though no outbreak
took place, the prospect of the future was very ominous.

The business of the embassy was scarcely finished, when the Mohawks
counselled Jogues and his companions to go home with all despatch,
saying, that, if they waited longer, they might meet on the way warriors
of the four upper nations, who would inevitably kill the two Algonquin
deputies, if not the French also. Jogues, therefore, set out on his
return; but not until, despite the advice of the Indian convert, he had
made the round of the houses, confessed and instructed a few Christian
prisoners still remaining here, and baptized several dying Mohawks. Then
he and his party crossed through the forest to the southern extremity of
Lake George, made bark canoes, and descended to Fort Richelieu, where
they arrived on the twenty seventh of June. [6]

[6] Lalemant, Relation, 1646, 17.

His political errand was accomplished. Now, should he return to the
Mohawks, or should the Mission of the Martyrs be for a time abandoned?
Lalemant, who had succeeded Vimont as Superior of the missions, held a
council at Quebec with three other Jesuits, of whom Jogues was one, and
it was determined, that, unless some new contingency should arise, he
should remain for the winter at Montreal. [7] This was in July. Soon
after, the plan was changed, for reasons which do not appear, and Jogues
received orders to repair to his dangerous post. He set out on the
twenty-fourth of August, accompanied by a young Frenchman named Lalande,
and three or four Hurons. [8] On the way they met Indians who warned
them of a change of feeling in the Mohawk towns, and the Hurons,
alarmed, refused to go farther. Jogues, naturally perhaps the most timid
man of the party, had no thought of drawing back, and pursued his
journey with his young companion, who, like other donnés of the
missions; was scarcely behind the Jesuits themselves in devoted
enthusiasm.

[7] Journal des Supérieurs des Jésuites. MS.
[8] Ibid.

The reported change of feeling had indeed taken place; and the occasion
of it was characteristic. On his previous visit to the Mohawks, Jogues,
meaning to return, had left in their charge a small chest or box. From
the first they were distrustful, suspecting that it contained some
secret mischief. He therefore opened it, and showed them the contents,
which were a few personal necessaries; and having thus, as he thought,
reassured them, locked the box, and left it in their keeping. The Huron
prisoners in the town attempted to make favor with their Iroquois
enemies by abusing their French friends,--declaring them to be
sorcerers, who had bewitched, by their charms and mummeries, the whole
Huron nation, and caused drought, famine, pestilence, and a host of
insupportable miseries. Thereupon, the suspicions of the Mohawks against
the box revived with double force, and they were convinced that famine,
the pest, or some malignant spirit was shut up in it, waiting the moment
to issue forth and destroy them. There was sickness in the town, and
caterpillars were eating their corn: this was ascribed to the sorceries
of the Jesuit. [9] Still they were divided in opinion. Some stood firm
for the French; others were furious against them. Among the Mohawks,
three clans or families were predominant, if indeed they did not compose
the entire nation,--the clans of the Bear, the Tortoise, and the Wolf.
[10] Though, by the nature of their constitution, it was scarcely
possible that these clans should come to blows, so intimately were they
bound together by ties of blood, yet they were often divided on points
of interest or policy; and on this occasion the Bear raged against the
French, and howled for war, while the Tortoise and the Wolf still clung
to the treaty. Among savages, with no government except the intermittent
one of councils, the party of action and violence must always prevail.
The Bear chiefs sang their war-songs, and, followed by the young men of
their own clan, and by such others as they had infected with their
frenzy, set forth, in two bands, on the war-path.

[9] Lettre de Marie de l'Incarnation à son Fils. Québec, ... 1647.
[10] See Introduction.

The warriors of one of these bands were making their way through the
forests between the Mohawk and Lake George, when they met Jogues and
Lalande. They seized them, stripped them, and led them in triumph to
their town. Here a savage crowd surrounded them, beating them with
sticks and with their fists. One of them cut thin strips of flesh from
the back and arms of Jogues, saying, as he did so, "Let us see if this
white flesh is the flesh of an oki."--"I am a man like yourselves,"
replied Jogues; "but I do not fear death or torture. I do not know why
you would kill me. I come here to confirm the peace and show you the way
to heaven, and you treat me like a dog." [11]--"You shall die
to-morrow," cried the rabble. "Take courage, we shall not burn you. We
shall strike you both with a hatchet, and place your heads on the
palisade, that your brothers may see you when we take them prisoners."
[12] The clans of the Wolf and the Tortoise still raised their voices in
behalf of the captive Frenchmen; but the fury of the minority swept all
before it.

[11] Lettre du P. De Quen au R. P. Lallemant; no date. MS.
[12] Lettre de J. Labatie à M. La Montagne, Fort d'Orange, 30 Oct.,
1646. MS.

In the evening,--it was the eighteenth of October,--Jogues, smarting
with his wounds and bruises, was sitting in one of the lodges, when an
Indian entered, and asked him to a feast. To refuse would have been an
offence. He arose and followed the savage, who led him to the lodge of
the Bear chief. Jogues bent his head to enter, when another Indian,
standing concealed within, at the side of the doorway, struck at him
with a hatchet. An Iroquois, called by the French Le Berger, [13] who
seems to have followed in order to defend him, bravely held out his arm
to ward off the blow; but the hatchet cut through it, and sank into the
missionary's brain. He fell at the feet of his murderer, who at once
finished the work by hacking off his head. Lalande was left in suspense
all night, and in the morning was killed in a similar manner. The bodies
of the two Frenchmen were then thrown into the Mohawk, and their heads
displayed on the points of the palisade which inclosed the town. [14]

[13] It has been erroneously stated that this brave attempt to save
Jogues was made by the orator Kiotsaton. Le Berger was one of those who
had been made prisoners by Piskaret, and treated kindly by the French.
In 1648, he voluntarily came to Three Rivers, and gave himself up to a
party of Frenchmen. He was converted, baptized, and carried to France,
where his behavior is reported to have been very edifying, but where he
soon died. "Perhaps he had eaten his share of more than fifty men," is
the reflection of Father Ragueneau, after recounting his exemplary
conduct.--Relation, 1650, 43-48.
[14] In respect to the death of Jogues, the best authority is the letter
of Labatie, before cited. He was the French interpreter at Fort Orange,
and, being near the scene of the murder, took pains to learn the facts.
The letter was inclosed in another written to Montmagny by the Dutch
Governor, Kieft, which is also before me, together with a MS. account,
written from hearsay, by Father Buteux, and a letter of De Quen, cited
above. Compare the Relations of 1647 and 1650.

Thus died Isaac Jogues, one of the purest examples of Roman Catholic
virtue which this Western continent has seen. The priests, his
associates, praise his humility, and tell us that it reached the point
of self-contempt,--a crowning virtue in their eyes; that he regarded
himself as nothing, and lived solely to do the will of God as uttered by
the lips of his Superiors. They add, that, when left to the guidance of
his own judgment, his self-distrust made him very slow of decision, but
that, when acting under orders, he knew neither hesitation nor fear.
With all his gentleness, he had a certain warmth or vivacity of
temperament; and we have seen how, during his first captivity, while
humbly submitting to every caprice of his tyrants and appearing to
rejoice in abasement, a derisive word against his faith would change the
lamb into the lion, and the lips that seemed so tame would speak in
sharp, bold tones of menace and reproof.

CHAPTER XXI.
1646, 1647.

ANOTHER WAR.

The peace was broken, and the hounds of war turned loose. The contagion
spread through all the Mohawk nation, the war-songs were sung, and the
warriors took the path for Canada. The miserable colonists and their
more miserable allies woke from their dream of peace to a reality of
fear and horror. Again Montreal and Three Rivers were beset with
murdering savages, skulking in thickets and prowling under cover of
night, yet, when it came to blows, displaying a courage almost equal to
the ferocity that inspired it. They plundered and burned Fort Richelieu,
which its small garrison had abandoned, thus leaving the colony without
even the semblance of protection. Before the spring opened, all the
fighting men of the Mohawks took the war-path; but it is clear that many
of them still had little heart for their bloody and perfidious work;
for, of these hardy and all-enduring warriors, two-thirds gave out on
the way, and returned, complaining that the season was too severe. [1]
Two hundred or more kept on, divided into several bands.

[1] Lettre du P. Buteux au R. P. Lalemant. MS.

On Ash-Wednesday, the French at Three Rivers were at mass in the chapel,
when the Iroquois, quietly approaching, plundered two houses close to
the fort, containing all the property of the neighboring inhabitants,
which had been brought hither as to a place of security. They hid their
booty, and then went in quest of two large parties of Christian
Algonquins engaged in their winter hunt. Two Indians of the same nation,
whom they captured, basely set them on the trail; and they took up the
chase like hounds on the scent of game. Wrapped in furs or
blanket-coats, some with gun in hand, some with bows and quivers, and
all with hatchets, war-clubs, knives, or swords,--striding on
snow-shoes, with bodies half bent, through the gray forests and the
frozen pine-swamps, among wet, black trunks, along dark ravines and
under savage hill-sides, their small, fierce eyes darting quick glances
that pierced the farthest recesses of the naked woods,--the hunters of
men followed the track of their human prey. At length they descried the
bark wigwams of the Algonquin camp. The warriors were absent; none were
here but women and children. The Iroquois surrounded the huts, and
captured all the shrieking inmates. Then ten of them set out to find the
traces of the absent hunters. They soon met the renowned Piskaret
returning alone. As they recognized him and knew his mettle, they
thought treachery better than an open attack. They therefore approached
him in the attitude of friends; while he, ignorant of the rupture of the
treaty, began to sing his peace-song. Scarcely had they joined him, when
one of them ran a sword through his body; and, having scalped him, they
returned in triumph to their companions. [2] All the hunters were soon
after waylaid, overpowered by numbers, and killed or taken prisoners.

[2] Lalemant, Relation, 1647, 4. Marie de l'Incarnation, Lettre à son
Fils. Québec, ... 1647. Perrot's account, drawn from tradition, is
different, though not essentially so.

Another band of the Mohawks had meanwhile pursued the other party of
Algonquins, and overtaken them on the march, as, incumbered with their
sledges and baggage, they were moving from one hunting-camp to another.
Though taken by surprise, they made fight, and killed several of their
assailants; but in a few moments their resistance was overcome, and
those who survived the fray were helpless in the clutches of the enraged
victors. Then began a massacre of the old, the disabled, and the
infants, with the usual beating, gashing, and severing of fingers to the
rest. The next day, the two bands of Mohawks, each with its troop of
captives fast bound, met at an appointed spot on the Lake of St. Peter,
and greeted each other with yells of exultation, with which mingled a
wail of anguish, as the prisoners of either party recognized their
companions in misery. They all kneeled in the midst of their savage
conquerors, and one of the men, a noted convert, after a few words of
exhortation, repeated in a loud voice a prayer, to which the rest
responded. Then they sang an Algonquin hymn, while the Iroquois, who at
first had stared in wonder, broke into laughter and derision, and at
length fell upon them with renewed fury. One was burned alive on the
spot. Another tried to escape, and they burned the soles of his feet
that he might not repeat the attempt. Many others were maimed and
mangled; and some of the women who afterwards escaped affirmed, that, in
ridicule of the converts, they crucified a small child by nailing it
with wooden spikes against a thick sheet of bark.

The prisoners were led to the Mohawk towns; and it is needless to repeat
the monotonous and revolting tale of torture and death. The men, as
usual, were burned; but the lives of the women and children were spared,
in order to strengthen the conquerors by their adoption,--not, however,
until both, but especially the women, had been made to endure the
extremes of suffering and indignity. Several of them from time to time
escaped, and reached Canada with the story of their woes. Among these
was Marie, the wife of Jean Baptiste, one of the principal Algonquin
converts, captured and burned with the rest. Early in June, she appeared
in a canoe at Montreal, where Madame d'Ailleboust, to whom she was well
known, received her with great kindness, and led her to her room in the
fort. Here Marie was overcome with emotion. Madame d'Ailleboust spoke
Algonquin with ease; and her words of sympathy, joined to the
associations of a place where the unhappy fugitive, with her murdered
husband and child, had often found a friendly welcome, so wrought upon
her, that her voice was smothered with sobs.

She had once before been a prisoner of the Iroquois, at the town of
Onondaga. When she and her companions in misfortune had reached the
Mohawk towns, she was recognized by several Onondagas who chanced to be
there, and who, partly by threats and partly by promises, induced her to
return with them to the scene of her former captivity, where they
assured her of good treatment. With their aid, she escaped from the
Mohawks, and set out with them for Onondaga. On their way, they passed
the great town of the Oneidas; and her conductors, fearing that certain
Mohawks who were there would lay claim to her, found a hiding-place for
her in the forest, where they gave her food, and told her to wait their
return. She lay concealed all day, and at night approached the town,
under cover of darkness. A dull red glare of flames rose above the
jagged tops of the palisade that encompassed it; and, from the
pandemonium within, an uproar of screams, yells, and bursts of laughter
told her that they were burning one of her captive countrymen. She gazed
and listened, shivering with cold and aghast with horror. The thought
possessed her that she would soon share his fate, and she resolved to
fly. The ground was still covered with snow, and her footprints would
infallibly have betrayed her, if she had not, instead of turning towards
home, followed the beaten Indian path westward. She journeyed on,
confused and irresolute, and tortured between terror and hunger. At
length she approached Onondaga, a few miles from the present city of
Syracuse, and hid herself in a dense thicket of spruce or cedar, whence
she crept forth at night, to grope in the half-melted snow for a few
ears of corn, left from the last year's harvest. She saw many Indians
from her lurking-place, and once a tall savage, with an axe on his
shoulder, advanced directly towards the spot where she lay: but, in the
extremity of her fright, she murmured a prayer, on which he turned and
changed his course. The fate that awaited her, if she remained,--for a
fugitive could not hope for mercy,--and the scarcely less terrible
dangers of the pitiless wilderness between her and Canada, filled her
with despair, for she was half dead already with hunger and cold. She
tied her girdle to the bough of a tree, and hung herself from it by the
neck. The cord broke. She repeated the attempt with the same result, and
then the thought came to her that God meant to save her life. The snow
by this time had melted in the forests, and she began her journey for
home, with a few handfuls of corn as her only provision. She directed
her course by the sun, and for food dug roots, peeled the soft inner
bark of trees, and sometimes caught tortoises in the muddy brooks. She
had the good fortune to find a hatchet in a deserted camp, and with it
made one of those wooden implements which the Indians used for kindling
fire by friction. This saved her from her worst suffering; for she had
no covering but a thin tunic, which left her legs and arms bare, and
exposed her at night to tortures of cold. She built her fire in some
deep nook of the forest, warmed herself, cooked what food she had found,
told her rosary on her fingers, and slept till daylight, when she always
threw water on the embers, lest the rising smoke should attract
attention. Once she discovered a party of Iroquois hunters; but she lay
concealed, and they passed without seeing her. She followed their trail
back, and found their bark canoe, which they had hidden near the bank of
a river. It was too large for her use; but, as she was a practised
canoe-maker, she reduced it to a convenient size, embarked in it, and
descended the stream. At length she reached the St. Lawrence, and
paddled with the current towards Montreal. On islands and rocky shores
she found eggs of water-fowl in abundance; and she speared fish with a
sharpened pole, hardened at the point with fire. She even killed deer,
by driving them into the water, chasing them in her canoe, and striking
them on the head with her hatchet. When she landed at Montreal, her
canoe had still a good store of eggs and dried venison. [3]

[3] This story is taken from the Relation of 1647, and the letter of
Marie de l'Incarnation to her son, before cited. The woman must have
descended the great rapids of Lachine in her canoe: a feat demanding no
ordinary nerve and skill.

Her journey from Onondaga had occupied about two months, under hardships
which no woman but a squaw could have survived. Escapes not less
remarkable of several other women are chronicled in the records of this
year; and one of them, with a notable feat of arms which attended it,
calls for a brief notice.

Eight Algonquins, in one of those fits of desperate valor which
sometimes occur in Indians, entered at midnight a camp where thirty or
forty Iroquois warriors were buried in sleep, and with quick, sharp
blows of their tomahawks began to brain them as they lay. They killed
ten of them on the spot, and wounded many more. The rest, panic-stricken
and bewildered by the surprise and the thick darkness, fled into the
forest, leaving all they had in the hands of the victors, including a
number of Algonquin captives, of whom one had been unwittingly killed by
his countrymen in the confusion. Another captive, a woman, had escaped
on a previous night. They had stretched her on her back, with limbs
extended, and bound her wrists and ankles to four stakes firmly driven
into the earth,--their ordinary mode of securing prisoners. Then, as
usual, they all fell asleep. She presently became aware that the cord
that bound one of her wrists was somewhat loose, and, by long and
painful efforts, she freed her hand. To release the other hand and her
feet was then comparatively easy. She cautiously rose. Around her,
breathing in deep sleep, lay stretched the dark forms of the unconscious
warriors, scarcely visible in the gloom. She stepped over them to the
entrance of the hut; and here, as she was passing out, she descried a
hatchet on the ground. The temptation was too strong for her Indian
nature. She seized it, and struck again and again, with all her force,
on the skull of the Iroquois who lay at the entrance. The sound of the
blows, and the convulsive struggles of the victim, roused the sleepers.
They sprang up, groping in the dark, and demanding of each other what
was the matter. At length they lighted a roll of birch-bark, found their
prisoner gone and their comrade dead, and rushed out in a rage in search
of the fugitive. She, meanwhile, instead of running away, had hid
herself in the hollow of a tree, which she had observed the evening
before. Her pursuers ran through the dark woods, shouting and whooping
to each other; and when all had passed, she crept from her hiding-place,
and fled in an opposite direction. In the morning they found her tracks
and followed them. On the second day they had overtaken and surrounded
her, when, hearing their cries on all sides, she gave up all hope. But
near at hand, in the thickest depths of the forest, the beavers had
dammed a brook and formed a pond, full of gnawed stumps, dead fallen
trees, rank weeds, and tangled bushes. She plunged in, and, swimming and
wading, found a hiding-place, where her body was concealed by the water,
and her head by the masses of dead and living vegetation. Her pursuers
were at fault, and, after a long search, gave up the chase in despair.
Shivering, naked, and half-starved, she crawled out from her wild
asylum, and resumed her flight. By day, the briers and bushes tore her
unprotected limbs; by night, she shivered with cold, and the mosquitoes
and small black gnats of the forest persecuted her with torments which
the modern sportsman will appreciate. She subsisted on such roots, bark,
reptiles, or other small animals, as her Indian habits enabled her to
gather on her way. She crossed streams by swimming, or on rafts of
driftwood, lashed together with strips of linden-bark; and at length
reached the St. Lawrence, where, with the aid of her hatchet, she made a
canoe. Her home was on the Ottawa, and she was ignorant of the great
river, or, at least, of this part of it. She had scarcely even seen a
Frenchman, but had heard of the French as friends, and knew that their
dwellings were on the banks of the St. Lawrence. This was her only
guide; and she drifted on her way, doubtful whether the vast current
would bear her to the abodes of the living or to the land of souls. She
passed the watery wilderness of the Lake of St. Peter, and presently
descried a Huron canoe. Fearing that it was an enemy, she hid herself,
and resumed her voyage in the evening, when she soon came in sight of
the wooden buildings and palisades of Three Rivers. Several Hurons saw
her at the same moment, and made towards her; on which she leaped ashore
and hid in the bushes, whence, being entirely without clothing, she
would not come out till one of them threw her his coat. Having wrapped
herself in it, she went with them to the fort and the house of the
Jesuits, in a wretched state of emaciation, but in high spirits at the
happy issue of her voyage. [4]

[4] Lalemant, Relation, 1647, 15, 16.

Such stories might be multiplied; but these will suffice. Nor is it
necessary to dwell further on the bloody record of inroads, butcheries,
and tortures. We have seen enough to show the nature of the scourge that
now fell without mercy on the Indians and the French of Canada. There
was no safety but in the imprisonment of palisades and ramparts. A deep
dejection sank on the white and red men alike; but the Jesuits would not
despair.

"Do not imagine," writes the Father Superior, "that the rage of the
Iroquois, and the loss of many Christians and many catechumens, can
bring to nought the mystery of the cross of Jesus Christ, and the
efficacy of his blood. We shall die; we shall be captured, burned,
butchered: be it so. Those who die in their beds do not always die the
best death. I see none of our company cast down. On the contrary, they
ask leave to go up to the Hurons, and some of them protest that the
fires of the Iroquois are one of their motives for the journey." [5]

[5] Lalemant, Relation, 1647, 8.

CHAPTER XXII.
1645-1651.

PRIEST AND PURITAN.

Before passing to the closing scenes of this wilderness drama, we will
touch briefly on a few points aside from its main action, yet essential
to an understanding of the scope of the mission. Besides their
establishments at Quebec, Sillery, Three Rivers, and the neighborhood of
Lake Huron, the Jesuits had an outlying post at the island of Miscou, on
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, near the entrance of the Bay of Chaleurs,
where they instructed the wandering savages of those shores, and
confessed the French fishermen. The island was unhealthy in the extreme.
Several of the priests sickened and died; and scarcely one convert
repaid their toils. There was a more successful mission at Tadoussac, or
Sadilege, as the neighboring Indians called it. In winter, this place
was a solitude; but in summer, when the Montagnais gathered from their
hunting-grounds to meet the French traders, Jesuits came yearly from
Quebec to instruct them in the Faith. Some times they followed them
northward, into wilds where, at this day, a white man rarely penetrates.
Thus, in 1646, De Quen ascended the Saguenay, and, by a series of
rivers, torrents, lakes, and rapids, reached a Montagnais horde called
the Nation of the Porcupine, where he found that the teachings at
Tadoussac had borne fruit, and that the converts had planted a cross on
the borders of the savage lake where they dwelt. There was a kindred
band, the Nation of the White Fish, among the rocks and forests north of
Three Rivers. They proved tractable beyond all others, threw away their
"medicines" or fetiches, burned their magic drums, renounced their
medicine-songs, and accepted instead rosaries, crucifixes, and versions
of Catholic hymns.

In a former chapter, we followed Father Paul Le Jeune on his winter
roamings, with a band of Montagnais, among the forests on the northern
boundary of Maine. Now Father Gabriel Druilletes sets forth on a similar
excursion, but with one essential difference. Le Jeune's companions were
heathen, who persecuted him day and night with their gibes and sarcasms.
Those of Druilletes were all converts, who looked on him as a friend and
a father. There were prayers, confessions, masses, and invocations of
St. Joseph. They built their bark chapel at every camp, and no festival
of the Church passed unobserved. On Good Friday they laid their best
robe of beaver-skin on the snow, placed on it a crucifix, and knelt
around it in prayer. What was their prayer? It was a petition for the
forgiveness and the conversion of their enemies, the Iroquois. [1] Those
who know the intensity and tenacity of an Indian's hatred will see in
this something more than a change from one superstition to another. An
idea had been presented to the mind of the savage, to which he had
previously been an utter stranger. This is the most remarkable record of
success in the whole body of the Jesuit Relations; but it is very far
from being the only evidence, that, in teaching the dogmas and
observances of the Roman Church, the missionaries taught also the morals
of Christianity. When we look for the results of these missions, we soon
become aware that the influence of the French and the Jesuits extended
far beyond the circle of converts. It eventually modified and softened
the manners of many unconverted tribes. In the wars of the next century
we do not often find those examples of diabolic atrocity with which the
earlier annals are crowded. The savage burned his enemies alive, it is
true, but he rarely ate them; neither did he torment them with the same
deliberation and persistency. He was a savage still, but not so often a
devil. The improvement was not great, but it was distinct; and it seems
to have taken place wherever Indian tribes were in close relations with
any respectable community of white men. Thus Philip's war in New
England, cruel as it was, was less ferocious, judging from Canadian
experience, than it would have been, if a generation of civilized
intercourse had not worn down the sharpest asperities of barbarism. Yet
it was to French priests and colonists, mingled as they were soon to be
among the tribes of the vast interior, that the change is chiefly to be
ascribed. In this softening of manners, such as it was, and in the
obedient Catholicity of a few hundred tamed savages gathered at
stationary missions in various parts of Canada, we find, after a century
had elapsed, all the results of the heroic toil of the Jesuits. The
missions had failed, because the Indians had ceased to exist. Of the
great tribes on whom rested the hopes of the early Canadian Fathers,
nearly all were virtually extinct. The missionaries built laboriously
and well, but they were doomed to build on a failing foundation. The
Indians melted away, not because civilization destroyed them, but
because their own ferocity and intractable indolence made it impossible
that they should exist in its presence. Either the plastic energies of a
higher race or the servile pliancy of a lower one would, each in its
way, have preserved them: as it was, their extinction was a foregone
conclusion. As for the religion which the Jesuits taught them, however
Protestants may carp at it, it was the only form of Christianity likely
to take root in their crude and barbarous nature.

[1] Vimont, Relation, 1645, 16.

To return to Druilletes. The smoke of the wigwam blinded him; and it is
no matter of surprise to hear that he was cured by a miracle. He
returned from his winter roving to Quebec in high health, and soon set
forth on a new mission. On the River Kennebec, in the present State of
Maine, dwelt the Abenaquis, an Algonquin people, destined hereafter to
become a thorn in the sides of the New-England colonists. Some of them
had visited their friends, the Christian Indians of Sillery. Here they
became converted, went home, and preached the Faith to their countrymen,
and this to such purpose that the Abenaquis sent to Quebec to ask for a
missionary. Apart from the saving of souls, there were solid reasons for
acceding to their request. The Abenaquis were near the colonies of New
England,--indeed, the Plymouth colony, under its charter, claimed
jurisdiction over them; and in case of rupture, they would prove
serviceable friends or dangerous enemies to New France. [2] Their
messengers were favorably received; and Druilletes was ordered to
proceed upon the new mission.

[2] Charlevoix, I. 280, gives this as a motive of the mission.

He left Sillery, with a party of Indians, on the twenty-ninth of August,
1646, [3] and following, as it seems, the route by which, a hundred and
twenty-nine years later, the soldiers of Arnold made their way to
Quebec, he reached the waters of the Kennebec and descended to the
Abenaqui villages. Here he nursed the sick, baptized the dying, and gave
such instruction as, in his ignorance of the language, he was able.
Apparently he had been ordered to reconnoitre; for he presently
descended the river from Norridgewock to the first English trading-post,
where Augusta now stands. Thence he continued his journey to the sea,
and followed the coast in a canoe to the Penobscot, visiting seven or
eight English posts on the way, where, to his surprise, he was very well
received. At the Penobscot he found several Capuchin friars, under their
Superior, Father Ignace, who welcomed him with the utmost cordiality.
Returning, he again ascended the Kennebec to the English post at
Augusta. At a spot three miles above the Indians had gathered in
considerable numbers, and here they built him a chapel after their
fashion. He remained till midwinter, catechizing and baptizing, and
waging war so successfully against the Indian sorcerers, that
medicine-bags were thrown away, and charms and incantations were
supplanted by prayers. In January the whole troop set off on their grand
hunt, Druilletes following them,--"with toil," says the chronicler, "too
great to buy the kingdoms of this world, but very small as a price for
the Kingdom of Heaven." [4] They encamped on Moosehead Lake, where new
disputes with the "medicine-men" ensued, and the Father again remained
master of the field. When, after a prosperous hunt, the party returned
to the English trading-house, John Winslow, the agent in charge, again
received the missionary with a kindness which showed no trace of
jealousy or religious prejudice. [5]

[3] Lalemant, Relation, 1647, 51.
[4] Lalemant, Relation, 1647, 54. For an account of this mission, see
also Maurault, Histoire des Abenakis, 116-156.
[5] Winslow would scarcely have recognized his own name in the Jesuit
spelling,--"Le Sieur de Houinslaud." In his journal of 1650 Druilletes
is more successful in his orthography, and spells it Winslau.

Early in the summer Druilletes went to Quebec; and during the two
following years, the Abenaquis, for reasons which are not clear, were
left without a missionary. He spent another winter of extreme hardship
with the Algonquins on their winter rovings, and during summer
instructed the wandering savages of Tadoussac. It was not until the
autumn of 1650 that he again descended the Kennebec. This time he went
as an envoy charged with the negotiation of a treaty. His journey is
worthy of notice, since, with the unimportant exception of Jogues's
embassy to the Mohawks, it is the first occasion on which the Canadian
Jesuits appear in a character distinctly political. Afterwards, when the
fervor and freshness of the missions had passed away, they frequently
did the work of political agents among the Indians: but the Jesuit of
the earlier period was, with rare exceptions, a missionary only; and
though he was expected to exert a powerful influence in gaining subjects
and allies for France, he was to do so by gathering them under the wings
of the Church.

The Colony of Massachusetts had applied to the French officials at
Quebec, with a view to a reciprocity of trade. The Iroquois had brought
Canada to extremity, and the French Governor conceived the hope of
gaining the powerful support of New England by granting the desired
privileges on condition of military aid. But, as the Puritans would
scarcely see it for their interest to provoke a dangerous enemy, who had
thus far never molested them, it was resolved to urge the proposed
alliance as a point of duty. The Abenaquis had suffered from Mohawk
inroads; and the French, assuming for the occasion that they were under
the jurisdiction of the English colonies, argued that they were bound to
protect them. Druilletes went in a double character,--as an envoy of the
government at Quebec, and as an agent of his Abenaqui flock, who had
been advised to petition for English assistance. The time seemed
inauspicious for a Jesuit visit to Boston; for not only had it been
announced as foremost among the objects in colonizing New England, "to
raise a bulwark against the kingdom of Antichrist, which the Jesuits
labor to rear up in all places of the world," [6] but, three years
before, the Legislature of Massachusetts had enacted, that Jesuits
entering the colony should be expelled, and, if they returned, hanged.
[7]

[6] Considerations for the Plantation in New England.--See Hutchinson,
Collection, 27. Mr. Savage thinks that this paper was by Winthrop. See
Savage's Winthrop. I. 360, note.
[7] See the Act, in Hazard, 550.

Nevertheless, on the first of September, Druilletes set forth from
Quebec with a Christian chief of Sillery, crossed forests, mountains,
and torrents, and reached Norridgewock, the highest Abenaqui settlement
on the Kennebec. Thence he descended to the English trading-house at
Augusta, where his fast friend, the Puritan Winslow, gave him a warm
welcome, entertained him hospitably, and promised to forward the object
of his mission. He went with him, at great personal inconvenience, to
Merrymeeting Bay, where Druilletes embarked in an English vessel for
Boston. The passage was stormy, and the wind ahead. He was forced to
land at Cape Ann, or, as he calls it, Kepane, whence, partly on foot,
partly in boats along the shore, he made his way to Boston. The
three-hilled city of the Puritans lay chill and dreary under a December
sky, as the priest crossed in a boat from the neighboring peninsula of
Charlestown.

