Indian Encampment and Chief
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.
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.”
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.
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.
Charles de Menou, Seigneur d’Aulnay Charnisay, came of a distinguished family of Touraine. He married Jeanne Motin, a daughter of the Seigneur de Courcelles. She came to Acadia with him in 1638. They resided at Port Royal where Charnisay in his log mansion reigned like a feudal lord.
Charles St. Etienne de la Tour was probably of less conspicuous lineage than his rival, although in legal documents he is called “a gentleman of distinguished birth.” He married Frances Marie Jacquelins who, according to the questionable testimony of his enemies, was the daughter of a barber of Mans. She was a Huguenot and whatever may have been her origin her qualities of mind and heart have deservedly won for her the title of “the heroine of Acadia.” Never had man more faithful ally than Marie Jacquelins proved to Charles la Tour.
As early as the year 1630 la Tour had be concerned in a project to erect a strong fort at the mouth of the St. John river in order to ward off the incursions of hostile adventurers and secure control of the far trade of the vast wilderness region extending from the mouth of the river nearly to the St. Lawrence. It was not, however, until the 15th of January, 1635, that the Company of New France granted him his tract of land at St. John, extending five leagues up the river and including within its bounds “the fort and habitation of la Tour.”
The French government endeavored to establish a good understanding between la Tour and Charnisay. A royal letter was addressed to the latter in which he was cautioned against interference with la Tour’s settlement at the River St. John. La Tour received a like caution as regards Charnisay’s settlement at Port Royal. Charnisay was commissioned the king’s lieutenant-general from Chignecto to Penobscot and la Tour was given like jurisdiction over the Nova Scotian peninsula. Thus la Tour’s settlement and fort at St. John lay within the limits of Charnisay’s government and Charnisay’s settlements at La Have and Port Royal lay within the government of la Tour, an arrangement not calculated to promote harmony on the part of the rivals.
It is rather difficult to get at all the facts of the quarrel that now rapidly developed between la Tour and Charnisay. The statements of their respective friends are very diverse, sometimes contradictory, and even the official records of the court of France are conflicting. Nicolas Denys, the historian, had reason to dislike Charnisay, and perhaps some of his statements concerning Charnisay’s barbarity should be received with caution. On the other hand the friends of Charnisay have cast aspersions an the character of Lady la Tour that seem entirely unwarranted.[2] The fact remains that Acadia, large as it was, not large enough for two such ambitious men as Charles la Tour and d’Aulnay Charnisay.
The exact site of la Tour’s fort at the mouth of the River St. John has been the subject of controversy, Dr. W. F. Ganong, a most conscientious and painstaking 25 student of our early history, has argued strongly in favor of its location at Portland Point (the green mound near Rankine’s wharf at the foot of Portland street); the late Joseph W. Lawrence and Dr. W. P. Dole have advocated the claims of Fort Dufferin, but the site usually accepted is that known as “Old Fort,” on the west side of the harbor opposite Navy Island. It seems probable that la Tour resided at one time at “Old Fort,” in Carleton, and his son-in-law the Sieur de Martignon lived there afterwards, but whether this was the site of the first fort built by la Tour and so bravely defended by his wife is at least a debatable question.
In the absence of positive information as to the exact location of la Tour’s first fort, it is perhaps unadvisable to disturb popular opinion until a thorough search of the records in France shall have been made in order if possible to settle the question.
Upon his arrival at St. John, la Tour speedily surrounded himself with soldiers and retainers and established an extensive traffic with the Indians, who came from their hunting grounds when the ships arrived laden with goods for the Indian trade. Doctor Hannay gives a graphic picture of la Tour’s situation:—
“A rude abundance reigned at the board where gathered the defenders of Fort la Tour. The wilderness was then a rich preserve of game, where the moose, caribou and red deer roamed in savage freedom. Wild fowl of all kinds abounded along the marsh, and interval lands of the St. John, and the river itself—undisturbed by steamboats and unpolluted by saw mills—swarmed with fish. And so those soldier-traders lived on the spoils of forest, ocean and river, a life of careless freedom, undisturbed by the politics of the world and little crossed by its cares. Within the fort, Lady la Tour led a lonely life, with no companions but her domestics and her children, for her lord was often away ranging the woods, cruising on the coast, or perhaps on a voyage to France. She was a devout Huguenot, but the difference of religion between husband and wife seems never to have marred the harmony of their relations.”
