Читать книгу Glimpses of the Past - W. O. Raymond - Страница 10

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There are yet to be found in New Brunswick forest clad regions, remote from the haunts of men, that serve to illustrate the general features of the country when it was discovered by European adventurers 300 years ago. Who these first adventurers were we cannot with certainty tell. They were not ambitious of distinction, they were not even animated by religious zeal, for in Acadia, as elsewhere, the trader was the forerunner of the priest.

The Basque, Breton, and Norman, fishermen are believed to have made their voyages as early as the year 1504, just 100 years before Champlain entered the mouth of the St. John river. But these early navigators were too intent upon their own immediate gain to think of much beside; they gave to the world no intelligent account of the coasts they visited, they wave not accurate observers, and in their tales of adventure fact and fiction were blended in equal proportion. Nevertheless, by the enterprise and resolution of these hardy mariners the shores of north-eastern America were fairly well known long before Acadia contained a single white inhabitant.

Adventurers of Portugal, Spain and Italy vied with those of France and Britain in the quest of treasure beyond the sea. They scanned our shores with curious eyes and pushed their way into every bay and harbor. And thus, slowly but surely, the land that had lain hidden in the mists of antiquity began to disclose its outlines as the keen searchlight of discovery was turned upon it from a dozen different sources.

While the first recorded exploration of the southern shores of New Brunswick is that of de Monts and Champlain in 1604, there can be little doubt that European fishers and traders had entered the Bay of Fundy before the close of the 16th century and had made the acquaintance of the savages, possibly they had ventured up the St. John river. The Indians seem to have greeted the new-comers in a very friendly fashion and were eager to barter their furs for knives and trinkets. The “pale-faces” and their white winged barks were viewed at first with wonder not unmixed with awe, but the keen-eyed savages quickly learned the value of the white man’s wares; and readily exchanged the products of their own forests and streams for such articles as they needed. Trade with the savages had assumed considerable proportions even before the days of Champlain.

But while it is probable that the coasts of Acadia were visited by Europeans some years before Champlain entered the Bay of Fundy, it is certain that the history of events previous to the coming of that intrepid navigator is a blank. The Indians gradually become familiar with the vanguard of civilization as represented by the rude fishermen and traders, that is all we know.

The honor of the first attempt at colonization in Acadia belongs to the Sieur de Monts, a Huguenot noblemen who had rendered essential service to the French king. This nobleman, with the assistance of a company of merchants of Rouen and Rochelle, collected a band of 120 emigrants, including artisans of all trades, laborers and soldiers, and in the month of April, 1604, set sail for the new 17 world. Henry IV of France gave to the Sieur de Monts jurisdiction over Acadia, or New France, a region so vast that the sites of the modern cities of Montreal and Philadelphia lay within its borders. The Acadia of de Monts would today include the maritime provinces, the greater part of Quebec and half of New England.

The colonists embarked in two small vessels, the one of 120, the other of 150 tons burden; a month later they reached the southern coast of Nova Scotia. They proceeded to explore the coast and entered the Bay of Fundy, to which the Sieur de Monts gave the name of La Baye Francaise. Champlain has left us a graphic account of the voyage of exploration around the shores of the bay. In this, however, we need not follow him. Suffice it to say that on the 24th day of June there crept cautiously into the harbor of St. John a little French ship; she was a paltry craft, smaller than many of our coasting schooners, but she carried the germ of an empire for de Monts, Champlain and Poutrincourt, the founders of New France, were on her deck.

There is in Champlain’s published “voyages” an excellent plan of St. John harbor which, he says, lay “at the mouth of the largest and deepest river we had yet seen which we named the River Saint John, because it was on this saint’s day that we arrived there.”

Champlain did not ascend the river far but Ralleau, the secretary of the Sieur de Monts, went there sometime afterwards to see Secoudon (or Chkoudun), the chief of the river, who reported that it was beautiful, large and extensive with many meadows and fine trees such as oaks, beeches, walnut trees and also wild grape vines. In Champlain’s plan of St. John harbor a cabin is placed on Navy Island, which he describes as a “cabin where the savages fortify themselves.” This was no doubt the site of a very ancient encampment.

