CHAPTER VI.
It will now be advisable to consider the state of the two great rival races on the North American continent, before entering upon the relation of the eventful campaign which was but the crisis of a surely approaching fate. Although the decisive blow that forever crushed the power of France was doubtless dealt by the immortal Wolfe upon the Plains of Abraham, the slow but certain conquest of Canada had progressed for many a previous year; with the wisdom and rectitude of the counselor, with the ax and plow of the settler, with the thrift and adventure of the merchant, with the sober industry of the mechanic, and the daring hardihood of the fisherman, was the glorious battle won. Against weapons such as these the chivalry of Montcalm and of his splendid veteran regiments vainly strove. To them victory brought glory without gain, inaction danger, and disaster ruin. Despite their courage, activity, and skill, the rude but vigorous British population, like surging waves, gained rapidly on every side, and at length burst the opposing barriers of military organization, and poured in a broad flood over the dreary level of an oppressed and spiritless land.
In the year 1759, the population of Canada had only reached to 60,000 souls, and it was found to have decreased during the last twenty years of war and want; of these, 6700 dwelt under the protection of the ramparts of Quebec, 4000 at Montreal, and 1500 at the little town of Three Rivers. The greater part of the remainder led a rural life on the fertile banks of the St. Lawrence and its tributaries, while a few wandered with gun and rod among Indian tribes scarcely more savage than themselves, over the prairies, and on the shores of the great lakes and rivers of the West. The settlements on both shores below Quebec were then almost as advanced as now: small white houses, dainty in the distance, stretched in rows for many miles along the level banks, or dotted the hill side in picturesque irregularity. Here and there, neat wooden churches, of a peculiarly quaint architecture, stood the centers of hamlets and knots of farms. In their neighborhood this encumbering forest was usually cleared away with careful industry, and each fertile nook and valley, and the borders of each stream, were rich with waving corn. Through these lower settlements a sort of rude track extended for many miles by the water side. On the large and beautiful island of Orleans many thousand acres of corn and pulse were sown, the farms carefully separated by wooden paling, and intersected with tolerable roads.
Between Quebec and Montreal, the banks of the Great River were hardly in so advanced a state as those toward the sea; the churches were fewer and more distant, the houses ruder and more scattered. There were many miles, indeed, where no traces of human industry greeted the traveler's eye. The shores of the great lakes, or, rather, expansions of the stream, were dreary swamps and thickets, and the slopes of the distant hills still bore the primeval forest. On the sandy flats of Three Rivers, in a scattered village, dwelt a population more numerous than that of the present day; a small surrounding district was cleared and cultivated, but the main occupation and support of the inhabitants was the fur trade with the Indians, who resorted thither from the unknown north by the waters of the broad streams here uniting with the St. Lawrence.
The rich and fertile island of Montreal was already generally cleared, and extensively but thinly peopled. The city, at times called Ville Marie in old maps, ranged somewhat irregularly for more than a mile along the river side, and was even then remarkable for the superiority of its public buildings over those of its colonial neighbors.
The Fathers of the Sulpician Order, by virtue of a grant in the year 1663, were proprietors of the whole of this rich district. They had established three courts of justice in the city, and erected a stately church of cut stone at a great expense. The Knights Hospitallers also possessed a very handsome building. A large, solid rampart of heavy beams, with eleven separate redoubts, protected the landward face of Montreal, and two platform batteries commanded the streets from end to end.
Here was the great dépôt of the northwestern fur trade, and here, also, the best market for the plentiful crops of the adjoining island, of the prairie, and of the Richelieu district.
In the month of June the savages came hither in canoes from places even at 500 miles' distance, to exchange their peltries for guns, ammunition, clothes, weapons, and utensils of iron and brass. The meeting or fair lasted for nearly three months, and during that time the town presented a strange and sometimes fearful spectacle; motley groups of fierce and hostile Indians occupied the streets, now engaged in bloody strife, again sunk in brutal intoxication. The French used every effort to prevent the sale of ardent spirits, but in vain, although sentinels were posted night and day to forbid the supply of the maddening liquor, and to preserve something of order in the wild gathering: all precautions proved ineffectual, and the drunkard frequently became also a murderer. At one time the little town of Chambly rivaled Montreal in the gainful but dangerous traffic; however, in 1759, there only remained a fort to prevent the English from enjoying the doubtful advantage of this trade. At Sorel, the entrance of the Richelieu River, an agricultural village had also arisen, rather beyond the neighboring settlements in extent and population.
