CHAPTER VIII

THE COMING OF FRONTENAC

While the wise and prudent Intendant, Talon, was playing his part of official father to the people, Governor Courcelle was busy with his own duties at Quebec. He found that the Iroquois, although they had buried the war-hatchet, had begun to injure Canada's interests in another way by inducing the Northern and Western Indians to trade with the English colonies. Courcelle made up his mind that the proper policy for the French was to secure a stronger hold on the more distant tribes. A fort and military station was built at a spot on the north shore of Lake Ontario where Kingston now stands. Expeditions were despatched to open up communication with the great and unknown territory west and south of the great lakes. Such was the beginning of a great era of discovery, associated in Canadian history with the name of Frontenac, Courcelle's successor, whose name in Canadian history stands second only to Champlain. It was during Courcelle's governorship, in 1669, that Charles the Second of England granted a charter to the Hudson's Bay Company, who thereby acquired the right to trade for furs in the mighty region bordering upon {104} Hudson's Bay. But although England thus planted her foot in the far regions of the north, it was to a couple of intrepid French Canadian bushrangers that the idea of the Company was due. The names of these bushrangers were Pierre Esprit Radisson and Chouart de Groseilliers, both emigrants from France. At an early age they had been thrilled by the tales of life and adventure in the distant wilderness across the sea. They were hardy and enterprising, well fitted for the arduous life-work which was before them. From a western tribe of Indians called the Assiniboines, Radisson and Groseilliers first heard of the character and extent of the great inland sea to the north, which had long before been named by the English marine explorers Hudson's Bay. Not only did they glean a description of the inland sea, but they also succeeded, while on their wanderings, in obtaining information how they might reach it, not as the English might do by sea, but overland.

In August 1660 the two adventurers found their way back to Montreal after over a year's absence. They were accompanied by 300 Indians and 60 canoes, laden with furs, out of which they made a handsome profit. But they had to reckon with the jealous fur-trading proprietors of Quebec, who sought to restrict them from adventuring into any new fields, and so many obstacles did the pair meet with, that in order to carry out their scheme and establish trading posts on Hudson's Bay they gave up their overland scheme and decided to throw in their lot with the English. They crossed over the ocean and had an interview with King Charles's cousin, the gallant {105} Prince Rupert, and the result was all their hearts could wish for. Money for the enterprise was found, and an English association founded under charter from the King, which took the title of the Merchants and Adventurers of England trading into Hudson's Bay, but better known to us as the Hudson's Bay Company.

On a June morning 1668 the _Nonsuch_, a ketch of only fifty tons' burden, left the Thames for Hudson's Bay. At the end of September it passed safely through Hudson's Straits, and all hands were ordered ashore in Rupert's River to begin the construction of a fort and dwellings, called after King Charles. It was made of logs, in the fashion of those made by the Jesuits and traders in Canada. As some protection from sudden attack it was enclosed by a stockade.

This, at Rupert's River, was the first of the forts and stations of the Hudson's Bay Company. After a time other forts and "factories," as they were called, began to dot the shores of the bay.

Radisson and Groseilliers did not continue very constant in their allegiance; sometimes they were English, sometimes they were French. They were rough-and-ready adventurers both; and it all depended whose purse was largest to command their services. Radisson, however, ended his days in the receipt of a pension from the Hudson's Bay Company.

Naturally, the French were not at all pleased at this enterprise which the English had set on foot, and soon began to take measures to get the {106} fur trade of the most distant parts into their own hands.

Governor Courcelle despatched an explorer, a brave fellow named Nicholas Perrot, to summon deputies from the far western tribes to a conference, and take them all under the protection of King Louis. It was while on this expedition that Perrot heard from the Indians of a mighty river flowing southwards, which they spoke of as the Mississippi, or Father of Waters. The rumour caused great interest in Canada. It was not long, as we shall see, before another expedition started from Quebec to ascertain what truth lay in the story. But that was in Frontenac's time.