Lescarbot, the historian, who accompanied de Monts, says they visited the cabin of Chkoudun, with whom they bartered for furs. According to his description: “The town of Ouigoudy, the residence of the said Chkoudun, was a great enclosure upon a rising ground, enclosed with high and small tress, tied one against another; and within the enclosure were several cabins great and small, one of which was as large as a market hall, wherein many households resided.” In the large cabin which served as a council chamber, they saw some 80 or 100 savages all nearly naked. They were having a feast, which they called “Tabagie.” The chief Chkoudun made his warriors pass in review before his guests.

Lescarbot describes the Indian sagamore as a man of great influence who loved the French and admired their civilization. He even attended their religious services on Sundays and listened attentively to the admonitions of their spiritual guides, although he did not understand a word. “Moreover,” adds Lescarbot, “he wore the sign of the cross upon his bosom, which he also had his servants wear; and he had in imitation of us a great cross erected in the public place called Oigoudi at the port of the River Saint John.” This sagamore accompanied Poutrincourt on his tour of exploration to the westward and offered single handed to oppose a hostile band who attacked the French.

According to Champlain’s plan of St. John harbor, the channel on the west, or Carleton, side of Navy Island was much narrower in his day than it is now. 18 The name Ouygoudy (or Wigoudi), applied by the Indians to Chkoudun’s village on Navy Island, is nearly identical with the modern word “We-go-dic,” used by the Maliseets to designate any Indian village or encampment. They have always called the St. John river “Woolastook,” but their name for the place on which the city of St. John is built is “Men-ah-quesk,” which is readily identified with “Menagoueche,” the name generally applied to St. John harbor by Villebon and other French commanders in Acadia.

CHAMPLAIN’S PLAN OF ST. JOHN HARBOR.

The figures indicate fathoms of water. A. Islands above the falls. B. Mountains two leagues from the river. D. Shoals or flats. E. Cabin where the savages fortify themselves. F. A pebbly point where there is a cross (Sand Point). G. Partridge Island. H. A., small river coming from a little pond (mill pond and its outlet). I. Arm of the sea, dry at low tide (Courtenay Bay and the Marsh Creek). P. Way by which the savages carry their canoes in passing the falls.

Navy Island assumes a historic interest in our eyes as the first inhabited spot, so far as we know, within the confines of the city of St. John. In Champlain’s plans the principal channel is correctly given as on the east side of Partridge Island. Sand Point is shown, and the cross at its extremity was probably erected by the explorers in honor of their discovery. Groups of savages are seen on either side of the harbor, and a moose is feeding near the present Haymarket Square. A little ship rests on the flats, the site of the new dry dock.

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De Monts and Champlain passed their first winter in America on an island in the St. Croix river. Their experience was disastrous in the extreme. Nearly half of their party died of “mal de la terre,” or scurvy, and others were at the point of death. Pierre Biard, the Jesuit missionary, attributed the fatality of the disease to the mode of life of the people, of whom only eleven remained well. “These were a jolly company of hunters who preferred rabbit hunting to the air of the fireside, skating on the ponds to turning over lazily in bed, making snowballs to bring down the game to sitting around the fire talking about Paris and its good cooks.” In consequence of their unfortunate experience during the first winter the little colony removed to Port Royal.

The advent of European explorers and traders materially affected the manner of life of the Indians. Hitherto they had hunted the wild animals merely for subsistence, but now the demand of the traders for furs and peltry stimulated enormously the pursuit of game. The keen-eyed savages saw the advantages of the white man’s implements and utensils. Steel knives, axes, vessels of metal, guns, powder and shot, blankets, ornaments and trinkets excited his cupidity. Alas, too, love of the white man’s “fire water” soon became a ruling passion and the poor Indian too often received a very indifferent compensation for his toil and exposure.