Southwest of Montreal there was no town of any consideration. Near where the modern Kingston stands, a few poor hamlets were indeed grouped round Fort Frontenac, but on the shores of the sheltered Bay of Toronto, where 20,000 British subjects now ply their prosperous industry, myriads of wild fowl then found undisturbed refuge from the stormy waters of the lake. At Niagara there was a small village round the fort; there were trading posts at Detroit, Michillimackinac, and elsewhere; but the splendid tract of country lying between the northern shores of Erie and Ontario was almost unknown, save to the wandering Indian.
At this period, the first in importance, as well as population, among the settlements of New France, unquestionably was Quebec, the seat of government and of the supreme tribunals of justice. From its lofty headland the successors of the wise Champlain looked down upon the subject stream of the St. Lawrence, and held the great highway of Canada as if by a gate. No doubtful or hostile vessel could elude their vigilance; more than one powerful fleet had already recoiled shamed and crippled from before their embattled city. Here were deposited the public records, with most of the arms, ammunition, and resources of the colony; here, too, the principal establishments of religion, law, and learning were first founded and best sustained. The citizens and neighboring peasantry were less lowered by Indian intercourse than their other countrymen, and among them the refreshing immigration from the fatherland produced its most invigorating effect.
On the summit of the rocky height, a number of large and somewhat imposing public buildings, grouped irregularly together, with the well-built private dwellings of the wealthier inhabitants, formed the upper town. The lofty spires of no less than nine large ecclesiastical edifices arose within this comparatively limited space.
There were the bishop's palace, the courts of judicature, and the house of the Knights Hospitallers, the latter built of stone, extensive, handsome, and adorned with two stately pavilions. There, also, in a commanding situation, stood the Jesuits' college and their church, which was almost magnificent in the interior decorations. The governor's palace, however, erected in 1639, was the proudest ornament of the colonial capital.
Southwest of the Upper Town, on the crest of the headland, was the citadel, a large, imperfectly quadrangular fort, with flanking defenses at each corner, only protected, however, by a wall on the inner side. Further on, a large work of great design, but not yet finished, crowned the height of Cape Diamond:[150] from the northern angle of this work, an irregular line of bastioned defenses ran across the whole promontory to the River St. Charles. Some rude and imperfect field-works, with redoubts, strengthened the front toward the Plains of Abraham.
The Lower Town covered the beach of the Great River under the cliffs of the promontory: the dwellings, stores, and offices of the merchants, many of them handsome and solid, filled up this narrow space. The only edifice of note, however, was the church of Nôtre Dame de Victoire, built to commemorate Phipps's defeat in 1690. The defense of this part of the city was a large platform battery on the most salient point of the shore, placed scarcely above the level of the waters. The access from the Lower to the Upper Town was steep, narrow, and difficult, and protected by flanking loop-holed walls.
There was also a considerable suburb called St. Roch's, on the side of the River St. Charles, where dwelt the chief part of the laboring population, in irregular streets of mean and temporary houses. A large portion of the now valuable space was unoccupied, and here and there the rocky hill side remained as nature had made it. A few of the primeval forest trees still ornamented the gardens and terraces of the city, and clothed the neighboring cliffs.
In the wide plain lying by the banks of the River St. Charles, many handsome country houses and pleasant seats, with well-cultivated gardens and rich orchards, met the eye, and, on the slopes beyond, the trim villages of Charlesburg, Lorette, and Beauport; the distant mountain range, with its forest covering, formed, as now, the background of the broad and beautiful picture.
From the Falls of Montmorency[151] to Quebec, a continuous chain of intrenchments defended the northern bank of the St. Lawrence. A large boom lay across the mouth of the River St. Charles, and the bridge, about a quarter of a mile high up the stream, was protected by a "tête du pont." All these various works and fortifications were, however, rude and imperfect; the strength, as well as the beauty, of this magnificent position, was chiefly due to the bountiful hand of Nature.