Winslow was agent for the merchant, Edward Gibbons, a personage of note,
whose life presents curious phases,--a reveller of Merry Mount, a bold
sailor, a member of the church, an adventurous trader, an associate of
buccaneers, a magistrate of the commonwealth, and a major-general. [8]
The Jesuit, with credentials from the Governor of Canada and letters
from Winslow, met a reception widely different from that which the law
enjoined against persons of his profession. [9] Gibbons welcomed him
heartily, prayed him to accept no other lodging than his house while he
remained in Boston, and gave him the key of a chamber, in order that he
might pray after his own fashion, without fear of disturbance. An
accurate Catholic writer thinks it likely that he brought with him the
means of celebrating the Mass. [10] If so, the house of the Puritan was,
no doubt, desecrated by that Popish abomination; but be this as it may,
Massachusetts, in the person of her magistrate, became the gracious host
of one of those whom, next to the Devil and an Anglican bishop, she most
abhorred.

[8] An account of him will be found in Palfrey, Hist. of New England,
II. 225, note.
[9] In the Act, an exception, however, was made in favor of Jesuits
coming as ambassadors or envoys from their government, who were declared
not liable to the penalty of hanging.
[10] J. G. Shea, in Boston Pilot.

On the next day, Gibbons took his guest to Roxbury,--called Rogsbray by
Druilletes,--to see the Governor, the harsh and narrow Dudley, grown
gray in repellent virtue and grim honesty. Some half a century before,
he had served in France, under Henry the Fourth; but he had forgotten
his French, and called for an interpreter to explain the visitor's
credentials. He received Druilletes with courtesy, and promised to call
the magistrates together on the following Tuesday to hear his proposals.
They met accordingly, and Druilletes was asked to dine with them. The
old Governor sat at the head of the table, and after dinner invited the
guest to open the business of his embassy. They listened to him, desired
him to withdraw, and, after consulting among themselves, sent for him to
join them again at supper, when they made him an answer, of which the
record is lost, but which evidently was not definitive.

As the Abenaqui Indians were within the jurisdiction of Plymouth, [11]
Druilletes proceeded thither in his character of their agent. Here,
again, he was received with courtesy and kindness. Governor Bradford
invited him to dine, and, as it was Friday, considerately gave him a
dinner of fish. Druilletes conceived great hope that the colony could be
wrought upon to give the desired assistance; for some of the chief
inhabitants had an interest in the trade with the Abenaquis. [12] He
came back by land to Boston, stopping again at Roxbury on the way. It
was night when he arrived; and, after the usual custom, he took lodging
with the minister. Here were several young Indians, pupils of his host:
for he was no other than the celebrated Eliot, who, during the past
summer, had established his mission at Natick, [13] and was now
laboring, in the fulness of his zeal, in the work of civilization and
conversion. There was great sympathy between the two missionaries; and
Eliot prayed his guest to spend the winter with him.

[11] For the documents on the title of Plymouth to lands on the
Kennebec, see Drake's additions to Baylies's History of New Plymouth,
36, where they are illustrated by an ancient map. The patent was
obtained as early as 1628, and a trading-house soon after established.
[12] The Record of the Colony of Plymouth, June 5, 1651, contains,
however, the entry, "The Court declare themselves not to be willing to
aid them (the French) in their design, or to grant them liberty to go
through their jurisdiction for the aforesaid purpose" (to attack the
Mohawks).
[13] See Palfrey, New England, II. 336.

At Salem, which Druilletes also visited, in company with the minister of
Marblehead, he had an interview with the stern, but manly, Endicott,
who, he says, spoke French, and expressed both interest and good-will
towards the objects of the expedition. As the envoy had no money left,
Endicott paid his charges, and asked him to dine with the magistrates.
[14]

[14] On Druilletes's visit to New England, see his journal, entitled
Narré du Voyage faict pour la Mission des Abenaquois, et des
Connoissances tiréz de la Nouvelle Angleterre et des Dispositions des
Magistrats de cette Republique pour le Secours contre les Iroquois. See
also Druilletes, Rapport sur le Résultat de ses Négotiations, in
Ferland, Notes sur les Registres, 95.

Druilletes was evidently struck with the thrift and vigor of these
sturdy young colonies, and the strength of their population. He says
that Boston, meaning Massachusetts, could alone furnish four thousand
fighting men, and that the four united colonies could count forty
thousand souls. [15] These numbers may be challenged; but, at all
events, the contrast was striking with the attenuated and suffering
bands of priests, nuns, and fur-traders on the St. Lawrence. About
twenty-one thousand persons had come from Old to New England, with the
resolve of making it their home; and though this immigration had
virtually ceased, the natural increase had been great. The necessity, or
the strong desire, of escaping from persecution had given the impulse to
Puritan colonization; while, on the other hand, none but good Catholics,
the favored class of France, were tolerated in Canada. These had no
motive for exchanging the comforts of home and the smiles of Fortune for
a starving wilderness and the scalping-knives of the Iroquois. The
Huguenots would have emigrated in swarms; but they were rigidly
forbidden. The zeal of propagandism and the fur-trade were, as we have
seen, the vital forces of New France. Of her feeble population, the best
part was bound to perpetual chastity; while the fur-traders and those in
their service rarely brought their wives to the wilderness. The
fur-trader, moreover, is always the worst of colonists; since the
increase of population, by diminishing the numbers of the fur-bearing
animals, is adverse to his interest. But behind all this there was in
the religious ideal of the rival colonies an influence which alone would
have gone far to produce the contrast in material growth.

[15] Druilletes, Reflexions touchant ce qu'on peut esperer de la
Nouvelle Angleterre contre l'Irocquois (sic), appended to his journal.

To the mind of the Puritan, heaven was God's throne; but no less was the
earth His footstool: and each in its degree and its kind had its demands
on man. He held it a duty to labor and to multiply; and, building on the
Old Testament quite as much as on the New, thought that a reward on
earth as well as in heaven awaited those who were faithful to the law.
Doubtless, such a belief is widely open to abuse, and it would be folly
to pretend that it escaped abuse in New England; but there was in it an
element manly, healthful, and invigorating. On the other hand, those who
shaped the character, and in great measure the destiny, of New France
had always on their lips the nothingness and the vanity of life. For
them, time was nothing but a preparation for eternity, and the highest
virtue consisted in a renunciation of all the cares, toils, and
interests of earth. That such a doctrine has often been joined to an
intense worldliness, all history proclaims; but with this we have at
present nothing to do. If all mankind acted on it in good faith, the
world would sink into decrepitude. It is the monastic idea carried into
the wide field of active life, and is like the error of those who, in
their zeal to cultivate their higher nature, suffer the neglected body
to dwindle and pine, till body and mind alike lapse into feebleness and
disease.

Druilletes returned to the Abenaquis, and thence to Quebec, full of hope
that the object of his mission was in a fair way of accomplishment. The
Governor, d'Ailleboust, [16] who had succeeded Montmagny, called his
council, and Druilletes was again dispatched to New England, together
with one of the principal inhabitants of Quebec, Jean Paul Godefroy.
[17] They repaired to New Haven, and appeared before the Commissioners
of the Four Colonies, then in session there; but their errand proved
bootless. The Commissioners refused either to declare war or to permit
volunteers to be raised in New England against the Iroquois. The
Puritan, like his descendant, would not fight without a reason. The bait
of free-trade with Canada failed to tempt him; and the envoys retraced
their steps, with a flat, though courteous refusal. [18]

[16] The same who, with his wife, had joined the colonists of Montreal.
See ante, (page 264).
[17] He was one of the Governor's council.--Ferland, Notes sur les
Registres, 67.
[18] On Druilletes's second embassy, see Lettre écrite par le Conseil de
Quebec aux Commissionaires de la Nouvelle Angleterre, in Charlevoix, I.
287; Extrait des Registres de l'Ancien Conseil de Quebec, Ibid., I. 288;
Copy of a Letter from the Commissioners of the United Colonies to the
Governor of Canada, in Hazard, II. 183; Answare to the Propositions
presented by the honered French Agents, Ibid., II. 184; and Hutchinson,
Collection of Papers, 166. Also, Records of the Commissioners of the
United Colonies, Sept. 5, 1651; and Commission of Druilletes and
Godefroy, in N. Y. Col. Docs., IX. 6.

Now let us stop for a moment at Quebec, and observe some notable changes
that had taken place in the affairs of the colony. The Company of the
Hundred Associates, whose outlay had been great and their profit small,
transferred to the inhabitants of the colony their monopoly of the
fur-trade, and with it their debts. The inhabitants also assumed their
obligations to furnish arms, munitions, soldiers, and works of defence,
to pay the Governor and other officials, introduce emigrants, and
contribute to support the missions. The Company was to receive, besides,
an annual acknowledgement of a thousand pounds of beaver, and was to
retain all seigniorial rights. The inhabitants were to form a
corporation, of which any one of them might be a member; and no
individual could trade on his own account, except on condition of
selling at a fixed price to the magazine of this new company. [19]

[19] Articles accordés entre les Directeurs et Associés de la Compagnie
de la Nelle France et les Députés des Habitans du dit Pays, 6 Mars,
1645. MS.

This change took place in 1645. It was followed, in 1647, by the
establishment of a Council, composed of the Governor-General, the
Superior of the Jesuits, and the Governor of Montreal, who were invested
with absolute powers, legislative, judicial, and executive. The
Governor-General had an appointment of twenty-five thousand livres,
besides the privilege of bringing over seventy tons of freight, yearly,
in the Company's ships. Out of this he was required to pay the soldiers,
repair the forts, and supply arms and munitions. Ten thousand livres and
thirty tons of freight, with similar conditions, were assigned to the
Governor of Montreal. Under these circumstances, one cannot wonder that
the colony was but indifferently defended against the Iroquois, and that
the King had to send soldiers to save it from destruction. In the next
year, at the instance of Maisonneuve, another change was made. A
specified sum was set apart for purposes of defence, and the salaries of
the Governors were proportionably reduced. The Governor-General,
Montmagny, though he seems to have done better than could reasonably
have been expected, was removed; and, as Maisonneuve declined the
office, d'Ailleboust, another Montrealist, was appointed to it. This
movement, indeed, had been accomplished by the interest of the Montreal
party; for already there was no slight jealousy between Quebec and her
rival.

The Council was reorganized, and now consisted of the Governor, the
Superior of the Jesuits, and three of the principal inhabitants. [20]
These last were to be chosen every three years by the Council itself, in
conjunction with the Syndics of Quebec, Montreal, and Three Rivers. The
Syndic was an officer elected by the inhabitants of the community to
which he belonged, to manage its affairs. Hence a slight ingredient of
liberty was introduced into the new organization.

[20] The Governors of Montreal and Three Rivers, when present, had also
seats in the Council.

The colony, since the transfer of the fur-trade, had become a resident
corporation of merchants, with the Governor and Council at its head.
They were at once the directors of a trading company, a legislative
assembly, a court of justice, and an executive body: more even than
this, for they regulated the private affairs of families and
individuals. The appointment and payment of clerks and the examining of
accounts mingled with high functions of government; and the new
corporation of the inhabitants seems to have been managed with very
little consultation of its members. How the Father Superior acquitted
himself in his capacity of director of a fur-company is nowhere
recorded. [21]

[21] Those curious in regard to these new regulations will find an
account of them, at greater length, in Ferland and Faillon.

As for Montreal, though it had given a Governor to the colony, its
prospects were far from hopeful. The ridiculous Dauversière, its chief
founder, was sick and bankrupt; and the Associates of Montreal, once so
full of zeal and so abounding in wealth, were reduced to nine persons.
What it had left of vitality was in the enthusiastic Mademoiselle Mance,
the earnest and disinterested soldier, Maisonneuve, and the priest,
Olier, with his new Seminary of St. Sulpice.

Let us visit Quebec in midwinter. We pass the warehouses and dwellings
of the lower town, and as we climb the zigzag way now called Mountain
Street, the frozen river, the roofs, the summits of the cliff, and all
the broad landscape below and around us glare in the sharp sunlight with
a dazzling whiteness. At the top, scarcely a private house is to be
seen; but, instead, a fort, a church, a hospital, a cemetery, a house of
the Jesuits, and an Ursuline convent. Yet, regardless of the keen air,
soldiers, Jesuits, servants, officials, women, all of the little
community who are not cloistered, are abroad and astir. Despite the
gloom of the times, an unwonted cheer enlivens this rocky perch of
France and the Faith; for it is New-Year's Day, and there is an active
interchange of greetings and presents. Thanks to the nimble pen of the
Father Superior, we know what each gave and what each received. He thus
writes in his private journal:--

"The soldiers went with their guns to salute Monsieur the Governor; and
so did also the inhabitants in a body. He was beforehand with us, and
came here at seven o'clock to wish us a happy New-Year, each in turn,
one after another. I went to see him after mass. Another time we must be
beforehand with him. M. Giffard also came to see us. The Hospital nuns
sent us letters of compliment very early in the morning; and the
Ursulines sent us some beautiful presents, with candles, rosaries, a
crucifix, etc., and, at dinner-time, two excellent pies. I sent them two
images, in enamel, of St. Ignatius and St. Francis Xavier. We gave to M.
Giffard Father Bonnet's book on the life of Our Lord; to M. des
Châtelets, a little volume on Eternity; to M. Bourdon, a telescope and
compass; and to others, reliquaries, rosaries, medals, images, etc. I
went to see M. Giffard, M. Couillard, and Mademoiselle de Repentigny.
The Ursulines sent to beg that I would come and see them before the end
of the day. I went, and paid my compliments also to Madame de la
Peltrie, who sent us some presents. I was near leaving this out, which
would have been a sad oversight. We gave a crucifix to the woman who
washes the church-linen, a bottle of eau-de-vie to Abraham, four
handkerchiefs to his wife, some books of devotion to others, and two
handkerchiefs to Robert Hache. He asked for two more, and we gave them
to him." [22]

[22] Journal des Supérieurs des Jésuites, MS. Only fragments of this
curious record are extant. It was begun by Lalemant in 1645. For the
privilege of having what remains of it copied I am indebted to M.
Jacques Viger. The entry translated above is of Jan. 1, 1646. Of the
persons named in it, Giffard was seigneur of Beauport, and a member of
the Council; Des Châtelets was one of the earliest settlers, and
connected by marriage with Giffard; Couillard was son-in-law of the
first settler, Hébert; Mademoiselle de Repentigny was daughter of Le
Gardeur de Repentigny, commander of the fleet; Madame de la Peltrie has
been described already; Bourdon was chief engineer of the colony;
Abraham was Abraham Martin, pilot for the King on the St. Lawrence, from
whom the historic Plains of Abraham received their name. (See Ferland,
Notes sur Registres, 16.) The rest were servants, or persons of humble
station.

CHAPTER XXIII.
1645-1648.

A DOOMED NATION.

It was a strange and miserable spectacle to behold the savages of this
continent at the time when the knell of their common ruin had already
sounded. Civilization had gained a foothold on their borders. The long
and gloomy reign of barbarism was drawing near its close, and their
united efforts could scarcely have availed to sustain it. Yet, in this
crisis of their destiny, these doomed tribes were tearing each other's
throats in a wolfish fury, joined to an intelligence that served little
purpose but mutual destruction.

How the quarrel began between the Iroquois and their Huron kindred no
man can tell, and it is not worth while to conjecture. At this time, the
ruling passion of the savage Confederates was the annihilation of this
rival people and of their Algonquin allies,--if the understanding
between the Hurons and these incoherent hordes can be called an
alliance. United, they far outnumbered the Iroquois. Indeed, the Hurons
alone were not much inferior in force; for, by the largest estimates,
the strength of the five Iroquois nations must now have been
considerably less than three thousand warriors. Their true superiority
was a moral one. They were in one of those transports of pride,
self-confidence, and rage for ascendency, which, in a savage people,
marks an era of conquest. With all the defects of their organization, it
was far better than that of their neighbors. There were bickerings,
jealousies, plottings and counter-plottings, separate wars and separate
treaties, among the five members of the league; yet nothing could sunder
them. The bonds that united them were like cords of India-rubber: they
would stretch, and the parts would be seemingly disjoined, only to
return to their old union with the recoil. Such was the elastic strength
of those relations of clanship which were the life of the league. [1]

[1] See ante, Introduction.

The first meeting of white men with the Hurons found them at blows with
the Iroquois; and from that time forward, the war raged with increasing
fury. Small scalping-parties infested the Huron forests, killing squaws
in the cornfields, or entering villages at midnight to tomahawk their
sleeping inhabitants. Often, too, invasions were made in force.
Sometimes towns were set upon and burned, and sometimes there were
deadly conflicts in the depths of the forests and the passes of the
hills. The invaders were not always successful. A bloody rebuff and a
sharp retaliation now and then requited them. Thus, in 1638, a war-party
of a hundred Iroquois met in the forest a band of three hundred Huron
and Algonquin warriors. They might have retreated, and the greater
number were for doing so; but Ononkwaya, an Oneida chief, refused.
"Look!" he said, "the sky is clear; the Sun beholds us. If there were
clouds to hide our shame from his sight, we might fly; but, as it is, we
must fight while we can." They stood their ground for a time, but were
soon overborne. Four or five escaped; but the rest were surrounded, and
killed or taken. This year, Fortune smiled on the Hurons; and they took,
in all, more than a hundred prisoners, who were distributed among their
various towns, to be burned. These scenes, with them, occurred always in
the night; and it was held to be of the last importance that the torture
should be protracted from sunset till dawn. The too valiant Ononkwaya
was among the victims. Even in death he took his revenge; for it was
thought an augury of disaster to the victors, if no cry of pain could be
extorted from the sufferer, and, on the present occasion, he displayed
an unflinching courage, rare even among Indian warriors. His execution
took place at the town of Teanaustayé, called St. Joseph by the Jesuits.
The Fathers could not save his life, but, what was more to the purpose,
they baptized him. On the scaffold where he was burned, he wrought
himself into a fury which seemed to render him insensible to pain.
Thinking him nearly spent, his tormentors scalped him, when, to their
amazement, he leaped up, snatched the brands that had been the
instruments of his torture, drove the screeching crowd from the
scaffold, and held them all at bay, while they pelted him from below
with sticks, stones, and showers of live coals. At length he made a
false step and fell to the ground, when they seized him and threw him
into the fire. He instantly leaped out, covered with blood, cinders, and
ashes, and rushed upon them, with a blazing brand in each hand. The
crowd gave way before him, and he ran towards the town, as if to set it
on fire. They threw a pole across his way, which tripped him and flung
him headlong to the earth, on which they all fell upon him, cut off his
hands and feet, and again threw him into the fire. He rolled himself
out, and crawled forward on his elbows and knees, glaring upon them with
such unutterable ferocity that they recoiled once more, till, seeing
that he was helpless, they threw themselves upon him, and cut off his
head. [2]

[2] Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1639, 68. It was this chief whose
severed hand was thrown to the Jesuits. See ante, (page 137).

When the Iroquois could not win by force, they were sometimes more
successful with treachery. In the summer of 1645, two war-parties of the
hostile nations met in the forest. The Hurons bore themselves so well
that they had nearly gained the day, when the Iroquois called for a
parley, displayed a great number of wampum-belts, and said that they
wished to treat for peace. The Hurons had the folly to consent. The
chiefs on both sides sat down to a council, during which the Iroquois,
seizing a favorable moment, fell upon their dupes and routed them
completely, killing and capturing a considerable number. [3]

[3] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1646, 55.

The large frontier town of St. Joseph was well fortified with palisades,
on which, at intervals, were wooden watch-towers. On an evening of this
same summer of 1645, the Iroquois approached the place in force; and the
young Huron warriors, mounting their palisades, sang their war-songs all
night, with the utmost power of their lungs, in order that the enemy,
knowing them to be on their guard, might be deterred from an attack. The
night was dark, and the hideous dissonance resounded far and wide; yet,
regardless of the din, two Iroquois crept close to the palisade, where
they lay motionless till near dawn. By this time the last song had died
away, and the tired singers had left their posts or fallen asleep. One
of the Iroquois, with the silence and agility of a wild-cat, climbed to
the top of a watch-tower, where he found two slumbering Hurons, brained
one of them with his hatchet, and threw the other down to his comrade,
who quickly despoiled him of his life and his scalp. Then, with the
reeking trophies of their exploit, the adventurers rejoined their
countrymen in the forest.

The Hurons planned a counter-stroke; and three of them, after a journey
of twenty days, reached the great town of the Senecas. They entered it
at midnight, and found, as usual, no guard; but the doors of the houses
were made fast. They cut a hole in the bark side of one of them, crept
in, stirred the fading embers to give them light, chose each his man,
tomahawked him, scalped him, and escaped in the confusion. [4]

[4] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1646, 55, 56.

Despite such petty triumphs, the Hurons felt themselves on the verge of
ruin. Pestilence and war had wasted them away, and left but a skeleton
of their former strength. In their distress, they cast about them for
succor, and, remembering an ancient friendship with a kindred nation,
the Andastes, they sent an embassy to ask of them aid in war or
intervention to obtain peace. This powerful people dwelt, as has been
shown, on the River Susquehanna. [5] The way was long, even in a direct
line; but the Iroquois lay between, and a wide circuit was necessary to
avoid them. A Christian chief, whom the Jesuits had named Charles,
together with four Christian and four heathen Hurons, bearing
wampum-belts and gifts from the council, departed on this embassy on the
thirteenth of April, 1647, and reached the great town of the Andastes
early in June. It contained, as the Jesuits were told, no less than
thirteen hundred warriors. The council assembled, and the chief
ambassador addressed them:--

"We come from the Land of Souls, where all is gloom, dismay, and
desolation. Our fields are covered with blood; our houses are filled
only with the dead; and we ourselves have but life enough to beg our
friends to take pity on a people who are drawing near their end." [6]
Then he presented the wampum-belts and other gifts, saying that they
were the voice of a dying country.

[5] See Introduction. The Susquehannocks of Smith, clearly the same
people, are placed, in his map, on the east side of the Susquehanna,
some twenty miles from its mouth. He speaks of them as great enemies of
the Massawomekes (Mohawks). No other savage people so boldly resisted
the Iroquois; but the story in Hazard's Annals of Pennsylvania, that a
hundred of them beat off sixteen hundred Senecas, is disproved by the
fact, that the Senecas, in their best estate, never had so many
warriors. The miserable remnant of the Andastes, called Conestogas, were
massacred by the Paxton Boys, in 1763. See "Conspiracy of Pontiac," 414.
Compare Historical Magazine, II. 294.
[6] "Il leur dit qu'il venoit du pays des Ames, où la guerre et la
terreur des ennemis auoit tout desolé, où les campagnes n'estoient
couuertes que de sang, où les cabanes n'estoient remplies que de
cadaures, et qu'il ne leur restoit à eux-mesmes de vie, sinon autant
qu'ils en auoient eu besoin pour venir dire à leurs amis, qu'ils eussent
pitié d'vn pays qui tiroit à sa fin."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons,
1648, 58.

The Andastes, who had a mortal quarrel with the Mohawks, and who had
before promised to aid the Hurons in case of need, returned a favorable
answer, but were disposed to try the virtue of diplomacy rather than the
tomahawk. After a series of councils, they determined to send
ambassadors, not to their old enemies, the Mohawks, but to the
Onondagas, Oneidas, and Cayugas, [7] who were geographically the central
nations of the Iroquois league, while the Mohawks and the Senecas were
respectively at its eastern and western extremities. By inducing the
three central nations, and, if possible, the Senecas also, to conclude a
treaty with the Hurons, these last would be enabled to concentrate their
force against the Mohawks, whom the Andastes would attack at the same
time, unless they humbled themselves and made peace. This scheme, it
will be seen, was based on the assumption, that the dreaded league of
the Iroquois was far from being a unit in action or counsel.

[7] Examination leaves no doubt that the Ouiouenronnons of Ragueneau
(Relation des Hurons, 1648, 46, 59) were the Oiogouins or Goyogouins,
that is to say, the Cayugas. They must not be confounded with the
Ouenrohronnons, a small tribe hostile to the Iroquois, who took refuge
among the Hurons in 1638.

Charles, with some of his colleagues, now set out for home, to report
the result of their mission; but the Senecas were lying in wait for
them, and they were forced to make a wide sweep through the Alleghanies,
Western Pennsylvania, and apparently Ohio, to avoid these vigilant foes.
It was October before they reached the Huron towns, and meanwhile hopes
of peace had arisen from another quarter. [8]

[8] On this mission of the Hurons to the Andastes, see Ragueneau,
Relation des Hurons, 1648, 58-60.

Early in the spring, a band of Onondagas had made an inroad, but were
roughly handled by the Hurons, who killed several of them, captured
others, and put the rest to flight. The prisoners were burned, with the
exception of one who committed suicide to escape the torture, and one
other, the chief man of the party, whose name was Annenrais. Some of the
Hurons were dissatisfied at the mercy shown him, and gave out that they
would kill him; on which the chiefs, who never placed themselves in open
opposition to the popular will, secretly fitted him out, made him
presents, and aided him to escape at night, with an understanding that
he should use his influence at Onondaga in favor of peace. After
crossing Lake Ontario, he met nearly all the Onondaga warriors on the
march to avenge his supposed death; for he was a man of high account.
They greeted him as one risen from the grave; and, on his part, he
persuaded them to renounce their warlike purpose and return home. On
their arrival, the chiefs and old men were called to council, and the
matter was debated with the usual deliberation.

About this time the ambassador of the Andastes appeared with his
wampum-belts. Both this nation and the Onondagas had secret motives
which were perfectly in accordance. The Andastes hated the Mohawks as
enemies, and the Onondagas were jealous of them as confederates; for,
since they had armed themselves with Dutch guns, their arrogance and
boastings had given umbrage to their brethren of the league; and a peace
with the Hurons would leave the latter free to turn their undivided
strength against the Mohawks, and curb their insolence. The Oneidas and
the Cayugas were of one mind with the Onondagas. Three nations of the
league, to satisfy their spite against a fourth, would strike hands with
the common enemy of all. It was resolved to send an embassy to the
Hurons. Yet it may be, that, after all, the Onondagas had but half a
mind for peace. At least, they were unfortunate in their choice of an
ambassador. He was by birth a Huron, who, having been captured when a
boy, adopted and naturalized, had become more an Iroquois than the
Iroquois themselves; and scarcely one of the fierce confederates had
shed so much Huron blood. When he reached the town of St. Ignace, which
he did about mid-summer, and delivered his messages and wampum-belts,
there was a great division of opinion among the Hurons. The Bear
Nation--the member of their confederacy which was farthest from the
Iroquois, and least exposed to danger--was for rejecting overtures made
by so offensive an agency; but those of the Hurons who had suffered most
were eager for peace at any price, and, after solemn deliberation, it
was resolved to send an embassy in return. At its head was placed a
Christian chief named Jean Baptiste Atironta; and on the first of August
he and four others departed for Onondaga, carrying a profusion of
presents, and accompanied by the apostate envoy of the Iroquois. As the
ambassadors had to hunt on the way for subsistence, besides making
canoes to cross Lake Ontario, it was twenty days before they reached
their destination. When they arrived, there was great jubilation, and,
for a full month, nothing but councils. Having thus sifted the matter to
the bottom, the Onondagas determined at last to send another embassy
with Jean Baptiste on his return, and with them fifteen Huron prisoners,
as an earnest of their good intentions, retaining, on their part, one of
Baptiste's colleagues as a hostage. This time they chose for their envoy
a chief of their own nation, named Scandawati, a man of renown, sixty
years of age, joining with him two colleagues. The old Onondaga entered
on his mission with a troubled mind. His anxiety was not so much for his
life as for his honor and dignity; for, while the Oneidas and the
Cayugas were acting in concurrence with the Onondagas, the Senecas had
refused any part in the embassy, and still breathed nothing but war.
Would they, or still more the Mohawks, so far forget the consideration
due to one whose name had been great in the councils of the League as to
assault the Hurons while he was among them in the character of an
ambassador of his nation, whereby his honor would be compromised and his
life endangered? His mind brooded on this idea, and he told one of his
colleagues, that, if such a slight were put upon him, he should die of
mortification. "I am not a dead dog," he said, "to be despised and
forgotten. I am worthy that all men should turn their eyes on me while I
am among enemies, and do nothing that may involve me in danger."

What with hunting, fishing, canoe-making, and bad weather, the progress
of the august travellers was so slow, that they did not reach the Huron
towns till the twenty-third of October. Scandawati presented seven large
belts of wampum, each composed of three or four thousand beads, which
the Jesuits call the pearls and diamonds of the country. He delivered,
too, the fifteen captives, and promised a hundred more on the final
conclusion of peace. The three Onondagas remained, as surety for the
good faith of those who sent them, until the beginning of January, when
the Hurons on their part sent six ambassadors to conclude the treaty,
one of the Onondagas accompanying them. Soon there came dire tidings.
The prophetic heart of the old chief had not deceived him. The Senecas
and Mohawks, disregarding negotiations in which they had no part, and
resolved to bring them to an end, were invading the country in force. It
might be thought that the Hurons would take their revenge on the
Onondaga envoys, now hostages among them; but they did not do so, for
the character of an ambassador was, for the most part, held in respect.
One morning, however, Scandawati had disappeared. They were full of
excitement; for they thought that he had escaped to the enemy. They
ranged the woods in search of him, and at length found him in a thicket
near the town. He lay dead, on a bed of spruce-boughs which he had made,
his throat deeply gashed with a knife. He had died by his own hand, a
victim of mortified pride. "See," writes Father Ragueneau, "how much our
Indians stand on the point of honor!" [9]

[9] This remarkable story is told by Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons,
1648, 56-58. He was present at the time, and knew all the circumstances.

We have seen that one of his two colleagues had set out for Onondaga
with a deputation of six Hurons. This party was met by a hundred
Mohawks, who captured them all and killed the six Hurons, but spared the
Onondaga, and compelled him to join them. Soon after, they made a sudden
onset on about three hundred Hurons journeying through the forest from
the town of St. Ignace; and, as many of them were women, they routed the
whole, and took forty prisoners. The Onondaga bore part in the fray, and
captured a Christian Huron girl; but the next day he insisted on
returning to the Huron town. "Kill me, if you will," he said to the
Mohawks, "but I cannot follow you; for then I should be ashamed to
appear among my countrymen, who sent me on a message of peace to the
Hurons; and I must die with them, sooner than seem to act as their
enemy." On this, the Mohawks not only permitted him to go, but gave him
the Huron girl whom he had taken; and the Onondaga led her back in
safety to her countrymen. [10] Here, then, is a ray of light out of
Egyptian darkness. The principle of honor was not extinct in these wild
hearts.