In the struggle between the rival feudal chiefs, Charnisay had the advantage of having more powerful friends at court, chief among them the famous Cardinal Richelieu.
Representations made concerning the conduct of la Tour led the French monarch in 1641 to order him to return to France to answer the charges against him. In the event of his refusal, Charnisay was directed to seize his person and property. The commission of la Tour was also revoked.
The contest now entered upon an acute stage. La Tour claimed that the royal order had been obtained through misrepresentation, and absolutely refused to submit to Charnisay. The latter, not daring to attack la Tour in his stronghold, repaired to France where he succeeded in fitting out five vessels and in obtaining the services of 500 soldiers to compel his rival to submission. He also procured another and more definite order from the king, directing him to seize la Tour’s fort and person and to send him to France as a rebel and a traitor.
Meanwhile la Tour was not idle. His friends at Rochelle sent out to him a large armed vessel, the Clement, loaded with ammunition and supplies and having on board 26 150 armed men. When the vessel neared St. John, it was discovered that Charnisay had established a blockade at the mouth of the harbor and that entrance was impracticable. In this emergency la Tour resolved to seek aid from the people of New England, whose trade and friendship he had begun to cultivate. Boston was then but a straggling village, in its 13th year, with houses principally of boards or logs gathered around its plain little meeting house. Eluding the vigilance of the blockading squadron, la Tour and his wife succeeded in getting safely on board the Clement, and at once repaired to Boston, where their arrival created some consternation, for Boston happened to be at that time in a particularly defenceless position. Governor Winthrop remarked: “If la Tour had been ill-minded towards us, he had such an opportunity as we hope neither he nor any other shall ever have the like again.” However, la Tour had come with no ill intent, and after some negotiations, which he conducted with much skill and discretion, he was allowed to hire from Edward Gibbons and Thomas Hawkins, four vessels with 50 men and 38 guns. He also obtained the assistance of 92 soldiers. With these he hurried back to the relief of his fort. Charnisay was compelled to raise the blockade and retire to his defences at Port Royal, where he was defeated with loss by the united forces of la Tour and his allies.
While at St. John, the Bostonians captured a pinnace belonging to Charnisay, laden with 400 moose and 400 beaver skins; their own pinnace went up the river to Grand Lake and loaded with coal. This little incident shows that the coal mines of Queens county were known and worked more than 250 years ago.
As the struggle with la Tour proceeded Charnisay became more and more determined to effect the destruction of his rival. La Tour’s resources were nearly exhausted and his situation had became exceedingly critical. He dared not leave his fort and yet he could not hold out much longer unaided. His brave wife was equal to the emergency; she determined herself to go to France for assistance. This was indeed an arduous undertaking for a woman, but her spirit rose to the occasion, and neither the perils of the deep nor the difficulties that were to confront her at the court of France served to daunt her resolute soul. Fearlessly she set out upon the long and dangerous voyage and in the course of more than a year’s absence endured disappointments and trials that would have crushed one less resolute and stout hearted. Her efforts in her native country were foiled by her adversaries, she was even threatened with death if she should venture to leave France, but setting the royal command at defiance she went to England and there chartered a ship to carry stores and munitions of war to St. John. The master of the ship, instead of proceeding directly to his destination, went up the River St. Lawrence to trade with the Indians. When, after a six months’ voyage, they at length entered the Bay of Fundy some of Charnisay’s vessels were encountered, and the English captain to avoid the seizure and confiscation of his ship was obliged to conceal Madame la Tour and her people and proceed to Boston. Here his own tribulations began for Madame la Tour brought an action against him for violation of his contract and after a four days’ trial the jury awarded her two thousand pounds damages. With the proceeds of this suit she 27 chartered three English ships in Boston and proceeded to St. John with all the stores and munitions of war that she had collected. The garrison at Fort la Tour hailed her arrival with acclamations of delight for they had begun to despair of her return.