The cultivation of the fertile Canadian soil was of a very rude description; but even the feeble industry of the "habitan" was generally repaid by rich and plentiful crops. The animals of the chase, and the inexhaustible supplies of fish in their lakes and rivers, were resources that better suited the thriftless and scanty population than the toilsome produce of the field. Tillage was neglected; they cared not to raise more grain than their own immediate wants demanded. The unparalleled monopolies of the colonial government deprived labor of the best stimulant—the certain enjoyment of its fruits. The farmer hardly cared to store up his superabundant harvest, when his haggard was exposed to the licensed plunder of cruel and avaricious officials, or served but as a sign where the domineering soldiery of Old France might find free quarters. He that sowed the seed knew not who might reap the crop. Often, when the golden fields were almost ripe for the sickle, the war-summons sounded in the Canadian hamlets, and the whole male population were hurried away to stem some distant Indian onslaught, or to inflict on some British settlement a ruin scarcely more complete than their own. In the early wars with the fierce Iroquois, this rude militia had ever answered their leaders' call with ready zeal, and fought with worthy courage; when the haughty savage was subdued and humbled, and a new and more dangerous foe arose in the hereditary enemies of their fatherland, the Canadians again took the field, strong in the spirit of national hatred. But as, year after year, the vain strife continued, and, despite their valor and even success, the British power hemmed them more closely in, their hearts sickened at the hopeless quarrel, and they longed for peace even under a stranger's sway. Their fields desolate, their villages deserted, their ships driven from the seas, what cared they for the pride of France, when its fruit to them was ruin, oppression, and contempt![152] What cared they for the Bourbon lily, when known but as the symbol of avarice and wrong!
The manufactures of this neglected though splendid colony scarcely merit even a passing notice. Flax and hemp were worked only sufficiently to show how much was lost in their neglect, and the clothing of this simple peasantry was chiefly of a coarse gray woollen stuff, the produce of their own wheels and looms. At the forges of St. Maurice, near Three Rivers, indeed, iron works were carried on with some skill, and profit to the employed, if not to the employers.
The commercial spirit of the French, such as it was, the fur trade almost wholly engrossed; the fisheries were never carried on with any vigor by the colonists; some adventurers, indeed, from the home ports, bore the produce of the northern waters, with Canadian timber and provisions, to the tropical islands, but even this limited trade was monopolized by a privileged few, through the corrupt connivance of the authorities. In the official returns of the colonial customs, there appears every year an enormous surplus of imports over exports, which can only be accounted for by the clandestine shipment of great quantities of furs and other goods, to restore in some measure the necessary balance of exchange. The sole view of the local officials was rapidly to accumulate wealth at the expense of the state or of their Canadian fellow-subjects; such of their books and accounts as fell into the hands of the English were so confused and irregular that it was difficult or impossible to discover the exact nature of their undoubted dishonesty.
The French East India company enjoyed the exclusive privilege of exporting the valuable furs of the beaver; they had therefore an agent, director, and controller in each separate government of Montreal, Three Rivers, and Quebec. A stated price was fixed for each skin, and on the hunter presenting it at the store, he received a receipt which became current in the colony as money, and was held to the last in higher estimation than the notes of the royal treasury. It has already been stated that bills of exchange to an immense amount on the government of France were afloat in the colony at a considerable depreciation; in the emergency of the year 1759, they ceased to be negotiable at any price.
Although the Canadian population was at this time poor, rude, and dispersed, it presented in some respects features usually characteristic of older and more prosperous communities. The emigration from whence it mainly sprung contained within itself the embryo forms of organization; nobility, clergy, merchants, and peasants were sent out from the fatherland, and commissioned especially for their several offices. No voluntary influx of ambitious, truculent, but energetic men swelled the population or disturbed the fatal repose of the young nation; no free development was permitted to its infant form, but, clothed in the elaborate garments of maturer years, the limbs were cramped, and the goodly proportions of nature dwarfed into a feeble frame. No safety-valve offered itself to the quick spirit of the young Canadian; military rank was limited to the favorites of the powers at home; mercantile success was debarred by vile and stupid monopolies; territorial possessions were unattainable but by interest or wealth: here the proud man, for a time, chafed and murmured, and at length strode away to the Far West, and sought the irresistible attractions of free and savage life.
