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CHAMPLAIN IN ACADIA[1]

The early settlements of the French in America were divided into two zones by the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Considered from the standpoint of colonization, this great body of water has a double aspect. In the main it was a vestibule to the vast region which extended westward from Gaspé to Lake Michigan and thence to the Mississippi. But while a highway it was also a barrier, cutting off Acadia from the main route that led to the heart of the interior. Port Royal, on the Bay of Fundy, was one centre and Quebec another. Between them stretched either an impenetrable wilderness or an inland sea. Hence Acadia remained separate from the Laurentian valley, which was the heart of Canada—although Acadia and Canada combined to form New France. Of these two sister districts Canada was the more secure. The fate of Acadia shows how much less vulnerable to English attack were Quebec, Three Rivers, and Montreal than the seaboard settlements of Port Royal, Grand Pré, and Louisbourg.

It is a striking fact that Champlain had helped to found Port Royal before he founded Quebec. He was not the pioneer of Acadian colonization: De Monts deserves the praise of turning the first sod. But Champlain was a leading figure in the hard fight at St. Croix and Port Royal; he it was who first charted in any detail the Atlantic seaboard from Cape Breton to Cape Cod; and his narrative joins with that of Lescarbot to preserve the story of the episode.

Although unprosperous, the first attempt of the French to colonize Acadia is among the bright deeds of their colonial history. While the death of De Chastes was most inopportune, the future of the French race in America did not hinge upon any one man. In 1603 fishing on the Grand Bank off Newfoundland was a well-established occupation of Normans and Bretons, the fur trade held out hope of great profit, and the spirit of national emulation supplied a motive which was stronger still. Hence it is not surprising that to De Chastes there at once succeeds De Monts.

As regards position they belonged to much the same class. Both were men of standing, with enough capital and influence to organize an expedition. In respect, however, of personality and circumstance there were differences. By reason of advanced age De Chastes had been unable to accompany his ships, whereas De Monts was in his prime and had already made a voyage to the St. Lawrence. Moreover, De Monts was a Huguenot. A generation later no Huguenot could have expected to receive a monopoly of the fur trade and a royal commission authorizing him to establish settlements, but Henry IV, who had once been a Protestant, could hardly treat his old co-religionists as Richelieu afterwards treated them. The heresy of its founder was a source of weakness to the first French colony in Acadia, yet through a Calvinist it came into being.

Like De Chastes, De Monts had associates who joined with him to supply the necessary funds, though in 1604 the investment was greater than on any previous occasion, and a larger number were admitted to the benefits of the monopoly. Not only did St. Malo and Rouen secure recognition, but La Rochelle and St. Jean de Luz were given a chance to participate. De Monts' company had a capital of 90,000 livres, divided in shares—of which two-fifths were allotted to St. Malo, two-fifths to La Rochelle and St. Jean de Luz conjointly, and the remainder to Rouen. The personal investment of De Monts was somewhat more than a tenth of the total, as he took a majority of the stock which fell to Rouen. Apart from Sully's unfriendliness, the chief initial difficulty arose over religion. The Parlement of Normandy refused to register De Monts' commission on the ground that the conversion of the heathen could not fitly be left to a heretic. This remonstrance was only withdrawn after the king had undertaken to place the religious instruction of the Indians in the charge of priests—a promise which did not prevent the Protestant colonists from having their own pastor. The monopoly contained wider privileges than before, including both Acadia and the St. Lawrence. At the same time, the obligation to colonize became more exacting, since the minimum number of new settlers per annum was raised from fifty to a hundred.

Champlain's own statement regarding the motive of De Monts' expedition is that it lay in the desire 'to find a northerly route to China, in order to facilitate commerce with the Orientals.' After reciting a list of explorations which began with John Cabot and had continued at intervals during the next century, he continues: 'So many voyages and discoveries without results, and attended with so much hardship and expense, have caused us French in late years to attempt a permanent settlement in those lands which we call New France, in the hope of thus realizing more easily this object; since the voyage in search of the desired passage commences on the other side of the ocean and is made along the coast of this region.'

A comparison of the words just quoted with the text of De Monts' commission will serve to illustrate the strength of Champlain's geographical instinct. The commission begins with a somewhat stereotyped reference to the conversion of the heathen, after which it descants upon commerce, colonies, and mines. The supplementary commission to De Monts from Montmorency as Lord High Admiral adds a further consideration, namely, that if Acadia is not occupied by the French it will be seized upon by some other nation. Not a word of the route to the East occurs in either commission, and De Monts is limited in the powers granted to a region extending along the American seaboard from the fortieth parallel to the forty-sixth, with as much of the interior 'as he is able to explore and colonize.'