Charnisay’s attempt to reduce la Tour to subjection was foiled for the time being, but his opportunity came a little later. In February, 1645, he learned of la Tour’s absence and that his garrison numbered only fifty men. He determined at once to attack the fort. His first attempt was an abject failure. The Lady la Tour inspired her little garrison with her own dauntless spirit, and so resolute was the defence and so fierce the cannon fire from the bastions that Charnisay’s ship was shattered and disabled and he was obliged to warp her off under the shelter of a bluff to save her from sinking. In this attack twenty of his men were killed and thirteen wounded. Two months later he made another attempt with a stronger force and landed two cannon to batter the fort on the land side. On the 17th of April, having brought his largest ship to within pistol shot of the water rampart, he summoned the garrison to surrender. He was answered by a volley of cannon shot and shouts of defiance.
The story of the taking of Fort la Tour, as told by Nicholas Denys, is well known. For three days Madame la Tour bravely repelled the besiegers and obliged them to retire beyond the reach of her guns. On the fourth day whilst she, hoping for some respite, was making her soldiers rest a miserable Swiss sentinel betrayed the garrison, and when the alarm was given the enemy were already scaling the walls. Lady la Tour even in so desperate an emergency as this succeeded in rallying the defenders, who bravely resisted the attack, though greatly outnumbered by their assailants. She only surrendered at the last extremity and under condition that the lives of all should be spared. This condition Charnisay is said to have shamefully violated; all the garrison were hanged, with the exception of one who was spared on condition of acting the part of executioner, and the lady commander was compelled to stand at the scaffold with a rope around her neck as though she were the vilest criminal.
It is but fair to state that our knowledge of the gross indignity to which Lady la Tour was subjected is derived from Denys’ narrative, and its authenticity has been questioned by Parkman. Nevertheless accounts of the transaction that have come to us from sources friendly to Charnisay admit that he hanged the greater number of his prisoners, “to serve as an example to posterity,” and that Madame la Tour was put into confinement where, as Charnisay’s reporter somewhat brutally observes, “she fell ill with spite and rage.” The Lady la Tour did not long survive her misfortunes. Scarcely three weeks had elapsed after the capture of the fort she had so gallantly defended when she died and was laid to rest near the spot consecrated by her devotion, the scene of so many hopes and fears.
There will always be a peculiar charm for us in the story of our Acadian heroine. Fearless, energetic, resolute undoubtedly she was, yet who shall say that the motives that actuated her were other than pure and womanly? A heart more loyal and true never beat in a human breast. She gave her life to protect her husband, 28 her children and the humbler dependents that followed their fortunes from the hands of a bitter and unscrupulous enemy.
The capture of his stronghold and the death of his faithful wife involved la Tour in what appeared to be at the time irreparable ruin. He found himself once more, as in his younger days, an exile and a wanderer.
The booty taken by Charnisay was valued at £10,000 sterling and as it had been accumulated in traffic with the Indians we may form some idea of the value of the trade of the St. John river at this time.
When the capture of la Tour’s fort was known at the court of Versailles the young king was well pleased. He confirmed Charnisay’s authority in Acadia and even extended it—on paper—from the St. Lawrence to Virginia. He could build forts, command by land and sea, appoint officers of government and justice, keep such lands as he fancied and grant the remainder to his vassals. He had also a monopoly of the fur trade and with Fort la Tour, the best trading post in Acadia, in his possession, the prospect for the future was very bright. Charnisay possessed the instincts of a colonizer and had already brought a number of settlers to Acadia. Everything at this juncture seemed to point to a growing trade and a thriving colony; but once again the hand of destiny appears. In the very zenith of his fortune and in the prime of manhood Charnisay was drowned on the 24th day of May, 1650, in the Annapolis river near Port Royal.
With Charnisay’s disappearance la Tour reappears upon the scene. His former defiant attitude is forgotten, he is recognized as the most capable man of affairs in Acadia and in September, 1651, we find him again in possession of his old stronghold at St. John. The king now gave him a fresh commission as lieutenant-general in Acadia with ample territorial rights. Disputes soon afterwards arose concerning the claims of the widow of d’Aulnay Charnisay; these disputes were set at rest by the marriage of the parties interested. The marriage contract, a lengthy document, was signed at Port Royal the 24th day of February, 1653, and its closing paragraph shows that there was little sentiment involved: “The said seigneur de la Tour and the said dame d’Aulnay his future spouse, to attain the ends and principal design of their intended marriage, which is the peace and tranquillity of the country and concord and union between the two families, wish and desire as much as lies with them that in the future their children should contract a new alliance of marriage together.”