No colony was ever governed by a succession of more able and excellent men than that of New France, perhaps none (except Algiers) has been apparently so much indebted to the mother country in tender infancy; none ever exhibited more thorough failure. A fertile soil, invigorating climate, and unsurpassed geographical advantages also offered themselves to the men of France; royal liberality and power lent them every aid; but, clogged by the ruinous conditions of their ecclesiastic and feudal organization, healthy action was impeded, and the seed, thus freely sown and carefully tended, grew up into a weak and sickly exotic. Experience has amply proved, as wisdom might have suggested, that in colonies, certainly, "the best government is that which governs least." When bold and vigorous men struggle forth from among the crowded thousands of the old communities, let them start in a fair race in the land of their adoption; the difficulties are great, let high hope cheer them; Nature there only opens her rich stores and bestows her treasures to brave and patient industry; the uncertain seasons, the Indian, and the wolf, are check and tax sufficient. The fatal error of despotic restraint cost France Canada by conquest, and cost us the noblest land God ever gave to man, by the deeper disgrace of a deserved and violent divorce.
The Canadian nobility, or rather gentry, were descended from the civil and military officers who from time to time settled in the country; through their own influence or that of their ancestors, this privileged class was altogether supported by royal patronage. Some enjoyed grants of extensive seigneuries;[153] others were speedily enriched by an appointment to the command of a distant post, where ample opportunities of dishonest aggrandizement were afforded and improved. Even the largest and least fortunate class were provided for by the less profitable favor of commissions in the colonial corps.
These favorites of power were generally vain and indolent men; they disdained trade and agriculture alike as beneath their high-born dignity; but they did not scruple to grasp at every convenient opportunity of easy profit, whether lawful or contraband; and they exacted, frequently with unequal justice, a large portion of the fruits of the earth from their peasant vassals. The feeble complaints of poverty against oppression were seldom loud enough to awake the attention of judges who were themselves often as guilty as the accused. From the especial favor enjoyed by the Canadian gentry under the rule of France, they were stanch to the last to her and to their own interests, and, as far as they went, were the most effective garrison in the colony: to them the prospect of British conquest was hateful and ruinous; with it must end their reign of corruption and monopoly.
At the time of the first settlement of Canada, the feudal system existed in the mother country in all its Gothic rigor, and thus it was naturally established in spirit and in letter as the basis of the new society. Every territorial possession in New France was originally held by grants under the strictest form of these iron laws; but, as the country became more populous and of increasing importance, a variety of modifications was gradually introduced, tending to curb the exorbitant power of the seigneurs, and proportionally to elevate the condition of their vassals. By degrees, many of the more obnoxious features of feudalism were effaced; and the nature of the tenure became to a certain extent adapted to the peculiar circumstances of the colony. The independent holdings by "free and common soccage" were not, however, effectually introduced till thirty years after the conquest.
The favored classes of the Canadians were devoted to social amusements; excursions by day, parties for gaming, and the dance at night, occupied their summer; and in winter, sleighing, skating, snow-shoeing, and evening réunion, turned that dreary time into a season of enjoyment. Lively, free, and graceful in manners, their vanity and want of education were little noticeable in the intercourse of daily life.[154] They were inclined to ostentation and extravagance;[155] the means, often unscrupulously procured, were squandered with careless profusion, and they generally endeavored to keep up an appearance of wealth beyond that which they really possessed. Henri de Pont Brian, bishop of Quebec, in his remarkable address to the Canadian people immediately before the conquest, draws a dark picture of the religious and moral condition of the inhabitants at the time, and attributes the threatened danger to the "especial wrath of Heaven for the absence of pious zeal—for the profane diversions—the insufferable excesses of games of chance—the contempt of religious ordinances—open robberies—heinous acts of injustice—shameful rapines. The contagion is nearly universal." Making every allowance for the worthy ecclesiastic's probable exaggeration of the causes which excited his indignation, the evidence of their own spiritual pastor must bear heavily against the reputation of the French colonists.