[10] "Celuy qui l'auoit prise estoit Onnontaeronnon, qui estant icy en
os tage à cause de la paix qui se traite auec les Onnontaeronnons, et
s'estant trouué auec nos Hurons à cette chasse, y fut pris tout des
premiers par les Sonnontoueronnons (Annieronnons?), qui l'ayans reconnu
ne luy firent aucun mal, et mesme l'obligerent de les suiure et prendre
part à leur victoire; et ainsi en ce rencontre cét Onnontaeronnon auoit
fait sa prise, tellement neantmoins qu'il desira s'en retourner le
lendemain, disant aux Sonnontoueronnons qu'ils le tuassent s'ils
vouloient, mais qu'il ne pouuoit se resoudre à les suiure, et qu'il
auroit honte de reparoistre en son pays, les affaires qui l'auoient
amené aux Hurons pour la paix ne permettant pas qu'il fist autre chose
que de mourir avec eux plus tost que de paroistre s'estre comporté en
ennemy. Ainsi les Sonnontoueronnons luy permirent de s'en retourner et
de ramener cette bonne Chrestienne, qui estoit sa captiue, laquelle nous
a consolé par le recit des entretiens de ces pauures gens dans leur
affliction."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1648, 65.

Apparently the word Sonnontoueronnons (Senecas), in the above, should
read Annieronnons (Mohawks); for, on pp. 50, 57, the writer twice speaks
of the party as Mohawks.

We hear no more of the negotiations between the Onondagas and the
Hurons. They and their results were swept away in the storm of events
soon to be related.

CHAPTER XXIV.
1645-1648.

THE HURON CHURCH.

How did it fare with the missions in these days of woe and terror? They
had thriven beyond hope. The Hurons, in their time of trouble, had
become tractable. They humbled themselves, and, in their desolation and
despair, came for succor to the priests. There was a harvest of
converts, not only exceeding in numbers that of all former years, but
giving in many cases undeniable proofs of sincerity and fervor. In some
towns the Christians outnumbered the heathen, and in nearly all they
formed a strong party. The mission of La Conception, or Ossossané, was
the most successful. Here there were now a church and one or more
resident Jesuits,--as also at St. Joseph, St. Ignace, St. Michel, and
St. Jean Baptiste: [1] for we have seen that the Huron towns were
christened with names of saints. Each church had its bell, which was
sometimes hung in a neighboring tree. [2] Every morning it rang its
summons to mass; and, issuing from their dwellings of bark, the converts
gathered within the sacred precinct, where the bare, rude walls, fresh
from the axe and saw, contrasted with the sheen of tinsel and gilding,
and the hues of gay draperies and gaudy pictures. At evening they met
again at prayers; and on Sunday, masses, confession, catechism, sermons,
and repeating the rosary consumed the whole day. [3]

[1] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1646, 56.
[2] A fragment of one of these bells, found on the site of a Huron town,
is preserved in the museum of Huron relics at the Laval University,
Quebec. The bell was not large, but was of very elaborate workmanship.
Before 1644 the Jesuits had used old copper kettles as a
substitute.--Lettre de Lalemant, 31 March, 1644.
[3] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1646, 56.

These converts rarely took part in the burning of prisoners. On the
contrary, they sometimes set their faces against the practice; and on
one occasion, a certain Étienne Totiri, while his heathen countrymen
were tormenting a captive Iroquois at St. Ignace, boldly denounced them,
and promised them an eternity of flames and demons, unless they
desisted. Not content with this, he addressed an exhortation to the
sufferer in one of the intervals of his torture. The dying wretch
demanded baptism, which Étienne took it upon himself to administer, amid
the hootings of the crowd, who, as he ran with a cup of water from a
neighboring house, pushed him to and fro to make him spill it, crying
out, "Let him alone! Let the devils burn him after we have done!" [4]

[4] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1646, 58. The Hurons often resisted
the baptism of their prisoners, on the ground that Hell, and not Heaven,
was the place to which they would have them go.--See Lalemant, Relation
des Hurons, 1642, 60, Ragueneau, Ibid., 1648, 53, and several other
passages.

In regard to these atrocious scenes, which formed the favorite Huron
recreation of a summer night, the Jesuits, it must be confessed, did not
quite come up to the requirements of modern sensibility. They were
offended at them, it is true, and prevented them when they could; but
they were wholly given to the saving of souls, and held the body in
scorn, as the vile source of incalculable mischief, worthy the worst
inflictions that could be put upon it. What were a few hours of
suffering to an eternity of bliss or woe? If the victim were heathen,
these brief pangs were but the faint prelude of an undying flame; and if
a Christian, they were the fiery portal of Heaven. They might, indeed,
be a blessing; since, accepted in atonement for sin, they would shorten
the torments of Purgatory. Yet, while schooling themselves to despise
the body, and all the pain or pleasure that pertained to it, the Fathers
were emphatic on one point. It must not be eaten. In the matter of
cannibalism, they were loud and vehement in invective. [5]

[5] The following curious case of conversion at the stake, gravely
related by Lalemant, is worth preserving.

"An Iroquois was to be burned at a town some way off. What consolation
to set forth, in the hottest summer weather, to deliver this poor victim
from the hell prepared for him! The Father approaches him, and instructs
him even in the midst of his torments. Forthwith the Faith finds a place
in his heart. He recognizes and adores, as the author of his life, Him
whose name he had never heard till the hour of his death. He receives
the grace of baptism, and breathes nothing but heaven.... This newly
made, but generous Christian, mounted on the scaffold which is the place
of his torture, in the sight of a thousand spectators, who are at once
his enemies, his judges, and his executioners, raises his eyes and his
voice heavenward, and cries aloud, 'Sun, who art witness of my torments,
hear my words! I am about to die; but, after my death, I shall go to
dwell in heaven.'"--Relation des Hurons, 1641, 67.

The Sun, it will be remembered, was the god of the heathen Iroquois. The
convert appealed to his old deity to rejoice with him in his happy
future.

Undeniably, the Faith was making progress; yet it is not to be supposed
that its path was a smooth one. The old opposition and the old calumnies
were still alive and active. "It is la prière that kills us. Your books
and your strings of beads have bewitched the country. Before you came,
we were happy and prosperous. You are magicians. Your charms kill our
corn, and bring sickness and the Iroquois. Echon (Brébeuf) is a traitor
among us, in league with our enemies." Such discourse was still rife,
openly and secretly.

The Huron who embraced the Faith renounced thenceforth, as we have seen,
the feasts, dances, and games in which was his delight, since all these
savored of diabolism. And if, being in health, he could not enjoy
himself, so also, being sick, he could not be cured; for his physician
was a sorcerer, whose medicines were charms and incantations. If the
convert was a chief, his case was far worse; since, writes Father
Lalemant, "to be a chief and a Christian is to combine water and fire;
for the business of the chiefs is mainly to do the Devil's bidding,
preside over ceremonies of hell, and excite the young Indians to dances,
feasts, and shameless indecencies." [6]

[6] Relation des Hurons, 1642, 89. The indecencies alluded to were
chiefly naked dances, of a superstitious character, and the mystical
cure called Andacwandet, before mentioned.

It is not surprising, then, that proselytes were difficult to make, or
that, being made, they often relapsed. The Jesuits complain that they
had no means of controlling their converts, and coercing backsliders to
stand fast; and they add, that the Iroquois, by destroying the
fur-trade, had broken the principal bond between the Hurons and the
French, and greatly weakened the influence of the mission. [7]

[7] Lettre du P. Hierosme Lalemant, appended to the Relation of 1645.

Among the slanders devised by the heathen party against the teachers of
the obnoxious doctrine was one which found wide credence, even among the
converts, and produced a great effect. They gave out that a baptized
Huron girl, who had lately died, and was buried in the cemetery at
Sainte Marie, had returned to life, and given a deplorable account of
the heaven of the French. No sooner had she entered,--such was the
story,--than they seized her, chained her to a stake, and tormented her
all day with inconceivable cruelty. They did the same to all the other
converted Hurons; for this was the recreation of the French, and
especially of the Jesuits, in their celestial abode. They baptized
Indians with no other object than that they might have them to torment
in heaven; to which end they were willing to meet hardships and dangers
in this life, just as a war-party invades the enemy's country at great
risk that it may bring home prisoners to burn. After her painful
experience, an unknown friend secretly showed the girl a path down to
the earth; and she hastened thither to warn her countrymen against the
wiles of the missionaries. [8]

[8] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1646, 65.

In the spring of 1648 the excitement of the heathen party reached a
crisis. A young Frenchman, named Jacques Douart, in the service of the
mission, going out at evening a short distance from the Jesuit house of
Sainte Marie, was tomahawked by unknown Indians, [9] who proved to be
two brothers, instigated by the heathen chiefs. A great commotion
followed, and for a few days it seemed that the adverse parties would
fall to blows, at a time when the common enemy threatened to destroy
them both. But sager counsels prevailed. In view of the manifest
strength of the Christians, the pagans lowered their tone; and it soon
became apparent that it was the part of the Jesuits to insist boldly on
satisfaction for the outrage. They made no demand that the murderers
should be punished or surrendered, but, with their usual good sense in
such matters, conformed to Indian usage, and required that the nation at
large should make atonement for the crime by presents. [10] The number
of these, their value, and the mode of delivering them were all fixed by
ancient custom; and some of the converts, acting as counsel, advised the
Fathers of every step it behooved them to take in a case of such
importance. As this is the best illustration of Huron justice on record,
it may be well to observe the method of procedure,--recollecting that
the public, and not the criminal, was to pay the forfeit of the crime.

[9] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1648, 77. Compare Lettre du P. Jean
de Brébeuf au T. R. P. Vincent Carafa, Général de la Compagnie de Jésus,
Sainte Marie, 2 Juin, 1648, in Carayon.
[10] See Introduction.

First of all, the Huron chiefs summoned the Jesuits to meet them at a
grand council of the nation, when an old orator, chosen by the rest,
rose and addressed Ragueneau, as chief of the French, in the following
harangue. Ragueneau, who reports it, declares that he has added nothing
to it, and the translation is as literal as possible.

"My Brother," began the speaker, "behold all the tribes of our league
assembled!"--and he named them one by one. "We are but a handful; you
are the prop and stay of this nation. A thunderbolt has fallen from the
sky, and rent a chasm in the earth. We shall fall into it, if you do not
support us. Take pity on us. We are here, not so much to speak as to
weep over our loss and yours. Our country is but a skeleton, without
flesh, veins, sinews, or arteries; and its bones hang together by a
thread. This thread is broken by the blow that has fallen on the head of
your nephew, [11] for whom we weep. It was a demon of Hell who placed
the hatchet in the murderer's hand. Was it you, Sun, whose beams shine
on us, who led him to do this deed? Why did you not darken your light,
that he might be stricken with horror at his crime? Were you his
accomplice? No; for he walked in darkness, and did not see where he
struck. He thought, this wretched murderer, that he aimed at the head of
a young Frenchman; but the blow fell upon his country, and gave it a
death-wound. The earth opens to receive the blood of the innocent
victim, and we shall be swallowed up in the chasm; for we are all
guilty. The Iroquois rejoice at his death, and celebrate it as a
triumph; for they see that our weapons are turned against each other,
and know well that our nation is near its end.

"Brother, take pity on this nation. You alone can restore it to life. It
is for you to gather up all these scattered bones, and close this chasm
that opens to ingulf us. Take pity on your country. I call it yours, for
you are the master of it; and we came here like criminals to receive
your sentence, if you will not show us mercy. Pity those who condemn
themselves and come to ask forgiveness. It is you who have given
strength to the nation by dwelling with it; and if you leave us, we
shall be like a wisp of straw torn from the ground to be the sport of
the wind. This country is an island drifting on the waves, for the first
storm to overwhelm and sink. Make it fast again to its foundation, and
posterity will never forget to praise you. When we first heard of this
murder, we could do nothing but weep; and we are ready to receive your
orders and comply with your demands. Speak, then, and ask what
satisfaction you will, for our lives and our possessions are yours; and
even if we rob our children to satisfy you, we will tell them that it is
not of you that they have to complain, but of him whose crime has made
us all guilty. Our anger is against him; but for you we feel nothing but
love. He destroyed our lives; and you will restore them, if you will but
speak and tell us what you will have us do."

[11] The usual Indian figure in such cases, and not meant to express an
actual relationship;--"Uncle" for a superior, "Brother" for an equal,
"Nephew" for an inferior.

Ragueneau, who remarks that this harangue is a proof that eloquence is
the gift of Nature rather than of Art, made a reply, which he has not
recorded, and then gave the speaker a bundle of small sticks, indicating
the number of presents which he required in satisfaction for the murder.
These sticks were distributed among the various tribes in the council,
in order that each might contribute its share towards the indemnity. The
council dissolved, and the chiefs went home, each with his allotment of
sticks, to collect in his village a corresponding number of presents.
There was no constraint; those gave who chose to do so; but, as all were
ambitious to show their public spirit, the contributions were ample. No
one thought of molesting the murderers. Their punishment was their shame
at the sacrifices which the public were making in their behalf.

The presents being ready, a day was set for the ceremony of their
delivery; and crowds gathered from all parts to witness it. The assembly
was convened in the open air, in a field beside the mission-house of
Sainte Marie; and, in the midst, the chiefs held solemn council. Towards
evening, they deputed four of their number, two Christians and two
heathen, to carry their address to the Father Superior. They came,
loaded with presents; but these were merely preliminary. One was to open
the door, another for leave to enter; and as Sainte Marie was a large
house, with several interior doors, at each one of which it behooved
them to repeat this formality, their stock of gifts became seriously
reduced before they reached the room where Father Ragueneau awaited
them. On arriving, they made him a speech, every clause of which was
confirmed by a present. The first was to wipe away his tears; the
second, to restore his voice, which his grief was supposed to have
impaired; the third, to calm the agitation of his mind; and the fourth,
to allay the just anger of his heart. [12] These gifts consisted of
wampum and the large shells of which it was made, together with other
articles, worthless in any eyes but those of an Indian. Nine additional
presents followed: four for the four posts of the sepulchre or scaffold
of the murdered man; four for the cross-pieces which connected the
posts; and one for a pillow to support his head. Then came eight more,
corresponding to the eight largest bones of the victim's body, and also
to the eight clans of the Hurons. [13] Ragueneau, as required by
established custom, now made them a present in his turn. It consisted of
three thousand beads of wampum, and was designed to soften the earth, in
order that they might not be hurt, when falling upon it, overpowered by
his reproaches for the enormity of their crime. This closed the
interview, and the deputation withdrew.

[12] Ragueneau himself describes the scene. Relation des Hurons, 1648,
80.
[13] Ragueneau says, "les huit nations"; but, as the Hurons consisted of
only four, or at most five, nations, he probably means the clans. For
the nature of these divisions, see Introduction.

The grand ceremony took place on the next day. A kind of arena had been
prepared, and here were hung the fifty presents in which the atonement
essentially consisted,--the rest, amounting to as many more, being only
accessory. [14] The Jesuits had the right of examining them all,
rejecting any that did not satisfy them, and demanding others in place
of them. The naked crowd sat silent and attentive, while the orator in
the midst delivered the fifty presents in a series of harangues, which
the tired listener has not thought it necessary to preserve. Then came
the minor gifts, each with its signification explained in turn by the
speaker. First, as a sepulchre had been provided the day before for the
dead man, it was now necessary to clothe and equip him for his journey
to the next world; and to this end three presents were made. They
represented a hat, a coat, a shirt, breeches, stockings, shoes, a gun,
powder, and bullets; but they were in fact something quite different, as
wampum, beaver-skins, and the like. Next came several gifts to close up
the wounds of the slain. Then followed three more. The first closed the
chasm in the earth, which had burst through horror of the crime. The
next trod the ground firm, that it might not open again; and here the
whole assembly rose and danced, as custom required. The last placed a
large stone over the closed gulf, to make it doubly secure.

[14] The number was unusually large,--partly because the affair was
thought very important, and partly because the murdered man belonged to
another nation. See Introduction.

Now came another series of presents, seven in number,--to restore the
voices of all the missionaries,--to invite the men in their service to
forget the murder,--to appease the Governor when he should hear of
it,--to light the fire at Sainte Marie,--to open the gate,--to launch
the ferry-boat in which the Huron visitors crossed the river,--and to
give back the paddle to the boy who had charge of the boat. The Fathers,
it seems, had the right of exacting two more presents, to rebuild their
house and church,--supposed to have been shaken to the earth by the late
calamity; but they forbore to urge the claim. Last of all were three
gifts to confirm all the rest, and to entreat the Jesuits to cherish an
undying love for the Hurons.

The priests on their part gave presents, as tokens of good-will; and
with that the assembly dispersed. The mission had gained a triumph, and
its influence was greatly strengthened. The future would have been full
of hope, but for the portentous cloud of war that rose, black and
wrathful, from where lay the dens of the Iroquois.

CHAPTER XXV.
1648, 1649.

SAINTE MARIE.

The River Wye enters the Bay of Glocester, an inlet of the Bay of
Matchedash, itself an inlet of the vast Georgian Bay of Lake Huron.
Retrace the track of two centuries and more, and ascend this little
stream in the summer of the year 1648. Your vessel is a birch canoe, and
your conductor a Huron Indian. On the right hand and on the left, gloomy
and silent, rise the primeval woods; but you have advanced scarcely half
a league when the scene is changed, and cultivated fields, planted
chiefly with maize, extend far along the bank, and back to the distant
verge of the forest. Before you opens the small lake from which the
stream issues; and on your left, a stone's throw from the shore, rises a
range of palisades and bastioned walls, inclosing a number of buildings.
Your canoe enters a canal or ditch immediately above them, and you land
at the Mission, or Residence, or Fort of Sainte Marie.

Here was the centre and base of the Huron missions; and now, for once,
one must wish that Jesuit pens had been more fluent. They have told us
but little of Sainte Marie, and even this is to be gathered chiefly from
incidental allusions. In the forest, which long since has resumed its
reign over this memorable spot, the walls and ditches of the
fortifications may still be plainly traced; and the deductions from
these remains are in perfect accord with what we can gather from the
Relations and letters of the priests. [1] The fortified work which
inclosed the buildings was in the form of a parallelogram, about a
hundred and seventy-five feet long, and from eighty to ninety wide. It
lay parallel with the river, and somewhat more than a hundred feet
distant from it. On two sides it was a continuous wall of masonry, [2]
flanked with square bastions, adapted to musketry, and probably used as
magazines, storehouses, or lodgings. The sides towards the river and the
lake had no other defences than a ditch and palisade, flanked, like the
others, by bastions, over each of which was displayed a large cross. [3]
The buildings within were, no doubt, of wood; and they included a
church, a kitchen, a refectory, places of retreat for religious
instruction and meditation, [4] and lodgings for at least sixty persons.
Near the church, but outside the fortification, was a cemetery. Beyond
the ditch or canal which opened on the river was a large area, still
traceable, in the form of an irregular triangle, surrounded by a ditch,
and apparently by palisades. It seems to have been meant for the
protection of the Indian visitors who came in throngs to Sainte Marie,
and who were lodged in a large house of bark, after the Huron manner.
[5] Here, perhaps, was also the hospital, which was placed without the
walls, in order that Indian women, as well as men, might be admitted
into it. [6]

[1] Before me is an elaborate plan of the remains, taken on the spot.
[2] It seems probable that the walls, of which the remains may still be
traced, were foundations supporting a wooden superstructure. Ragueneau,
in a letter to the General of the Jesuits, dated March 13, 1650, alludes
to the defences of Saint Marie as "une simple palissade."
[3] "Quatre grandes Croix qui sont aux quatre coins de nostre
enclos."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1648, 81.
[4] It seems that these places, besides those for the priests, were of
two kinds,--"vne retraite pour les pelerins (Indians), enfin vn lieu
plus separé, où les infideles, qui n'y sont admis que de iour au
passage, y puissent tousiours receuoir quelque bon mot pour leur
salut."--Lalemant, Relation des Hurons, 1644, 74.
[5] At least it was so in 1642. "Nous leur auons dressé vn Hospice ou
Cabane d'écorce."--Ibid., 1642, 57.
[6] "Cet hospital est tellement separé de nostre demeure, que non
seulement les hommes et enfans, mais les femmes y peuuent estre
admises."--Ibid., 1644, 74.

No doubt the buildings of Sainte Marie were of the roughest,--rude walls
of boards, windows without glass, vast chimneys of unhewn stone. All its
riches were centred in the church, which, as Lalemant tells us, was
regarded by the Indians as one of the wonders of the world, but which,
he adds, would have made but a beggarly show in France. Yet one wonders,
at first thought, how so much labor could have been accomplished here.
Of late years, however, the number of men at the command of the mission
had been considerable. Soldiers had been sent up from time to time, to
escort the Fathers on their way, and defend them on their arrival. Thus,
in 1644, Montmagny ordered twenty men of a reinforcement just arrived
from France to escort Brébeuf, Garreau, and Chabanel to the Hurons, and
remain there during the winter. [7] These soldiers lodged with the
Jesuits, and lived at their table. [8] It was not, however, on
detachments of troops that they mainly relied for labor or defence. Any
inhabitant of Canada who chose to undertake so hard and dangerous a
service was allowed to do so, receiving only his maintenance from the
mission, without pay. In return, he was allowed to trade with the
Indians, and sell the furs thus obtained at the magazine of the Company,
at a fixed price. [9] Many availed themselves of this permission; and
all whose services were accepted by the Jesuits seem to have been men to
whom they had communicated no small portion of their own zeal, and who
were enthusiastically attached to their Order and their cause. There is
abundant evidence that a large proportion of them acted from motives
wholly disinterested. They were, in fact, donnés of the mission,
[10]--given, heart and hand, to its service. There is probability in the
conjecture, that the profits of their trade with the Indians were
reaped, not for their own behoof, but for that of the mission. [11] It
is difficult otherwise to explain the confidence with which the Father
Superior, in a letter to the General of the Jesuits at Rome, speaks of
its resources. He says, "Though our number is greatly increased, and
though we still hope for more men, and especially for more priests of
our Society, it is not necessary to increase the pecuniary aid given
us." [12]

[7] Vimont, Relation, 1644, 49. He adds, that some of these soldiers,
though they had once been "assez mauvais garçons," had shown great zeal
and devotion in behalf of the mission.
[8] Journal des Supérieurs des Jésuites, MS. In 1648, a small cannon was
sent to Sainte Marie in the Huron canoes.--Ibid.
[9] Registres des Arrêts du Conseil, extract in Faillon, II. 94.
[10] See ante, (page 214). Garnier calls them "séculiers d'habit, mais
religieux de cœur."--Lettres, MSS.
[11] The Jesuits, even at this early period, were often and loudly
charged with sharing in the fur-trade. It is certain that this charge
was not wholly without foundation. Le Jeune, in the Relation of 1657,
speaking of the wampum, guns, powder, lead, hatchets, kettles, and other
articles which the missionaries were obliged to give to the Indians, at
councils and elsewhere, says that these must be bought from the traders
with beaver-skins, which are the money of the country; and he adds, "Que
si vn Iesuite en reçoit ou en recueille quelques-vns pour ayder aux
frais immenses qu'il faut faire dans ces Missions si éloignées, et pour
gagner ces peuples à Iesus-Christ et les porter à la paix, il seroit à
souhaiter que ceux-là mesme qui deuroient faire ces despenses pour la
conseruation du pays, ne fussent pas du moins les premiers à condamner
le zele de ces Peres, et à les rendre par leurs discours plus noirs que
leurs robes."--Relation, 1657, 16.

In the same year, Chaumonot, addressing a council of the Iroquois during
a period of truce, said, "Keep your beaver-skins, if you choose, for the
Dutch. Even such of them as may fall into our possession will be
employed for your service."--Ibid., 17.

In 1636, La Jeune thought it necessary to write a long letter of defence
against the charge; and in 1643, a declaration, appended to the Relation
of that year, and certifying that the Jesuits took no part in the
fur-trade, was drawn up and signed by twelve members of the company of
New France. Its only meaning is, that the Jesuits were neither partners
nor rivals of the Company's monopoly. They certainly bought supplies
from its magazines with furs which they obtained from the Indians.

Their object evidently was to make the mission partially
self-supporting. To impute mercenary motives to Garnier, Jogues, and
their co-laborers, is manifestly idle; but, even in the highest flights
of his enthusiasm, the Jesuit never forgot his worldly wisdom.

[12] Lettre du P. Paul Ragueneau au T. R. P. Vincent Carafa, Général de
la Compagnie de Jésus à Rome, Sainte Marie aux Hurons, 1 Mars, 1649
(Carayon).

Much of this prosperity was no doubt due to the excellent management of
their resources, and a very successful agriculture. While the Indians
around them were starving, they raised maize in such quantities, that,
in the spring of 1649, the Father Superior thought that their stock of
provisions might suffice for three years. "Hunting and fishing," he
says, "are better than heretofore"; and he adds, that they had fowls,
swine, and even cattle. [13] How they could have brought these last to
Sainte Marie it is difficult to conceive. The feat, under the
circumstances, is truly astonishing. Everything indicates a fixed
resolve on the part of the Fathers to build up a solid and permanent
establishment.

[13] Lettre du P. Paul Ragueneau au T. R. P. Vincent Carafa, Général de
la Compagnie de Jésus à Rome, Sainte Marie aux Hurons, 1 Mars, 1649
(Carayon).

It is by no means to be inferred that the household fared sumptuously.
Their ordinary food was maize, pounded and boiled, and seasoned, in the
absence of salt, which was regarded as a luxury, with morsels of smoked
fish. [14]

[14] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1648, 48.

In March, 1649, there were in the Huron country and its neighborhood
eighteen Jesuit priests, four lay brothers, twenty-three men serving
without pay, seven hired men, four boys, and eight soldiers. [15] Of
this number, fifteen priests were engaged in the various missions, while
all the rest were retained permanently at Sainte Marie. All was method,
discipline, and subordination. Some of the men were assigned to
household work, and some to the hospital; while the rest labored at the
fortifications, tilled the fields, and stood ready, in case of need, to
fight the Iroquois. The Father Superior, with two other priests as
assistants, controlled and guided all. The remaining Jesuits,
undisturbed by temporal cares, were devoted exclusively to the charge of
their respective missions. Two or three times in the year, they all, or
nearly all, assembled at Sainte Marie, to take counsel together and
determine their future action. Hither, also, they came at intervals for
a period of meditation and prayer, to nerve themselves and gain new
inspiration for their stern task.

[15] See the report of the Father Superior to the General, above cited.
The number was greatly increased within the year. In April, 1648,
Ragueneau reports but forty-two French in all, including priests. Before
the end of the summer a large reinforcement came up in the Huron canoes.

Besides being the citadel and the magazine of the mission, Sainte Marie
was the scene of a bountiful hospitality. On every alternate Saturday,
as well as on feast-days, the converts came in crowds from the farthest
villages. They were entertained during Saturday, Sunday, and a part of
Monday; and the rites of the Church were celebrated before them with all
possible solemnity and pomp. They were welcomed also at other times, and
entertained, usually with three meals to each. In these latter years the
prevailing famine drove them to Sainte Marie in swarms. In the course of
1647 three thousand were lodged and fed here; and in the following year
the number was doubled. [16] Heathen Indians were also received and
supplied with food, but were not permitted to remain at night. There was
provision for the soul as well as the body; and, Christian or heathen,
few left Sainte Marie without a word of instruction or exhortation.
Charity was an instrument of conversion.

[16] Compare Ragueneau in Relation des Hurons, 1648, 48, and in his
report to the General in 1649.

Such, so far as we can reconstruct it from the scattered hints
remaining, was this singular establishment, at once military, monastic,
and patriarchal. The missions of which it was the basis were now eleven
in number. To those among the Hurons already mentioned another had
lately been added,--that of Sainte Madeleine; and two others, called St.
Jean and St. Matthias, had been established in the neighboring Tobacco
Nation. [17] The three remaining missions were all among tribes speaking
the Algonquin languages. Every winter, bands of these savages, driven by
famine and fear of the Iroquois, sought harborage in the Huron country,
and the mission of Sainte Elisabeth was established for their benefit.
The next Algonquin mission was that of Saint Esprit, embracing the
Nipissings and other tribes east and north-east of Lake Huron; and,
lastly, the mission of St. Pierre included the tribes at the outlet of
Lake Superior, and throughout a vast extent of surrounding wilderness.
[18]

[17] The mission of the Neutral Nation had been abandoned for the time,
from the want of missionaries. The Jesuits had resolved on
concentration, and on the thorough conversion of the Hurons, as a
preliminary to more extended efforts.
[18] Besides these tribes, the Jesuits had become more or less
acquainted with many others, also Algonquin, on the west and south of
Lake Huron; as well as with the Puans, or Winnebagoes, a Dacotah tribe
between Lake Michigan and the Mississippi.

The Mission of Sault Sainte Marie, at the outlet of Lake Superior, was
established at a later period. Modern writers have confounded it with
Sainte Marie of the Hurons.

By the Relation of 1649 it appears that another mission had lately been
begun at the Grand Manitoulin Island, which the Jesuits also christened
Isle Sainte Marie.

These missions were more laborious, though not more perilous, than those
among the Hurons. The Algonquin hordes were never long at rest; and,
summer and winter, the priest must follow them by lake, forest, and
stream: in summer plying the paddle all day, or toiling through pathless
thickets, bending under the weight of a birch canoe or a load of
baggage,--at night, his bed the rugged earth, or some bare rock, lashed
by the restless waves of Lake Huron; while famine, the snow-storms, the
cold, the treacherous ice of the Great Lakes, smoke, filth, and, not
rarely, threats and persecution, were the lot of his winter wanderings.
It seemed an earthly paradise, when, at long intervals, he found a
respite from his toils among his brother Jesuits under the roof of
Sainte Marie.

Hither, while the Fathers are gathered from their scattered stations at
one of their periodical meetings,--a little before the season of Lent,
1649, [19]--let us, too, repair, and join them. We enter at the eastern
gate of the fortification, midway in the wall between its northern and
southern bastions, and pass to the hall, where, at a rude table, spread
with ruder fare, all the household are assembled,--laborers, domestics,
soldiers, and priests.

[19] The date of this meeting is a supposition merely. It is adopted
with reference to events which preceded and followed.

It was a scene that might recall a remote half feudal, half patriarchal
age, when, under the smoky rafters of his antique hall, some warlike
thane sat, with kinsmen and dependants ranged down the long board, each
in his degree. Here, doubtless, Ragueneau, the Father Superior, held the
place of honor; and, for chieftains scarred with Danish battle-axes, was
seen a band of thoughtful men, clad in a threadbare garb of black, their
brows swarthy from exposure, yet marked with the lines of intellect and
a fixed enthusiasm of purpose. Here was Bressani, scarred with firebrand
and knife; Chabanel, once a professor of rhetoric in France, now a
missionary, bound by a self-imposed vow to a life from which his nature
recoiled; the fanatical Chaumonot, whose character savored of his
peasant birth,--for the grossest fungus of superstition that ever grew
under the shadow of Rome was not too much for his omnivorous credulity,
and miracles and mysteries were his daily food; yet, such as his faith
was, he was ready to die for it. Garnier, beardless like a woman, was of
a far finer nature. His religion was of the affections and the
sentiments; and his imagination, warmed with the ardor of his faith,
shaped the ideal forms of his worship into visible realities. Brébeuf
sat conspicuous among his brethren, portly and tall, his short moustache
and beard grizzled with time,--for he was fifty-six years old. If he
seemed impassive, it was because one overmastering principle had merged
and absorbed all the impulses of his nature and all the faculties of his
mind. The enthusiasm which with many is fitful and spasmodic was with
him the current of his life,--solemn and deep as the tide of destiny.
The Divine Trinity, the Virgin, the Saints, Heaven and Hell, Angels and
Fiends,--to him, these alone were real, and all things else were nought.
Gabriel Lalemant, nephew of Jerome Lalemant, Superior at Quebec, was
Brébeuf's colleague at the mission of St. Ignace. His slender frame and
delicate features gave him an appearance of youth, though he had reached
middle life; and, as in the case of Garnier, the fervor of his mind
sustained him through exertions of which he seemed physically incapable.
Of the rest of that company little has come down to us but the bare
record of their missionary toils; and we may ask in vain what youthful
enthusiasm, what broken hope or faded dream, turned the current of their
lives, and sent them from the heart of civilization to this savage
outpost of the world.