Louis de Buade, Count of Frontenac, was a grandson of one of the knightly paladins who had fought with Henry the Fourth in the wars of the League. He was a very shrewd, courageous, and ambitious man. He entered upon the government of Canada, as he entered upon everything he undertook in his life, with great enthusiasm. In almost his first letter home he wrote: "I have never seen anything so fair or so grand as the site of Quebec. That city could not have been better placed had it been purposely founded as the expected capital of a great Empire." Soon after lie arrived, Talon retired from his post of Intendant, fearing a conflict with the indomitable spirit of the new Governor. For Frontenac, with all his excellent qualities, could endure no opposition. He chafed at any criticism of his authority. And opposition and criticism were to be his lot for years. He soon became engaged in {107} bitter disputes with the officials of the colony, with Bishop Laval, who was as stern and unbending as himself, with the new Intendant, Duchesneau, and with the Governor of Montreal. Frontenac disliked the Jesuits; he was constantly seeking to curb their influence. This unhappy three-cornered conflict lasted all through Frontenac's first governorship of ten years. He became more and more despotic, banishing members of the Council who offended him, and finally sending Governor Perrot of Montreal, as well as a hostile priest named Fenelon, back to France, where the former was imprisoned in the Bastille.

He had many enemies, but Frontenac had also many friends. These idolised him, and to one, the brilliant and adventurous La Salle, he stood firm as a rock. We have seen how Frontenac's predecessor, Courcelle, had planned a fort on Lake Ontario. This plan Frontenac warmly approved, and believing the post ought to be a strong one, he sent 400 men to construct the works and to serve as garrison. He also established another fort at Niagara. The project of discovering the vast stream which the Indians called the Mississippi also greatly interested the Governor, and a strong and able priest, Father Marquette, and a fur-trading explorer named Jolliet left the St. Lawrence in its quest. Frontenac, La Salle, and the others still cherished in their hearts a vision of a short route to China. At that time no one knew how far away the Pacific Ocean lay--no one dreamt that thousands of miles of mountain range and prairie separated Quebec and New York from its shores. Marquette and Jolliet, with a few {108} followers, pushed on to the north-west of Lake Michigan. After much paddling and many portages their canoes brought them at last into the swelling flood of the greatest river in the world. What emotions they felt! In wonder and triumph they descended the Mississippi, and during the month which followed, passed the mouths of three other great rivers, the Illinois, the Missouri, and the Ohio. They had many talks with friendly Indians on the banks; they saw much beautiful scenery and many strange sights. At last they drew near to the mouth of the river of Arkansas, where savages who had never so much as looked on the face of a white man were not so friendly. Jolliet and his companion deemed that they had gone far enough. By this time they had made up their minds that the great river emptied not into the Pacific ocean but into the Gulf of Mexico. Reluctantly they turned back, and not till the following summer did the two explorers reach Canada again. All through this memorable journey Jolliet had noted down in a book a description of all that had attracted his attention, besides sketching carefully a map of the course. This book he guarded jealously, intending it for the eyes of the Governor, of King Louis, and the people of France. Alas, just as he had run Lachine rapids and was in sight of home, his canoe capsized and the precious volume floated away on the rushing waters! It was a cruel disappointment for Jolliet. Frontenac received him graciously, heard his story, and reported what he had heard to his royal master. As for Jolliet's companion, Father Marquette was wholly worn out by {109} his exertions. Less than two years later he lay down and died by a little river pouring into Lake Michigan, baffled in his dream of converting whole tribes of Indians in what was then the Far West. Neither he nor the Canadian-born Jolliet have been forgotten in this region. To many towns and counties have their names been given, and their statues in bronze and marble are to be seen in several places in America to-day.

Jolliet and Marquette had begun the work; it now remained for another strong, ardent, adventurous spirit to continue it. Such a one was close at hand in the person of Réné Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle. As a young man he had come to Canada from his native city of Rouen, filled with the most romantic ideas of winning fame and wealth in the wilderness. To learn the Indian language and ways he had left the towns and led the roving life of a bushranger, making long, lonely canoe journeys and dwelling in the Indian wigwams. He, too, had heard of the Father of Waters, the vast Mississippi, and tried to reach it, but, as we have seen, Jolliet was there before him. But La Salle did not accept Jolliet's conclusions. He refused to believe that the Mississippi emptied into the Gulf of Mexico--he thought it led to the Pacific. He was full of faith in the existence of a short route to China. When any one met him on his return from an expedition, however short, they would jokingly ask him, "Venez vous de la Chine?" ("Do you come from China?") La Salle had bought an estate not far from Montreal, and this estate came at last to be called in derision {110} La Chine, and Lachine it is called to this hour. But La Salle was not the kind of man to be discouraged. He was determined to settle the matter one way or another, and into his plans Frontenac entered heartily. But for some years other work claimed La Salle's attention--work of a pioneering sort. He believed that before the French could lay strong hands on the west, where the English had already begun to penetrate, forts and stations ought to be built and a firm alliance made with the Indians. With Frontenac's approval, he assumed control of Fort Cataracoui, on Lake Ontario. Once in his hands, La Salle tore it down, built a stronger one of stone, and rechristened it in honour of his patron, Fort Frontenac. Moving westward, he began to clear land and to build small ships to carry the cargoes of furs he had bargained for. The first he built on Lake Erie in the year 1679 he called the _Griffin_, in which he sailed to the Green Bay Mission on Lake Michigan. There the _Griffin_ was packed with costly furs and bade God-speed on her return voyage eastward. Weeks passed, then months and years, but the _Griffin_ never came back. Her timbers and the bodies of her crew have long rotted somewhere at the bottom of one of the Great Lakes. The loss was a sad blow to La Salle; it was one of the first of that series of great misfortunes which followed him through his career until he was cruelly done to death by foul traitors in the remote forest.