The clergy were usually classed in the second rank of Canadian precedence; in actual importance, however, they had no superior. Those holding the higher offices of the Church were chiefly or exclusively of French origin, and some among them were men of high talents and attainments; the parochial ministers and curates were generally colonists, sprung from the humble orders of society, locally educated, and limited in their ideas. Nevertheless, their influence over the still simpler parishioners was very great. These inferior clergy were placed under the absolute control of their bishops, by them promoted, removed, or dispossessed at pleasure; a certain degree of jealousy, therefore, not unnaturally mingled itself with the curate's reverend awe of his alien prelate, whose lessons of humility were often less strongly inculcated by example than by precept. Although many of the country priests exerted themselves zealously against the English, under the impression that a heretic conquest would be the ruin of their Church, they were not altogether contented with the intimacy of the connection that bound them to France. The idea had arisen, increased, and ripened among them, that from their own body a discriminating government could have selected wise and holy men upon whose heads the apostolic miter might have been judiciously placed. The arrival of a new bishop or other ecclesiastical dignitary from France was no more a matter of rejoicing to the reverend fathers of Canada than that of a Parisian collector or intendant to the provincial merchant and farmer. In the year 1759, however, the Bishop of Quebec, the Abbé de la Corne, was of Canadian origin; notwithstanding which, he was at that critical time in France. When the Bishopric of Quebec was erected by Louis XIV. in 1664, he endowed the new see with the revenues of the two abbacies, Benevent and l'Estrie; subsequently these were resigned to a general fund for the increase of small livings, from which a yearly income of 8000 livres was allowed instead for the colonial bishopric. The chapter was also enriched by a royal pension and an abbey in France, together valued at 12,000 livres annually.
Besides some liberal allowances from the French crown, the Hôtel de Ville, and other external sources, no less than one fourth of all the granted lands was bestowed upon the Church establishment, and the several religious, educational, and charitable institutions of the colony, and a tithe of a twenty-sixth part of all the produce of the fields was also appropriated to the support of the parochial clergy.
First in establishment, and beyond all compare foremost in importance among the religious orders in the colony, was that of the Jesuits: to their particular care were intrusted the education of youth and the Indian missions. Here, as in all other countries where that mysterious and once terrible brotherhood had taken root, the traces of their vampire energy were plainly and painfully visible. We can not, however, but regard with admiration the courage and unquenchable zeal of these extraordinary men; their union of strange and contradictory qualities astounds us: the strong will of the tyrant, the enterprise of the freeman, and the discipline of the slave. With variety and versatility of power, but singleness of purpose, they pursued their appointed course; whether warping the minds of their civilized pupils in the chill tranquillity of the cloister, or denouncing idols among the fiercest of the heathen, ever devoted and unwearied.
The mission of the Jesuit priests was to bring the savage, on any terms, within the pale of the visible Church; not to advance him in civilization, but to tame him to the utmost possible docility. They overleaped the tedious difficulties of conversion, and proselyted whole tribes in a single day. At times they even adapted the forms of Catholicism to the ferocious customs of the Indians. On one occasion, when the Christian Hurons were about to torture and slay some heathen Iroquois taken in battle, the missionary, by bribes and prayers, gained permission to baptize the victims, but made no intercession to save them from an agonizing death: while under the torments of the fire and the knife, they recited their new creed instead of chanting the last war-song. The Jesuit historian of this dreadful scene calls on his readers to rejoice in the providential mercy that brought the captured Iroquois within the blessed fold of the Church. In the triumph of Christianizing the heathen, he despised the task of humanizing the Christian.