No element was wanting in them for the achievement of such a success as
that to which they aspired,--neither a transcendent zeal, nor a
matchless discipline, nor a practical sagacity very seldom surpassed in
the pursuits where men strive for wealth and place; and if they were
destined to disappointment, it was the result of external causes,
against which no power of theirs could have insured them.

There was a gap in their number. The place of Antoine Daniel was empty,
and never more to be filled by him,--never at least in the flesh: for
Chaumonot averred, that not long since, when the Fathers were met in
council, he had seen their dead companion seated in their midst, as of
old, with a countenance radiant and majestic. [20] They believed his
story,--no doubt he believed it himself; and they consoled one another
with the thought, that, in losing their colleague on earth, they had
gained him as a powerful intercessor in heaven. Daniel's station had
been at St. Joseph; but the mission and the missionary had alike ceased
to exist.

[20] "Ce bon Pere s'apparut aprés sa mort à vn des nostres par deux
diuerses fois. En l'vne il se fit voir en estat de gloire, portant le
visage d'vn homme d'enuiron trente ans, quoy qu'il soit mort en l'âge de
quarante-huict.... Vne autre fois il fut veu assister à vne assemblée
que nous tenions," etc.--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1649, 5.

"Le P. Chaumonot vit au milieu de l'assemblée le P. Daniel qui aidait
les Pères de ses conseils, et les remplissait d'une force surnaturelle;
son visage était plein de majesté et d'éclat."--Ibid., Lettre au Général
de la Compagnie de Jésus (Carayon, 243).

"Le P. Chaumonot nous a quelque fois raconté, à la gloire de cet
illustre confesseur de J. C. (Daniel) qu'il s'étoit fait voir à lui dans
la gloire, à l'âge d'environ 30 ans, quoiqu'il en eut près de 50, et
avec les autres circonstances qui se trouuent là (in the Historia
Canadensis of Du Creux). Il ajoutait seulement qu'à la vue de ce
bien-heureux tant de choses lui vinrent à l'esprit pour les lui
demander, qu'il ne savoit pas où commencer son entretien avec ce cher
défunt. Enfin, lui dit-il: 'Apprenez moi, mon Père, ce que ie dois faire
pour être bien agréable à Dieu.'--'Jamais,' répondit le martyr, 'ne
perdez le souvenir de vos péchés.'"--Suite de la Vie de Chaumonot, 11.

CHAPTER XXVI.
1648.

ANTOINE DANIEL.

Huron Traders • Battle at Three Rivers • St. Joseph • Onset of the
Iroquois • Death of Daniel • The Town Destroyed

In the summer of 1647 the Hurons dared not go down to the French
settlements, but in the following year they took heart, and resolved at
all risks to make the attempt; for the kettles, hatchets, and knives of
the traders had become necessaries of life. Two hundred and fifty of
their best warriors therefore embarked, under five valiant chiefs. They
made the voyage in safety, approached Three Rivers on the seventeenth of
July, and, running their canoes ashore among the bulrushes, began to
grease their hair, paint their faces, and otherwise adorn themselves,
that they might appear after a befitting fashion at the fort. While they
were thus engaged, the alarm was sounded. Some of their warriors had
discovered a large body of Iroquois, who for several days had been
lurking in the forest, unknown to the French garrison, watching their
opportunity to strike a blow. The Hurons snatched their arms, and,
half-greased and painted, ran to meet them. The Iroquois received them
with a volley. They fell flat to avoid the shot, then leaped up with a
furious yell, and sent back a shower of arrows and bullets. The
Iroquois, who were outnumbered, gave way and fled, excepting a few who
for a time made fight with their knives. The Hurons pursued. Many
prisoners were taken, and many dead left on the field. [1] The rout of
the enemy was complete; and when their trade was ended, the Hurons
returned home in triumph, decorated with the laurels and the scalps of
victory. As it proved, it would have been well, had they remained there
to defend their families and firesides.

[1] Lalemant, Relation, 1648, 11. The Jesuit Bressani had come down with
the Hurons, and was with them in the fight.

The oft-mentioned town of Teanaustayé, or St. Joseph, lay on the
south-eastern frontier of the Huron country, near the foot of a range of
forest-covered hills, and about fifteen miles from Sainte Marie. It had
been the chief town of the nation, and its population, by the Indian
standard, was still large; for it had four hundred families, and at
least two thousand inhabitants. It was well fortified with palisades,
after the Huron manner, and was esteemed the chief bulwark of the
country. Here countless Iroquois had been burned and devoured. Its
people had been truculent and intractable heathen, but many of them had
surrendered to the Faith, and for four years past Father Daniel had
preached among them with excellent results.

On the morning of the fourth of July, when the forest around basked
lazily in the early sun, you might have mounted the rising ground on
which the town stood, and passed unchallenged through the opening in the
palisade. Within, you would have seen the crowded dwellings of bark,
shaped like the arched coverings of huge baggage-wagons, and decorated
with the totems or armorial devices of their owners daubed on the
outside with paint. Here some squalid wolfish dog lay sleeping in the
sun, a group of Huron girls chatted together in the shade, old squaws
pounded corn in large wooden mortars, idle youths gambled with
cherry-stones on a wooden platter, and naked infants crawled in the
dust. Scarcely a warrior was to be seen. Some were absent in quest of
game or of Iroquois scalps, and some had gone with the trading-party to
the French settlements. You followed the foul passage-ways among the
houses, and at length came to the church. It was full to the door.
Daniel had just finished the mass, and his flock still knelt at their
devotions. It was but the day before that he had returned to them,
warmed with new fervor, from his meditations in retreat at Sainte Marie.
Suddenly an uproar of voices, shrill with terror, burst upon the languid
silence of the town. "The Iroquois! the Iroquois!" A crowd of hostile
warriors had issued from the forest, and were rushing across the
clearing, towards the opening in the palisade. Daniel ran out of the
church, and hurried to the point of danger. Some snatched weapons; some
rushed to and fro in the madness of a blind panic. The priest rallied
the defenders; promised Heaven to those who died for their homes and
their faith; then hastened from house to house, calling on unbelievers
to repent and receive baptism, to snatch them from the Hell that yawned
to ingulf them. They crowded around him, imploring to be saved; and,
immersing his handkerchief in a bowl of water, he shook it over them,
and baptized them by aspersion. They pursued him, as he ran again to the
church, where he found a throng of women, children, and old men,
gathered as in a sanctuary. Some cried for baptism, some held out their
children to receive it, some begged for absolution, and some wailed in
terror and despair. "Brothers," he exclaimed again and again, as he
shook the baptismal drops from his handkerchief,--"brothers, to-day we
shall be in Heaven."

The fierce yell of the war-whoop now rose close at hand. The palisade
was forced, and the enemy was in the town. The air quivered with the
infernal din. "Fly!" screamed the priest, driving his flock before him.
"I will stay here. We shall meet again in Heaven." Many of them escaped
through an opening in the palisade opposite to that by which the
Iroquois had entered; but Daniel would not follow, for there still might
be souls to rescue from perdition. The hour had come for which he had
long prepared himself. In a moment he saw the Iroquois, and came forth
from the church to meet them. When they saw him in turn, radiant in the
vestments of his office, confronting them with a look kindled with the
inspiration of martyrdom, they stopped and stared in amazement; then
recovering themselves, bent their bows, and showered him with a volley
of arrows, that tore through his robes and his flesh. A gunshot
followed; the ball pierced his heart, and he fell dead, gasping the name
of Jesus. They rushed upon him with yells of triumph, stripped him
naked, gashed and hacked his lifeless body, and, scooping his blood in
their hands, bathed their faces in it to make them brave. The town was
in a blaze; when the flames reached the church, they flung the priest
into it, and both were consumed together. [2]

[2] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1649, 3-5; Bressani, Relation
Abrégée, 247; Du Creux, Historia Canadensis, 524; Tanner, Societas Jesu
Militans, 531; Marie de l'Incarnation, Lettre aux Ursulines de Tours,
Quebec, 1649.

Daniel was born at Dieppe, and was forty-eight years old at the time of
his death. He had been a Jesuit from the age of twenty.

Teanaustayé was a heap of ashes, and the victors took up their march
with a train of nearly seven hundred prisoners, many of whom they killed
on the way. Many more had been slain in the town and the neighboring
forest, where the pursuers hunted them down, and where women, crouching
for refuge among thickets, were betrayed by the cries and wailing of
their infants.

The triumph of the Iroquois did not end here; for a neighboring
fortified town, included within the circle of Daniel's mission, shared
the fate of Teanaustayé. Never had the Huron nation received such a
blow.

CHAPTER XXVII.
1649.

RUIN OF THE HURONS.

More than eight months had passed since the catastrophe of St. Joseph.
The winter was over, and that dreariest of seasons had come, the
churlish forerunner of spring. Around Sainte Marie the forests were gray
and bare, and, in the cornfields, the oozy, half-thawed soil, studded
with the sodden stalks of the last autumn's harvest, showed itself in
patches through the melting snow.

At nine o'clock on the morning of the sixteenth of March, the priests
saw a heavy smoke rising over the naked forest towards the south-east,
about three miles distant. They looked at each other in dismay. "The
Iroquois! They are burning St. Louis!" Flames mingled with the smoke;
and, as they stood gazing, two Christian Hurons came, breathless and
aghast, from the burning town. Their worst fear was realized. The
Iroquois were there; but where were the priests of the mission, Brébeuf
and Lalemant?

Late in the autumn, a thousand Iroquois, chiefly Senecas and Mohawks,
had taken the war-path for the Hurons. They had been all winter in the
forests, hunting for subsistence, and moving at their leisure towards
their prey. The destruction of the two towns of the mission of St.
Joseph had left a wide gap, and in the middle of March they entered the
heart of the Huron country, undiscovered. Common vigilance and common
sense would have averted the calamities that followed; but the Hurons
were like a doomed people, stupefied, sunk in dejection, fearing
everything, yet taking no measures for defence. They could easily have
met the invaders with double their force, but the besotted warriors lay
idle in their towns, or hunted at leisure in distant forests; nor could
the Jesuits, by counsel or exhortation, rouse them to face the danger.

Before daylight of the sixteenth, the invaders approached St. Ignace,
which, with St. Louis and three other towns, formed the mission of the
same name. They reconnoitred the place in the darkness. It was defended
on three sides by a deep ravine, and further strengthened by palisades
fifteen or sixteen feet high, planted under the direction of the
Jesuits. On the fourth side it was protected by palisades alone; and
these were left, as usual, unguarded. This was not from a sense of
security; for the greater part of the population had abandoned the town,
thinking it too much exposed to the enemy, and there remained only about
four hundred, chiefly women, children, and old men, whose infatuated
defenders were absent hunting, or on futile scalping-parties against the
Iroquois. It was just before dawn, when a yell, as of a legion of
devils, startled the wretched inhabitants from their sleep; and the
Iroquois, bursting in upon them, cut them down with knives and hatchets,
killing many, and reserving the rest for a worse fate. They had entered
by the weakest side; on the other sides there was no exit, and only
three Hurons escaped. The whole was the work of a few minutes. The
Iroquois left a guard to hold the town, and secure the retreat of the
main body in case of a reverse; then, smearing their faces with blood,
after their ghastly custom, they rushed, in the dim light of the early
dawn, towards St. Louis, about a league distant.

The three fugitives had fled, half naked, through the forest, for the
same point, which they reached about sunrise, yelling the alarm. The
number of inhabitants here was less, at this time, than seven hundred;
and, of these, all who had strength to escape, excepting about eighty
warriors, made in wild terror for a place of safety. Many of the old,
sick, and decrepit were left perforce in the lodges. The warriors,
ignorant of the strength of the assailants, sang their war-songs, and
resolved to hold the place to the last. It had not the natural strength
of St. Ignace; but, like it, was surrounded by palisades.

Here were the two Jesuits, Brébeuf and Lalemant. Brébeuf's converts
entreated him to escape with them; but the Norman zealot, bold scion of
a warlike stock, had no thought of flight. His post was in the teeth of
danger, to cheer on those who fought, and open Heaven to those who fell.
His colleague, slight of frame and frail of constitution, trembled
despite himself; but deep enthusiasm mastered the weakness of Nature,
and he, too, refused to fly.

Scarcely had the sun risen, and scarcely were the fugitives gone, when,
like a troop of tigers, the Iroquois rushed to the assault. Yell echoed
yell, and shot answered shot. The Hurons, brought to bay, fought with
the utmost desperation, and with arrows, stones, and the few guns they
had, killed thirty of their assailants, and wounded many more. Twice the
Iroquois recoiled, and twice renewed the attack with unabated ferocity.
They swarmed at the foot of the palisades, and hacked at them with their
hatchets, till they had cut them through at several different points.
For a time there was a deadly fight at these breaches. Here were the two
priests, promising Heaven to those who died for their faith,--one giving
baptism, and the other absolution. At length the Iroquois broke in, and
captured all the surviving defenders, the Jesuits among the rest. They
set the town on fire; and the helpless wretches who had remained, unable
to fly, were consumed in their burning dwellings. Next they fell upon
Brébeuf and Lalemant, stripped them, bound them fast, and led them with
the other prisoners back to St. Ignace, where all turned out to wreak
their fury on the two priests, beating them savagely with sticks and
clubs as they drove them into the town. At present, there was no time
for further torture, for there was work in hand.

The victors divided themselves into several bands, to burn the
neighboring villages and hunt their flying inhabitants. In the flush of
their triumph, they meditated a bolder enterprise; and, in the
afternoon, their chiefs sent small parties to reconnoitre Sainte Marie,
with a view to attacking it on the next day.

Meanwhile the fugitives of St. Louis, joined by other bands as terrified
and as helpless as they, were struggling through the soft snow which
clogged the forests towards Lake Huron, where the treacherous ice of
spring was still unmelted. One fear expelled another. They ventured upon
it, and pushed forward all that day and all the following night,
shivering and famished, to find refuge in the towns of the Tobacco
Nation. Here, when they arrived, they spread a universal panic.

Ragueneau, Bressani, and their companions waited in suspense at Sainte
Marie. On the one hand, they trembled for Brébeuf and Lalemant; on the
other, they looked hourly for an attack: and when at evening they saw
the Iroquois scouts prowling along the edge of the bordering forest,
their fears were confirmed. They had with them about forty Frenchmen,
well armed; but their palisades and wooden buildings were not
fire-proof, and they had learned from fugitives the number and ferocity
of the invaders. They stood guard all night, praying to the Saints, and
above all to their great patron, Saint Joseph, whose festival was close
at hand.

In the morning they were somewhat relieved by the arrival of about three
hundred Huron warriors, chiefly converts from La Conception and Sainte
Madeleine, tolerably well armed, and full of fight. They were expecting
others to join them; and meanwhile, dividing into several bands, they
took post by the passes of the neighboring forest, hoping to waylay
parties of the enemy. Their expectation was fulfilled; for, at this
time, two hundred of the Iroquois were making their way from St. Ignace,
in advance of the main body, to begin the attack on Sainte Marie. They
fell in with a band of the Hurons, set upon them, killed many, drove the
rest to headlong flight, and, as they plunged in terror through the
snow, chased them within sight of Sainte Marie. The other Hurons,
hearing the yells and firing, ran to the rescue, and attacked so
fiercely, that the Iroquois in turn were routed, and ran for shelter to
St. Louis, followed closely by the victors. The houses of the town had
been burned, but the palisade around them was still standing, though
breached and broken. The Iroquois rushed in; but the Hurons were at
their heels. Many of the fugitives were captured, the rest killed or put
to utter rout, and the triumphant Hurons remained masters of the place.

The Iroquois who escaped fled to St. Ignace. Here, or on the way
thither, they found the main body of the invaders; and when they heard
of the disaster, the whole swarm, beside themselves with rage, turned
towards St. Louis to take their revenge. Now ensued one of the most
furious Indian battles on record. The Hurons within the palisade did not
much exceed a hundred and fifty; for many had been killed or disabled,
and many, perhaps, had straggled away. Most of their enemies had guns,
while they had but few. Their weapons were bows and arrows, war-clubs,
hatchets, and knives; and of these they made good use, sallying
repeatedly, fighting like devils, and driving back their assailants
again and again. There are times when the Indian warrior forgets his
cautious maxims, and throws himself into battle with a mad and reckless
ferocity. The desperation of one party, and the fierce courage of both,
kept up the fight after the day had closed; and the scout from Sainte
Marie, as he bent listening under the gloom of the pines, heard, far
into the night, the howl of battle rising from the darkened forest. The
principal chief of the Iroquois was severely wounded, and nearly a
hundred of their warriors were killed on the spot. When, at length,
their numbers and persistent fury prevailed, their only prize was some
twenty Huron warriors, spent with fatigue and faint with loss of blood.
The rest lay dead around the shattered palisades which they had so
valiantly defended. Fatuity, not cowardice, was the ruin of the Huron
nation.

The lamps burned all night at Sainte Marie, and its defenders stood
watching till daylight, musket in hand. The Jesuits prayed without
ceasing, and Saint Joseph was besieged with invocations. "Those of us
who were priests," writes Ragueneau, "each made a vow to say a mass in
his honor every month, for the space of a year; and all the rest bound
themselves by vows to divers penances." The expected onslaught did not
take place. Not an Iroquois appeared. Their victory had been bought too
dear, and they had no stomach for more fighting. All the next day, the
eighteenth, a stillness, like the dead lull of a tempest, followed the
turmoil of yesterday,--as if, says the Father Superior, "the country
were waiting, palsied with fright, for some new disaster."

On the following day,--the journalist fails not to mention that it was
the festival of Saint Joseph,--Indians came in with tidings that a panic
had seized the Iroquois camp, that the chiefs could not control it, and
that the whole body of invaders was retreating in disorder, possessed
with a vague terror that the Hurons were upon them in force. They had
found time, however, for an act of atrocious cruelty. They planted
stakes in the bark houses of St. Ignace, and bound to them those of
their prisoners whom they meant to sacrifice, male and female, from old
age to infancy, husbands, mothers, and children, side by side. Then, as
they retreated, they set the town on fire, and laughed with savage glee
at the shrieks of anguish that rose from the blazing dwellings. [1]

[1] The site of St. Ignace still bears evidence of the catastrophe, in
the ashes and charcoal that indicate the position of the houses, and the
fragments of broken pottery and half-consumed bone, together with
trinkets of stone, metal, or glass, which have survived the lapse of two
centuries and more. The place has been minutely examined by Dr. Taché.

They loaded the rest of their prisoners with their baggage and plunder,
and drove them through the forest southward, braining with their
hatchets any who gave out on the march. An old woman, who had escaped
out of the midst of the flames of St. Ignace, made her way to St.
Michel, a large town not far from the desolate site of St. Joseph. Here
she found about seven hundred Huron warriors, hastily mustered. She set
them on the track of the retreating Iroquois, and they took up the
chase,--but evidently with no great eagerness to overtake their
dangerous enemy, well armed as he was with Dutch guns, while they had
little beside their bows and arrows. They found, as they advanced, the
dead bodies of prisoners tomahawked on the march, and others bound fast
to trees and half burned by the fagots piled hastily around them. The
Iroquois pushed forward with such headlong speed, that the pursuers
could not, or would not, overtake them; and, after two days, they gave
over the attempt.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
1649.

THE MARTYRS.

On the morning of the twentieth, the Jesuits at Sainte Marie received
full confirmation of the reported retreat of the invaders; and one of
them, with seven armed Frenchmen, set out for the scene of havoc. They
passed St. Louis, where the bloody ground was strown thick with corpses,
and, two or three miles farther on, reached St. Ignace. Here they saw a
spectacle of horror; for among the ashes of the burnt town were
scattered in profusion the half-consumed bodies of those who had
perished in the flames. Apart from the rest, they saw a sight that
banished all else from their thoughts; for they found what they had come
to seek,--the scorched and mangled relics of Brébeuf and Lalemant. [1]

[1] "Ils y trouuerent vn spectacle d'horreur, les restes de la cruauté
mesme, ou plus tost les restes de l'amour de Dieu, qui seul triomphe
dans la mort des Martyrs."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1649, 13.

They had learned their fate already from Huron prisoners, many of whom
had made their escape in the panic and confusion of the Iroquois
retreat. They described what they had seen, and the condition in which
the bodies were found confirmed their story.

On the afternoon of the sixteenth,--the day when the two priests were
captured,--Brébeuf was led apart, and bound to a stake. He seemed more
concerned for his captive converts than for himself, and addressed them
in a loud voice, exhorting them to suffer patiently, and promising
Heaven as their reward. The Iroquois, incensed, scorched him from head
to foot, to silence him; whereupon, in the tone of a master, he
threatened them with everlasting flames, for persecuting the worshippers
of God. As he continued to speak, with voice and countenance unchanged,
they cut away his lower lip and thrust a red-hot iron down his throat.
He still held his tall form erect and defiant, with no sign or sound of
pain; and they tried another means to overcome him. They led out
Lalemant, that Brébeuf might see him tortured. They had tied strips of
bark, smeared with pitch, about his naked body. When he saw the
condition of his Superior, he could not hide his agitation, and called
out to him, with a broken voice, in the words of Saint Paul, "We are
made a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men." Then he threw
himself at Brébeuf's feet; upon which the Iroquois seized him, made him
fast to a stake, and set fire to the bark that enveloped him. As the
flame rose, he threw his arms upward, with a shriek of supplication to
Heaven. Next they hung around Brébeuf's neck a collar made of hatchets
heated red-hot; but the indomitable priest stood like a rock. A Huron in
the crowd, who had been a convert of the mission, but was now an
Iroquois by adoption, called out, with the malice of a renegade, to pour
hot water on their heads, since they had poured so much cold water on
those of others. The kettle was accordingly slung, and the water boiled
and poured slowly on the heads of the two missionaries. "We baptize
you," they cried, "that you may be happy in Heaven; for nobody can be
saved without a good baptism." Brébeuf would not flinch; and, in a rage,
they cut strips of flesh from his limbs, and devoured them before his
eyes. Other renegade Hurons called out to him, "You told us, that, the
more one suffers on earth, the happier he is in Heaven. We wish to make
you happy; we torment you because we love you; and you ought to thank us
for it." After a succession of other revolting tortures, they scalped
him; when, seeing him nearly dead, they laid open his breast, and came
in a crowd to drink the blood of so valiant an enemy, thinking to imbibe
with it some portion of his courage. A chief then tore out his heart,
and devoured it.

Thus died Jean de Brébeuf, the founder of the Huron mission, its truest
hero, and its greatest martyr. He came of a noble race,--the same, it is
said, from which sprang the English Earls of Arundel; but never had the
mailed barons of his line confronted a fate so appalling, with so
prodigious a constancy. To the last he refused to flinch, and "his death
was the astonishment of his murderers." [2] In him an enthusiastic
devotion was grafted on an heroic nature. His bodily endowments were as
remarkable as the temper of his mind. His manly proportions, his
strength, and his endurance, which incessant fasts and penances could
not undermine, had always won for him the respect of the Indians, no
less than a courage unconscious of fear, and yet redeemed from rashness
by a cool and vigorous judgment; for, extravagant as were the chimeras
which fed the fires of his zeal, they were consistent with the soberest
good sense on matters of practical bearing.

[2] Charlevoix, I. 294. Alegambe uses a similar expression.

Lalemant, physically weak from childhood, and slender almost to
emaciation, was constitutionally unequal to a display of fortitude like
that of his colleague. When Brébeuf died, he was led back to the house
whence he had been taken, and tortured there all night, until, in the
morning, one of the Iroquois, growing tired of the protracted
entertainment, killed him with a hatchet. [3] It was said, that, at
times, he seemed beside himself; then, rallying, with hands uplifted, he
offered his sufferings to Heaven as a sacrifice. His robust companion
had lived less than four hours under the torture, while he survived it
for nearly seventeen. Perhaps the Titanic effort of will with which
Brébeuf repressed all show of suffering conspired with the Iroquois
knives and firebrands to exhaust his vitality; perhaps his tormentors,
enraged at his fortitude, forgot their subtlety, and struck too near the
life.

[3] "We saw no part of his body," says Ragueneau, "from head to foot,
which was not burned, even to his eyes, in the sockets of which these
wretches had placed live coals."--Relation des Hurons, 1649, 15.

Lalemant was a Parisian, and his family belonged to the class of gens de
robe, or hereditary practitioners of the law. He was thirty-nine years
of age. His physical weakness is spoken of by several of those who knew
him. Marie de l'Incarnation says, "C'était l'homme le plus faible et le
plus délicat qu'on eût pu voir." Both Bressani and Ragueneau are equally
emphatic on this point.

The bodies of the two missionaries were carried to Sainte Marie, and
buried in the cemetery there; but the skull of Brébeuf was preserved as
a relic. His family sent from France a silver bust of their martyred
kinsman, in the base of which was a recess to contain the skull; and, to
this day, the bust and the relic within are preserved with pious care by
the nuns of the Hôtel-Dieu at Quebec. [4]

[4] Photographs of the bust are before me. Various relics of the two
missionaries were preserved; and some of them may still be seen in
Canadian monastic establishments. The following extract from a letter of
Marie de l'Incarnation to her son, written from Quebec in October of
this year, 1649, is curious.

"Madame our foundress (Madame de la Peltrie) sends you relics of our
holy martyrs; but she does it secretly, since the reverend Fathers would
not give us any, for fear that we should send them to France: but, as
she is not bound by vows, and as the very persons who went for the
bodies have given relics of them to her in secret, I begged her to send
you some of them, which she has done very gladly, from the respect she
has for you." She adds, in the same letter, "Our Lord having revealed to
him (Brébeuf) the time of his martyrdom three days before it happened,
he went, full of joy, to find the other Fathers; who, seeing him in
extraordinary spirits, caused him, by an inspiration of God, to be bled;
after which time surgeon dried his blood, through a presentiment of what
was to take place, lest he should be treated like Father Daniel, who,
eight months before, had been so reduced to ashes that no remains of his
body could be found."

Brébeuf had once been ordered by the Father Superior to write down the
visions, revelations, and inward experiences with which he was
favored,--"at least," says Ragueneau, "those which he could easily
remember, for their multitude was too great for the whole to be
recalled."--"I find nothing," he adds, "more frequent in this memoir
than the expression of his desire to die for Jesus Christ: 'Sentio me
vehementer impelli ad moriendum pro Christo.'... In fine, wishing to
make himself a holocaust and a victim consecrated to death, and holily
to anticipate the happiness of martyrdom which awaited him, he bound
himself by a vow to Christ, which he conceived in these terms"; and
Ragueneau gives the vow in the original Latin. It binds him never to
refuse "the grace of martyrdom, if, at any day, Thou shouldst, in Thy
infinite pity, offer it to me, Thy unworthy servant;" ... "and when I
shall have received the stroke of death, I bind myself to accept it at
Thy hand, with all the contentment and joy of my heart."

Some of his innumerable visions have been already mentioned. (See ante,
(page 108).) Tanner, Societas Militans, gives various others,--as, for
example, that he once beheld a mountain covered thick with saints, but
above all with virgins, while the Queen of Virgins sat at the top in a
blaze of glory. In 1637, when the whole country was enraged against the
Jesuits, and above all against Brébeuf, as sorcerers who had caused the
pest, Ragueneau tells us that "a troop of demons appeared before him
divers times,--sometimes like men in a fury, sometimes like frightful
monsters, bears, lions, or wild horses, trying to rush upon him. These
spectres excited in him neither horror nor fear. He said to them, 'Do to
me whatever God permits you; for without His will not one hair will fall
from my head.' And at these words all the demons vanished in a
moment."--Relation des Hurons, 1649, 20. Compare the long notice in
Alegambe, Mortes Illustres, 644.

In Ragueneau's notice of Brébeuf, as in all other notices of deceased
missionaries in the Relations, the saintly qualities alone are brought
forward, as obedience, humility, etc.; but wherever Brébeuf himself
appears in the course of those voluminous records, he always brings with
him an impression of power.

We are told that, punning on his own name, he used to say that he was an
ox, fit only to bear burdens. This sort of humility may pass for what it
is worth; but it must be remembered, that there is a kind of acting in
which the actor firmly believes in the part he is playing. As for the
obedience, it was as genuine as that of a well-disciplined soldier, and
incomparably more profound. In the case of the Canadian Jesuits,
posterity owes to this, their favorite virtue, the record of numerous
visions, inward voices, and the like miracles, which the object of these
favors set down on paper, at the command of his Superior; while,
otherwise, humility would have concealed them forever. The truth is,
that, with some of these missionaries, one may throw off trash and
nonsense by the cart-load, and find under it all a solid nucleus of
saint and hero.

CHAPTER XXIX.
1649, 1650.

THE SANCTUARY.

Dispersion of the Hurons • Sainte Marie abandoned • Isle St. Joseph •
Removal of the Mission • The New Fort • Misery of the Hurons • Famine •
Epidemic • Employments of the Jesuits

All was over with the Hurons. The death-knell of their nation had
struck. Without a leader, without organization, without union, crazed
with fright and paralyzed with misery, they yielded to their doom
without a blow. Their only thought was flight. Within two weeks after
the disasters of St. Ignace and St. Louis, fifteen Huron towns were
abandoned, and the greater number burned, lest they should give shelter
to the Iroquois. The last year's harvest had been scanty; the fugitives
had no food, and they left behind them the fields in which was their
only hope of obtaining it. In bands, large or small, some roamed
northward and eastward, through the half-thawed wilderness; some hid
themselves on the rocks or islands of Lake Huron; some sought an asylum
among the Tobacco Nation; a few joined the Neutrals on the north of Lake
Erie. The Hurons, as a nation, ceased to exist. [1]

[1] Chaumonot, who was at Ossossané at the time of the Iroquois
invasion, gives a vivid picture of the panic and lamentation which
followed the news of the destruction of the Huron warriors at St. Louis,
and of the flight of the inhabitants to the country of the Tobacco
Nation.--Vie, 62.

