Kitabı oku: «Peeps at Many Lands: Canada», sayfa 6

CHAPTER XIII
FIGHTING THE IROQUOIS INDIANS

The earliest white inhabitants of Canada, who have remained and helped to build up the Canadian nation, were settlers from France. There were, indeed, earlier arrivals from Europe, but they did not make anything like a permanent settlement. These were certain adventurous Norsemen who sailed out from Iceland in the year 1000, or even a little earlier, and returned with tales of a fertile country which they had discovered somewhere across the Western sea, and to which they gave the name of Vinland (which means the "Land of Wine"), but a country inhabited by Skraellings, which may be interpreted as meaning "Wicked Men." This Land of Wine is supposed to have been what is now Nova Scotia, or the country to the south-west of it, and the Wicked Men are believed to have been American Indians, who gave the hardy Icelanders a hostile reception, so that they did not obtain any real footing in the country.

The intrepid leaders of the earliest adventurers from France who attempted to establish themselves permanently in what is now Canada were a Breton sailor named Jacques Cartier, who set sail from St. Malo in April, 1534, and Samuel de Champlain, who, towards the close of the same century, and well on into the next, spent nearly forty years in devoted labour for the planting of a French colony on the banks of the St. Lawrence, founding the city of Quebec, exploring the rivers and lakes which help to make the great river the magnificent stream it is, assisting the Huron Indians to fight their inveterate foes, the intrepid and brave Iroquois, and striving to convert the Indians to the faith of Christ by sending French Catholic missionaries in amongst them.

For many a long year, however, the new colony, weak and scattered, had to wage a harassing war against the fierce red men – to wit, the Five Nations of the Iroquois. The stirring history of this frontier warfare is braided with many a tale of bravery, many an heroic episode. But of all the great deeds of this long, persistent struggle none shines with a more radiant glory than the self-sacrifice of Adam Dollard, or Daulac, the lord of the Manor of Des Ormeaux, and commander of the garrison of Montreal.

For more than twenty years the Iroquois had waged unrelenting war upon the colonists. These last were few in number, and were only able to hold their ground at all in the vicinity of the three fortified posts of Quebec, Three Rivers, and Montreal. Outside their stockades and away from these three fortified posts there was no certainty of safety. Everywhere lurked the Iroquois. Mercy they had none; fiendish they were in their cruelty, and never for an instant did they grant the sorely harassed settlers the least rest or freedom from attack. In fact, they were become a veritable scourge, and a sort of universal panic seized the people. At last intelligence was brought by a friendly Indian of the tribe of the Hurons that a force of 1,200 Iroquois were setting out to swoop down upon Montreal and Quebec with the object of destroying the forts and utterly wiping out the French settlements. When the tidings came to the ears of Dollard, the young commandant of the garrison of Montreal, he was instantly fired with the Crusader's enthusiasm. He conceived the idea of dedicating himself, as Leonidas, the King of ancient Sparta, did, for the good of his country. He called for volunteers to go out with him and waylay the Iroquois on the Ottawa River, and there fight them to the bitter death.

Sixteen of the young men of Montreal caught Dollard's enthusiasm. They sought and obtained the Governor's consent, made their wills, solemnly dedicated themselves in the cathedral to the sacrifice they were willing to make of their lives, received the Sacrament, and bound themselves by oath to fight the Iroquois to the death, and to accept no quarter.

Having said adieu to their friends, they embarked in their canoes, and paddled downstream until they came to the mouth of the Ottawa. Turning into this river, they came, about May 1, 1660, to the formidable rapids called the Long Sault, where their further advance was stopped. Here they resolved to await the foe, more especially as among the bushes that stretched down to the shore was a palisade fort, which had been made the autumn before by a band of friendly Algonquin Indians. The palisade was, however, in ruins. The first task of the young Frenchmen was therefore to repair it. Whilst they were engaged upon this task, they were joined by forty Huron Indians and four Algonquins. During the second afternoon after their landing, their scouts brought in the intelligence that two Iroquois canoes were shooting the Sault. As soon as the Iroquois reached the foot of the rapids they were received with a volley, which killed some of them. But one or two escaped, and hastened to report the disaster to the vanguard of the Iroquois braves – namely, a band of 200 who were paddling along the upper reaches of the river above the rapids.

Very soon Dollard and his companions saw a large fleet of the enemy's canoes racing down the rapids, and filled with savage Iroquois all thirsting for revenge. The first attack of the Indians was easily beaten back. They had looked for an easy conquest, and attacked in only a half-hearted manner. Then they set to work to build a rude fort for themselves. This gave the little garrison further time in which to strengthen their own defences. This work was still uncompleted when the Iroquois advanced to the attack a second time. They had seized the canoes of the allied French, Hurons, and Algonquins, and having broken them to pieces and set them on fire, now rushed forward and piled the blazing slabs of birch bark against the palisade. But they were met by such a withering volley from the sixty rifles that they were staggered, and glad to retreat.