But by this time La Salle was not alone in his wanderings. In Henry de Tonti he had a fiery and trusty lieutenant, and a devoted follower in a Recollet {111} friar, Father Hennepin. Before coming to Canada, Tonti had lost a hand in battle, its place being supplied by one of steel, covered by a glove. The Indians stood amazed at the blows Tonti could deal with his mysterious gloved hand, blows which would have shattered their own members to fragments. Tonti often had reason to bless his hand of steel. Three years after the ill-fated _Griffin_ went down, La Salle saw his way clear to carry out his great purpose. He embarked on the waters of the Mississippi on a voyage to its source. The explorer, with Tonti and his party, met with a friendly reception from most of the Indians on their journey. Some were disposed to be hostile, and when this happened to be the case, strong, quick paddling soon put the French out of their reach. Finally, on the 19th of March, as the sun shone hot and trees and flowers were in bloom, their canoes entered the mouth of the Father of Waters, which is divided into three channels. La Salle, in his canoe, entered one, Tonti the second, and Captain d'Autray the third. All disembarked, and on some high, dry ground La Salle caused a column to be raised, and upon it this inscription was placed:

LOUIS THE GREAT, King of France and of Navarre, reigns. The ninth of April 1682.

La Salle took possession of the country for the King, and bestowed upon it the name, in his honour, of {112} Louisiana. It took the explorers a full year to get back to Quebec, for the current was strong and the difficulties many. There he received a warm reception. But nothing could console him. Much to his sorrow and dismay, he found a new Governor installed. The enemies of Frontenac, headed by Laval, had triumphed, and the greatest and strongest man in Canada had been recalled by the King. Never could this measure have happened at a worse time. For, while La Salle had been absent, after years of peace, the restless Iroquois had dug up the war-hatchet. Upon a pretext of having received offence from the Illinois tribe, which was under French protection, they threatened to deluge the land in blood. To this policy they had been urged by the English Governor of New York, Colonel Dongan, who saw with alarm the growing enterprise, both in fur trade and exploration of the French. While he continued in Canada the doughty Frontenac was more than a match for the Iroquois chiefs. He sent for them instantly to Fort Frontenac, saying that if they had been wronged by the Illinois he would see that they had proper satisfaction. The Iroquois, having the English Governor at their back, at first returned a defiant answer. "If you want to see us, friend Onontio," they said, "you must come to our lodges." With flashing eyes and with knitted brows, Frontenac sent back the messenger to the Iroquois commanding them to keep their hands off his Indians or take all consequences. He had, he said, asked them to come and meet him at Fort Frontenac. Now he added, if the Iroquois wished {113} to see him, they would have to come to Montreal. His sternness and the fear of his displeasure overcame the braves of the Five Nations. Changing their tone, they sent an embassy to Montreal, promising the peace which they hated. Scarcely had they done so than Frontenac the Lion was replaced by La Barre, the Lamb.

Like every one else, La Salle, on learning the evil news, saw the folly and danger of the change. To France straightway he sailed, where the King heaped him with honours, and, seizing the opportunity, he unfolded a project for establishing a French colony in Louisiana. Ships were freely given him and many soldiers and supplies to reach the Gulf of Mexico by sea. But La Salle, though he never would admit the fact, was no sailor. His navigation was fatally at fault; he wholly missed his intended destination, the mouth of the Mississippi, sailing hundreds of miles beyond. He landed, and through the forests and swamps, and stricken with fever, he led his colonists. After much miserable wandering, in which most of the little army perished, his followers mutinied. La Salle was murdered and his corpse flung to the jackals and vultures.