Hitherto Sainte Marie had been covered by large fortified towns which
lay between it and the Iroquois; but these were all destroyed, some by
the enemy and some by their own people, and the Jesuits were left alone
to bear the brunt of the next attack. There was, moreover, no reason for
their remaining. Sainte Marie had been built as a basis for the
missions; but its occupation was gone: the flock had fled from the
shepherds, and its existence had no longer an object. If the priests
stayed to be butchered, they would perish, not as martyrs, but as fools.
The necessity was as clear as it was bitter. All their toil must come to
nought. Sainte Marie must be abandoned. They confess the pang which the
resolution cost them; but, pursues the Father Superior, "since the birth
of Christianity, the Faith has nowhere been planted except in the midst
of sufferings and crosses. Thus this desolation consoles us; and in the
midst of persecution, in the extremity of the evils which assail us and
the greater evils which threaten us, we are all filled with joy: for our
hearts tell us that God has never had a more tender love for us than
now." [2]

[2] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1649, 26.

Several of the priests set out to follow and console the scattered bands
of fugitive Hurons. One embarked in a canoe, and coasted the dreary
shores of Lake Huron northward, among the wild labyrinth of rocks and
islets, whither his scared flock had fled for refuge; another betook
himself to the forest with a band of half-famished proselytes, and
shared their miserable rovings through the thickets and among the
mountains. Those who remained took counsel together at Sainte Marie.
Whither should they go, and where should be the new seat of the mission?
They made choice of the Grand Manitoulin Island, called by them Isle
Sainte Marie, and by the Hurons Ekaentoton. It lay near the northern
shores of Lake Huron, and by its position would give a ready access to
numberless Algonquin tribes along the borders of all these inland seas.
Moreover, it would bring the priests and their flock nearer to the
French settlements, by the route of the Ottawa, whenever the Iroquois
should cease to infest that river. The fishing, too, was good; and some
of the priests, who knew the island well, made a favorable report of the
soil. Thither, therefore, they had resolved to transplant the mission,
when twelve Huron chiefs arrived, and asked for an interview with the
Father Superior and his fellow Jesuits. The conference lasted three
hours. The deputies declared that many of the scattered Hurons had
determined to reunite, and form a settlement on a neighboring island of
the lake, called by the Jesuits Isle St. Joseph; that they needed the
aid of the Fathers; that without them they were helpless, but with them
they could hold their ground and repel the attacks of the Iroquois. They
urged their plea in language which Ragueneau describes as pathetic and
eloquent; and, to confirm their words, they gave him ten large collars
of wampum, saying that these were the voices of their wives and
children. They gained their point. The Jesuits abandoned their former
plan, and promised to join the Hurons on Isle St. Joseph.

They had built a boat, or small vessel, and in this they embarked such
of their stores as it would hold. The greater part were placed on a
large raft made for the purpose, like one of the rafts of timber which
every summer float down the St. Lawrence and the Ottawa. Here was their
stock of corn,--in part the produce of their own fields, and in part
bought from the Hurons in former years of plenty,--pictures, vestments,
sacred vessels and images, weapons, ammunition, tools, goods for barter
with the Indians, cattle, swine, and poultry. [3] Sainte Marie was
stripped of everything that could be moved. Then, lest it should harbor
the Iroquois, they set it on fire, and saw consumed in an hour the
results of nine or ten years of toil. It was near sunset, on the
fourteenth of June. [4] The houseless band descended to the mouth of the
Wye, went on board their raft, pushed it from the shore, and, with
sweeps and oars, urged it on its way all night. The lake was calm and
the weather fair; but it crept so slowly over the water that several
days elapsed before they reached their destination, about twenty miles
distant.

[3] Some of these were killed for food after reaching the island. In
March following, they had ten fowls, a pair of swine, two bulls and two
cows, kept for breeding.--Lettre de Ragueneau au Général de la Compagnie
de Jésus, St. Joseph, 13 Mars, 1650.
[4] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 3. In the Relation of the
preceding year he gives the fifteenth of May as the date,--evidently an
error.

"Nous sortismes de ces terres de Promission qui estoient nostre Paradis,
et où la mort nous eust esté mille fois plus douce que ne sera la vie en
quelque lieu que nous puissions estre. Mais il faut suiure Dieu, et il
faut aimer ses conduites, quelque opposées qu'elles paroissent à nos
desirs, à nos plus saintes esperances et aux plus tendres amours de
nostre cœur."--Lettre de Ragueneau au P. Provincial à Paris, in Relation
des Hurons, 1650, 1.

"Mais il fallut, à tous tant que nous estions, quitter cette ancienne
demeure de saincte Marie; ces edifices, qui quoy que pauures,
paroissoient des chefs-d'œuure de l'art aux yeux de nos pauures
Sauuages; ces terres cultiuées, qui nous promettoient vne riche moisson.
Il nous fallut abandonner ce lieu, que ie puis appeller nostre seconde
Patrie et nos delices innocentes, puis qu'il auoit esté le berceau de ce
Christianisme, qu'il estoit le temple de Dieu et la maison des
seruiteurs de Iesus-Christ; et crainte que nos ennemis trop impies, ne
profanassent ce lieu de saincteté et n'en prissent leur auantage, nous y
mismes le feu nous mesmes, et nous vismes brusler à nos yeux, en moins
d'vne heure, nos trauaux de neuf et de dix ans."--Ragueneau, Relation
des Hurons, 1650, 2, 3.

Near the entrance of Matchedash Bay lie the three islands now known as
Faith, Hope, and Charity. Of these, Charity or Christian Island, called
Ahoendoé by the Hurons and St. Joseph by the Jesuits, is by far the
largest. It is six or eight miles wide; and when the Hurons sought
refuge here, it was densely covered with the primeval forest. The
priests landed with their men, some forty soldiers, laborers, and
others, and found about three hundred Huron families bivouacked in the
woods. Here were wigwams and sheds of bark, and smoky kettles slung over
fires, each on its tripod of poles, while around lay groups of famished
wretches, with dark, haggard visages and uncombed hair, in every posture
of despondency and woe. They had not been wholly idle; for they had made
some rough clearings, and planted a little corn. The arrival of the
Jesuits gave them new hope; and, weakened as they were with famine, they
set themselves to the task of hewing and burning down the forest, making
bark houses, and planting palisades. The priests, on their part, chose a
favorable spot, and began to clear the ground and mark out the lines of
a fort. Their men--the greater part serving without pay--labored with
admirable spirit, and before winter had built a square, bastioned fort
of solid masonry, with a deep ditch, and walls about twelve feet high.
Within were a small chapel, houses for lodging, and a well, which, with
the ruins of the walls, may still be seen on the south-eastern shore of
the island, a hundred feet from the water. [5] Detached redoubts were
also built near at hand, where French musketeers could aid in defending
the adjacent Huron village. [6] Though the island was called St. Joseph,
the fort, like that on the Wye, received the name of Sainte Marie.
Jesuit devotion scattered these names broadcast over all the field of
their labors.

[5] The measurement between the angles of the two southern bastions is
123 feet, and that of the curtain wall connecting these bastions is 78
feet. Some curious relics have been found in the fort,--among others, a
steel mill for making wafers for the Host. It was found in 1848, in a
remarkable state of preservation, and is now in an English museum,
having been bought on the spot by an amateur. As at Sainte Marie on the
Wye, the remains are in perfect conformity with the narratives and
letters of the priests.
[6] Compare Martin, Introduction to Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 38.

The island, thanks to the vigilance of the French, escaped attack
throughout the summer; but Iroquois scalping-parties ranged the
neighboring shores, killing stragglers and keeping the Hurons in
perpetual alarm. As winter drew near, great numbers, who, trembling and
by stealth, had gathered a miserable subsistence among the northern
forests and islands, rejoined their countrymen at St. Joseph, until six
or eight thousand expatriated wretches were gathered here under the
protection of the French fort. They were housed in a hundred or more
bark dwellings, each containing eight or ten families. [7] Here were
widows without children, and children without parents; for famine and
the Iroquois had proved more deadly enemies than the pestilence which a
few years before had wasted their towns. [8] Of this multitude but few
had strength enough to labor, scarcely any had made provision for the
winter, and numbers were already perishing from want, dragging
themselves from house to house, like living skeletons. The priests had
spared no effort to meet the demands upon their charity. They sent men
during the autumn to buy smoked fish from the Northern Algonquins, and
employed Indians to gather acorns in the woods. Of this miserable food
they succeeded in collecting five or six hundred bushels. To diminish
its bitterness, the Indians boiled it with ashes, or the priests served
it out to them pounded, and mixed with corn. [9]

[7] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 3, 4. He reckons eight persons
to a family.
[8] "Ie voudrois pouuoir representer à toutes les personnes
affectionnées à nos Hurons, l'état pitoyable auquel ils sont reduits;
... comment seroit-il possible que ces imitateurs de Iésus Christ ne
fussent émeus à pitié à la veuë des centaines et centaines de veuues
dont non seulement les enfans, mais quasi les parens ont esté
outrageusement ou tuez, ou emmenez captifs, et puis inhumainement
bruslez, cuits, déchirez et deuorez des ennemis."--Lettre de Chaumonot à
Lalemant, Supérieur à Quebec, Isle de St. Joseph, 1 Juin, 1649.

"Vne mère s'est veuë, n'ayant que ses deux mamelles, mais sans suc et
sans laict, qui toutefois estoit l'vnique chose qu'elle eust peu
presenter à trois ou quatre enfans qui pleuroient y estans attachez.
Elle les voyoit mourir entre ses bras, les vns apres les autres, et
n'auoit pas mesme les forces de les pousser dans le tombeau. Elle
mouroit sous cette charge, et en mourant elle disoit: Ouy, Mon Dieu,
vous estes le maistre de nos vies; nous mourrons puisque vous le voulez;
voila qui est bien que nous mourrions Chrestiens. I'estois damnée, et
mes enfans auec moy, si nous ne fussions morts miserables; ils ont receu
le sainct Baptesme, et ie croy fermement que mourans tous de compagnie,
nous ressusciterons tous ensemble."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons,
1650, 5.
[9] Eight hundred sacks of this mixture were given to the Hurons during
the winter.--Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 283.

As winter advanced, the Huron houses became a frightful spectacle. Their
inmates were dying by scores daily. The priests and their men buried the
bodies, and the Indians dug them from the earth or the snow and fed on
them, sometimes in secret and sometimes openly; although,
notwithstanding their superstitious feasts on the bodies of their
enemies, their repugnance and horror were extreme at the thought of
devouring those of relatives and friends. [10] An epidemic presently
appeared, to aid the work of famine. Before spring, about half of their
number were dead.

[10] "Ce fut alors que nous fusmes contraints de voir des squeletes
mourantes, qui soustenoient vne vie miserable, mangeant iusqu'aux
ordures et les rebuts de la nature. Le gland estoit à la pluspart, ce
que seroient en France les mets les plus exquis. Les charognes mesme
deterrées, les restes des Renards et des Chiens ne faisoient point
horreur, et se mangeoient, quoy qu'en cachete: car quoy que les Hurons,
auant que la foy leur eust donné plus de lumiere qu'ils n'en auoient
dans l'infidelité, ne creussent pas commettre aucun peché de manger
leurs ennemis, aussi peu qu'il y en a de les tuer, toutefois ie puis
dire auec verité, qu'ils n'ont pas moins d'horreur de manger de leurs
compatriotes, qu'on peut auoir en France de manger de la chair humaine.
Mais la necessité n'a plus de loy, et des dents fameliques ne discernent
plus ce qu'elles mangent. Les mères se sont repeuës de leurs enfans, des
freres de leurs freres, et des enfans ne reconnoissoient plus en vn
cadaure mort, celuy lequel lors qu'il viuoit, ils appelloient leur
Pere."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 4. Compare Bressani,
Relation Abrégée, 283.

Meanwhile, though the cold was intense and the snow several feet deep,
yet not an hour was free from the danger of the Iroquois; and, from
sunset to daybreak, under the cold moon or in the driving snow-storm,
the French sentries walked their rounds along the ramparts.

The priests rose before dawn, and spent the time till sunrise in their
private devotions. Then the bell of their chapel rang, and the Indians
came in crowds at the call; for misery had softened their hearts, and
nearly all on the island were now Christian. There was a mass, followed
by a prayer and a few words of exhortation; then the hearers dispersed
to make room for others. Thus the little chapel was filled ten or twelve
times, until all had had their turn. Meanwhile other priests were
hearing confessions and giving advice and encouragement in private,
according to the needs of each applicant. This lasted till nine o'clock,
when all the Indians returned to their village, and the priests
presently followed, to give what assistance they could. Their cassocks
were worn out, and they were dressed chiefly in skins. [11] They visited
the Indian houses, and gave to those whose necessities were most urgent
small scraps of hide, severally stamped with a particular mark, and
entitling the recipients, on presenting them at the fort, to a few
acorns, a small quantity of boiled maize, or a fragment of smoked fish,
according to the stamp on the leather ticket of each. Two hours before
sunset the bell of the chapel again rang, and the religious exercises of
the morning were repeated. [12]

[11] Lettre de Ragueneau au Général de la Compagnie de Jésus, Isle St.
Joseph, 13 Mars, 1650.
[12] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 6, 7.

Thus this miserable winter wore away, till the opening spring brought
new fears and new necessities. [13]

[13] Concerning the retreat of the Hurons to Isle St. Joseph, the
principal authorities are the Relations of 1649 and 1650, which are
ample in detail, and written with an excellent simplicity and modesty;
the Relation Abrégée of Bressani; the reports of the Father Superior to
the General of the Jesuits at Rome; the manuscript of 1652, entitled
Mémoires touchant la Mort et les Vertus des Pères, etc.; the unpublished
letters of Garnier; and a letter of Chaumonot, written on the spot, and
preserved in the Relations.

CHAPTER XXX.
1649.

GARNIER--CHABANEL.

The Tobacco Missions • St. Jean attacked • Death of Garnier • The
Journey of Chabanel • His Death • Garreau and Grelon.

Late in the preceding autumn the Iroquois had taken the war-path in
force. At the end of November, two escaped prisoners came to Isle St.
Joseph with the news that a band of three hundred warriors was hovering
in the Huron forests, doubtful whether to invade the island or to attack
the towns of the Tobacco Nation in the valleys of the Blue Mountains.
The Father Superior, Ragueneau, sent a runner thither in all haste, to
warn the inhabitants of their danger.

There were at this time two missions in the Tobacco Nation, St. Jean and
St. Matthias, [1]--the latter under the charge of the Jesuits Garreau
and Grelon, and the former under that of Garnier and Chabanel. St. Jean,
the principal seat of the mission of the same name, was a town of five
or six hundred families. Its population was, moreover, greatly augmented
by the bands of fugitive Hurons who had taken refuge there. When the
warriors were warned by Ragueneau's messenger of a probable attack from
the Iroquois, they were far from being daunted, but, confiding in their
numbers, awaited the enemy in one of those fits of valor which
characterize the unstable courage of the savage. At St. Jean all was
paint, feathers, and uproar,--singing, dancing, howling, and stamping.
Quivers were filled, knives whetted, and tomahawks sharpened; but when,
after two days of eager expectancy, the enemy did not appear, the
warriors lost patience. Thinking, and probably with reason, that the
Iroquois were afraid of them, they resolved to sally forth, and take the
offensive. With yelps and whoops they defiled into the forest, where the
branches were gray and bare, and the ground thickly covered with snow.
They pushed on rapidly till the following day, but could not discover
their wary enemy, who had made a wide circuit, and was approaching the
town from another quarter. By ill luck, the Iroquois captured a Tobacco
Indian and his squaw, straggling in the forest not far from St. Jean;
and the two prisoners, to propitiate them, told them the defenceless
condition of the place, where none remained but women, children, and old
men. The delighted Iroquois no longer hesitated, but silently and
swiftly pushed on towards the town.

[1] The Indian name of St. Jean was Etarita; and that of St. Matthias,
Ekarenniondi.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon of the seventh of December. [2]
Chabanel had left the place a day or two before, in obedience to a
message from Ragueneau, and Garnier was here alone. He was making his
rounds among the houses, visiting the sick and instructing his converts,
when the horrible din of the war-whoop rose from the borders of the
clearing, and, on the instant, the town was mad with terror. Children
and girls rushed to and fro, blind with fright; women snatched their
infants, and fled they knew not whither. Garnier ran to his chapel,
where a few of his converts had sought asylum. He gave them his
benediction, exhorted them to hold fast to the Faith, and bade them fly
while there was yet time. For himself, he hastened back to the houses,
running from one to another, and giving absolution or baptism to all
whom he found. An Iroquois met him, shot him with three balls through
the body and thigh, tore off his cassock, and rushed on in pursuit of
the fugitives. Garnier lay for a moment on the ground, as if stunned;
then, recovering his senses, he was seen to rise into a kneeling
posture. At a little distance from him lay a Huron, mortally wounded,
but still showing signs of life. With the Heaven that awaited him
glowing before his fading vision, the priest dragged himself towards the
dying Indian, to give him absolution; but his strength failed, and he
fell again to the earth. He rose once more, and again crept forward,
when a party of Iroquois rushed upon him, split his head with two blows
of a hatchet, stripped him, and left his body on the ground. [3] At this
time the whole town was on fire. The invaders, fearing that the absent
warriors might return and take their revenge, hastened to finish their
work, scattered firebrands everywhere, and threw children alive into the
burning houses. They killed many of the fugitives, captured many more,
and then made a hasty retreat through the forest with their prisoners,
butchering such of them as lagged on the way. St. Jean lay a waste of
smoking ruins thickly strewn with blackened corpses of the slain.

[2] Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 264.
[3] The above particulars of Garnier's death rest on the evidence of a
Christian Huron woman, named Marthe, who saw him shot down, and also saw
his attempt to reach the dying Indian. She was herself struck down
immediately after with a war-club, but remained alive, and escaped in
the confusion. She died three months later, at Isle St. Joseph, from the
effects of the injuries she had received, after reaffirming the truth of
her story to Ragueneau, who was with her, and who questioned her on the
subject. (Mémoires touchant la Mort et les Vertus des Pères Garnier,
etc., MS.). Ragueneau also speaks of her in Relation des Hurons, 1650,
9.--The priests Grelon and Garreau found the body stripped naked, with
three gunshot wounds in the abdomen and thigh, and two deep hatchet
wounds in the head.

Towards evening, parties of fugitives reached St. Matthias, with tidings
of the catastrophe. The town was wild with alarm, and all stood on the
watch, in expectation of an attack; but when, in the morning, scouts
came in and reported the retreat of the Iroquois, Garreau and Grelon set
out with a party of converts to visit the scene of havoc. For a long
time they looked in vain for the body of Garnier; but at length they
found him lying where he had fallen,--so scorched and disfigured, that
he was recognized with difficulty. The two priests wrapped his body in a
part of their own clothing; the Indian converts dug a grave on the spot
where his church had stood; and here they buried him. Thus, at the age
of forty-four, died Charles Garnier, the favorite child of wealthy and
noble parents, nursed in Parisian luxury and ease, then living and
dying, a more than willing exile, amid the hardships and horrors of the
Huron wilderness. His life and his death are his best eulogy. Brébeuf
was the lion of the Huron mission, and Garnier was the lamb; but the
lamb was as fearless as the lion. [4]

[4] Garnier's devotion to the mission was absolute. He took little or no
interest in the news from France, which, at intervals of from one to
three years, found its way to the Huron towns. His companion Bressani
says, that he would walk thirty or forty miles in the hottest summer
day, to baptize some dying Indian, when the country was infested by the
enemy. On similar errands, he would sometimes pass the night alone in
the forest in the depth of winter. He was anxious to fall into the hands
of the Iroquois, that he might preach the Faith to them even out of the
midst of the fire. In one of his unpublished letters he writes, "Praised
be our Lord, who punishes me for my sins by depriving me of this crown"
(the crown of martyrdom). After the death of Brébeuf and Lalemant, he
writes to his brother:--

"Hélas! Mon cher frère, si ma conscience ne me convainquait et ne me
confondait de mon infidélité au service de notre bon mâitre, je pourrais
espérer quelque faveur approchante de celles qu'il a faites aux
bienheureux martyrs avec qui j'avais le bien de converser souvent, étant
dans les mêmes occasions et dangers qu'ils étaient, mais sa justice me
fait craindre que je ne demeure toujours indigne d'une telle couronne."

He contented himself with the most wretched fare during the last years
of famine, living in good measure on roots and acorns; "although," says
Ragueneau, "he had been the cherished son of a rich and noble house, on
whom all the affection of his father had centred, and who had been
nourished on food very different from that of swine."--Relation des
Hurons, 1650, 12.

For his character, see Ragueneau, Bressani, Tanner, and Alegambe, who
devotes many pages to the description of his religious traits; but the
complexion of his mind is best reflected in his private letters.

When, on the following morning, the warriors of St. Jean returned from
their rash and bootless sally, and saw the ashes of their desolated
homes and the ghastly relics of their murdered families, they seated
themselves amid the ruin, silent and motionless as statues of bronze,
with heads bowed down and eyes fixed on the ground. Thus they remained
through half the day. Tears and wailing were for women; this was the
mourning of warriors.

Garnier's colleague, Chabanel, had been recalled from St. Jean by an
order from the Father Superior, who thought it needless to expose the
life of more than one priest in a position of so much danger. He stopped
on his way at St. Matthias, and on the morning of the seventh of
December, the day of the attack, left that town with seven or eight
Christian Hurons. The journey was rough and difficult. They proceeded
through the forest about eighteen miles, and then encamped in the snow.
The Indians fell asleep; but Chabanel, from an apprehension of danger,
or some other cause, remained awake. About midnight he heard a strange
sound in the distance,--a confusion of fierce voices, mingled with songs
and outcries. It was the Iroquois on their retreat with their prisoners,
some of whom were defiantly singing their war-songs, after the Indian
custom. Chabanel waked his companions, who instantly took flight. He
tried to follow, but could not keep pace with the light-footed savages,
who returned to St. Matthias, and told what had occurred. They said,
however, that Chabanel had left them and taken an opposite direction, in
order to reach Isle St. Joseph. His brother priests were for some time
ignorant of what had befallen him. At length a Huron Indian, who had
been converted, but afterward apostatized, gave out that he had met him
in the forest, and aided him with his canoe to cross a river which lay
in his path. Some supposed that he had lost his way, and died of cold
and hunger; but others were of a different opinion. Their suspicion was
confirmed some time afterwards by the renegade Huron, who confessed that
he had killed Chabanel and thrown his body into the river, after robbing
him of his clothes, his hat, the blanket or mantle which was strapped to
his shoulders, and the bag in which he carried his books and papers. He
declared that his motive was hatred of the Faith, which had caused the
ruin of the Hurons. [5] The priest had prepared himself for a worse
fate. Before leaving Sainte Marie on the Wye, to go to his post in the
Tobacco Nation, he had written to his brother to regard him as a victim
destined to the fires of the Iroquois. [6] He added, that, though he was
naturally timid, he was now wholly indifferent to danger; and he
expressed the belief that only a superhuman power could have wrought
such a change in him. [7]

[5] Mémoires touchant la Mort et les Vertus des Pères, etc., MS.
[6] Abrégé de la Vie du P. Noël Chabanel. MS.
[7] "Ie suis fort apprehensif de mon naturel; toutefois, maintenant que
ie vay au plus grand danger et qu'il me semble que la mort n'est pas
esloignée, ie ne sens plus de crainte. Cette disposition ne vient pas de
moy."--Relation des Hurons, 1650, 18.

The following is the vow made by Chabanel, at a time when his disgust at
the Indian mode of life beset him with temptations to ask to be recalled
from the mission. It is translated from the Latin original:--

"My Lord Jesus Christ, who, in the admirable disposition of thy paternal
providence, hast willed that I, although most unworthy, should be a
co-laborer with the holy Apostles in this vineyard of the Hurons,--I,
Noël Chabanel, impelled by the desire of fulfilling thy holy will in
advancing the conversion of the savages of this land to thy faith, do
vow, in the presence of the most holy sacrament of thy precious body and
blood, which is God's tabernacle among men, to remain perpetually
attached to this mission of the Hurons, understanding all things
according to the interpretation and disposal of the Superiors of the
Society of Jesus. Therefore I entreat thee to receive me as the
perpetual servant of this mission, and to render me worthy of so sublime
a ministry. Amen. This twentieth day of June, 1647."

Garreau and Grelon, in their mission of St. Matthias, were exposed to
other dangers than those of the Iroquois. A report was spread, not only
that they were magicians, but that they had a secret understanding with
the enemy. A nocturnal council was called, and their death was decreed.
In the morning, a furious crowd gathered before a lodge which they were
about to enter, screeching and yelling after the manner of Indians when
they compel a prisoner to run the gantlet. The two priests, giving no
sign of fear, passed through the crowd and entered the lodge unharmed.
Hatchets were brandished over them, but no one would be the first to
strike. Their converts were amazed at their escape, and they themselves
ascribed it to the interposition of a protecting Providence. The Huron
missionaries were doubly in danger,--not more from the Iroquois than
from the blind rage of those who should have been their friends. [8]

[8] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 20.

One of these two missionaries, Garreau, was afterwards killed by the
Iroquois, who shot him through the spine, in 1656, near Montreal.--De
Quen, Relation, 1656, 41.

CHAPTER XXXI.
1650-1652.

THE HURON MISSION ABANDONED.

Famine and the Tomahawk • A New Asylum • Voyage of the Refugees to
Quebec • Meeting with Bressani • Desperate Courage of the Iroquois •
Inroads and Battles • Death of Buteux

As spring approached, the starving multitude on Isle St. Joseph grew
reckless with hunger. Along the main shore, in spots where the sun lay
warm, the spring fisheries had already begun, and the melting snow was
uncovering the acorns in the woods. There was danger everywhere, for
bands of Iroquois were again on the track of their prey. [1] The
miserable Hurons, gnawed with inexorable famine, stood in the dilemma of
a deadly peril and an assured death. They chose the former; and, early
in March, began to leave their island and cross to the main-land, to
gather what sustenance they could. The ice was still thick, but the
advancing season had softened it; and, as a body of them were crossing,
it broke under their feet. Some were drowned; while others dragged
themselves out, drenched and pierced with cold, to die miserably on the
frozen lake, before they could reach a shelter. Other parties, more
fortunate, gained the shore safely, and began their fishing, divided
into companies of from eight or ten to a hundred persons. But the
Iroquois were in wait for them. A large band of warriors had already
made their way, through ice and snow, from their towns in Central New
York. They surprised the Huron fishermen, surrounded them, and cut them
in pieces without resistance,--tracking out the various parties of their
victims, and hunting down fugitives with such persistency and skill,
that, of all who had gone over to the main, the Jesuits knew of but one
who escaped. [2]

[1] "Mais le Printemps estant venu, les Iroquois nous furent encore plus
cruels; et ce sont eux qui vrayement ont ruiné toutes nos esperances, et
qui ont fait vn lieu d'horreur, vne terre de sang et de carnage, vn
theatre de cruauté et vn sepulchre de carcasses décharnées par les
langueurs d'vne longue famine, d'vn païs de benediction, d'vne terre de
Sainteté et d'vn lieu qui n'auoit plus rien de barbare, depuis que le
sang respandu pour son amour auoit rendu tout son peuple
Chrestien."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 23.
[2] "Le iour de l'Annonciation, vingt-cinquiesme de Mars, vne armée
d'Iroquois ayans marché prez de deux cents lieuës de païs, à trauers les
glaces et les neges, trauersans les montagnes et les forests pleines
d'horreur, surprirent au commencement de la nuit le camp de nos
Chrestiens, et en firent vne cruelle boucherie. Il sembloit que le Ciel
conduisit toutes leurs demarches et qu'ils eurent vn Ange pour guide:
car ils diuiserent leurs troupes auec tant de bon-heur, qu'ils
trouuerent en moins de deux iours, toutes les bandes de nos Chrestiens
qui estoient dispersées ça et là, esloignées les vnes des autres de six,
sept et huit lieuës, cent personnes en vn lieu, en vn autre cinquante;
et mesme il y auoit quelques familles solitaires, qui s'estoient
escartées en des lieux moins connus et hors de tout chemin. Chose
estrange! de tout ce monde dissipé, vn seul homme s'eschappa, qui vint
nous en apporter les nouuelles."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650,
23, 24.

"My pen," writes Ragueneau, "has no ink black enough to describe the
fury of the Iroquois." Still the goadings of famine were relentless and
irresistible. "It is said," adds the Father Superior, "that hunger will
drive wolves from the forest. So, too, our starving Hurons were driven
out of a town which had become an abode of horror. It was the end of
Lent. Alas, if these poor Christians could have had but acorns and water
to keep their fast upon! On Easter Day we caused them to make a general
confession. On the following morning they went away, leaving us all
their little possessions; and most of them declared publicly that they
made us their heirs, knowing well that they were near their end. And, in
fact, only a few days passed before we heard of the disaster which we
had foreseen. These poor people fell into ambuscades of our Iroquois
enemies. Some were killed on the spot; some were dragged into captivity;
women and children were burned. A few made their escape, and spread
dismay and panic everywhere. A week after, another band was overtaken by
the same fate. Go where they would, they met with slaughter on all
sides. Famine pursued them, or they encountered an enemy more cruel than
cruelty itself; and, to crown their misery, they heard that two great
armies of Iroquois were on the way to exterminate them.... Despair was
universal." [3]

[3] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 24.

The Jesuits at St. Joseph knew not what course to take. The doom of
their flock seemed inevitable. When dismay and despondency were at their
height, two of the principal Huron chiefs came to the fort, and asked an
interview with Ragueneau and his companions. They told them that the
Indians had held a council the night before, and resolved to abandon the
island. Some would disperse in the most remote and inaccessible forests;
others would take refuge in a distant spot, apparently the Grand
Manitoulin Island; others would try to reach the Andastes; and others
would seek safety in adoption and incorporation with the Iroquois
themselves.

"Take courage, brother," continued one of the chiefs, addressing
Ragueneau. "You can save us, if you will but resolve on a bold step.
Choose a place where you can gather us together, and prevent this
dispersion of our people. Turn your eyes towards Quebec, and transport
thither what is left of this ruined country. Do not wait till war and
famine have destroyed us to the last man. We are in your hands. Death
has taken from you more than ten thousand of us. If you wait longer, not
one will remain alive; and then you will be sorry that you did not save
those whom you might have snatched from danger, and who showed you the
means of doing so. If you do as we wish, we will form a church under the
protection of the fort at Quebec. Our faith will not be extinguished.
The examples of the French and the Algonquins will encourage us in our
duty, and their charity will relieve some of our misery. At least, we
shall sometimes find a morsel of bread for our children, who so long
have had nothing but bitter roots and acorns to keep them alive." [4]

[4] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 25. It appears from the MS.
Journal des Supérieurs des Jésuites, that a plan of bringing the remnant
of the Hurons to Quebec was discussed and approved by Lalemant and his
associates, in a council held by them at that place in April.