There is no evidence to show that la Tour’s second marriage proved unhappy, though it is a very unromantic ending to an otherwise very romantic story. His second wife had also been the second wife of Charnisay who was a widower when he married her; her maiden name was Jeanne Motin. Descendants of la Tour by his second marriage are to be found in the families of the d’Entremonts, Girouards, Porliers and Landrys of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.
La Tour and his new wife were quietly living at St. John the year after their marriage when four English ships of war suddenly appeared before the fort and demanded its surrender. These ships had in the first instance been placed at the disposal of the people of Massachusetts by Oliver Cromwell for the purpose of an expedition against the Dutch colony of Manhattan (now New York); but on the eve 29 of their departure news arrived that peace had been made with Holland. It was then decided that the expedition should proceed under Major Robert Sedgewick’s command to capture the French strongholds in Acadia. This was a bold measure for England and France were then ostensibly at peace. La Tour at once saw that resistance was useless and surrendered his fort and the flag of Britain was hoisted over the ramparts. However, la Tour’s address did not desert him; he went to England and laid before Cromwell his claim as a grantee under the charter of Sir William Alexander. He proved as skilful a diplomatist as ever and obtained, cojointly with Thomas Temple and William Crowne, a grant which practically included the whole of Acadia.
La Tour, now more than 60 years of age, was sagacious enough to see that disputes were sure again to arise between England and France with regard to Acadia, and not wishing to be the football of fortune, sold his rights to Sir Thomas Temple his co-partner, and retired to private life. He died in 1666 at the age of 72 years and his ashes rest within the confines of his beloved Acadia.
After the capture of Fort la Tour by Sedgewick’s Massachusetts invaders in 1654, Acadia remained nominally in possession of the English for twelve years. Half a century had elapsed since the attempt of de Monts to establish his colony, yet little progress had been made in the settlement of the country and the valley of the St. John remained an almost unbroken wilderness. The first English trading post on the river, of which we have any knowledge was that established in 1659 by Sir Thomas Temple at the mouth of the Jemseg.
As related in the last chapter, la Tour, Temple and Crowne received from Oliver Cromwell a grant that included nearly the whole of Acadia, and la Tour soon after sold his right to Temple, his co-partner. The latter decided to establish a fortified post at the Jemseg as more convenient for the Indian trade and less exposed to marauders than the fort at the mouth of the river. There can be little doubt that Temple would soon have enjoyed a flourishing trade, but unfortunately for his prospects, Acadia was restored to France by the treaty of Breda, in 1667. He attempted to hold possession of his lands, claiming that they did not fall within the boundaries of Acadia, but at the expiration of three years, during which there was considerable correspondence with the home authorities, he received the peremptory orders of Charles II. to surrender the fort to the Sieur de Soulanges. In the formal deed of surrender the fort is termed “Fort Gemisick, 25 leagues up the River St. John.” It was a palisaded enclosure, with stakes 18 feet high connected by cross pieces fastened with nails to the stakes and firmly braced on the inside with pickets nine feet high leaned against the stakes. The gate of the fort was of three thicknesses of new plank. It was evidently a frail defence, but sufficient for the Indian trade. The armament consisted of five iron guns, varying in weight from 300 pounds to 625 pounds, mounted on wooden platforms. Within the palisade was a house 20 paces by 10, two chimneys, a forge, two sheds and a store house. The fort stood on a small mound near the top of a hill, less than 100 yards from the bank of the Jemseg river. It commanded an extensive view both up and down the River St. John. A fragment of the rampart is still visible, and numerous relics have from time to time been dug up at the site or in the vicinity. The fort site is now owned by Mr. Geo. F. Nevars.
After the treaty of Breda the Chevalier Grand-fontaine was appointed to command in Acadia, with Pierre de Joibert, Seigneur de Soulanges et Marson, as his lieutenant. One of the first acts of Grand-fontaine was to have a census taken, from which we learn that there were then only a little more than 400 people in Acadia, very few of whom were to be found north of the Bay of Fundy. Grand-fontaine was recalled to France in 1673, and Chambly, who had been an officer in the famous Carignan Salieres regiment, succeeded him as commandant. The control of affairs in New France was now transferred to Quebec, where a governor-general and intendant, or lieutenant-governor, resided.