This shows that, while the objects of the expedition were commercial and political, Champlain's imagination was kindled by the prospect of finding the long-sought passage to China. To his mind a French colony in America is a stepping-stone, a base of operations for the great quest. De Monts himself doubtless sought honour, adventure, and profit—the profit which might arise from possessing Acadia and controlling the fur trade in 'the river of Canada.' Champlain remains the geographer, and his chief contribution to the Acadian enterprise will be found in that part of his Voyages which describes his study of the coast-line southward from Cape Breton to Malabar.

But whether considered from the standpoint of exploration or settlement, the first chapter of French annals in Acadia is a fine incident. Champlain has left the greatest fame, but he was not alone during these years of peril and hardship. With him are grouped De Monts, Poutrincourt, Lescarbot, Pontgravé, and Louis Hébert, all men of capacity and enterprise, whose part in this valiant enterprise lent it a dignity which it has never since lost. As yet no English colony had been established in America. Under his commission De Monts could have selected for the site of his settlement either New York or Providence or Boston or Portland. The efforts of the French in America from 1604 to 1607 are signalized by the character of their loaders, the nature of their opportunity, and the special causes which prevented them from taking possession of Norumbega.[2]

De Monts lacked neither courage nor persistence. His battle against heartbreaking disappointments shows him to have been a pioneer of high order. And with him sailed in 1604 Jean de Biencourt, Seigneur de Poutrincourt, whose ancestors had been illustrious in Picardy for five hundred years. Champlain made a third, joining the expedition as geographer rather than shipmaster. Lescarbot and Hébert came two years later.

The company left Havre in two ships—on March 7, 1604, according to Champlain, or just a month later, according to Lescarbot. Although De Monts' commission gave him the usual privilege of impressing convicts, the personnel of his band was far above the average. Champlain's statement is that it comprised about one hundred and twenty artisans, and there were also 'a large number of gentlemen, of whom not a few were of noble birth.' Besides the excitement provided by icebergs, the arguments of priest and pastor diversified the voyage, even to the point of scandal. After crossing the Grand Bank in safety they were nearly wrecked off Sable Island, but succeeded in reaching the Acadian coast on May 8. From their landfall at Cap de la Hève they skirted the coast-line to Port Mouton, confiscating en route a ship which was buying furs in defiance of De Monts' monopoly.

Rabbits and other game were found in abundance at Port Mouton, but the spot proved quite unfit for settlement, and on May 19 De Monts charged Champlain with the task of exploring the coast in search of harbours. Taking a barque of eight tons and a crew of ten men (together with Ralleau, De Monts' secretary), Champlain set out upon this important reconnaissance. Fish, game, good soil, good timber, minerals, and safe anchorage were all objects of search. Skirting the south-western corner of Nova Scotia, the little ship passed Cape Sable and the Tusquet Islands, turned into the Bay of Fundy, and advanced to a point somewhat beyond the north end of Long Island. Champlain gives at considerable length the details of his first excursion along the Acadian seaboard. In his zeal for discovery he caused those left at Port Mouton both inconvenience and anxiety. Lescarbot says, with a touch of sharpness: 'Champlain was such a time away on this expedition that when deliberating about their return [to France] they thought of leaving him behind.' Champlain's own statement is that at Port Mouton 'Sieur de Monts was awaiting us from day to day, thinking only of our long stay and whether some accident had not befallen us.'

De Monts' position at Port Mouton was indeed difficult. By changing his course in mid-ocean he had missed rendezvous with the larger of his two ships, which under the command of Pontgravé looked for him in vain from Canseau to the Bay of Islands. Meanwhile, at Port Mouton provisions were running low, save for rabbits, which could not be expected to last for ever. The more timid raised doubts and spoke of France, but De Monts and Poutrincourt both said they would rather die than go back. In this mood the party continued to hunt rabbits, to search the coast north-easterly for Pontgravé, and to await Champlain's return. Their courage had its reward. Pontgravé's ship was found, De Monts revictualled, Champlain reappeared, and by the middle of June the little band of colonists was ready to proceed.

As De Monts heads south-west from Port Mouton it is difficult to avoid thoughts regarding the ultimate destiny of France in the New World. This was the predestined moment. The Wars of Religion had ended in the reunion of the realm under a strong and popular king. The French nation was conscious of its greatness, and seemed ready for any undertaking that promised honour or advantage. The Huguenots were a sect whose members possessed Calvinistic firmness of will, together with a special motive for emigrating. And, besides, the whole eastern coast of America, within the temperate zone, was still to be had for the taking. With such a magnificent opportunity, why was the result so meagre?