The Jesuits were deeply moved. They consulted together again and again,
and prayed in turn during forty hours without ceasing, that their minds
might be enlightened. At length they resolved to grant the petition of
the two chiefs, and save the poor remnant of the Hurons, by leading them
to an asylum where there was at least a hope of safety. Their resolution
once taken, they pushed their preparations with all speed, lest the
Iroquois might learn their purpose, and lie in wait to cut them off.
Canoes were made ready, and on the tenth of June they began the voyage,
with all their French followers and about three hundred Hurons. The
Huron mission was abandoned.

"It was not without tears," writes the Father Superior, "that we left
the country of our hopes and our hearts, where our brethren had
gloriously shed their blood." [5] The fleet of canoes held its
melancholy way along the shores where two years before had been the seat
of one of the chief savage communities of the continent, and where now
all was a waste of death and desolation. Then they steered northward,
along the eastern coast of the Georgian Bay, with its countless rocky
islets; and everywhere they saw the traces of the Iroquois. When they
reached Lake Nipissing, they found it deserted,--nothing remaining of
the Algonquins who dwelt on its shore, except the ashes of their burnt
wigwams. A little farther on, there was a fort built of trees, where the
Iroquois who made this desolation had spent the winter; and a league or
two below, there was another similar fort. The River Ottawa was a
solitude. The Algonquins of Allumette Island and the shores adjacent had
all been killed or driven away, never again to return. "When I came up
this great river, only thirteen years ago," writes Ragueneau, "I found
it bordered with Algonquin tribes, who knew no God, and, in their
infidelity, thought themselves gods on earth; for they had all that they
desired, abundance of fish and game, and a prosperous trade with allied
nations: besides, they were the terror of their enemies. But since they
have embraced the Faith and adored the cross of Christ, He has given
them a heavy share in this cross, and made them a prey to misery,
torture, and a cruel death. In a word, they are a people swept from the
face of the earth. Our only consolation is, that, as they died
Christians, they have a part in the inheritance of the true children of
God, who scourgeth every one whom He receiveth." [6]

[5] Compare Bressani, Relation Abrégée, 288.
[6] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 27. These Algonquins of the
Ottawa, though broken and dispersed, were not destroyed, as Ragueneau
supposes.

As the voyagers descended the river, they had a serious alarm. Their
scouts came in, and reported that they had found fresh footprints of men
in the forest. These proved, however, to be the tracks, not of enemies,
but of friends. In the preceding autumn Bressani had gone down to the
French settlements with about twenty Hurons, and was now returning with
them, and twice their number of armed Frenchmen, for the defence of the
mission. His scouts had also been alarmed by discovering the footprints
of Ragueneau's Indians; and for some time the two parties stood on their
guard, each taking the other for an enemy. When at length they
discovered their mistake, they met with embraces and rejoicing. Bressani
and his Frenchmen had come too late. All was over with the Hurons and
the Huron mission; and, as it was useless to go farther, they joined
Ragueneau's party, and retraced their course for the settlements.

A day or two before, they had had a sharp taste of the mettle of the
enemy. Ten Iroquois warriors had spent the winter in a little fort of
felled trees on the borders of the Ottawa, hunting for subsistence, and
waiting to waylay some passing canoe of Hurons, Algonquins, or
Frenchmen. Bressani's party outnumbered them six to one; but they
resolved that it should not pass without a token of their presence. Late
on a dark night, the French and Hurons lay encamped in the forest,
sleeping about their fires. They had set guards: but these, it seems,
were drowsy or negligent; for the ten Iroquois, watching their time,
approached with the stealth of lynxes, and glided like shadows into the
midst of the camp, where, by the dull glow of the smouldering fires,
they could distinguish the recumbent figures of their victims. Suddenly
they screeched the war-whoop, and struck like lightning with their
hatchets among the sleepers. Seven were killed before the rest could
spring to their weapons. Bressani leaped up, and received on the instant
three arrow-wounds in the head. The Iroquois were surrounded, and a
desperate fight ensued in the dark. Six of them were killed on the spot,
and two made prisoners; while the remaining two, breaking through the
crowd, bounded out of the camp and escaped in the forest.

The united parties soon after reached Montreal; but the Hurons refused
to remain in a spot so exposed to the Iroquois. Accordingly, they all
descended the St. Lawrence, and at length, on the twenty-eighth of July,
reached Quebec. Here the Ursulines, the hospital nuns, and the
inhabitants taxed their resources to the utmost to provide food and
shelter for the exiled Hurons. Their good will exceeded their power; for
food was scarce at Quebec, and the Jesuits themselves had to bear the
chief burden of keeping the sufferers alive. [7]

[7] Compare Juchereau, Histoire de l'Hôtel-Dieu, 79, 80.

But, if famine was an evil, the Iroquois were a far greater one; for,
while the western nations of their confederacy were engrossed with the
destruction of the Hurons, the Mohawks kept up incessant attacks on the
Algonquins and the French. A party of Christian Indians, chiefly from
Sillery, planned a stroke of retaliation, and set out for the Mohawk
country, marching cautiously and sending forward scouts to scour the
forest. One of these, a Huron, suddenly fell in with a large Iroquois
war-party, and, seeing that he could not escape, formed on the instant a
villanous plan to save himself. He ran towards the enemy, crying out,
that he had long been looking for them and was delighted to see them;
that his nation, the Hurons, had come to an end; and that henceforth his
country was the country of the Iroquois, where so many of his kinsmen
and friends had been adopted. He had come, he declared, with no other
thought than that of joining them, and turning Iroquois, as they had
done. The Iroquois demanded if he had come alone. He answered, "No," and
said, that, in order to accomplish his purpose, he had joined an
Algonquin war-party who were in the woods not far off. The Iroquois, in
great delight, demanded to be shown where they were. This Judas, as the
Jesuits call him, at once complied; and the Algonquins were surprised by
a sudden onset, and routed with severe loss. The treacherous Huron was
well treated by the Iroquois, who adopted him into their nation. Not
long after, he came to Canada, and, with a view, as it was thought, to
some further treachery, rejoined the French. A sharp cross-questioning
put him to confusion, and he presently confessed his guilt. He was
sentenced to death; and the sentence was executed by one of his own
countrymen, who split his head with a hatchet. [8]

[8] Ragueneau, Relation, 1650, 30.

In the course of the summer, the French at Three Rivers became aware
that a band of Iroquois was prowling in the neighborhood, and sixty men
went out to meet them. Far from retreating, the Iroquois, who were about
twenty-five in number, got out of their canoes, and took post,
waist-deep in mud and water, among the tall rushes at the margin of the
river. Here they fought stubbornly, and kept all the Frenchmen at bay.
At length, finding themselves hard pressed, they entered their canoes
again, and paddled off. The French rowed after them, and soon became
separated in the chase; whereupon the Iroquois turned, and made
desperate fight with the foremost, retreating again as soon as the
others came up. This they repeated several times, and then made their
escape, after killing a number of the best French soldiers. Their leader
in this affair was a famous half-breed, known as the Flemish Bastard,
who is styled by Ragueneau "an abomination of sin, and a monster
produced between a heretic Dutch father and a pagan mother."

In the forests far north of Three Rivers dwelt the tribe called the
Atticamegues, or Nation of the White Fish. From their remote position,
and the difficult nature of the intervening country, they thought
themselves safe; but a band of Iroquois, marching on snow-shoes a
distance of twenty days' journey northward from the St. Lawrence, fell
upon one of their camps in the winter, and made a general butchery of
the inmates. The tribe, however, still held its ground for a time, and,
being all good Catholics, gave their missionary, Father Buteux, an
urgent invitation to visit them in their own country. Buteux, who had
long been stationed at Three Rivers, was in ill health, and for years
had rarely been free from some form of bodily suffering. Nevertheless,
he acceded to their request, and, before the opening of spring, made a
remarkable journey on snow-shoes into the depths of this frozen
wilderness. [9] In the year following, he repeated the undertaking. With
him were a large party of Atticamegues, and several Frenchmen. Game was
exceedingly scarce, and they were forced by hunger to separate, a Huron
convert and a Frenchman named Fontarabie remaining with the missionary.
The snows had melted, and all the streams were swollen. The three
travellers, in a small birch canoe, pushed their way up a turbulent
river, where falls and rapids were so numerous, that many times daily
they were forced to carry their bark vessel and their baggage through
forests and thickets and over rocks and precipices. On the tenth of May,
they made two such portages, and, soon after, reaching a third fall,
again lifted their canoe from the water. They toiled through the naked
forest, among the wet, black trees, over tangled roots, green, spongy
mosses, mouldering leaves, and rotten, prostrate trunks, while the
cataract foamed amidst the rocks hard by. The Indian led the way with
the canoe on his head, while Buteux and the other Frenchman followed
with the baggage. Suddenly they were set upon by a troop of Iroquois,
who had crouched behind thickets, rocks, and fallen trees, to waylay
them. The Huron was captured before he had time to fly. Buteux and the
Frenchman tried to escape, but were instantly shot down, the Jesuit
receiving two balls in the breast. The Iroquois rushed upon them,
mangled their bodies with tomahawks and swords, stripped them, and then
flung them into the torrent. [10]

[9] Iournal du Pere Iacques Buteux du Voyage qu'il a fait pour la
Mission des Attikamegues. See Relation, 1651, 15.
[10] Ragueneau, Relation, 1652, 2, 3.

CHAPTER XXXII.
1650-1866.

THE LAST OF THE HURONS.

Iroquois bullets and tomahawks had killed the Hurons by hundreds, but
famine and disease had killed incomparably more. The miseries of the
starving crowd on Isle St. Joseph had been shared in an equal degree by
smaller bands, who had wintered in remote and secret retreats of the
wilderness. Of those who survived that season of death, many were so
weakened that they could not endure the hardships of a wandering life,
which was new to them. The Hurons lived by agriculture: their fields and
crops were destroyed, and they were so hunted from place to place that
they could rarely till the soil. Game was very scarce; and, without
agriculture, the country could support only a scanty and scattered
population like that which maintained a struggling existence in the
wilderness of the lower St. Lawrence. The mortality among the exiles was
prodigious.

It is a matter of some interest to trace the fortunes of the shattered
fragments of a nation once prosperous, and, in its own eyes and those of
its neighbors, powerful and great. None were left alive within their
ancient domain. Some had sought refuge among the Neutrals and the Eries,
and shared the disasters which soon overwhelmed those tribes; others
succeeded in reaching the Andastes; while the inhabitants of two towns,
St. Michel and St. Jean Baptiste, had recourse to an expedient which
seems equally strange and desperate, but which was in accordance with
Indian practices. They contrived to open a communication with the Seneca
Nation of the Iroquois, and promised to change their nationality and
turn Senecas as the price of their lives. The victors accepted the
proposal; and the inhabitants of these two towns, joined by a few other
Hurons, migrated in a body to the Seneca country. They were not
distributed among different villages, but were allowed to form a town by
themselves, where they were afterwards joined by some prisoners of the
Neutral Nation. They identified themselves with the Iroquois in all but
religion,--holding so fast to their faith, that, eighteen years after, a
Jesuit missionary found that many of them were still good Catholics. [1]

[1] Compare Relation, 1651, 4; 1660, 14, 28; and 1670, 69. The Huron
town among the Senecas was called Gandougaraé. Father Fremin was here in
1668, and gives an account of his visit in the Relation of 1670.

The division of the Hurons called the Tobacco Nation, favored by their
isolated position among mountains, had held their ground longer than the
rest; but at length they, too, were compelled to fly, together with such
other Hurons as had taken refuge with them. They made their way
northward, and settled on the Island of Michilimackinac, where they were
joined by the Ottawas, who, with other Algonquins, had been driven by
fear of the Iroquois from the western shores of Lake Huron and the banks
of the River Ottawa. At Michilimackinac the Hurons and their allies were
again attacked by the Iroquois, and, after remaining several years, they
made another remove, and took possession of the islands at the mouth of
the Green Bay of Lake Michigan. Even here their old enemy did not leave
them in peace; whereupon they fortified themselves on the main-land, and
afterwards migrated southward and westward. This brought them in contact
with the Illinois, an Algonquin people, at that time very numerous, but
who, like many other tribes at this epoch, were doomed to a rapid
diminution from wars with other savage nations. Continuing their
migration westward, the Hurons and Ottawas reached the Mississippi,
where they fell in with the Sioux. They soon quarrelled with those
fierce children of the prairie, who drove them from their country. They
retreated to the south-western extremity of Lake Superior, and settled
on Point Saint Esprit, or Shagwamigon Point, near the Islands of the
Twelve Apostles. As the Sioux continued to harass them, they left this
place about the year 1671, and returned to Michilimackinac, where they
settled, not on the island, but on the neighboring Point St. Ignace, at
the northern extremity of the great peninsula of Michigan. The greater
part of them afterwards removed thence to Detroit and Sandusky, where
they lived under the name of Wyandots until within the present century,
maintaining a marked influence over the surrounding Algonquins. They
bore an active part, on the side of the French, in the war which ended
in the reduction of Canada; and they were the most formidable enemies of
the English in the Indian war under Pontiac. [2] The government of the
United States at length removed them to reserves on the western
frontier, where a remnant of them may still be found. Thus it appears
that the Wyandots, whose name is so conspicuous in the history of our
border wars, are descendants of the ancient Hurons, and chiefly of that
portion of them called the Tobacco Nation. [3]

[2] See "History of the Conspiracy of Pontiac."
[3] The migrations of this band of the Hurons may be traced by detached
passages and incidental remarks in the Relations of 1654, 1660, 1667,
1670, 1671, and 1672. Nicolas Perrot, in his chapter, Deffaitte et
Füitte des Hurons chassés de leur Pays, and in the chapter following,
gives a long and rather confused account of their movements and
adventures. See also La Poterie, Histoire de l'Amérique Septentrionale,
II. 51-56. According to the Relation of 1670, the Hurons, when living at
Shagwamigon Point, numbered about fifteen hundred souls.

When Ragueneau and his party left Isle St. Joseph for Quebec, the
greater number of the Hurons chose to remain. They took possession of
the stone fort which the French had abandoned, and where, with
reasonable vigilance, they could maintain themselves against attack. In
the succeeding autumn a small Iroquois war-party had the audacity to
cross over to the island, and build a fort of felled trees in the woods.
The Hurons attacked them; but the invaders made so fierce a defence,
that they kept their assailants at bay, and at length retreated with
little or no loss. Soon after, a much larger band of Onondaga Iroquois,
approaching undiscovered, built a fort on the main-land, opposite the
island, but concealed from sight in the forest. Here they waited to
waylay any party of Hurons who might venture ashore. A Huron war chief,
named Étienne Annaotaha, whose life is described as a succession of
conflicts and adventures, and who is said to have been always in luck,
landed with a few companions, and fell into an ambuscade of the
Iroquois. He prepared to defend himself, when they called out to him,
that they came not as enemies, but as friends, and that they brought
wampum-belts and presents to persuade the Hurons to forget the past, go
back with them to their country, become their adopted countrymen, and
live with them as one nation. Étienne suspected treachery, but concealed
his distrust, and advanced towards the Iroquois with an air of the
utmost confidence. They received him with open arms, and pressed him to
accept their invitation; but he replied, that there were older and wiser
men among the Hurons, whose counsels all the people followed, and that
they ought to lay the proposal before them. He proceeded to advise them
to keep him as a hostage, and send over his companions, with some of
their chiefs, to open the negotiation. His apparent frankness completely
deceived them; and they insisted that he himself should go to the Huron
village, while his companions remained as hostages. He set out
accordingly with three of the principal Iroquois.

When he reached the village, he gave the whoop of one who brings good
tidings, and proclaimed with a loud voice that the hearts of their
enemies had changed, that the Iroquois would become their countrymen and
brothers, and that they should exchange their miseries for a life of
peace and plenty in a fertile and prosperous land. The whole Huron
population, full of joyful excitement, crowded about him and the three
envoys, who were conducted to the principal lodge, and feasted on the
best that the village could supply. Étienne seized the opportunity to
take aside four or five of the principal chiefs, and secretly tell them
his suspicions that the Iroquois were plotting to compass their
destruction under cover of overtures of peace; and he proposed that they
should meet treachery with treachery. He then explained his plan, which
was highly approved by his auditors, who begged him to charge himself
with the execution of it. Étienne now caused criers to proclaim through
the village that every one should get ready to emigrate in a few days to
the country of their new friends. The squaws began their preparations at
once, and all was bustle and alacrity; for the Hurons themselves were no
less deceived than were the Iroquois envoys.

During one or two succeeding days, many messages and visits passed
between the Hurons and the Iroquois, whose confidence was such, that
thirty-seven of their best warriors at length came over in a body to the
Huron village. Étienne's time had come. He and the chiefs who were in
the secret gave the word to the Huron warriors, who, at a signal, raised
the war-whoop, rushed upon their visitors, and cut them to pieces. One
of them, who lingered for a time, owned before he died that Étienne's
suspicions were just, and that they had designed nothing less than the
massacre or capture of all the Hurons. Three of the Iroquois,
immediately before the slaughter began, had received from Étienne a
warning of their danger in time to make their escape. The year before,
he had been captured, with Brébeuf and Lalemant, at the town of St.
Louis, and had owed his life to these three warriors, to whom he now
paid back the debt of gratitude. They carried tidings of what had
befallen to their countrymen on the main-land, who, aghast at the
catastrophe, fled homeward in a panic. [4]

[4] Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1651, 5, 6. Le Mercier, in the
Relation of 1654, preserves the speech of a Huron chief, in which he
speaks of this affair, and adds some particulars not mentioned by
Ragueneau. He gives thirty-four as the number killed.

Here was a sweet morsel of vengeance. The miseries of the Hurons were
lighted up with a brief gleam of joy; but it behooved them to make a
timely retreat from their island before the Iroquois came to exact a
bloody retribution. Towards spring, while the lake was still frozen,
many of them escaped on the ice, while another party afterwards followed
in canoes. A few, who had neither strength to walk nor canoes to
transport them, perforce remained behind, and were soon massacred by the
Iroquois. The fugitives directed their course to the Grand Manitoulin
Island, where they remained for a short time, and then, to the number of
about four hundred, descended the Ottawa, and rejoined their countrymen
who had gone to Quebec the year before.

These united parties, joined from time to time by a few other fugitives,
formed a settlement on land belonging to the Jesuits, near the
south-western extremity of the Isle of Orleans, immediately below
Quebec. Here the Jesuits built a fort, like that on Isle St. Joseph,
with a chapel, and a small house for the missionaries, while the bark
dwellings of the Hurons were clustered around the protecting ramparts.
[5] Tools and seeds were given them, and they were encouraged to
cultivate the soil. Gradually they rallied from their dejection, and the
mission settlement was beginning to wear an appearance of thrift, when,
in 1656, the Iroquois made a descent upon them, and carried off a large
number of captives, under the very cannon of Quebec; the French not
daring to fire upon the invaders, lest they should take revenge upon the
Jesuits who were at that time in their country. This calamity was, four
years after, followed by another, when the best of the Huron warriors,
including their leader, the crafty and valiant Étienne Annaotaha, were
slain, fighting side by side with the French, in the desperate conflict
of the Long Sault. [6]

[5] The site of the fort was the estate now known as "La Terre du Fort,"
near the landing of the steam ferry. In 1856, Mr. N. H. Bowen, a
resident near the spot, in making some excavations, found a solid stone
wall five feet thick, which, there can be little doubt, was that of the
work in question. This wall was originally crowned with palisades. See
Bowen, Historical Sketch of the Isle of Orleans, 25.
[6] Relation, 1660 (anonymous), 14.

The attenuated colony, replenished by some straggling bands of the same
nation, and still numbering several hundred persons, was removed to
Quebec after the inroad in 1656, and lodged in a square inclosure of
palisades close to the fort. [7] Here they remained about ten years,
when, the danger of the times having diminished, they were again removed
to a place called Notre-Dame de Foy, now St. Foi, three or four miles
west of Quebec. Six years after, when the soil was impoverished and the
wood in the neighborhood exhausted, they again changed their abode, and,
under the auspices of the Jesuits, who owned the land, settled at Old
Lorette, nine miles from Quebec.

[7] In a plan of Quebec of 1660, the "Fort des Hurons" is laid down on a
spot adjoining the north side of the present Place d'Armes.

Chaumonot was at this time their missionary. It may be remembered that
he had professed special devotion to Our Lady of Loretto, who, in his
boyhood, had cured him, as he believed, of a distressing malady. [8] He
had always cherished the idea of building a chapel in honor of her in
Canada, after the model of the Holy House of Loretto,--which, as all the
world knows, is the house wherein Saint Joseph dwelt with his virgin
spouse, and which angels bore through the air from the Holy Land to
Italy, where it remains an object of pilgrimage to this day. Chaumonot
opened his plan to his brother Jesuits, who were delighted with it, and
the chapel was begun at once, not without the intervention of miracle to
aid in raising the necessary funds. It was built of brick, like its
original, of which it was an exact facsimile; and it stood in the centre
of a quadrangle, the four sides of which were formed by the bark
dwellings of the Hurons, ranged with perfect order in straight lines.
Hither came many pilgrims from Quebec and more distant settlements, and
here Our Lady granted to her suppliants, says Chaumonot, many miraculous
favors, insomuch that "it would require an entire book to describe them
all." [9]

[8] See ante, (p. 102).
[9] "Les grâces qu'on y obtient par l'entremise de la Mère de Dieu vont
jusqu'au miracle. Comme il faudroit composer un livre entier pour
décrire toutes ces faveurs extraordinaires, je n'en rapporterai que
deux, ayant été témoin oculaire de l'une et propre sujet de
l'autre."--Vie, 95.

The removal from Notre-Dame de Foy took place at the end of 1673, and
the chapel was finished in the following year. Compare Vie de Chaumonot
with Dablon, Relation, 1672-73, p. 21; and Ibid., Relation 1673-79, p.
259.

But the Hurons were not destined to remain permanently even here; for,
before the end of the century, they removed to a place four miles
distant, now called New Lorette, or Indian Lorette. It was a wild spot,
covered with the primitive forest, and seamed by a deep and tortuous
ravine, where the St. Charles foams, white as a snow-drift, over the
black ledges, and where the sunlight struggles through matted boughs of
the pine and fir, to bask for brief moments on the mossy rocks or flash
on the hurrying waters. On a plateau beside the torrent, another chapel
was built to Our Lady, and another Huron town sprang up; and here, to
this day, the tourist finds the remnant of a lost people, harmless
weavers of baskets and sewers of moccasins, the Huron blood fast
bleaching out of them, as, with every generation, they mingle and fade
away in the French population around. [10]

[10] An interesting account of a visit to Indian Lorette in 1721 will be
found in the Journal Historique of Charlevoix. Kalm, in his Travels in
North America, describes its condition in 1749. See also Le Beau,
Aventures, I. 103; who, however, can hardly be regarded as an authority.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
1650-1670.

THE DESTROYERS.

Iroquois Ambition • Its Victims • The Fate of the Neutrals • The Fate of
the Eries • The War with the Andastes • Supremacy of the Iroquois

It was well for the European colonies, above all for those of England,
that the wisdom of the Iroquois was but the wisdom of savages. Their
sagacity is past denying; it showed itself in many ways; but it was not
equal to a comprehension of their own situation and that of their race.
Could they have read their destiny, and curbed their mad ambition, they
might have leagued with themselves four great communities of kindred
lineage, to resist the encroachments of civilization, and oppose a
barrier of fire to the spread of the young colonies of the East. But
their organization and their intelligence were merely the instruments of
a blind frenzy, which impelled them to destroy those whom they might
have made their allies in a common cause.

Of the four kindred communities, two at least, the Hurons and the
Neutrals, were probably superior in numbers to the Iroquois. Either one
of these, with union and leadership, could have held its ground against
them, and the two united could easily have crippled them beyond the
power of doing mischief. But these so-called nations were mere
aggregations of villages and families, with nothing that deserved to be
called a government. They were very liable to panics, because the part
attacked by an enemy could never rely with confidence on prompt succor
from the rest; and when once broken, they could not be rallied, because
they had no centre around which to gather. The Iroquois, on the other
hand, had an organization with which the ideas and habits of several
generations were interwoven, and they had also sagacious leaders for
peace and war. They discussed all questions of policy with the coolest
deliberation, and knew how to turn to profit even imperfections in their
plan of government which seemed to promise only weakness and discord.
Thus, any nation, or any large town, of their confederacy, could make a
separate war or a separate peace with a foreign nation, or any part of
it. Some member of the league, as, for example, the Cayugas, would make
a covenant of friendship with the enemy, and, while the infatuated
victims were thus lulled into a delusive security, the war-parties of
the other nations, often joined by the Cayuga warriors, would overwhelm
them by a sudden onset. But it was not by their craft, nor by their
organization,--which for military purposes was wretchedly feeble,--that
this handful of savages gained a bloody supremacy. They carried all
before them, because they were animated throughout, as one man, by the
same audacious pride and insatiable rage for conquest. Like other
Indians, they waged war on a plan altogether democratic,--that is, each
man fought or not, as he saw fit; and they owed their unity and vigor of
action to the homicidal frenzy that urged them all alike.

The Neutral Nation had taken no part, on either side, in the war of
extermination against the Hurons; and their towns were sanctuaries where
either of the contending parties might take asylum. On the other hand,
they made fierce war on their western neighbors, and, a few years
before, destroyed, with atrocious cruelties, a large fortified town of
the Nation of Fire. [1] Their turn was now come, and their victims found
fit avengers; for no sooner were the Hurons broken up and dispersed,
than the Iroquois, without waiting to take breath, turned their fury on
the Neutrals. At the end of the autumn of 1650, they assaulted and took
one of their chief towns, said to have contained at the time more than
sixteen hundred men, besides women and children; and early in the
following spring, they took another town. The slaughter was prodigious,
and the victors drove back troops of captives for butchery or adoption.
It was the death-blow of the Neutrals. They abandoned their corn-fields
and villages in the wildest terror, and dispersed themselves abroad in
forests, which could not yield sustenance to such a multitude. They
perished by thousands, and from that time forth the nation ceased to
exist. [2]

[1] "Last summer," writes Lalemant in 1643, "two thousand warriors of
the Neutral Nation attacked a town of the Nation of Fire, well fortified
with a palisade, and defended by nine hundred warriors. They took it
after a siege of ten days; killed many on the spot; and made eight
hundred prisoners, men, women, and children. After burning seventy of
the best warriors, they put out the eyes of the old men, and cut away
their lips, and then left them to drag out a miserable existence. Behold
the scourge that is depopulating all this country!"--Relation des
Hurons, 1644, 98.

The Assistaeronnons, Atsistaehonnons, Mascoutins, or Nation of Fire
(more correctly, perhaps, Nation of the Prairie), were a very numerous
Algonquin people of the West, speaking the same language as the Sacs and
Foxes. In the map of Sanson, they are placed in the southern part of
Michigan; and according to the Relation of 1658, they had thirty towns.
They were a stationary, and in some measure an agricultural people. They
fled before their enemies to the neighborhood of Fox River in Wisconsin,
where they long remained. Frequent mention of them will be found in the
later Relations, and in contemporary documents. They are now extinct as
a tribe.

[2] Ragueneau, Relation, 1651, 4. In the unpublished journal kept by the
Superior of the Jesuits at Quebec, it is said, under date of April,
1651, that news had just come from Montreal, that, in the preceding
autumn, fifteen hundred Iroquois had taken a Neutral town; that the
Neutrals had afterwards attacked them, and killed two hundred of their
warriors; and that twelve hundred Iroquois had again invaded the Neutral
country to take their revenge. Lafitau, Mœurs des Sauvages, II. 176,
gives, on the authority of Father Julien Garnier, a singular and
improbable account of the origin of the war.

An old chief, named Kenjockety, who claimed descent from an adopted
prisoner of the Neutral Nation, was recently living among the Senecas of
Western New York.

During two or three succeeding years, the Iroquois contented themselves
with harassing the French and Algonquins; but in 1653 they made treaties
of peace, each of the five nations for itself, and the colonists and
their red allies had an interval of rest. In the following May, an
Onondaga orator, on a peace visit to Montreal, said, in a speech to the
Governor, "Our young men will no more fight the French; but they are too
warlike to stay at home, and this summer we shall invade the country of
the Eries. The earth trembles and quakes in that quarter; but here all
remains calm." [3] Early in the autumn, Father Le Moyne, who had taken
advantage of the peace to go on a mission to the Onondagas, returned
with the tidings that the Iroquois were all on fire with this new
enterprise, and were about to march against the Eries with eighteen
hundred warriors. [4]

[3] Le Mercier, Relation, 1654, 9.
[4] Ibid., 10. Le Moyne, in his interesting journal of his mission,
repeatedly alludes to their preparations.

The occasion of this new war is said to have been as follows. The Eries,
who it will be remembered dwelt on the south of the lake named after
them, had made a treaty of peace with the Senecas, and in the preceding
year had sent a deputation of thirty of their principal men to confirm
it. While they were in the great Seneca town, it happened that one of
that nation was killed in a casual quarrel with an Erie; whereupon his
countrymen rose in a fury, and murdered the thirty deputies. Then ensued
a brisk war of reprisals, in which not only the Senecas, but the other
Iroquois nations, took part. The Eries captured a famous Onondaga chief,
and were about to burn him, when he succeeded in convincing them of the
wisdom of a course of conciliation; and they resolved to give him to the
sister of one of the murdered deputies, to take the place of her lost
brother. The sister, by Indian law, had it in her choice to receive him
with a fraternal embrace or to burn him; but, though she was absent at
the time, no one doubted that she would choose the gentler alternative.
Accordingly, he was clothed in gay attire, and all the town fell to
feasting in honor of his adoption. In the midst of the festivity, the
sister returned. To the amazement of the Erie chiefs, she rejected with
indignation their proffer of a new brother, declared that she would be
revenged for her loss, and insisted that the prisoner should forthwith
be burned. The chiefs remonstrated in vain, representing the danger in
which such a procedure would involve the nation: the female fury was
inexorable; and the unfortunate prisoner, stripped of his festal robes,
was bound to the stake, and put to death. [5] He warned his tormentors
with his last breath, that they were burning not only him, but the whole
Erie nation; since his countrymen would take a fiery vengeance for his
fate. His words proved true; for no sooner was his story spread abroad
among the Iroquois, than the confederacy resounded with war-songs from
end to end, and the warriors took the field under their two great
war-chiefs. Notwithstanding Le Moyne's report, their number, according
to the Iroquois account, did not exceed twelve hundred. [6]

[5] De Quen, Relation, 1656, 30.
[6] This was their statement to Chaumonot and Dablon, at Onondaga, in
November of this year. They added, that the number of the Eries was
between three and four thousand, (Journal des PP. Chaumonot et Dablon,
in Relation, 1656, 18.) In the narrative of De Quen (Ibid., 30, 31),
based, of course, on Iroquois reports, the Iroquois force is also set
down at twelve hundred, but that of the Eries is reduced to between two
and three thousand warriors. Even this may safely be taken as an
exaggeration.

Though the Eries had no fire-arms, they used poisoned arrows with great
effect, discharging them, it is said, with surprising rapidity.