In the summer time, when the annual ships arrived from France, the Indians gathered in large numbers at the various trading posts. They came from far and near, and for several weeks indulged in feasting and revelry. Pierre Biard comments severely on their folly. He says: “They never stop gorging themselves excessively during several weeks. They get drunk not only on wine, but on brandy, so that it is no wonder they are obliged to endure some gripes of the stomach during the following autumn.”

The Maliseets frequently came to the mouth of the St. John to trade with the French; sometimes they even resorted to Port Royal, for these daring savages did not fear to cross the Bay of Fundy in their frail barks.

The chief of the savages of the River St. John, Chkoudun, proved a valuable ally of the French owing to his extensive knowledge of the country and of the tribes that inhabited it. Champlain crossed over to St. John from Port Royal in the autumn of 1605 to get him to point out the location of a certain copper mine on the shores of the Bay of Fundy, supposed to be of fabulous richness. Chkoudun readily agreed to accompany his visitor and they proceeded to the mine, which was on the shores of the Basin of Minas. The master miner, a native of Sclavonia, whom de Monts had brought to Acadia to search for precious metals, deemed the outlook not unpromising, but Champlain was disappointed, and says: “The truth is that if the water did not cover the mines twice a day, and if they did not lie in such hard rocks, something might be expected from them.”

The commercial spirit that has ever predominated in our good city of St. John evidently goes back to the days of its discovery. Chkoudun lived at “Menagoueche” in his fortified village on Navy Island when Champlain invited him to go with the Sieur de Poutrincourt and himself as guide on a tour of exploration along the coast of New England. They set out in the month of September, 20 1606, and the chief took with him in a shallop certain goods he had obtained from the fur traders to sell to his neighbors the Armouchiquois, with whom he proposed to make an alliance. The savages of New England were beginning to covet the axes and other implements of civilization that their neighbors to the eastward had obtained from the fishermen and traders who visited their shores.

The Indians were now for a season to part with their friends and allies. In 1607 de Monts decided to abandon his attempt to establish a colony and Champlain and his associates were recalled to France. Acadia was once more without a single European inhabitant. Three years later Poutrincourt, to the great joy of the savages, returned to Port Royal, and most of the rights and privileges formerly held by de Monts were transferred to him.

The summer of 1611 was notable for the arrival of the Jesuit missionaries, Pierre Biard and Enemond Masse.

It seems that the French traders did not quietly acquiesce in Poutrincourt’s monopoly of trade, and the masters of certain ships of St. Malo and Rochelle boasted to the Indians that they would devour Poutrincourt as the fabled Gougou would a poor savage. This was an insult our nobleman was not disposed to endure, so accompanied by the missionary Biard he crossed over to St. John and proceeded along the coast as far as Passamaquoddy. The offenders were sternly admonished and compelled to acknowledge his authority. Later it was discovered that they had carried away nearly all that was valuable of the fur trade for that season.

Biard at this time succeeded in reconciling Poutrincourt and the younger Pontgrave who for some misdemeanor had been banished from Port Royal and had spent the previous winter among the Indians of the St. John river, living just as they did. Biard speaks of him as “a young man of great physical and mental strength, excelled by none of the savages in the chase, in alertness and endurance and in his ability to speak their language.”

Early in the month of October a little island in Long Reach called Emenenic—now known as Caton’s Island—was the scene of an exciting incident of which Biard has left us a picturesque description. It seems that Poutrincourt’s son, Biencourt, wished to exact submission on the part of a number of traders of St. Malo, who had established a trading post on the island. Accordingly accompanied by a party of soldiers and the Jesuit missionary he proceeded to the scene of operations. Father Biard did not admire, as do our modern travellers, the “reversing falls” at the mouth of our noble river. “The entrance to this river,” he says, “is very narrow and very dangerous * * and if you do not pass over it at the proper moment and when the water is smoothly heaped up, of a hundred thousand barques not an atom would escape, but men and goods would all perish.”