A complete answer to this query would lead us far afield, but the whole history of New France bears witness to the fact that the cause of failure is not to be found in the individual French emigrant. There have never been more valiant or tenacious colonists than the peasants of Normandy who cleared away the Laurentian wilderness and explored the recesses of North America. France in the age of De Monts and Champlain possessed adequate resources, if only her effort had been concentrated on America, or if the Huguenots had not been prevented from founding colonies, or if the crown had been less meddlesome, or if the quest of beaver skins farther north had not diverted attention from Chesapeake Bay and Manhattan Island. The best chance the French ever had to effect a foothold in the middle portion of the Atlantic coast came to them in 1604, when, before any rivals had established themselves, De Monts was at hand for the express purpose of founding a colony. It is quite probable that even if he had landed on Manhattan Island, the European preoccupations of France would have prevented Henry IV from supporting a colony at that point with sufficient vigour to protect it from the English. Yet the most striking aspect of De Monts' attempt in Acadia is the failure to seize a chance which never came again to the French race. In 1607 Champlain sailed away from Port Royal and the English founded Jamestown. In 1608 Champlain founded Quebec, and thenceforth for over a century the efforts of France were concentrated on the St. Lawrence. When at length she founded Louisbourg it was too late; by that time the English grasp upon the coast could not be loosened.

Meanwhile De Monts, to whom the future was veiled, left Port Mouton and, creeping from point to point, entered the Bay of Fundy—or, as Champlain calls it, 'the great Baye Françoise, so named by Sieur de Monts.' The month was June, but no time could be lost, for at this juncture the aim of exploration was the discovery of a suitable site, and after the site had been fixed the colonists needed what time remained before winter to build their houses. Hence De Monts' first exploration of the Baye Françoise was not exhaustive. He entered Annapolis Basin and glanced at the spot which afterwards was to be Port Royal. He tried in vain to find a copper-mine of which he had heard from Prevert of St. Malo. He coasted the Bay of St. John, and on June 25 reached St. Croix Island. 'Not finding any more suitable place than this island,' says Champlain, the leaders of the colony decided that it should be fortified: and thus was the French flag unfurled in Acadia.

The arrangement of the settlement at St. Croix was left to Champlain, who gives us a drawing in explanation of his plan. The selection of an island was mainly due to distrust of the Indians, with whom, however, intercourse was necessary. The island lay close to the mouth of a river, now also called the St. Croix. As the choice of this spot proved most unfortunate, it is well to remember the motives which prevailed at the time. 'Vessels could pass up the river,' says Champlain, 'only at the mercy of the cannon on this island, and we deemed the location most advantageous, not only on account of its situation and good soil, but also on account of the intercourse which we proposed with the savages of these coasts and of the interior, as we should be in the midst of them. We hoped to pacify them in course of time and put an end to the wars which they carry on with one another, so as to derive service from them in future and convert them to the Christian faith.'

De Monts' band was made up largely of artisans, who at once began with vigour to erect dwellings. A mill and an oven were built; gardens were laid out and many seeds planted therein. The mosquitoes proved troublesome, but in other respects the colonists had good cause to be pleased with their first Acadian summer. So far had construction work advanced by the beginning of autumn that De Monts decided to send an exploration party farther along the coast to the south-west. 'And,' says Champlain, 'he entrusted me with this work, which I found very agreeable.'

The date of departure from St. Croix was September 2, so that no very ambitious programme of discovery could be undertaken before bad weather began. In a boat of eighteen tons, with twelve sailors and two Indian guides, Champlain threaded the maze of islands which lies between Passamaquoddy Bay and the mouth of the Penobscot. The most striking part of the coast was Mount Desert, 'very high and notched in places, so that there is the appearance to one at sea as of seven or eight mountains extending along near each other.' To this island and the Isle au Haut Champlain gave the names they have since borne. Thence advancing, with his hand ever on the lead, he reached the mouth of the Penobscot, despite those 'islands, rocks, shoals, banks, and breakers which are so numerous on all sides that it is marvellous to behold.' Having satisfied himself that the Penobscot was none other than the great river Norumbega, referred to largely on hearsay by earlier geographers, he followed it up almost to Bangor. On regaining the sea he endeavoured to reach the mouth of the Kennebec, but when within a few miles of it was driven back to St. Croix by want of food. In closing the story of this voyage, which had occupied a month, Champlain says with his usual directness: 'The above is an exact statement of all I have observed respecting not only the coasts and people, but also the river of Norumbega; and there are none of the marvels there which some persons have described. I am of opinion that this region is as disagreeable in winter as that of our settlement, in which we were greatly deceived.'