A third time they made the attempt to rush Dollard's palisaded enclosure, but a third time they were driven back, leaving a large number of slain, and amongst them one of their most important chiefs. This daunted their spirits, and they hastily sent off for reinforcements.

In the meantime, until the reinforcements came up, which they did on the fifth day, the first band of Iroquois kept up an unceasing fire and constant menace of attack. In this way they gradually wore out the little garrison, who dare not sleep, who were unable to get water from the river, and were at last even in want of food.

Now, among the Iroquois were several Hurons, renegades from their own tribe. These men now tried to win over the Hurons who were fighting with Dollard, and at last hunger and thirst so told upon the latter that they all slipped away and deserted the young Frenchman except one man, their chief. He and the four Algonquins stood firm and loyal.

On the fifth day the yells of the fierce Iroquois and the firing of muskets told the doomed defenders of the palisade that the expected reinforcements had arrived. The Iroquois, having learnt from the Huron deserters how small in numbers the little garrison was, now made sure of an easy victory. Ostentatiously they advanced to the attack, but the result was the same as before. They were forced to fall back before the persistent and well-directed fire of the defenders.

Three days more were spent in this way, the Iroquois attacking from time to time, but always falling back before the steady fire of the heroic colonists. Dollard and his companions fought and prayed by turns, and hungered, thirsted, and snatched fragments of broken sleep, and were wellnigh utterly worn out by fatigue and exhaustion. At last the spirit of the Iroquois began to quail. Some talked of abandoning the attack, but others grew all the fiercer in their desire for revenge, while their pride revolted at the thought of so many warriors being beaten by so few of the hated palefaces. In the conflicting councils the authority of the latter party prevailed. It was resolved that, before finally abandoning the attack, they should make a general assault, and volunteers were called for to lead the attack. To protect themselves against the deadly fire of the little garrison they made large wooden shields 4 or 5 feet high, and capable of covering each three or four men. Under cover of these shields the volunteers were able to rush close up to the palisades, which they immediately began to hack to pieces with their hatchets.

Now, in anticipation of some such eventuality as this, Dollard had filled a large, wide-mouthed blunderbuss with gunpowder and plugged up the muzzle. Igniting the fuse which he had inserted into this home-made "hand-grenade," Dollard tried to throw it over the palisade amongst the Iroquois. But it was too heavy for him, and catching on the top of one of the pointed palisades, it fell back among his own friends, and killed or wounded several of them and nearly blinded others. In the confusion arising out of this mishap the Iroquois succeeded in effecting a breach in the palisade. Dollard and his followers rushed to meet the inpouring foe, and slashing, striking, stabbing at them with the energy of despair, succeeded in holding them momentarily in check. But the Iroquois broke through at a second place, and poured a volley into the devoted band of Frenchmen, and Dollard fell; broke through a third breach, broke through a fourth, and – all was soon over. The young French heroes, refusing to cease fighting, refusing to accept quarter, bleeding, staggering, half demented with exhaustion, weakness, and hopeless despair, were shot down to a man. Not one was left on his feet.

This brave and stubborn fight proved to be the salvation of the French settlements strung along the St. Lawrence. The Iroquois, although they were the victors, were so thoroughly disheartened that they turned their canoes about and paddled back by the way they had come, and for many a day the white men had rest from their attacks.

Thirty-two years later, in the autumn, when the woods were beginning to shed their leaves, and the men were gathering in the last lingering remnants of their harvest, another heroic deed was done, which still lives fresh and green in Canadian song and story. Twenty miles from Montreal, on the south bank of the River St. Lawrence, was the blockhouse of Verchères, enclosed within a palisade of palings. The lord of the manor was absent from home, and within the blockhouse the only persons were Madeline, the daughter of the lord of the manor, a girl of fourteen, her two little brothers, one of them twelve years of age, the other younger, and two old men-servants. The rest of the men were at work in the fields, outside the stockade, and at some distance from it.

It was a beautiful morning, and Madeline, attended by one of the old men, started out for the river. But before she had advanced very far her quick young eyes caught sight of a band of painted savages approaching the farm. She at once started to run back to the stockade, at the same time shouting a warning to the harvesters in the fields. And she had barely time to get within the shelter of the palisade and close the gates when the Iroquois were upon it. Both the men-servants were old soldiers, and as soon as the gate of the stockade was closed one of them went straight to the powder-magazine, intending to blow up himself and all who were inside the stockade, to prevent them from falling into the hands of the ruthless red men. Death by their own hands would, he was convinced, be preferable to torture and a horrible death at the hands of the savages. But Madeline Verchères thought there was a third alternative, and she checked the old man, and prevented him from blowing up the magazine.

Being herself animated by the loftiest and stanchest courage, she made her little garrison promise to obey her, and then proceeded to give to each a fixed and definite duty to perform. The fort possessed one cannon. This Madeline bade one of the old soldiers discharge at the enemy. The report alarmed them, but did not drive them away.