Even the wise and benevolent Charlevoix seemed to have forgotten that Christianity is "the religion of civilized man," and that its doctrine and practice are utterly incompatible with the habits of savage life. He, in common with his Jesuit brethren, ever exhibited a jealous hesitation and dislike to the enlightenment of the Indians by secular instruction, or to the improvement of their physical condition; any effort made by others with this object caused them deep uneasiness. When, in 1667, M. de Talon, the intendant, urged by the far-sighted Colbert, endeavored to introduce the language and civilization of Europe among the savages, he was defeated by the determined opposition of the missionaries, who alone at that time exercised influence over the red children of the forest. Nearly twenty years afterward the same policy was pressed upon M. de Denonville, and by him attempted; but, as Charlevoix complacently says, when the French were brought into contact with the Indians for this purpose, "the French became savages instead of the savages becoming French." This readiness in adapting themselves to the habits of the natives, which for a time gained them great power and popularity,[156] was ultimately fatal to their success as colonists. The Anglo-Americans, on the other hand, despising their Indian neighbors, and, in return, hated and feared by them, were seldom or never infected by the contagion of savage indolence.
M. de Frontenac writes, in the year 1691, that "the experience of twelve years' residence in Canada has convinced me that the Jesuit missions ought not to be separated as they are from the settlements of the French, but that free intercourse should be encouraged between the Indians and Europeans; thus they might become 'francisé' at the same time that they are Christianized, otherwise more harm than good will accrue to the king's service."
But on this question of the improvement of the Indians, the civil and the military authorities of the colony were at perpetual issue with the formidable brotherhood; the Canadian people generally concurred with their temporal rulers on this point, hence it resulted that in later years the Jesuits were little loved or esteemed in the colony.
More than a century after the missionaries first penetrated the Indian's country, their writers describe his condition as disgusting and degraded, rather with contentment than with regret. From their observations we may learn the views of the Jesuits, and in a measure see the result of their practice. "It must nevertheless be confessed that things have somewhat changed on this point (native civilization) since our arrival in this country; some of the Indians already begin to provide for future wants in case of the failure of the chase, but it is to be feared that this may go too far, and by creating superfluous wants, render them more unhappy than they now are in their greatest poverty. The missionaries, however, can not be blamed for causing this danger; they well know that it is morally impossible to keep the 'juste milieu,' and provide the proper restraint; they have rather desired to share with the Indian the hardships of his lot, than to open his eyes to the dangerous means of its amelioration."
When at one time the Christianized Iroquois had remained at peace for the unusual period of six months, they almost forgot the neighborhood of deadly and implacable enemies; the missionaries could not prevail upon their careless disciples to take the necessary precautions for defense; they therefore redoubled their endeavors to sanctify, and prepare for the worst fate, those whom they could not preserve from it. In this respect the Indian proved perfectly docile, and became readily imbued with the sentiments suitable to his perilous position: he was, in consequence, soon reduced to a degree of indolence and indifference which has perhaps no parallel in history. Enthusiasts in the cause, the Jesuits, Charlevoix says, regarded "every simple Indian who perished as an additional intercessor above for them and their labor of charity."
Almost the only civilization, and permanent religious faith and practice, was established among the Indians by the labors of Protestant missionaries. They, from the beginning, sought to cherish habits of industry and forethought, and to give their converts a taste for the comforts of life. In every instance of successful effort in the cause of civilization, from the earliest time to the present day, the native population has increased in numbers, and become gradually exempt from that mysterious curse of decay which seems to cling to all the rest of their savage brethren.[157]
The descendants of the now neglected Jesuit converts are in no wise distinguishable from other savages. By the labors of the brotherhood no permanent impression was stamped upon the Indians; they yielded themselves up in a great measure to the guidance of their missionary, who, in return, taught them the outward form and ceremony of his faith, but nothing more. He was the mind and the soul of the community; he alone exercised forethought, guarded against danger, and measured out enjoyment; to a certain extent he improved the temporary circumstances of his disciples, but he robbed them of their native energy, and crushed all freedom of thought and of individual action: he being removed, the body remained deprived of all directing intellect: the condition of the Christianized but uninstructed savage soon became almost the lowest of human existence, till weakness, hardship, and famine swept him away from the scene of earthly suffering.