The party settled on the island of Emenenic included their captain, Merveille, and young Pontgrave. Biard in his narrative terms them “the Malouins”—or people of St. Malo. “We were still,” he says, “one league and a half from the island when the twilight ended and night came on. The stars had already begun to appear when suddenly towards the northward a part of the heavens became blood red; and this light spreading little by little in vivid streaks and flashes, moved directly 21 over the settlement of the Malouins and there stopped. The red glow was so brilliant that the whole river was tinged and made luminous by it. This apparition lasted about five minutes and as soon as it disappeared another came of the same form, direction and appearance.

“Our savages, when they saw this wonder, cried out in their language, ‘Gara, gara, maredo’—we shall have war, there will be blood.

“We arrived opposite the settlement when the night had already closed in, and there was nothing we could do except to fire a salute from the falconet, which they answered with one from the swivel gun.

“When morning came and the usual prayers ware said, two Malouins presented themselves upon the bank and signified to us that we could disembark without being molested, which we did. It was learned that their captains were not there but had gone away up the river three days before, and no one knew when they would return. Meanwhile Father Biard went away to prepare his altar and celebrate holy mass. After mass Sieur de Biencourt placed a guard at the door of the habitation and sentinels all around it. The Malouins were very much astonished at this way of doing things. The more timid considered themselves as lost; the more courageous stormed and fumed and defied them.

“When night came on Captain Merveille returned to his lodgings, knowing nothing of his guests. The sentinel hearing him approach uttered his “qui voila”—who goes there? The Malouin, thinking it was one of his own people, answered mockingly, ‘who goes there thyself?’ and continued upon his way. The sentinel fired his musket at him in earnest and it was a great wonder (merveille) that Merveille was not killed. But he was very much astonished and still more so when he saw some soldiers upon him with naked swords who seized him and took him into the house; you may imagine how soldiers and sailors act at such times, with their cries, their theats and their gesticulations.

“Merveille had his hands bound behind his back so tightly that he could not rest and he began to complain very pitifully. Father Biard begged Sieur de Biencourt to have the sufferer untied, alleging that if they had any fears about the said Merveille they might enclose him in one of the Carthusian beds, and that he would himself stay at the door to prevent his going out. Sieur de Biencourt granted this request.”

“Now I could not describe to you,” Biard goes on to say, “what a night this was; for it passed in continual alarms, gun shots and rash acts on the part of some of the men; so that it was feared with good reason that the prognostications seen in the heavens the night before would have their bloody fulfilment upon earth. I do not know that there was one who closed his eyes during the night. For me, I made many fine promises to our Lord never to forget His goodness if He were pleased to avert bloodshed. This He granted in His infinite mercy. * * Certainly Captain Merveille and his people showed unusual piety for notwithstanding this so annoying encounter, two days afterwards they confessed and took communion in a very exemplary manner, and at our departure they all begged me very earnestly, and particularly young du Pont, to come and stay with them as long as I liked. I promised to do so and am only waiting the opportunity, for in truth I love these honest people with all my heart.”

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The missionaries, Biard and Masse, were anxious to cultivate the friendship of young du Pont, knowing that he could greatly assist them in learning the Indian language, a knowledge of which was essential to the work they hoped to accomplish amidst the forests of Acadia. Inspired by their motto “ad majoram Dei gloriam,” they shrank from no toil or privation. Father Masse passed the winter of 1611–12 with Louis Membertou and his family at the River St. John with only a French boy as his companion, his object being to increase his knowledge of the Indian language. He suffered many hardships, was at one time seriously ill, but eventually returned in safety to Port Royal. He describes the winter’s experience with the savages as “a life without order and without daily fare, without bread, without salt, often without anything; always moving on and changing, * * for roof a wretched cabin, for couch the earth, for rest and quiet odious cries and songs, for medicine hunger and hard work.”