About this time large tracts of land were granted as “seigniories” by Count Frontenac and his successors. The seignior was usually a person of some consideration 31 by birth and education. He received a free grant of lands from the crown on certain conditions; one of these was that whenever the seigniory changed hands the act of “faith and homage” was to be tendered at the Castle of St. Louis in Quebec. The tendering of faith and homage was quite an elaborate ceremony, in which the owner of the land, divesting himself of arms and spurs, with bared head, on bended knee, repeated before the governor, as representative of the sovereign, his acknowledgement of faith and homage to the crown. Provision was made in all seignioral grants for the reservation of oaks for the royal navy, of lands required for fortifications or highways, and of all mines and minerals; the seignior was also required to reside on his land or to place a certain number of tenants thereon and to clear and improve a certain portion within a stated time. From the year 1672 to the close of the century as many as 16 seigniories were granted on the St. John river, besides others in various parts of New Brunswick. The first in order of time was that to Martin d’Arpentigny Sieur de Martignon. It included a large tract at the mouth of the River St. John, on the west side of the harbor, extending six leagues up the river from Partridge Island (Isle de la Perdrix) and six leagues in depth inland. This seigniory would now include Carleton and the parishes of Lancaster, Musquash and Westfield. The owner of this valuable property is described as “an old inhabitant of Acadia.” He married Jeanne de la Tour, only daughter of Charles la Tour by his first wife: she was born in Acadia in 1626. It is stated in his grant that he intended to bring over people from France to settle his seigniory, also that he was a proprietor of lands on the River St. John “from the River de Maquo to the mines of the said country of Acadia.”[3]
After la Tour’s death his son-in-law, the Sieur de Mantignon, seems to have taken up his abode at the old fort on the west side of the harbor, which in Franquet’s map of 1707 is called “Fort de Martinnon.”
In the little world of Acadia, Pierre de Joibert, sieur de Soulanges, played a leading part during his eight years residence. He was a native of the little town of Soulanges in the old French province of Champagne. He had served as lieutenant in Grand-fontaine’s company of infantry and came with that officer to Acadia. It is said that “he rendered good and praiseworthy service to the king both in Old and New France.” As a recognition of those services he was granted, October 20, 1672, a seigniory at the mouth of the St. John on the east side of the river a league in depth and extending four leagues up the river; this seigniory seems to have included the present city of St. John—Carleton excepted. The Sieur de Soulanges, however, did not reside there but at the Jemseg. This is evident from the fact that the document that conveyed to him his St. John seigniory gave him in addition “the house of fort Gemesik,” which the great states “he shall enjoy for such time only as he shall hold his commission of commander on the said river in order 32 to give him a place of residence that he may act with more liberty and convenience in everything relating to the king’s service.” The wife of Soulanges was Marie Francoise, daughter of Chartier de Lotbeniere, attorney-general of Quebec. Their daughter Louise Elizabeth was born at “Fort Gemesik” in 1673.
The sieur de Soulanges did not long enjoy peaceable possession of his place of residence; disturbance came from an entirely unexpected quarter. A band of Dutch marauders under their leader Arenson in the summer of 1674 pillaged and greatly damaged the fort and seized and carried off its commander, but soon after set him at liberty. As a recompense for this misfortune Soulanges received the grant of a large tract of land at the Jemseg, two leagues in depth and extending a league on each side of the fort. It is stated in the grant that “he had made various repairs and additions to the fort in order to make it habitable and capable of defence, there having been previously only a small wooden house in ruins surrounded by palisades half fallen to the ground, in fact it would have been better to have rebuilt the whole, for he would yet have to make a large outlay to put it in proper condition on account of the total ruin wrought by the Dutch (les Hollandois) when they made him their prisoner in the said fort two years ago.”
The little daughter of Soulanges, whose infant slumbers were disturbed by these rude Dutch boors, was afterwards the marchioness de Vaudreuil, the wife of one governor general of Canada and the mother of another.