Far more successful were the adventures of the Chevalier de Troyes. The Chevalier de Troyes was a Canadian nobleman who had long fought for his king, and had seen service on many of the bloody battlefields in Europe. Now, when age began to creep upon him, and scars lined his cheek and brow, he had retired to his estate on the banks of the silvery St. Lawrence, to spend the rest of his days {114} in peace and the companionship of his books. In his retirement the news of the increasing power and wealth of the Hudson's Bay Company reached him; it told him that unless this power was checked the prosperity of the French fur-hunters and fur-traders would be utterly crushed. An idea flashed across the brain of the Chevalier de Troyes, who believed he now saw an opportunity of winning enduring distinction, to rival, and may be surpass, the exploits of Champlain, La Salle, and the other hero-pioneers of New France.

In the depths of winter he summoned all his dependants and all whom his eloquence could attract, locked up his library, and set out for Quebec on snow-shoes. From the Governor he procured, on Christmas Eve 1685, official permission to steal upon the English and drive them, at the point of the sword, from the shores of Hudson's Bay. He was empowered to "search for, seize, and occupy the most advantageous posts, to seize the robbers, bushrangers, and others whom we know to have taken and arrested several of our French engaged in the Indian trade, whom we order him to arrest, especially Radisson and his adherents, wherever they may be found, and bring them to be punished as deserters, according to the rigour of the ordinances." The rigour of the ordinances was but another word for death.

Fourscore Canadians were selected to make up the expedition against the Hudson's Bay Company's posts by the Chevalier de Troyes. For his lieutenants the leader chose the three sons of a nobleman of New {115} France named Charles le Moine. One, the eldest, a young man of only twenty-five, was to bear an enduring distinction in the annals of France as one of her most able and intrepid naval commanders. This was the Sieur d'Iberville. His brothers, taking their names, as he had done, from places in their native land, were called the Sieurs de Sainte-Hélène and de Marincourt. Thirty soldiers were directly attached to the Chevalier's command, veterans who had, almost to a man, seen service in one or other of the great European wars. That they might not be without the ministrations of religion, Father Sylvie, a Jesuit priest, accompanied the expedition.

"The rivers," writes a chronicler of the Troyes expedition, "were frozen and the earth covered with snow when that small party of vigorous men left Montreal in order to ascend the Ottawa River as far as the height of land, and thence to go down to James's Bay." At the beginning of April they arrived at the Long Sault, where they prepared some canoes in order to ascend the Ottawa River. From Lake Temiscamingue they passed many portages until they reached Lake Abbitibi, at the entrance or most southern extremity of which they built a small fort of stockades. After a short halt they continued their course onward to James's Bay.

First doomed to conquest by Troyes and his companions was Moose Factory, a stockade fort with four bastions. In the centre stood a house 40 feet square and as many high, terminating in a platform. This fort was escaladed by the French late at night, and of {116} the palisades short work was made by the hatchets of the bushrangers.

Not a man amongst the garrison appears to have attempted a decent defence save the chief gunner, whose skull was split into fragments by Iberville, and who thus perished bravely at his post of duty. A cry for quarter went up, and the English were made prisoners on the spot. They were sixteen in number, and as the attack was made at night, they were in a state of almost complete undress. Troyes found in the fort twelve cannon, chiefly six and eight pounders, three thousand pounds of powder, and ten pounds of lead.

It is worth telling that this conquest was made with an amount of pomp and ceremony calculated to strike the deepest awe into the hearts of the fifteen unhappy traders, who knew nothing of fighting, nor had bargained for anything so perilous. For so small a victory it was both preceded and followed by almost as much circumstance as would have sufficed for the Grand Monarque himself in one of his theatrical sieges. The Chevalier announced in a loud voice that he took possession of the fort and island "in the name of his Most Christian Majesty the Most High, Most Mighty, Most Redoubtable Monarch Louis XIV. of the Most Christian names, King of France and Navarre." According to romantic custom, a sod of earth was thrice raised in the air, whilst a cry of "Vive le Roi" rang out over those waters wherein, deep down, lay the bodies of Henry Hudson and his brave followers.