The missionaries found immense difficulty in acquiring the language of the natives. The task was not so difficult so long as they sought to learn the names of objects that might be touched or seen, but when it came to such abstract words as virtue, vice, reason, justice, or to such terms as to believe, to doubt or to hope, “for these,” said Biard, “we had to labor and sweat; in these were the pains of travail.” They were compelled to make a thousand gesticulations and signs that greatly amused their savage instructors who sometimes palmed off on them words that were ridiculous and even obscene, so that the Jesuits labored with indifferent success in the preparation of their catechism. Their work was still in the experimental stage when the destruction of Port Royal by Argal in 1613, and the capture and removal of the missionaries brought everything to a stand and put an end to all attempts at colonization in Acadia for some years.

The Indians, however, were not forgotten; the Jesuits had failed, but in 1619 a party of Recollet missionaries from Aquitaine began a mission on the St. John. These humble missionary laborers had no historian to record their toils and privations, and unlike the Jesuits they did not become their own annalists. We know, however, that one of their number, Father Barnardin, while returning from Miscou to the River St. John, in the year 1623, died of hunger and fatigue in the midst of the woods, a martyr to his charity and zeal. Five years afterwards, the Recollets were compelled to abandon their mission which, however, was reoccupied by them before many years had passed. Meanwhile the fur traders established a post on the River St. John as a convenient centre for trade with the Indians.

The French, with young Biencourt at their head, still kept a feeble hold on Acadia. Biencourt had as his lieutenant, Charles de la Tour, who had come to the country many years before when a mere boy of 14 years of age. Biencourt and la Tour—such was their poverty—were compelled to live after the Indian fashion, roaming through the woods from place to place. In this rude life la Tour acquired an extensive knowledge of the country and its resources, and in all probability became familiar with the St. John river region. Biencourt at his death left him all his property in Acadia.

The destruction of Port Royal by Argal was the first incident in the struggle between England and France for sovereignty in Acadia, a struggle that for a century and a half was to remain undecided.

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The next attempt at colonization was made on the part of the British, but it proved as futile as that of de Monts. James I. of England, in the year 1621, gave to Sir William Alexander, under the name of Nova Scotia, the peninsula which is now so called, together with a vast adjacent wilderness as a fief of the Scottish crown. For several years this favored nobleman seems to have contented himself with sending annually a ship to explore the shores of his domain and to trade with the Indians. Later he devised a scheme to facilitate the settlement of a colony by the creation of an order of baronets of Nova Scotia, each of whom was to receive an estate six miles in length and three in breadth in consideration of his assistance in the colonization of the country. In the course of 10 years more than 100 baronets were created, of whom 34 had estates within the limits of our own province. To that part of Nova Scotia north of the Bay of Fundy, now called New Brunswick, Sir William gave the name of the Province of Alexandria. The St. John river he called the Clyde and the St. Croix, which divided New England and New Scotland, he not inaptly called the Tweed.

When war broke out between England and France in 1627, young Charles la Tour found his position in Acadia very insecure. However, he was naturally resourceful and by his diplomacy and courage continued for many years to play a prominent part in the history of affairs. He sought and obtained from Louis XIII. of France a commission as the King’s lieutenant-general and at the same time obtained from Sir William Alexander the title of a Baronet of Nova Scotia. He procured from his royal master a grant of land on the River St. John and obtained leave from Sir William Alexander to occupy it.

By the treaty of St. Germain, in 1632, Acadia was ceded to France. Immediately after the peace de Razilly came to the country at the head of a little colony of settlers, many of them farmers, whose descendants are to be found among the Acadians of today. With de Razilly came d’Aulnay Charnisay, who was destined to become la Tour’s worst enemy. De Razilly died in 1635, leaving his authority to Charnisay, his relative and second in command. Charnisay made his headquarters at Port Royal and nobody disputed his authority except la Tour, who claimed to be independent of him by virtue of his commission from the crown and his grant from the Company of New France. The dissensions between la Tour and Charnisay at length culminated in war and the strife was long and bitter.

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