Almost immediately after this the beleaguered garrison saw a canoe approaching on the river. Madeline at once guessed that the occupants were women friends of her own. As there was no one else to go down to the water's edge to meet them, Madeline determined to go herself, for the two old men could not be spared from the defence of the stockade. The Indians, seeing the young girl going down to the river alone, were afraid to attack her, for they suspected a trap or stratagem of war. Madeline was therefore able to get her friends safely within the stockade.

But though there was no stratagem in this act, there was stratagem in the method of defence which Madeline adopted. She took care to have a relay of sentinels, challenging each other at stated intervals and at stated places; she made signals, which the Indians were able to see, as though issuing orders to a full garrison; she practised every device she could think of to deceive the enemy into the belief that the defenders were a numerous and undaunted band. And for a whole week this brave-hearted girl, with two old men, two little boys, and three or four women, kept a whole band of fierce and remorseless Iroquois successfully at bay. At the end of that time help, summoned by the escaped harvesters of the manor, arrived from Montreal, and the little beleaguered garrison was relieved.

CHAPTER XIV
THE HABITANT OF THE ST. LAWRENCE SHORE

The earliest white settlers on the shores of the St. Lawrence came from France, and the country of their adoption was known as New France. To this very day, not only the language, but the manner of life and most of the social institutions of the province of Quebec, are still emphatically French. And yet the French-Canadians, despite their passionate devotion to their race and their language, their religious creed (Roman Catholicism), and the customs and manners of their ancestors, manifest an irreproachable loyalty to the British Crown. When, soon after the middle of the seventeenth century, the new country was first settled, the land was granted by the King of France to French gentlemen, who became known as seigneurs, or lords of the manor. In return for these grants the seigneurs paid homage to the French King, and bound themselves by an oath to fight for him in time of need. They were also bound to have their land cleared of trees within a given time, otherwise the seigneury was to be taken away from them again. The seigneur in his turn granted slices of his lands to humbler arrivals from France – emigrants, as we should call them nowadays, though they called themselves, and are known to history as, "habitants." Their relation to their seigneur was something like that of medieval vassals to their feudal lord.

Now, in the early days these habitants, or emigrants, were mostly single young men, and naturally, when they settled down on the farms, which they rented from this or the other seigneur, they soon found that they required each a wife to help them in their work, and to cook and stitch for them; but young women were scarce in the colony. Accordingly, the French King, with the view of meeting this want, used every year to send out one or two shiploads of young girls as wives for the habitants. About the time the "bride ships" were expected the young men of the settlements, dressed in their Sunday best, used to repair to Quebec, where the ships landed. There, entering the great hall of the convent of the Ursuline nuns, where the girls were gathered, they each picked out a bride, led her straightway before the priest, and were married without an instant's delay.

The habitant of the present day is, as a rule, happy and contented with his lot, with a great reverence for the customs and habits of his forefathers, and an unwavering devotion to his church. He is fond of society, and loves the dance and the song. His leaning is manifested in the arrangement of the farms in his part of the country. As you steam down the great River St. Lawrence, you cannot help noticing how the farms in what was once New France are laid out in long narrow strips, nearly a mile in length, and all coming down to the river shore. Along these stand the houses, all near the river and pretty close one to another. Here the people grow tobacco, vegetables, and fruit, especially the famous Snow-apple, also known as "Fameuse," with a bright red skin and snow-white flesh. French Canada is also noted for its breed of horses.

The present Prime Minister of the Dominion of Canada, Sir Wilfrid Laurier, one of the ablest and most eloquent men in the whole of the British Empire, is a native of French Canada. He has governed the destinies of the Dominion for fully twelve years without a break, for it was in 1896 that he first became Prime Minister of Canada.

High above the great St. Lawrence stands the city of Quebec, which was founded by the French explorer and colonial leader, Champlain, in 1608, over 300 years ago. The city is built partly at the edge of the river and partly on the summit and slope of a bold cliff overhanging the stream. On this higher ground is the citadel, occupying the site of the early fort, which was one of the principal defences of the first settlers during the whole of the stormy period of the Iroquois wars. It was here, too, that the heroic Wolfe, the British General of George III.'s day, defeated the no less heroic French leader Montcalm. Quebec is the seat of Laval University, the most famous centre of Roman Catholic learning in Canada.

Higher up the river, too, is Montreal, the largest city in the whole of the Dominion. In early days it was the chief centre of the fur trade, and, like Quebec, a bulwark against the invading tides of the Iroquois. To-day it is the principal commercial city of Canada and the seat of varied manufactures. Here, again, is a large and famous University, a seat of Protestant learning – namely, McGill University. Montreal has also won fame for herself by her magnificent and merry winter carnival and her great palace built of ice.

The capital of Canada is, however, neither Quebec nor Montreal, nor is it Toronto, the second largest city in the Dominion and capital of the province of Ontario, as well as the seat of several affiliated Universities, and an important manufacturing centre. The place where the Parliament of Canada meets, and, consequently, the capital of the country, is Ottawa, on the river of the same name 116 miles by rail west of Montreal. As a city it is famous for its beautiful and imposing public buildings, the most stately of them all being the Houses of Parliament.