Flushed with his triumph, the Chevalier de Troyes {117} next bethought him of an attack on either Fort Rupert or Fort Albany. He did not long hesitate. News came that a boat containing provisions had left Moose Factory on the previous day bound for Rupert's River. Iberville was therefore sent with nine men and two bark canoes to attack a sloop belonging to the Company, then lying at anchor at the mouth of the latter river. Fourteen souls were aboard, including the Governor. To accomplish this feat it was necessary to travel forty leagues along the sea-coast. The road was extremely difficult, and in places almost impassable. A small boat was built to carry a couple of small camion. When he had arranged all his plans, Troyes left for Fort Rupert.

Ste. Hélène was sent on in advance to reconnoitre the English fort. He returned with the information that it was a square structure, flanked by four bastions, but that all was in a state of confusion owing to repairs and additions then being made. The cannon had not yet been placed, being temporarily accommodated outside on the slope of a redoubt.

Ere the attack, which could only have one issue, was made by the land forces, Iberville had boarded the Company's sloop, surprised captain and crew, and made all, including Governor Bridgar, prisoners. Four of the English were killed.

On the heels of this exploit, Iberville came ashore, rejoined his superior, and overpowered the almost defenceless garrison of Fort Rupert.

The French forces now united, and Ste. Hélène having been as successful as his brother in securing the second of the Company's ships, all embarked and {118} sailed for the remaining post of the Company in that part of the Bay.

Neither Troyes nor Iberville knew its precise situation; but a little reconnoitring soon discovered it. Fort Albany was built in a sheltered inlet forty yards from the borders of the Bay. Two miles to the north-east was an estrapade, on the summit of which was placed a seat for a sentinel to sight the ships expected from England, and to signal them if all was well. But on this morning, unhappily, no sentinel was there to greet with a waving flag the Company's captured ship, on the deck of which young Iberville held vigilant and expectant watch.

Two Indians, however, brought Governor Sargeant tidings of the approach of the enemy, and his previous successes at Moose and Rupert rivers. The Governor immediately resolved upon making a bold stand; all was instantly got in readiness to sustain a siege, and the men were encouraged to behave with fortitude. Two hours later the booming of cannon was heard, and soon afterwards a couple of skirmishers were sighted at a distance. Despite the Governor's example, the servants at the fort were thrown into the greatest confusion. Two of their number were deputed by the rest to inform the Governor that they were by no means disposed to sacrifice their lives without provision being made for themselves and families in case of a serious issue. They were prevailed upon by the Governor to return to their posts, and a bounty was promised them. Bombardment by the French soon afterwards began, and lasted for two {119} days, occasionally replied to by the English. But it was not until the evening of the second day that the first fatality occurred, when one of the servants was killed, and this brought about a mutiny. Elias Turner, the chief gunner, declared to his comrades that it was impossible for the Governor to hold the place, and that, for his part, he was ready to throw himself on the clemency of the French. Sargeant, overhearing this declaration, drew his pistol and threatened to blow out the gunner's brains if he did not return to his post, and the man slunk back to his duty. The French now profited by the darkness to bring their cannon through the wood closer to the fort; and by daybreak a series of heavy balls struck the bastions, causing a breach. Bridgar and Captain Outlaw, then at Fort Albany, were convinced that the enemy was undermining the powder magazine, in which case they would certainly all be blown to pieces.

From the ship the French had thrown up a battery, which was separated from the moat surrounding the fort by less than a musket-shot. None ventured to show himself above ground at a moment of such peril. A shell exploded at the head of the stairway and wounded the cook. The cries of the French could now be distinctly heard outside the fort--"Vive le Roi, Vive le Roi." In their fright and despair the English echoed the cry "Vive le Roi," thinking thereby to propitiate their aggressors. But the latter mistook the cry for one of defiance, as a token of loyalty to an altogether different monarch, and the bullets whistled faster and thicker. Sargeant {120} desired to lower the flag floating above his own dwelling, but there was none to undertake so hazardous a task. Finally, Dixon, the under-factor, offered to show himself and placate the French. He first thrust a white cloth from a window and waved a lighted torch before it. He then called in a loud voice, and the firing instantly ceased. The under-factor came forth, fully dressed, bearing two huge flagons of port wine. Walking beyond the parapets, he encountered both Troyes and Iberville, and by the light of a full moon the little party of French officers and the solitary Englishman sat down on the mounted cannon, or on the ground beside it, broached the two flagons and drank the health of the two kings, their masters.

"And now, gentlemen," said Dixon, "what is it you want?"

"Possession of your fort in the name of his Most Christian Majesty, King Louis the Fourteenth."