It is evident the authorities at Quebec knew little of the value of the lands on the St. John river or they would hardly have granted them with such prodigality. The Sieur de Soulanges seems to have been highly favored by Frontenac for the three seigniories granted to him included an area of more than a hundred square miles. The one at the mouth of the river possessed all those natural advantages that have made St. John the leading commercial city of the maritime provinces. That at the Jemseg was for a short time the head quarters of French power in Acadia and in its modest way the political capital of the country. The third seigniory—at the very heart of which lay the site of Fredericton—remains to be described. In the grant to Soulanges it is termed, “the place called Nachouac (Nashwaak), to be called hereafter Soulanges, upon the River St. John 15 leagues from Gemesk, two leagues on each side of said river and two leagues deep inland.” The grant was made in consideration of the services rendered by Soulanges and to encourage him to continue those services; it was made so large because little of it was thought to be capable of cultivation. This seigniory would include at the present day the city of Fredericton and its suburbs, the town of Marysville, villages of Gibson and St. Mary’s and a large tract of the surrounding country; the owner of such a property today would be indeed a multi-millionaire.
Upon Chambly’s appointment as governor of Granada he was succeeded as governor of Acadia by the Sieur de Soulanges who did not, however, long enjoy the honors of his new position, for he died about the year 1678 and his widow and children soon afterwards removed to Quebec. Count Frontenac’s interest in the family continued, and on March 23, 1691, a grant of a large tract of land on the River St. John was made to Marie Francoise Chartier, widow of the Sieur de Soulanges. Her seigniory included the larger portion of 33 Gagetown parish in Queens county, the central point being opposite her old residence or, as the grant expresses it, “vis-a-vis la maison de Jemsec.”
The seigniories granted to Soulanges and his widow proved of no value to their descendants; either the titles lapsed on account of non-fulfilment of the required conditions, or the lands were forfeited when the country passed into the hands of the English.
Louise Elizabeth Joibert, the daughter of Soulanges, who was born on the River St. John, was educated at the convent of the Ursulines in Quebec. At the age of seventeen she married the Marquis Vaudreuil, a gentleman thirty years her senior. She is described as a very beautiful and clever woman possessed of all the graces which would charm the highest circles; of rare sagacity and exquisite modesty. She was the mother of twelve children. Her husband, the Marquis de Vaudreuil, was for twenty-two years governor general of Canada, and her son held the same position when the French possessions passed into the hands of the English; he was consequently the last governor general of New France.
La Valliere succeeded the Sieur de Soulanges and was for six years commander of Acadia. He cared little for the dignity or honor of his position provided he could use it for his own benefit. He established a small settlement at the River St. John and engaged in fishing and trading. Many complaints were preferred against him by rival traders. They alleged that he encouraged the English to fish on the coasts, granting them licenses for the purpose, that he traded with them in spite of the king’s prohibition; also that he robbed and defrauded the savages.
These charges seem to have been well founded. An Indian captain named Negascouet says that as he was coming from Neguedchecouniedoche, his usual residence, he was met by the Sieur de la Valliere, who took from him by violence seventy moose skins, sixty martins, four beaver and two otter, without giving him any payment, and this was not the first time la Valliere had so acted.
In 1685 la Valliere was replaced by Perrot whose conduct was, if possible, even more reprehensible than that of his predecessor. He was such a money making genius that he thought nothing of selling brandy to the Indians by the pint and half-pint before strangers and in his own house, a rather undignified occupation certainly for a royal governor of Acadia.
Examples such as these on the part of those in authority naturally found many imitators, indeed there was at this time a general disposition on the part of young men of the better families in New France to become “coureurs de bois,” or rangers of the woods, rather than cultivators of the soil. The life of a coureur de bois was wild and full of adventure, involving toil and exposure, but the possible profits were great and the element of danger appeared in the eyes of many an additional fascination. The rulers of New France from time to time enacted stringent laws against these “outlaws of the bush” but they were of little avail. The governor of Quebec felt compelled to represent the conduct of the Canadian noblesse in unfavorable terms to his royal master. “They do not,” he writes, “devote themselves to improving their land, they mix up in trade and send their children to trade for furs in the Indian villages and in the depths of the forest in spite of the prohibition of his majesty.”