They embarked in canoes on the lake. At their approach the Eries fell
back, withdrawing into the forests towards the west, till they were
gathered into one body, when, fortifying themselves with palisades and
felled trees, they awaited the approach of the invaders. By the lowest
estimate, the Eries numbered two thousand warriors, besides women and
children. But this is the report of the Iroquois, who were naturally
disposed to exaggerate the force of their enemies.

They approached the Erie fort, and two of their chiefs, dressed like
Frenchmen, advanced and called on those within to surrender. One of them
had lately been baptized by Le Moyne; and he shouted to the Eries, that,
if they did not yield in time, they were all dead men, for the Master of
Life was on the side of the Iroquois. The Eries answered with yells of
derision. "Who is this master of your lives?" they cried; "our hatchets
and our right arms are the masters of ours." The Iroquois rushed to the
assault, but were met with a shower of poisoned arrows, which killed and
wounded many of them, and drove the rest back. They waited awhile, and
then attacked again with unabated mettle. This time, they carried their
bark canoes over their heads like huge shields, to protect them from the
storm of arrows; then planting them upright, and mounting them by the
cross-bars like ladders, scaled the barricade with such impetuous fury
that the Eries were thrown into a panic. Those escaped who could; but
the butchery was frightful, and from that day the Eries as a nation were
no more. The victors paid dear for their conquest. Their losses were so
heavy that they were forced to remain for two months in the Erie
country, to bury their dead and nurse their wounded. [7]

[7] De Quen, Relation, 1656, 31. The Iroquois, it seems, afterwards made
other expeditions, to finish their work. At least, they told Chaumonot
and Dablon, in the autumn of this year, that they meant to do so in the
following spring.

It seems, that, before attacking the great fort of the Eries, the
Iroquois had made a promise to worship the new God of the French, if He
would give them the victory. This promise, and the success which
followed, proved of great advantage to the mission.

Various traditions are extant among the modern remnant of the Iroquois
concerning the war with the Eries. They agree in little beyond the fact
of the existence and destruction of that people. Indeed, Indian
traditions are very rarely of any value as historical evidence. One of
these stories, told me some years ago by a very intelligent Iroquois of
the Cayuga Nation, is a striking illustration of Iroquois ferocity. It
represents, that, the night after the great battle, the forest was
lighted up with more than a thousand fires, at each of which an Erie was
burning alive. It differs from the historical accounts in making the
Eries the aggressors.

One enemy of their own race remained,--the Andastes. This nation appears
to have been inferior in numbers to either the Hurons, the Neutrals, or
the Eries; but they cost their assailants more trouble than all these
united. The Mohawks seem at first to have borne the brunt of the Andaste
war; and, between the years 1650 and 1660, they were so roughly handled
by these stubborn adversaries, that they were reduced from the height of
audacious insolence to the depths of dejection. [8] The remaining four
nations of the Iroquois league now took up the quarrel, and fared
scarcely better than the Mohawks. In the spring of 1662, eight hundred
of their warriors set out for the Andaste country, to strike a decisive
blow; but when they reached the great town of their enemies, they saw
that they had received both aid and counsel from the neighboring Swedish
colonists. The town was fortified by a double palisade, flanked by two
bastions, on which, it is said, several small pieces of cannon were
mounted. Clearly, it was not to be carried by assault, as the invaders
had promised themselves. Their only hope was in treachery; and,
accordingly, twenty-five of their warriors gained entrance, on pretence
of settling the terms of a peace. Here, again, ensued a grievous
disappointment; for the Andastes seized them all, built high scaffolds
visible from without, and tortured them to death in sight of their
countrymen, who thereupon decamped in miserable discomfiture. [9]

[8] Relation, 1660, 6 (anonymous).

The Mohawks also suffered great reverses about this time at the hands of
their Algonquin neighbors, the Mohicans.

[9] Lalemant, Relation, 1663, 10.

The Senecas, by far the most numerous of the five Iroquois nations, now
found themselves attacked in turn,--and this, too, at a time when they
were full of despondency at the ravages of the small-pox. The French
reaped a profit from their misfortunes; for the disheartened savages
made them overtures of peace, and begged that they would settle in their
country, teach them to fortify their towns, supply them with arms and
ammunition, and bring "black-robes" to show them the road to Heaven.
[10]

[10] Lalemant, Relation, 1664, 33.

The Andaste war became a war of inroads and skirmishes, under which the
weaker party gradually wasted away, though it sometimes won laurels at
the expense of its adversary. Thus, in 1672, a party of twenty Senecas
and forty Cayugas went against the Andastes. They were at a considerable
distance the one from the other, the Cayugas being in advance, when the
Senecas were set upon by about sixty young Andastes, of the class known
as "Burnt-Knives," or "Soft-Metals," because as yet they had taken no
scalps. Indeed, they are described as mere boys, fifteen or sixteen
years old. They killed one of the Senecas, captured another, and put the
rest to flight; after which, flushed with their victory, they attacked
the Cayugas with the utmost fury, and routed them completely, killing
eight of them, and wounding twice that number, who, as is reported by
the Jesuit then in the Cayuga towns, came home half dead with gashes of
knives and hatchets. [11] "May God preserve the Andastes," exclaims the
Father, "and prosper their arms, that the Iroquois may be humbled, and
we and our missions left in peace!" "None but they," he elsewhere adds,
"can curb the pride of the Iroquois." The only strength of the Andastes,
however, was in their courage: for at this time they were reduced to
three hundred fighting men; and about the year 1675 they were finally
overborne by the Senecas. [12] Yet they were not wholly destroyed; for a
remnant of this valiant people continued to subsist, under the name of
Conestogas, for nearly a century, until, in 1763, they were butchered,
as already mentioned, by the white ruffians known as the "Paxton Boys."
[13]

[11] Dablon, Relation, 1672, 24.
[12] État Présent des Missions, in Relations Inédites, II. 44. Relation,
1676, 2. This is one of the Relations printed by Mr. Lenox.
[13] "History of the Conspiracy of Pontiac," Chap. XXIV. Compare Shea,
in Historical Magazine, II. 297.

The bloody triumphs of the Iroquois were complete. They had "made a
solitude, and called it peace." All the surrounding nations of their own
lineage were conquered and broken up, while neighboring Algonquin tribes
were suffered to exist only on condition of paying a yearly tribute of
wampum. The confederacy remained a wedge thrust between the growing
colonies of France and England.

But what was the state of the conquerors? Their triumphs had cost them
dear. As early as the year 1660, a writer, evidently well-informed,
reports that their entire force had been reduced to twenty-two hundred
warriors, while of these not more than twelve hundred were of the true
Iroquois stock. The rest was a medley of adopted prisoners,--Hurons,
Neutrals, Eries, and Indians of various Algonquin tribes. [14] Still
their aggressive spirit was unsubdued. These incorrigible warriors
pushed their murderous raids to Hudson's Bay, Lake Superior, the
Mississippi, and the Tennessee; they were the tyrants of all the
intervening wilderness; and they remained, for more than half a century,
a terror and a scourge to the afflicted colonists of New France.

[14] Relation, 1660, 6, 7 (anonymous). Le Jeune says, "Their victories
have so depopulated their towns, that there are more foreigners in them
than natives. At Onondaga there are Indians of seven different nations
permanently established; and, among the Senecas, of no less than
eleven." (Relation, 1657, 34.) These were either adopted prisoners, or
Indians who had voluntarily joined the Iroquois to save themselves from
their hostility. They took no part in councils, but were expected to
join war-parties, though they were usually excused from fighting against
their former countrymen. The condition of female prisoners was little
better than that of slaves, and those to whom they were assigned often
killed them on the slightest pique.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE END.

Failure of the Jesuits • What their Success would have involved • Future
of the Mission

With the fall of the Hurons, fell the best hope of the Canadian mission.
They, and the stable and populous communities around them, had been the
rude material from which the Jesuit would have formed his Christian
empire in the wilderness; but, one by one, these kindred peoples were
uprooted and swept away, while the neighboring Algonquins, to whom they
had been a bulwark, were involved with them in a common ruin. The land
of promise was turned to a solitude and a desolation. There was still
work in hand, it is true,--vast regions to explore, and countless
heathens to snatch from perdition; but these, for the most part, were
remote and scattered hordes, from whose conversion it was vain to look
for the same solid and decisive results.

In a measure, the occupation of the Jesuits was gone. Some of them went
home, "well resolved," writes the Father Superior, "to return to the
combat at the first sound of the trumpet;" [1] while of those who
remained, about twenty in number, several soon fell victims to famine,
hardship, and the Iroquois. A few years more, and Canada ceased to be a
mission; political and commercial interests gradually became ascendant,
and the story of Jesuit propagandism was interwoven with her civil and
military annals.

[1] Lettre de Lalemant au R. P. Provincial (Relation, 1650, 48).

Here, then, closes this wild and bloody act of the great drama of New
France; and now let the curtain fall, while we ponder its meaning.

The cause of the failure of the Jesuits is obvious. The guns and
tomahawks of the Iroquois were the ruin of their hopes. Could they have
curbed or converted those ferocious bands, it is little less than
certain that their dream would have become a reality. Savages tamed--not
civilized, for that was scarcely possible--would have been distributed
in communities through the valleys of the Great Lakes and the
Mississippi, ruled by priests in the interest of Catholicity and of
France. Their habits of agriculture would have been developed, and their
instincts of mutual slaughter repressed. The swift decline of the Indian
population would have been arrested; and it would have been made,
through the fur-trade, a source of prosperity to New France. Unmolested
by Indian enemies, and fed by a rich commerce, she would have put forth
a vigorous growth. True to her far-reaching and adventurous genius, she
would have occupied the West with traders, settlers, and garrisons, and
cut up the virgin wilderness into fiefs, while as yet the colonies of
England were but a weak and broken line along the shore of the Atlantic;
and when at last the great conflict came, England and Liberty would have
been confronted, not by a depleted antagonist, still feeble from the
exhaustion of a starved and persecuted infancy, but by an athletic
champion of the principles of Richelieu and of Loyola.

Liberty may thank the Iroquois, that, by their insensate fury, the plans
of her adversary were brought to nought, and a peril and a woe averted
from her future. They ruined the trade which was the life-blood of New
France; they stopped the current of her arteries, and made all her early
years a misery and a terror. Not that they changed her destinies. The
contest on this continent between Liberty and Absolutism was never
doubtful; but the triumph of the one would have been dearly bought, and
the downfall of the other incomplete. Populations formed in the ideas
and habits of a feudal monarchy, and controlled by a hierarchy
profoundly hostile to freedom of thought, would have remained a
hindrance and a stumbling-block in the way of that majestic experiment
of which America is the field.

The Jesuits saw their hopes struck down; and their faith, though not
shaken, was sorely tried. The Providence of God seemed in their eyes
dark and inexplicable; but, from the stand-point of Liberty, that
Providence is clear as the sun at noon. Meanwhile let those who have
prevailed yield due honor to the defeated. Their virtues shine amidst
the rubbish of error, like diamonds and gold in the gravel of the
torrent.

But now new scenes succeed, and other actors enter on the stage, a hardy
and valiant band, moulded to endure and dare,--the Discoverers of the
Great West.

INDEX

The Roman Numerals refer to the introduction.

Abenaquis, where found, xxii; ask for a missionary, 321.
Abraham, Plains of, whence the name, 335 note.
Adoption of prisoners as members of the tribe, lxvi, 223, 309, 424, 444.
Adventures and sufferings of an Algonquin woman, 309-313; of another,
313-316.
Agnier, a name for the Mohawks, xlviii note.
Aiguillon, Duchess d', founds a Hôtel-Dieu at Quebec, 181.
Albany, formerly Rensselaerswyck, its condition in 1643, 229.
Algonquins, a comprehensive term, xx; regions occupied by them in 1535,
xx; the designation, how applied, ib. note; found in New England, xxi;
their relation to the Iroquois, xxi; numbers, ib.; Algonquin missions,
368.
Allumette Island, xxiv, 45; its true position, 46.
Amikouas, or People of the Beaver, lxviii note; supposed descent from
that animal, ib.
Amusements of the Indians, xxxvi; the Jesuits require them to be
abandoned, 136.
Andacwandet, a strange method of cure, xlii.
Andastes, where found in the early times, xx, xlvi; fierce warriors,
xlvi; identical with the Susquehannocks, ib. note; their aid sought by
the Hurons, 341; the result unsatisfactory, 344 seq.; war with the
Mohawks, 441; assisted by the Swedes from Delaware River, 442; repulse
an attack of the Iroquois, ib.; a party of Andaste boys defeat the
Senecas and Cayugas, 443; finally subdued by the Senecas, ib.
Aquanuscioni, or Iroquois, xlviii note.
Areskoui, the god of war, lxxvii; human sacrifices offered to him, ib.;
a captive Iroquois sacrificed to him, 81.
Armouchiquois, a name applied to the Algonquins of New England, xxi; a
strange account of them given by Champlain, xxii note.
Arts of life, as practised by the Hurons, xxxi.
Assistaeronnons, or Nation of Fire. See Nation of Fire.
Ataentsic, a malignant deity; the moon, lxxvi.
Atahocan, a dim conception of the Supreme Being, lxxiv.
Atotarho of the Onondagas, liv, lvii.
Attendants of the Jesuits, 112 note, 132. See Donnés.
Atticamegues, xxiii, 286, 293; attacked by the Iroquois, 420.
Attigouantans. See Hurons.
Attiwandarons, or Neutral Nation, why so called, xliv; their country,
ib.; ferocious and cruel, xlv; licentious, ib.; their treatment of the
dead, ib. See Neutral Nation.

Baptism of dying men, 89, 124; clandestine, of infants, 96, 97, 116,
117; of an influential Huron, 112; conditions of baptism, 134; baptisms,
number in a year, 136 note.
Birch-bark used instead of writing-paper, 130.
Bourgeoys, Marguerite, her character, 201; foundress of the school at
Montreal, 202.
Bradford, William, governor of Plymouth, kindly entertains the Jesuit
Druilletes, 327.
Brébeuf, Jean de, arrives at Quebec, 5, 20, 48; commences his journey to
the Huron country, 53; suffers great fatigue by the way, 54; his
intrepidity, 54 note, 56; arrives in the Huron country, 56; his previous
residence there, ib.; his misgivings as to his future treatment by the
Indians, 57 note; the Indians build a house for him, 59; the house
described, 60; its furniture, ib.; Brébeuf witnesses the " Feast of the
Dead," 75; witnesses a human sacrifice, 80 seq.; his uncompromising
manner, 90; "the Ajax of the mission," 99; his dealings with beings from
the invisible world, 108; sees a great cross in the air, 109, 144; his
courage, 120; his letter in prospect of martyrdom, 122; harangues the
Hurons at a festin d'adieu, 123; commences a mission in the Neutral
Nation, 143; sees miraculous sights, 144; at the Huron mission, 370;
taken by the Iroquois, 381; his appalling fate, 388; his intrepid
character, 390; his skull preserved to this day at Quebec, 391; his
visions and revelations, 392 note; a saint and a hero, ib.
Bressani, Joseph, attempts to go to the Hurons, 251; taken by the
Iroquois, 252; terrible sufferings from his captors, 253-255; his
escape, 256; at the Huron Mission, 370.
Brulé, Étienne, murdered by the Hurons, 56; the murder supposed to be
avenged by a raging pestilence, 94.
Bullion, Madame de, founds a hospital at Montreal, 266.
Burning of captives alive, instances of, xlv note, 80-82; 249, 250; 309,
339, 385; 436 note, 439, 441 note.
Buteux, Jacques, his toilsome journey, 421; waylaid by the Iroquois and
slain, 422.

Cannibalism of the Hurons, xxxix, 137, of the Miamis, xl; other
instances, 247.
Canoes, Indian, xxxi.
Capuchins, unsuccessful attempt to introduce them into Canada, 159 note;
a station of them on the Penobscot, 322.
Cayugas, one of the Five Nations, xlviii note, liv. See Iroquois.
Cemeteries of Indians lately opened, 79; description of them, ib.
Chabanel, Noël, joins the mission, 105; among the Hurons, 370; recalled
from St. Jean, 408; his journey, ib.; murdered by a renegade Huron, 409;
his vow, 410 note.
Champfleur, commandant at Three Rivers, 277, 285.
Champlain, Samuel de, resumes command at Quebec, 20; his explorations,
45; introduces the missionaries to the Hurons, 48; assists the
missionaries at their departure, 50; his death, 149.
Chatelain, Pierre, joins the mission, 86; his illness, ib.; his peril,
126.
Chaumonot, Joseph Marie, his early life, 101-104; his gratitude to the
Virgin, 103, 105; becomes a Jesuit, and embarks for Canada, 105, 181;
narrowly escapes death, 124; goes with Brébeuf to convert the Neutrals,
142; his extreme peril, 145; saved by the interference of Saint Michael,
ib.; among the Hurons, 370; with a colony of Hurons, near Quebec, 431;
builds Lorette, 432.
Choctaws, like the Iroquois, have eight clans, lvi note.
Clanship, system of, l-lii.
Clock of the Jesuits an object of wonder to the Hurons, 61; an object of
alarm, 115.
Colonization, French and English, compared, 328, 329.
Condé, in his youth writes to Paul Le Jeune, 152.
Conestogas. See Andastes.
Converts, how made, 133, 162 seq.
Couillard, a resident in Quebec, 3, 334, 335.
Councils of the Iroquois, their power, lvii-lx.
Council, nocturnal, of the Hurons, relative to the epidemic in 1637,
118.
Couture, Guillaume, a donné of the mission, 214; a prisoner to the
Iroquois, 216; tortured by them, 216, 223; adopted by them, 223; assists
in negotiations for peace, 284, 287; returns with the Iroquois, 296.
Crania of Indians compared with those of Caucasian races, lxiii.
Credulity and superstition of the Indians, 301.
Crime, how punished, lxi.
Cruelties, Indian, xlv note, 80, 216 seq., 248, 253, 254, 277, 303 seq.,
308 seq., 313, 339, 350, 377, 381, 385, 388 seq., 436 note, 439, 441
note.
Custom, with the Indians, had the force of law, xlix.

Dahcotahs, found east of the Mississippi, xx note; their villages, xxvi.
D'Ailleboust de Coulonges, Louis, lands at Montreal, 264; history, 265;
fortifies Montreal, 266; becomes governor of Canada, 330, 332.
Daily life of the Jesuits, 129; their food, ib.; how obtained, 130.
Dallion, La Roche, visits the Neutral Nation in 1626, xliv; exposed to
great danger among them, xlvi note, 146.
Daniel, Antoine, 5, 20, 48; commences his journey to the Huron country,
53; disasters by the way, 55; his arrival in the Huron country, 58; his
peril, 126; returns to Quebec to commence a seminary, 168; labors with
success among the Hurons, 374; slain by the Iroquois, 377.
Dauversière, Jérôme le Royer de la, described, 188; hears a voice from
heaven, 189; has a vision, 191; meets Olier, 192; plans a religious
community at Montreal, ib.; one of the purchasers of the island, 195;
his misgivings, 197.
Davost at Quebec, 5, 20, 48; sets out on his journey to the Huron
country, 53; robbed and left behind by his conductors, 54; his arrival
among the Hurons, 58.
De Nouë, Anne, a missionary, 5, 14; perishes in the snow, 257-260.
Des Châtelets, an inhabitant of Quebec, 334, 335.
Devil, worshipped, lxxiv, lxxvi, lxxvii; his supposed alarm at the
success of the mission, 113; consequences, 114 seq.
Dionondadies. See Tobacco Nation.
Disease, how accounted for, xl, xli; how treated, ib.
Divination and sorcery, lxxxiv, lxxxv.
Dogs sacrificed to the Great Spirit, lxxxvi; used at Montreal for
sentinels, 271; very useful, 272.
"Donnés" of the mission, 112 note, 214, 364.
Dreams, confidence of the Indian in, lxxxiii, lxxxiv, lxxxvi;
"Dream-Feast," a scene of frenzy, 67.
Dress of the Indians, xxxii; scarcely worn in summer, xxxiii.
Druilletes, Gabriel, his labors among the Montagnais, 318; among the
Abenaquis on the Kennebec, 321, 323; visits English settlements in
Maine, 322; again descends the Kennebec, and visits Boston, 324, 325;
object of the visit, 324; visits Governor Dudley at Roxbury, 326; and
Governor Bradford at Plymouth, 327; spends a night with Eliot at
Roxbury, ib.; visits Endicott at Salem, ib.; his impressions of New
England, 328; failure of his embassy, 330.
Dudley, Thomas, governor of Massachusetts, kindly receives the Jesuit
Druilletes, 326.
Du Peron, François, his narrow escape, 124; his journey, 127; his
arrival, 128; his letter, 130; at Montreal, 263.
Du Quen, journeys of, xxv note, 318.
Dutch at Albany supply the Iroquois with fire-arms, 211, 212; endeavor
to procure the release of prisoners among the Mohawks, 230.

E.
Eliot, John, the "apostle," has a visit from the Jesuit Druilletes, 327.
Endicott, John, visited by the Jesuit Druilletes, 327.
Enthusiasm for the mission, 85 note.
Erie, Lake, how early known as such, 143.
Eries, or Nation of the Cat, xlvi; where found in the early periods, xx,
xlvi; why so called, xlvi note; war with the Iroquois, 438; its cause,
439; a sister's revenge, ib.; utter destruction of the Eries, 440.
Etchemins, where found, xxii.
Etienne Annaotaha, a Huron brave, destroys an Iroquois war-party,
427-429; slain, 431.
Exaltation, mental, of the priests, 146.
Excursions, missionary, 132.

F.
Faillon, Abbé, his researches in the early history of Montreal, 193
note; their value, ib.
Fancamp, Baron de, furnishes money for the undertaking at Montreal, 193;
one of the purchasers of the island, 195.
Fasts among the Indians, lxxi.
"Feast of the Dead," 72.
Feasts of the Indians, xxxvii.
Female life among the Hurons, xxxiii.
"Festins d'adieu," 123.
Festivities of the Hurons, xxxvii.
Fire, Nation of, attacked by the Neutral Nation, 436.
Fire-arms sold to the Iroquois by the Dutch, 211, 212; given to converts
by the French, 269.
Fish, and fishing-nets, prayers to them, lxix.
Fortifications of the Hurons, xxix; of the Iroquois, ib. note; of other
Indian tribes, xxx note.
Fortitude, striking instances of, 81, 250, 339, 389.
French and English colonization compared, 328, 329.
Funeral among the Hurons, 75; funeral gifts, 76.
Fur trade, xlv, 47, 155, 331.

Gambling, Indian, xxxvii.
Garnier, Charles, joins the Huron mission, 86; his sickness, ib.; his
character, 99; his letters, 101, 133; his journey to the Tobacco Nation,
140; at the Huron mission, 370; slain by the Iroquois, 405; his body
found, 406 note; his gentle spirit, 370, 407; his absolute devotion to
the mission, 407 note.
Garnier, Julien, liv note.
Garreau, missionary among the Hurons, his danger, 410.
Gaspé, Algonquins of, their women chaste, xxxiv.
George, Lake, its first discoverer, 219; its Indian name, ib. note;
called St. Sacrament, 299; a better name proposed, ib. note.
Gibbons, Edward, welcomes the Jesuit Druilletes to Boston, 325.
Giffard, his seigniory of Beauport, 155, 157; at Quebec, 334.
Gluttony at feasts, xxxviii; practised as a cure for pestilence, 95.
Godefroy, Jean Paul, visits New Haven on an embassy from the governor of
Canada, 330.
Goupil, René, a donné of the mission, 214; made prisoner by the
Iroquois, 216; tortured, 217, 221; murdered in cold blood, 224.
Goyogouin, a name for the Cayugas, xlviii note.
Great Hare, The. See Manabozho.
Green Bay, visited by the French in 1639, 166.

H.
Habitations, Indian, xxvi; internal aspect in summer, xxvii; in winter,
xxviii.
Hawenniio, the modern Iroquois name for God, lxxviii.
Hébert, Madame, an early resident of Quebec, 2, 15.
Hell, how represented to the Indians, 88, 163; pictures of, 163.
Hiawatha, a deified hero, lxxvii, lxxviii.
Hodenosaunee, the true name of the Iroquois, xlviii note.
Hôtel-Dieu at Quebec founded, 181; one at Montreal, 266.
Hundred Associates, the, a fur company, its grants of land, 156; their
quit-claim of the island of Montreal, 195; transfer their monopoly to
the colonists, 331.
Hunters of men, 307.
Huron mission proposed, 42; the difficulties, 43; motives for the
undertaking, 44; route to the Huron country, 45; the missionaries
baffled by a stroke of Indian diplomacy, 51; they commence their
journey, 53; fatigues of the way, ib.; reception of the missionaries by
the Hurons, 57; mission house, 60; methods taken to awaken interest, 61;
instructions given, 62; the results not satisfactory, 64; the Jesuits
made responsible for the failure of rain, 68; they gain the confidence
of the Huron people, 70; the mission strengthened by new arrivals, 85;
kindness of the Jesuits to the sick, 87; their efforts at conversion,
88; the Hurons slow to apprehend the subject of a future life, 89; terms
of salvation too hard, 90; an elastic morality practised by the Jesuits,
97; conversions promoted by supernatural aid, 108; the new chapel at
Ossossané described, 111; first important success, 112; persecuting
spirit aroused, 115; the Jesuits in danger, 116; their daily life, 129;
number of converts in 1638, 132; backsliding frequent, 135; partial
success, 147; great subsequent success of the mission, 349; the mission
encounters slander and misrepresentation, 352, 353; prosperity, 366;
successful agriculture, ib.; number of ecclesiastics and others in the
Huron mission, 1649, ib.; the mission removed to an island in Lake
Huron, 397; a multitude of refugees, 399; their extreme misery, 400; the
priests fully occupied, 401; the mission abandoned, 415; failure of the
Jesuit plans in Canada, 446; the cause, 447; the consequences, 448. See
Jesuits.
Hurons, origin of the name, xxxiii note; their country, xx, xxiv, xxv;
had a language akin to the Iroquois, xxiv; their disappearance, ib.;
vestiges of them still found, xxv; supposed population, xxv, xxvi; their
habitations, xxvi, xxviii note; extravagant accounts, xxvi note;
internal aspect of their huts in summer, xxvii; in winter, xxviii; their
fortifications, xxix; their agriculture, xxx; food, ib.; arts of life,
ib.; dress, xxxii; dress scarcely worn in summer, xxxiii; female life,
ib., xxxv; an unchaste people, xxxiv; marriages, temporary, ib.;
shameless conduct of young people, xxxv note; employments of the men,
xxxvi; amusements, ib.; feasts and dances, xxxvii; voracity, xxxviii;
cannibalism, xxxix; practice of medicine, xl; Huron brains, xliii; the
Huron Confederacy, lii; their political organization, ib.; propensity of
the Hurons to theft, lxiii, 131; murder atoned for by presents, lxi;
proceedings in case of witchcraft, lxiii; their objects of worship, lxix
seq.; their conceptions of a future state, lxxxi; their burial of the
dead, ib.; hostility of the Iroquois, 45, 52, 62; visit Quebec, 46; the
scene after their arrival described, 47; their idea of thunder, 69;
Huron graves, 71; their origin, ib.; disposal of the dead, 73; "Feast of
the Dead," 75 seq.; disinterment, 73; mourning, 74, 78; funeral gifts,
76; frightful scene, 77; a pestilence, 87; cannibals, 137; attacked by
the Iroquois, 212, 337; defeat them, 338; torture and burn an Iroquois
chief, 339; on the verge of ruin, 341; apply for help to the Andastes,
342; specimen of Huron eloquence, 355; Hurons defeat the Iroquois at
Three Rivers, 374; fatuity of the Hurons, 379; their towns destroyed,
379 seq.; ruin of the Hurons, 393; the survivors take refuge on Isle St.
Joseph, 399; their extreme misery, 411 seq.; they abandon the island,
415; endeavor to reach Quebec, 416; the Iroquois waylay them, 417; a
fight on the Ottawa, ib.; they reach Montreal, 418; and Quebec, ib.; a
Huron traitor, 419; a portion of the Hurons retreat to Lake Michigan and
the Mississippi, 425; others become incorporated with the Senecas, 424;
their country desolate, ib.; afterwards known as the Wyandots, 426; a
body of the Hurons left at St. Joseph destroy a party of Iroquois,
427-429; a colony of Hurons near Quebec, 430.

I.
Ihonatiria, a Huron village, 57; Brébeuf takes up his abode there, 59;
ruined by the pestilence, 137.
Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, 110.
Incarnation, Marie de l', at Tours, 174; her unhappy marriage, 175; a
widow, ib; self-inflicted austerities, ib.; mystical espousal to Christ,
176; rhapsodies, ib.; dejection, 177; abandons her child and becomes a
nun, 178; her talents for business, 179; her vision, 180; the vision
explained as a call to Canada, 181; embarks for that country, ib.;
perilous voyage, 182; her arduous labors at Quebec, 185; her
difficulties, 186; extolled as a saint, 177, 186.
Indian population mutable, xix; its distribution, xx; two great
families, ib.; superstitions and traditions, lxvii-lxxxvii; dreamers,
lxxxiii; sorcerers and diviners, lxxxiv, 93; their religion fearful yet
puerile, lxxxviii, 94; an Indian lodge, 141; Indian manners softened by
the influence of the missions, 319; Indian infatuation, 336.
Indians, their arts of life, xxx; amusements, xxxvi; festivals, xxxvii;
social character, xlviii; self-control, xlix; influenced by custom, ib.;
hospitality and generosity, ib. note; fond of society, 1; their division
into clans, li; the totem, or symbol of the clan, 39 ib.; Indian rule of
descent and inheritance, ib.; vast extent of this rule, lii; their
superstitions, lxvii et seq.; their cosmogonies, lxxiii, lxxv; degrading
conceptions of the Supreme Being, lxxviii; no word for God, lxxix;
obliged to use a circumlocution, ib.; their belief in a future state,
lxxx; their conceptions of it dim, ib.; their belief in dreams, lxxxiii;
the Indian Pluto, ib. note; the Indian mind stagnant, lxxxix; savage in
religion as in life, ib.; no knowledge of the true God, ib.; scenes in a
wigwam, 30; their foul language, 31; not profane, ib.; hardships and
sufferings, 39; a specimen of their diplomacy, 51; an Indian masquerade,
66; Indian bacchanals, 67; their idea of thunder, 69; Indian mind not a
blank, 134; specimen of Indian reasoning, 135; Indians received benefit
from the Jesuit missions, 164.
Initiatory fast for obtaining a guardian manitou, lxxi.
"Infernal Wolf," the, 117; a name for the Devil, ib. note.
Influence of the missions salutary, 319.
Instructions for the missionaries to the Hurons, 54.
Intrepid conduct of the Jesuits, 125.
Iroquois, or Five Nations, origin of the name, xlvii; where found in
early times, xx, xlvi, 278 note; their dwellings, xxvii note., xxviii
note; a licentious people, xxxiv note; have capacious skulls, xliii
note; burn female captives, xlv; their character, xlvii; their eminent
position and influence, ib.; their true name, xlviii note; divided into
eight clans or families, lv; symbols of these clans, ib. note; the
chiefs, how selected, lvi; the councils, lvii; how and when assembled,
lviii; how conducted, lix; their debates, ib.; strict unanimity
required, ib.; artful management of the chiefs, lx note; the professed
orators, lxi; military organization, lxiv; and discipline, ib.; spirit
of the confederacy, lxv; attachment to ancient forms, ib.; their
increase by adoption, lxvi; population at different times, ib. note;
have no name for God, lxxviii; a captive Iroquois sacrificed by the
Hurons to the god of war, 80; supplied by the Dutch with fire-arms, 211;
make war on the French in Canada, 212, 269 seq.; extreme cruelty to
Jogues and other prisoners, 217-222, 228; cannibalism, 228, 250;
audacity, 241; attack Fort Richelieu, 244; spread devastation and terror
through Canada, 245, 251; horrible nature of their warfare, 246-250;
torments inflicted on prisoners, 248 seq., 271; an Iroquois prisoner
tortured by Algonquins, 277; treaty of peace with the French and
Algonquins, 284 seq.; numbers of the Iroquois, 297 note; the Iroquois
determination to destroy the Hurons, 336; their moral superiority, 337;
a defeat sustained by them, 338; their shameless treachery, 339; invade
the Huron country and destroy the towns, 379; their atrocious cruelty,
385; their retreat, 386; they pursue the remnants of the Huron nation,
412, 425; attack the Atticamegues, 420; attack the Hurons at
Michilimackinac, 425; exterminate the Neutral Nation, 437; exterminate
the Eries, 438-440; terrible cruelty, 441 note; their bloody supremacy,
444; it cost them dear, ib.; tyrants of a wide wilderness, 445; their
short-sighted policy, 434.