Dixon, explaining that he was not master there, offered to conduct this message to his chief, and in a very short time the French commanders were seated comfortably within the house of the Governor. The demand was here repeated, it being added that great offence had been given by the action of the English in taking captive three French traders, the previous autumn, and keeping them prisoners on ground owned and ruled by the King of France. For this compensation was demanded, and Sargeant was desired at once to surrender the fort. The Governor was surprised at such extreme measures, for which he was totally unprepared, but was willing {121} to surrender upon terms of capitulation. On the following morning these were arranged.

It was agreed that Sargeant should continue to keep all his personal effects; and further, that his deputy, Dixon, three domestics, and his servant should accompany him out of the fort. It was also agreed that Troyes should send the clerks and servants of the Company to a neighbouring island, there to await the arrival of the Company's ships from England. In case of their non-arrival within a reasonable time, Troyes promised to assist them to such vessel as he could procure for the purpose. The Frenchmen also gave Sargeant the provisions necessary to keep him and his companions from starvation. All quitted the fort without arms, save Sargeant and his son, whose swords and pistols hung at their sides. The Governor and his suite were provided with passage to Hays Island, where he afterwards made his escape to Port Nelson. The others were distributed between Forts Moose and Albany, and were treated by their captors with considerable severity and hardship.

Having attended to the disposition of his prisoners and their property, Troyes, accompanied by Iberville, departed on 10th August for Montreal. The gallant Chevalier and his associates would have been glad to have pursued their successes by crossing the Bay and capturing York Factory. But although two ships belonging to the Company had fallen to their lot, yet they could find none competent to command them. The distance between Albany and Port Nelson was by water 250 leagues, and the road overland was {122} as yet unknown to the French. But it was not their purpose that it should long remain so. In a letter to his official superior at Quebec, Troyes, who wanted to plant the fleur-de-lys over the whole bay, boasted that the next year would not pass without his becoming acquainted with it.

Wherefore Troyes suffered himself to be prevailed upon by Iberville and be content with the victories already won. They carried with them in their journey more than 50,000 beaver skins as a trophy of their arms. Many of the Hudson's Bay Company's servants were employed in bearing the spoils. During the dreary march several of these unhappy captives were killed through the connivance of the French with the Indians; and the survivors reached Quebec in a dreadfully emaciated and halt condition.

You may believe that the victories of the Chevalier were blazoned to the skies. He was hailed in Montreal, Three Rivers, and Quebec as equal to any of the heroes of olden times, and his return was celebrated with great pomp. As to his future, the career of the Chevalier de Troyes ended abruptly and tragically in 1687, when he and all his men, to the number of ninety, were massacred by the Indians at Niagara.

Governor la Barre, as you have heard, was an altogether different sort of man from Count Frontenac. The Iroquois tribes, especially the Senecas, who had now become the strongest nation, noticed the difference at once when they resumed negotiations. Instead of the dignity of command, La Barre wheedled their deputies, sending them away from {123} Montreal loaded with presents. Soon afterwards, when he despatched a trading expedition to the Illinois region, the Senecas stopped it in its course, overhauled the canoes, and confiscated all the valuable goods with which La Barre (with an eye to great private profits) had packed them. Such a high-handed proceeding touched the Governor in a very sore place--his pocket. He became very wroth with the rascally Senecas, and swore to punish them for their knavery and presumption. A force of 900 men being raised, La Barre himself led them to the land of the Senecas on the south side of Lake Ontario. But so badly laid and badly carried out were his plans that, having got as far as the spot, since called the Bay of Famine, Governor la Barre called a halt and there encamped. Each day saw some of the soldiers stricken down by death and disease. The prospect was so gloomy that finally La Barre thought it best to come to terms with the enemy, and he therefore patched up an inglorious peace.

The name of the Seneca deputy at the peace conference was La Grande Gueule, or Big Jaw, so called from his gift of sustained eloquence. Big Jaw openly boasted that the Iroquois had not the slightest intention of sparing the Illinois tribe, whether the French liked it or not. Frontenac would have smitten the fellow down where he stood, but La Barre was obliged to pocket this affront, and the next day the remnant of his troops, full of anger and indignation, marched away.

Such a peace could not, of course, long endure. {124} The Iroquois torch had been kindled, an evil wind was blowing, and it would take more than La Barre's feeble efforts to extinguish it. Tardy in war and too eager for peace had the Governor shown himself, and when he returned to Quebec found, to his mortification, that the King, his master, had superseded him. His instant return to France was ordered, the Marquis de Denonville being appointed in his stead. Little pains did His Majesty take to conceal his dissatisfaction with the treaty, or his anger at the abandonment of the Illinois.

The new Governor very quickly found that the English colonists were intriguing with the Iroquois, upholding and encouraging them in acts of hostility against the French. War, and war in earnest, had to come, and when 800 fresh soldiers arrived from France, Denonville began to prepare for it. In this he had the loyal support of the brave and wise man who also came out as the new Governor of Montreal, De Callières. Unluckily, Denonville began with an act of treachery. It was a strange deed for a soldier and a Christian. A number of Iroquois chiefs were enticed to Fort Frontenac, where they were seized, and, after being flung into prison, were sent to France to work all the rest of their days in the galleys. What a fate for such haughty braves, who never worked, but left all labour to their poor squaws! What wonder the revenge of the Iroquois was terrible!

Creeping along the St. Lawrence with his army, Denonville crossed Lake Ontario, built a new fort, and leaving 400 men to guard it, marched towards {125} the Seneca lodges. In the middle of July 1687 a hot battle took place with 800 Senecas, in which, after losing six men killed and twenty wounded, the French drove the foe into the forest. Four hundred thousand bushels of Indian corn (maize) and several herds of swine were found and destroyed. In the meantime, however, while the Senecas were being punished, the danger to Montreal and the other towns was imminent, owing to their being without strong military protection. To defend Chambly 120 bushrangers were armed, and on the island of Montreal, Callières built twenty small forts for the inhabitants to take refuge in, should the Iroquois descend upon them in force. For by this time, as you can imagine, the whole of the Five Nations were blazing with rage, as if they had been so many bloodthirsty wolves. Even in their rage they were cunning. They had no intention of attacking Canada in force; that was not their method of warfare. Crossing the border silently in batches, each singled out his prey, some sleeping village, or mayhap an unsuspecting farm. Next day a few mangled corpses here, a heap of smoking ruins there, told the terrible tale of the Iroquois raid.

After a time the wiser heads amongst the Five Nations began to consider whether a conquest over the French would not make the Colonial English (whom they called _Ang'ais_ or Yankees) too powerful. Suddenly they openly professed a desire for peace. A deputation was sent to Canada to say that, strong as the Iroquois knew themselves to be, they did not mean to press for all the advantages they had the {126} right and power to demand. "We know," they said, "how weak you are. We can at any time burn the houses of your people, pillage your stores, waste your crops, and raze your forts." To this boasting Denonville replied that Colonel Dongan of New York claimed the Iroquois as English subjects. "If you are English subjects, then you must be at peace with us, for France and England are not now at war." "Onontio," exclaimed the chief of the Envoys, "the Five Nations are independent! We can be friends to one or both, or enemies to one or both. Never have we been conquered by either of you."

In the end a truce was proclaimed, but truce or no truce, a great many skirmishes and massacres still went on, on both sides. All they could do to prevent a peace being signed, the Hurons of Michilimackinac, allies of the French, did. To them peace meant utter ruin; their numbers were too few, and they well knew Denonville could not protect them from the fury of the Iroquois. Amongst the Hurons was a tall chief famous for his prowess in war and his gift of eloquence. He was, according to those who knew him, the bravest and most intelligent chief on the whole Continent. Kondiaronk, or "The Rat," was mortally offended that the French should have made even a truce without so much as consulting the wishes of their native allies. To take his revenge on Denonville, he resolved to make peace impossible. When the Iroquois envoys were on their way to Montreal to sign the treaty, "The Rat" lay in ambush with a band of his trusty Hurons. He surprised and made them all his prisoners, slaying {127} one. When they angrily explained that they were peaceful envoys, the crafty Kondiaronk professed to be greatly surprised, because, said he, "the French Governor himself sent me here on purpose to waylay you. But if, as I believe, what you say is true, behold, I set you at liberty! May the gods curse Onontio for having committed such an act of treachery!" Thus saying, he loaded the deputies with gifts and bade all but one go free. After which Kondiaronk, glorying in his perfidy, hastened to Michilimackinac, shaking his fist in triumph and crying, "I have killed the peace!" He spoke then the truth. The Iroquois prisoner he took with him, under the pretence of adopting him in place of one of his Hurons slain by the deputies on being attacked, was handed over to the French Commander of Michilimackinac as a spy. In vain the victim protested that he was an envoy of peace between the Five Nations and the French. In vain did he try to explain the circumstances of his capture. Kondiaronk laughed in his face, telling the French Commander he must have taken leave of his wits, and the unhappy wretch was led to the stake. An Iroquois captive was released by Kondiaronk and bidden to return to his tribe with this message, that while the French were making a show of wishing peace, they were secretly slaying and capturing the men of the Five Nations.