Jesuits, their founder, 8; their discipline, 11; their influence, 12;
salutary, 319; the early Canadian Jesuits did not meddle with political
affairs, 323; denounced cannibalism, but faint in opposing the burning
of prisoners, 351; were engaged in the fur-trade, 365 note; purity of
their motives, 83, 85; benevolent care of the sick, 87, 98, 267; accused
of sorcery, 120; in great peril, 121; their intrepidity, 125; their
prudence, 134; their intense zeal, 146. See Huron Mission.
Jogues, Isaac, his birth and character, 214; joins the mission, 86; his
illness, ib.; his character, 106, 304; his journey to the Tobacco
Nation, 140; visits Lake Superior and preaches to the Ojibwas, 213;
visits Quebec, 214; taken prisoner by the Iroquois, 216; tortured by
them, 217, 218, 221, 222; in daily expectation of death, 224, 225; his
conscientiousness, 226, 229, 232; his patience, 226; his spirit of
devotion, 227; longs for death, 228; his pious labors while a captive,
ib.; visits Albany, 229; writes to the commandant at Three Rivers, 230;
escapes, 234; voyage across the Atlantic, 236; reception in France, 237;
the queen honors him, 238; returns to Canada, 239, 286; his mission to
the Mohawks, 297; misgivings, 298; has a presentiment of death, ib.;
goes as a civilian, ib; visits Fort Orange, 299; reaches the Mohawk
country, ib.; his reception, ib.; returns to Canada, 300; his second
mission to the Mohawks, 301; warned of danger, ib.; his cruel murder,
304.
Joseph, Saint, his interposition in a case of childbirth, 90; his help
much relied on by the Jesuits, 70, 95, 96; fireworks let off in his
honor, 160. See Saint Joseph.
Jouskeha, a beneficent deity, the sun, the creator, lxxvi, lxxix.

Kennebec, visited by a Jesuit, 322.
Kieft, William, governor of New Netherland, his kindness to Jogues, 235;
his letter to the governor of Canada, 304 note.
Kiotsaton, envoy of the Iroquois, 284 seq.; his speech, 287 seq.; the
French delighted with him, 291; another speech, 292.

L.
Lafitau, his book on the Iroquois, liv note; describes the council of
the Iroquois, lvii, lviii.
Lalande, an assistant in the mission, 301; tortured by the Mohawks, 303;
killed by them, 304.
Lalemant, Gabriel, at the Huron mission, 126, 371; taken by the
Iroquois, 381; tortured with fire, 388; his death, 390.
Lalemant, Jerome, brother of Gabriel, assailed by an Algonquin, 127;
visits Three Rivers, 294; becomes Superior of the missions, 301.
Lauson, president of the Canada Fur Company, 156; sells the island of
Montreal to the Jesuits, 194.
Le Berger, a Christian Iroquois, 304; endeavors to save Jogues, ib.
Le Borgne, chief of Allumette Island, hinders the departure of the
missionaries, 50; his motives, 51; converted, 268.
Le Jeune, Paul, Father Superior, his voyage, 15; his arrival in Quebec,
2, 15; begins his labors there, 16; joins an Indian hunting-party, 23;
adventures in this connection, 25-39; his description of a winter scene,
26 note; grievances in an Indian lodge in winter, 27; experience with a
sorcerer, 30; suffers the rude banter of the Indians, ib.; doubts
whether the Indian sorcerers are impostors or in league with the devil,
32; relates what he had been informed of the devil's proceedings in
Brazil, 33 note; attempts to convert a sorcerer, 37; disappointment, 39;
returns to Quebec, 40; rejoices at the advent of the new governor, 150
note; rejoices at the interest in the mission awakened in France, 151;
has for a correspondent the future Condé, 152; is invested with civil
authority, 154; sends for pictures of the torments of hell, 163.
Le Mercier, Francis Joseph, joins the mission, 85; his peril, 125.
Le Moyne, among the Hurons, 126; among the Onondagas, 438, 440.
Licentiousness of the Indians, xxxiv note; xxxv note, xlv.
Life in a wigwam, 27-31.
Loretto, in Italy, 102, 105, 432; Old Lorette, in Canada, 431; New
Lorette, in Canada, 432; settlement of Hurons there, ib.
Loyola, Ignatius, his story, 8; founds the order of Jesuits, 9; his book
of Spiritual Exercises, 10.

Maisonneuve, Chomedey, Sieur de, military leader of the settlement at
Montreal, 196; spends the first winter at Quebec, 202; poorly
accommodated there, 203; has a quarrel with the governor, 204; beloved
by his followers, 205; compared to Godfrey, the leader of the first
crusade, 207; lands at Montreal, 208, 261; plants a cross on the top of
the mountain, 263; his great bravery, 275.
Manabozho, a mythical personage, lxviii; the chief deity of the
Algonquins, yet not worshipped, lxxii, lxxix; his achievements, lxxiii.
Mance, Jeanne, devotes herself to the mission in Canada, 198; embarks,
201; impressive scene before embarking, ib.; lands at Montreal, 208,
261.
Manitous, a generic term for super-natural beings, lxix; extensive in
its meaning, lxx; process for obtaining a guardian manitou, ib.
Marie, a Christian Algonquin, her adventures and sufferings, 309-313.
Marriage among the Hurons often temporary and experimental, xxxiv.
Mass, neglect of the, a punishable offence, 154, 157.
Masse, 5, 20; "le Père Utile," ib.; his death, 260.
Medical practice among the Indians, xli, xlii note; lxxxiv, 66.
"Medicine," or Indian charms, lxxi.
"Medicine-bags," lxxi; "medicine-men," or sorcerers, lxxxiv, lxxxv,
32-38; a "medicine-feast," 66; the religion taught by the Jesuits
supposed to be a "medicine," 90.
Megapolensis, Dutch pastor at Albany, 229; his account of the Mohawks,
ib.; befriends Jogues, 235.
Memory, devices for aiding the, lxi.
Messou. See Manabozho.
Mestigoit, an Indian hunter, 21, 24, 29, 34; his skill and courage, 40;
helps Le Jeune to reach Quebec, ib.
Mexican fabrics found in Indian cemeteries, 79 note.
Miamis, cannibalism among them, xl.
Michabou. See Manabozho.
Micmacs in Nova Scotia, xxii.
Minquas. See Andastes.
Miracles in the Huron mission, 108; how to be accounted for, 109; why
miracles were expected, 210 note.
Miscou, mission at, 317.
Mission to Hurons. See Huron Mission.
Mission-house near Quebec described, 4.
Mohawks, xlviii note, liv; number of warriors, 212, 297; their towns,
222; make peace with the French, 296; credulity and superstition, 301;
their causeless rage, 303; renew the war with the French, 306; their
perfidy, 308; cruelty, ib.; torture of prisoners, 309; invade the Huron
country, 379; furious battle near St. Marie, 384; war with the Andastes,
441; and Mohicans, ib. note. See Iroquois.
Montmagny, Charles Huault de, succeeds Champlain as governor of New
France, 149; his zeal for the mission, 150, 161; meets the Ursulines at
their landing, 182; quarrels with the leader of the Montreal settlement,
204; delivers Montreal to Maisonneuve, 208; builds a fort at Sorel, 242;
called Onontio by the Iroquois, 283; negotiates a peace with the
Iroquois, 284 seq.
Montagnais, an Algonquin tribe, where found, xxiii; their degradation,
ib.; Le Jeune essays their conversion, 19; concerned in a treaty of
peace, 286, 293; salutary changes from the influence of the mission,
319.
Montreal, island of, purchased for the site of a religious community,
195; part of the money given by ladies, 198; consecrated to the Holy
Family, 201; the enterprise compared with the crusades, 207; first day
of the settlement, 209; motives of the enterprise, as stated by the
leaders themselves, 210 note; infancy of the settlement, 261; rise of
the St. Lawrence checked by a wooden cross, 263; arrival of D'Ailleboust
and others, 264; pilgrimages, 267; hospital built, 266; Indians fed,
268; attacks by the Iroquois, 269 seq.; sally of the French, 273;
condition of Montreal in 1651, 333.
Moon, the, worshipped, lxxvi.
Morgan, Lewis H., his account of the Iroquois, liv note.
Murder atoned for by presents, lxi, lxii, 354; a grand ceremony of this
sort, 355 seq.

Nanabush. See Manabozho.
Nation of the Bear, liii.
Nation of Fire, an Algonquin people, attacked by the Neutral Nation,
436.
Neutral Nation, their country, xx, xliv, 142; their cruelty and
licentiousness, xlv; representations made to them respecting the French,
xlvi note; a ferocious people, 143; their excessive superstition, ib.; a
mission among them attempted, 142; but in vain, 146; kindness of a
Neutral woman, ib.; destroy a large town of the Nation of Fire, 436;
their ferocious cruelty, ib. note; themselves exterminated by the
Iroquois, 437.
New England, Indians in, xxi; a Jesuit's impressions of, 328.
Niagara, called the River of the Neutrals, xliv; described by the
Jesuits, 143 note.
Nicollet, Jean, visits Green Bay in 1639, 166.
Nipissings, xxiv.
Notre-Dame des Anges, at Quebec, 5, 155; Notre-Dame de Montreal, 193.

Ochateguins. See Hurons.
Ojibwas, how differing in language from Algonquins, xx; visited by
Jogues, 213.
Okies, or Otkons, objects of worship among the Iroquois, lxix.
Olier, Jean Jacques, Abbé, suspected of Jansenism, 189; has a
revelation, 190; meets Dauversière, 192; their schemes, ib.
Oneidas, or Onneyut, one of the Five Nations, xlviii note, liv. See
Iroquois.
Onondagas, or Onnontagué, one of the Five Nations, xlviii note, liv (see
Iroquois); their inroad on the Hurons, 343; their jealousy of the
Mohawks, 344; their embassy to the Hurons, 345; suicide of the
ambassador, 347.
Ononkwaya, an Oneida chief, a prisoner to the Hurons, 338; his
marvellous fortitude under torture, 339.
Onontio, Great Mountain, name given to the Governor of Canada among the
Iroquois, and why, 283.
Ontitarac, a Huron chief, his speech, 119.
Orators of the Iroquois, lx.
Ossossané, chief town of the Hurons, 74; great Huron cemetery there, 75;
mission established there, 110, 129; abandoned, 139.
Ouendats, or Wyandots. See Hurons.

Parker, Ely S., an educated Iroquois, liv note.
Passionists, convent of, a singular incident there, 108 note.
Peace concluded between the French and Iroquois, 284-295; defects of the
treaty, 296; the peace broken and why, 302.
Peltrie, de la, Madame, her birth, 168; her girlhood, 169; a widow, ib.;
religious schemes, 170; resolves to go to Canada, ib.; her sham
marriage, 172; visits the Ursuline Convent at Tours, 173; results of
that visit, 174; embarks for Canada, 181; perilous voyage, 182; her
character, 186; thirst for admiration, 187; leaves the Ursulines and
joins the Colony of Montreal, 206, 261; receives the sacrament on the
top of the mountain, 264; at Quebec, 334.
Penobscot, a station on it of Capuchin friars, 322.
Pestilence among the Hurons, 87; its supposed origin, 94.
Persecution of the Jesuits, 116 seq.
Pictures requested for the mission, 133; of souls in perdition, many,
ib.; of souls in bliss, one, ib.; how to be colored, ib.; Le Jeune
describes the pictures of Hell which he wants, 163.
Picture-writing by the Indians, 243.
Pierre, an Algonquin, 17; teacher of Le Jeune, 18; runs away, 21;
returns, 22; frantic from strong drink, 24; repents and assists Le
Jeune, 38; another of this name, a converted Huron, 122.
Pijart, Pierre, joins the mission, 85; his clandestine baptisms, 96, 97;
establishes a mission at Ossossané, 110.
Piskaret, an Algonquin brave, 278; his exploits, 279; his successes
against the Iroquois, 281; assists in a treaty of peace, 291; murdered
by Mohawks, 308.
Poncet, father, his pilgrimage to Loretto, 104; embarks for Canada, 181;
his peril, 126.
Price of a man's life, lxii; of a woman's, ib.
Prisoners, cruel treatment of, xxxix, xlv, 80, 216 seq., 248 seq., 253,
277, 339, 388 seq., 436 note, 439, 441 note.
Processions, religious, at Quebec, 161.

Quatogies. See Hurons.
Qualifications for success in an Indian mission, 134 note.
Quebec in 1634, 1; its first settler, 3; condition in 1640, 154; its
aspect half military, half monastic, 158; its very amusements acts of
religion, 160; state of things in 1651, 331; New-Year's Day, 1646, 334.

R.
Ragueneau, Paul, missionary among the Hurons, 123, 124, 126; relates
proceedings of a council held respecting a murder, 355; Father Superior,
370.
Raymbault, Charles, enters Lake Superior with Jogues, 213.
Religion and superstitions of the Indians, lxvii et seq.; worship of
material objects, inanimate no less than animate, ib.; the Indians
attribute their origin to beasts, birds, and reptiles, lxviii; all
nature full of objects of religious fear and dread, lxxxiv; sacrifices,
lxxxvi.
Remarkable instance of Indian forgiveness, 319.
Rome, Church of, her strange contradictions, 84; self-denial of her
missionaries, ib.

Sacrifice, a human, by fire, witnessed by a missionary, 80 seq.
Sacrifices of the Indians, lxxxv, lxxxvi note.
St. Bernard, Marie de, a nun at Tours, 174; embarks for Canada, 181.
St. Ignace, town, taken by the Iroquois, 380; furious battle with the
Hurons, 384; the town and its inhabitants destroyed by fire, 385;
vestiges still remaining, ib. note.
St. Jean, town in the Tobacco Nation, attacked by the Iroquois, 405;
destroyed by fire, 406.
St. Joseph, a town in the Huron country, 137, 374; surprised by the
Iroquois, 375; and destroyed, 377; another station of this name on an
island, 395; the Huron refugees repair thither, 399; their extreme
misery, ib.; famine, 400.
St. Louis, town in the Huron country, attacked, 380; severe struggle,
381; destroyed by the Iroquois, ib.
Ste. Marie, in the Huron country, a mission established there, 139; the
place described, 362 seq.; a bountiful hospitality exercised towards the
converts and others, 367; alarm and anxiety at the Iroquois invasion,
382; the station abandoned, 394; stripped of all valuables, and set on
fire, 396.
Schoolcraft, Henry R., his Notes on the Iroquois, liv note; his
mistakes, lxxviii, lxxx; his collection of Algonquin tales, lxxxviii;
his unsatisfactory speculations about Huron graves, 71.
Seminary, Huron, at Quebec, 167.
Senecas, one of the Five Nations, xlviii note, liv. See Iroquois.
Sepulture among the Hurons, lxxxi, 71 seq.
Sillery, Noël Brulart de, becomes a priest, 182; founds the settlement
which bears his name, 183.
Sioux punish adultery, xxxiv; harass the Hurons, 425.
Sorcerer, a dwarfish, deformed one, troubles the Jesuits, 91; his
account of his origin, 92; sorcerers, several, in time of mortal
sickness, 93.
Sorcery, as practised among the Indians, lxxxiv, 32-38.
Speech-making, Indian, 287, 292-294.
Sun worshipped, lxxvi.
Supernaturalism of the Jesuits, 106; supposed efficacy of relics and
prayers to relieve pain and cure disease, 107; conversions effected in
this manner, 108; such views still entertained, as illustrated in a
curious incident, ib.
Superstitions of the Indians, lxvii seq., 68.
Superstitious terrors, lxxxiv, 115, 141.
Susquehannocks. See Andastes.
Swedish colonists on the Delaware assist the Andastes, 442.

Tarenyowagon, a powerful deity, lxxvii.
Tarratines, the Abenaquis so called, xxii note.
Tattooing practised, xxxiii; a severe process, ib.
Teanaustayé, 137. See St. Joseph.
Tessouat, or Le Borgne, converted, 268.
Tionnontates. See Tobacco Nation.
Tobacco Nation, or Tionnontates, in league with the Hurons, xliii;
raised tobacco, 47; mission among them, 140; reception of the
missionaries, 141; perils of the missionaries, 142; some of the Hurons
seek an asylum there, 393, 404.
Tobacco, none in Heaven, a sad thought to the Indian, 136.
Totems, emblems of clans, li, lxviii, 375.
Trade in furs, xlv, 47, 155.
Traffic of the Indians, how conducted, xxxvi.
Treatment of women, xxxiv, xxxv; of prisoners, xxxix, xlv, 80, 216 seq.,
248 seq., 253, 254, 277, 339, 388, 439, 441 note.
Tuscaroras, in Carolina, xxi; unite with the Five Nations, xxi, lxvi.

Unchastity of the Indians, xxxiv note, xlv.
Ursulines at Tours, 173; at Quebec, their labors, 184; their
instructions, 185.

Villemarie de Montreal, a three-fold religious establishment, 201, 261.
Vimont, father, embarks for Canada, 181; makes a vow to Saint Joseph,
182; visits Montreal, 208; Superior of the Canadian Mission, 286;
assists in a treaty of peace, 292.
Visions and visitations from Heaven and from Hell frequent occurrences
in the lives of the missionaries, 108; the subject illustrated by a
curious incident, ib. note.

Wampum, its material and uses, xxxi; served the purpose of records,
xxxii, lxi.
War-dance, often practised for amusement, xxxix.
Wigwam, how built, xxvii; inconveniences in one, 27, 28.
Winnebagoes, their residence when first known to Europeans, xx; known to
the Jesuits in 1648, 368.
Winslow, John, kindly receives the Jesuit Druilletes at Augusta, 322,
325; his name in the Relations, how spelled, 323 note.
Winter in Canada, 18, 26, 28.
Witchcraft, proceedings in case of, lxiii.
Women, their condition, xxxiii, xxxiv, xxxv, xiv.
Wyandots, a remnant of the Hurons, xxiv, 426. See Hurons.

The End.

Francis Parkman

France and England in North America

1. Pioneers of France in the New World (1865, 1885)
2. The Jesuits in North America in the seventeenth century (1867)
3. The Discovery of the West (1869)
La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West (1879)
4. The Old Régime in Canada (1874, 1894)
5. Count Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV. (1877)
6. A Half Century of Conflict (1892)
Volume 1
Volume 2
7. Montcalm and Wolfe (1884)

The year that each book was published is printed and enclosed by
parenthesis after the title of each volume. In some cases, there are two
years in parenthesis. These indicate that a volume with major revisions
was published.

The revised version of Pioneers of France contains new descriptions of
Florida and some changes to the section on Samuel Champlain. Parkman
revised Discovery of the West after obtaining access to Margry's
collection. The revised version of The Old Régime includes three new
chapters regarding La Tour and D'Aunay.

Volume 3 was not only revised, but the title was altered. Parkman first
released Volume 3 as The Discovery of the West. His updated version of
Volume 3 was entitled La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West.

Other Principal Works

• The Oregon Trail (1849)
• The Conspiracy of Pontiac (1851)

Appendix

Transcription notes:

This book was originally transcribed from Volume 20. While making a
batch of corrections, a decision was made to base this etext on Volume 1
for three reasons: 1) Parkman's subsequent revisions were virtually
insignificant; 2) Volume 1, released in 1867, is available at the New
York Public Library through Hathitrust, and thus, can readily be
consulted for future claims of errata, and 3) In the Notes on the Texts
prepared for the The Library of America reprint (1983), David Levin
opined that using Volume 1 for this title was the best choice to
approximate Parkman's own conception of France and England in North
America.

In resolving errors and questions that came up during transcription,
Parkman's Seventh volume of The Jesuits in North America from 1872 was
consulted (from the Library of Congress, available through Hathitrust),
as well as the aforementioned The Library of America edition of this
work. When these notes refer to a mistake in all the volumes, they refer
to Volumes 1, 7, and 20. These volumes were produced during Parkman's
lifetime, and assume that changes met with Parkman's approval.

The 8-bit version of this etext, with accented French characters, is
produced using Windows Code Page 1252. Most of the accented characters
will also display correctly if you view the text using any of the ISO
8859 character sets. However, the "oe" ligature--œ--will only display
correctly if using Windows 1252.

The footnotes have been produced using the LibraryBlog™ standard.
Footnotes follow the paragraph in which they were mentioned. Footnotes
have been set in smaller print and have larger margins than regular
text. Footnotes are numbered sequentially and the numbers are reset
after each change in chapter. There are a total of 548 footnotes in this
book. Please note that we have made no emendations to the content of
footnotes to preserve the antiquated orthography and accentuation of the
contents.

This text generally preserved the italicization of words, phrases, and
the titles of references which are presented in italics in the printed
book. The standard of the book is to use italics when citing Relations,
1650; and not to use them when writing Relations of 1650. There were
some cases that did not observe the standard: they were treated as
errata, and changed. Small capitalization has also been retained--used
primarily for the first word of each chapter.

Detailed notes describe problems or issues in transcribing a specific
portion of the text: the reconciliation of variances between the topics
list in the contents and the topics list preceeding each chapter; other
modifications applied while transcribing the printed book to an e-text;
emendations; and other issues in transcribing the text.

You will see changed text underlined by dotted silver lines. In some
versions (like the HTML version) of this document, you can hover your
cursor over the changed text and see details in a small box. Those
details are repeated, and sometimes elaborated upon, in the Detailed
Notes Section of this Appendix.

Detailed Notes Section:

Contents

• Chapter 5: Capitalize Thwarted and Begun in the topics list.
• Chapter 16: Capitalize Tortured in the topics list.
• Chapter 19: Capitalize Confirmed in the topics list.
• Chapter 26: Capitalize Destroyed in the topics list.

Introduction:

• Page xix, add Indian before "Social and Political Organization" to
match topics list in Table of Contents.
• Page xxxv, in footnote 0-18, the word "come" is printed with a
straight line over the "o," not only in Volume 1, but also in Volume 7.
The Library of America version of the book assumes that the line
resulted from an imperfection in the plates. The assumption is not only
reasonable but practical, and it is adopted here, too.
• Page xlviii, place period after the clause "which they had so promptly
assented" This period was also missing in Volume 7.
• On Page li, Parkman added the qualifier "in most cases" to the clause
"The child belongs to the clan," in the eighth volume of this title. The
new clause is, "The child belongs, in most cases, to the clan,"
• On Page lii, Parkman used the less precise "usually belonging to it"
instead of "inseparable from it" in the eighth volume of this title. The
new sentence reads, "This system of clanship, with the rule of descent
usually belonging to it, was of very wide prevalence."
• On Page lxv, Un doubtedly is not hyphenated and split between two
lines as if two words, not just in Volume 1, but in Volume 7. There
should have been a hyphen after Un-. The clause was transcribed:
"Undoubtedly there was a distinct and definite effort of legislation;"

Chapter 3:

• Changed "Mission-house" to "Mission-House" in topics list beginning
Chapter 3 to match topics list for Chapter 3 in the Contents.
• Page 18: footnote 3-3 does not end the last sentence with a period:
"et sa bonté n'a point de limites" The period was also missing in Volume
7. We did not make an emendation because of Parkman's statement in the
Preface.
• Page 21: add period to end the sentence with the clause "sorcerer, in
the tribe of the Montagnais" The period was added in Volume 7.

Chapter 4:

• Page 24: In footnote 4-1, add beginning quote before Iamais: "Iamais
il ne fut ..."
• Page 26: In footnote 4-2, text is missing a period after ceinture, in
all volumes. This was not changed, as it was in the footnote.
• Page 30-Page 31: Confirmed the spelling of "fumeé" and "fumée;" in
footnote 4-5.
• Page 31: Confirmed the spelling of "mais" in footnote 4-6.
• Page 31: Confirmed the apostrophe in "qu'à" in footnote 4-6.
• Page 33: In footnote 4-8: the correct word is "laisse," but "laiss"
remains unchanged in accordance with Parkman's statement in the preface.
• Page 37: footnote 4-11 in Volume 1 refers back to no page number in
the introduction. Volume 7 & Volume 20 have the page number xliv. We
replaced the blank space for the page number left in volume 1 with the
page number specified in later volumes.

Chapter 6:

• On Page 62, Footnote 6-4 was not marked clearly in the original book
used for transcription. The footnote appeared fine in Volume 1, and is
rendered appropriately.

Chapter 7:

• Page 76, Footnote 7-5 contains the word "Atsatone8ai". The "spelling
is correct." See The Old Regime in Canada for similar usage, such as
"8ta8aks."

Chapter 8:

• Page 85, confirmed the spelling of "i'auoüe" and the phrase "qui ne
cherche que Dieu," which were unclear in footnote 8-1 from the book
originally used for transcription.
• Page 87: small-pox is hyphenated and split between two lines for
spacing. There are two other occurrences of the word, and the hyphen was
used, so the hyphen was retained here, too.

Chapter 9:

• Page 105, Change gain to again in the clause "the offending limb
became sound again." The text was incorrect in Volume 1, and corrected
in Volume 7.

Chapter 12:

• Page 147: By volume 7, Parkman broke this long, compound sentence into
two not-quite-as-long sentences. The colon before "or" was changed to a
period, and Or began the next sentence: "... between him and the home of
his boyhood. Or rather ..."

Chapter 13:

• Page 157: Near the end of the page, precarious is split between two
lines without a hyphen. "All these were supported by a charity in most
cases precari ous." The hyphen was missing, and the word was split for
spacing. We transcribed the word without the hyphen, but omitted the
space. This error was found in all volumes.

Chapter 14:

• Page 171-Page 172: In footnote 14-5, add quotation mark before Enfin.
The leading quotation mark was missing in all volumes.
• Page 175: See the sentence "Like Madame de la Peltrie, she married, at
the desire of her parents. in her eighteenth year." The comma after
parents was either malformed because of the quality of the plates, or
mistyped as a period. We used a comma after parents. In volume 7, the
punctuation mark after parents was visibly a comma.

Chapter 15:

• Changed Bourgeois in topics list of Chapter 15 to Bourgeoys. Not only
does the correction match the spelling in the topics list for Chapter 15
in the contents, but it matches the spelling of Marguerite Bourgeoys in
seven other instances of Chapter XV. In no other instance in this book
was her name spelled differently.
• Page 195--Confirmed that year in footnote 15-8 is 1659.

Chapter 16:

• Page 237: By volume 7, the narrative describing the return of Jogues
says "He reached the church in time for the early mass..." instead of
the evening mass.

Chapter 18:

• Page 263: poorly printed word in footnote, appears to be "de."
Footnote 18-3 has two uses of de in italics, and both appear clearly in
Volume 1. We believe this issue is resolved.

Chapter 19:

• Page 281: fixed typo ("die", should be "dine"). Volume 7 also has the
phrase "We must die before we run." This typo does not fall under
Parkman's caveat in the Preface, and could confuse if preserved.
Therefore, the spelling was corrected.
• Page 281: Add missing comma after effect in the clause "and fired with
such good effect, that, of seven warriors, all but one were killed."
This comma was added by Volume 7.

Chapter 22:

• In Volume 1, Parkman cited page 166 in Hutchinson, Collection of
Papers in Footnote 22-18, but changed the page number to 240 in later
volumes.
• Page 333: fixed typo ("Govornor"), spelled incorrectly in all volumes.

Chapter 25:

• Page 364: footnote 25-10, add missing close-quotes after cœur.
• Page 368: In footnote 25-18, add comma after Algonquin. There is a
space reserved for the comma but it didn't appear in the text: "Besides
these tribes, the Jesuits had become more or less acquainted with many
others, also Algonquin on the west and south of Lake Huron;" The comma
was missing in all volumes.
• Page 371: A colon appears at the end of the page, after "at least in
the flesh:"
• Page 372: In footnote 25-20, après is correctly spelled with a grave
accent, but the text had an acute accent, and this was preserved in
accordance with Parkman's statement in the preface.
• In footnote 25-20, verified the colon (":") after "dit-il" in the
final paragraph. In three quotations that follow, we changed the double
quotes to single quotes, because they were quotations embedded within a
quotation.

Chapter 28:

• Changed "unconquerable" to "Unconquerable" in topics list beginning
Chapter XXVIII to match topics list for Chapter 28 in the Contents.

Chapter 29:

• Page 397, footnote 29-4, add missing close-quotes after cœur. Parkman
put the quotes around the extract from the letter, but just omitted the
closing quote after cœur. This mistake does not come under the caveat of
Parkman stated in the Preface, so we made the change. This error can be
found in all volumes.
• Page 401, footnote 29-10, add comma after Ragueneau in reference
"Ragueneau Relation des Hurons, 1650." This comma is missing in all
volumes.

Chapter 30:

• Page 407: "mâitre" (which should be maître) is preserved with the
wrong character circumflexed in the second paragraph of footnote 30-4,
for reasons described in Parkman's Preface.

Chapter 31:

• Page 412: "neges" in footnote 31-2 should be "neiges," but it is part
of quoted text from the Relations, so the spelling has been preserved.
• Page 418-Page 419: war-party is split between the pages, and
hyphenated, so the transcription can only be war-party or warparty. We
chose the former.

Chapter 32:

• Page 426: By volume 7, Parkman described neighboring Point St. Ignace,
"now Graham's Point, on the north side of the strait."

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "France and England in North America, Part II: The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century" ***

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