Months passed while the Iroquois brooded on vengeance. Denonville's protestations were received in contemptuous silence. There was now nothing to prevent formal war, for France and England had recommenced hostilities. King James the Second had {128} fled from his throne and palace to France. William of Orange, the mortal enemy of King Louis, reigned in his stead. A new English Governor, Andros, was sent out to New York to foment the deadly feud between the Iroquois and the Canadians.

In the month of August 1689 burst at last the storm of the Iroquois' hatred and revenge. One night, during a heavy shower of hail, 1500 dusky warriors crossed Lake St. Louis, landing silently and stealthily on the beautiful island of Montreal, the "Garden of Canada." By daybreak they had grouped themselves in platoons, one platoon around every large dwelling for several leagues along the road at Lachine almost to the gates of Montreal. The inhabitants of Lachine were wrapped in sweet slumber, soon and ruthlessly to be exchanged for that other slumber which knows no mortal awakening.

Let us conjure up the terrible picture. At each door, in war-paint and feathers, stands a group of savages with upraised hatchets and huge mallets. The signal is given; it is the dread Indian war-whoop; the next moment doors and windows are driven inwards. Sleeping men, women, and children are dragged from their beds. In vain they struggle in the hands of their butchers, in vain they appeal to those who know no pity. They might as well appeal to wild beasts. A few houses resist their attacks; when these are fired 200 unhappy beings, the hope and pride of the colony, are burnt alive. Agonising shrieks rend the air. The knife, the torch, and the tomahawk spare none, not even {129} the little children. Those who do not now die under their tortures are led away to nameless cruelties, which will furnish rare sport to the lodges of the Five Nations.

Such was the awful massacre of Lachine; such the vengeance of the Iroquois. So swift and sudden had been the blow that the citizens of Montreal were paralysed. All that dreadful day the savages moved on, and for many days afterwards, and none came to arrest their course. Governor Denonville, to whose policy the calamity was due, seems entirely to have lost his nerve. A few miles from Lachine a body of 200 troops, led by a brave officer named Subercase, asked to be led against the murderers of their countrymen. But Denonville, in a panic, ordered Subercase to take refuge in Fort Roland. All were forbidden to stir. Another body of men, commanded by one Larobeyre, attempting to reach Fort Roland, were set upon and cut to pieces. More than half the prisoners were burnt by their conquerors. Larobeyre, wounded and unable to flee, was led captive to the Iroquois wigwams and roasted alive at a slow fire. The bloodthirsty tribes remained by the St. Lawrence as long as they pleased; their ravages of the countryside continued for many weeks. Not until October did the last of them disappear. A small party sent by Denonville to make sure that they had really gone, came upon a canoe bearing twenty-two departing Iroquois paddling across the Lake of the Two Mountains. The chance was not one to be foregone. Too long held in check, the Canadians drew near the savages, {130} who fired upon them without damage. Then with a fierce joy the white men singled out each his man, raised their muskets, and when the explosion came eighteen Iroquois toppled over into the lake. But considering the hundreds of Canadians who had been massacred, this was a paltry retribution indeed.

What wonder now that the men and women of Canada longed for the strong right arm and sagacious brain of Frontenac! Is it any marvel that they rejoiced to hear that, menaced with the loss of his North-American dominions, King Louis had entrusted the gallant, fiery old soldier once more with the government of New France. Frontenac's return was hailed by all, nobles, soldiers, merchants, artisans, farmers, even by the Jesuits, who five years before had striven to send him away. He was escorted to the fort with a multitude of torch-bearers. Well he knew what a great task awaited him. He had now to battle not only with the Iroquois, but with the Anglo-American colonies, the Yankees, as they were called by the Indians, just as his master, King Louis, had to combat five powers at once--England, Germany, Holland, Spain, and Savoy.

Was Frontenac equal to the task? Was the strain now to be placed on his shoulders too great for the powers of a hero seventy-two years of age? That question let the next chapter answer.

{131}