A very able writer on colonization ascribes the rapid decay in numbers of all Jesuit congregations, whether in the snows of Canada, or the burning sunshine of Paraguay, to the unnatural restraint in which they live. No vigilant superintendence, moral instruction, and physical well-being can compensate for the loss of freedom of action and the habit of self-guidance. The necessity of taking thought for himself, and living by the sweat of his brow, seems indispensable to the healthy action of man's nature. It can not be denied that many of these communities have held together for generations free from the corroding cares and corrupting vices of civilization; amply supplied (superstition apart) with religious instruction, and free from crime and punishment; and many may be tempted favorably to contrast the feeble innocence of this theocracy with the turbulent passions and vices which deform more advanced societies, and to forget that the man whose mind is thus enslaved is sunk below the level of his kind: his contentment and simplicity are apathy and ignorance, and his obedience is degradation.
Although the evident aim of the brotherhood is to paralyze intellectual life in others, nothing is left undone to give vitality to their own. The Jesuit regards his society as the soul or citadel of Catholic theocracy, and sacrifices to it every social tie, his free will, and his life: fired with its gigantic ambition and its pride, they become his faith and morals; his constant idea is the hope of his order's universal sway; in darkness and secrecy, with patience and invincible perseverance, he works on at the labor of centuries, devoted to the one great purpose, the fulfillment of which his dilating eye sees through the vista of unborn generations. Yet this wonderful organization holds the eternal passion of its deep heart riveted upon an object ever unattainable; for the Jesuit seeks not to rear the supremacy of his Church upon the firm foundations of virtue, truth, and reason; his earnest toil is wasted on the shifting quicksands of ignorance and superstition; the loftier the building, the more complete and extensive must be the ruin. Nevertheless, through failure and success alike, his faith's somber fire burns unceasingly upon the inward altar of his soul.
The merchants of Canada were chiefly of French, the retail dealers of native birth. From the nature of the colonial system, trade conferred neither wealth nor respect, except to the favored few enjoying monopolies. Every one in business was deeply involved by the depreciated bills of exchange upon the home government, and their only hope of ultimate payment rested upon the maintenance of the connection with the parent state. The trading classes may therefore be counted as generally hostile to the British power, but their importance was very small; like all the French race, they were more inclined to small trading transactions than those on a larger scale, and preferred enterprise to industry. It has been seen that one of the leading objects in the establishment of the colony was the trade in fur, especially that of the beaver; but the very abundance of this commodity ultimately proved of great detriment: the long and frequent journeys for the purpose of obtaining it gave the Canadians idle and wandering habits, which they could not shake off even when the low value of the now over-plentiful fur rendered their enterprises almost unprofitable.
The Canadian peasantry, or "habitans," were generally a healthy, simple, and virtuous race, but they were also extremely ignorant; indeed, the jealousy of their rulers would never suffer a printing-press to be erected in the country; few could read or write, and they were remarkably credulous of even the grossest fabrications which emanated from their superiors. Chiefly of Norman origin, they inherit many ancestral characteristics: litigious, yet impetuous and thoughtless; brave and adventurous, but with little constancy of purpose. The resemblance of the interior of a peasant's dwelling in Normandy, and on the banks of the St. Lawrence, was remarkable to a practiced eye: with the exception of the flooring—which in Canada is always of wood, and in France of stone—every thing is nearly the same; the chimney always in the center of the building, and the partitions shutting off the sleeping apartments at each end of the large room where the inhabitants dwell by day.
The French minister, Colbert,[158] in his instructions to M. de Talon and the Sieur de Courcelles, dwelt much on the dangerous practice of the early Canadian colonists building their residences without rule or order, wherever convenience suited, and neglecting the important point of settling near together for mutual assistance and defense. This system being obviously a serious obstacle to successful colonization, an edict was issued by the king that henceforth there should be no clearing of lands except in close neighborhood, and that the dwellings should all be built according to rule: this ordinance proved useless, as it would have been necessary for the habitans to commence the toilsome task of new clearing, and to abandon the lands where their fathers had dwelt. In 1685, however, the French government again renewed the attempt to alter this pernicious system, but Charlevoix says that "every one agreed that their neighbor was in danger, but no one could be got to fear for himself in particular." Even those who had been the victims of this imprudence were not rendered wiser by experience;[159] any losses that could be repaired were repaired as soon as possible, and those that were irreparable were speedily forgotten. The sight of a little present advantage blinded all the habitans to the future. This is the true savage instinct, and it appears to be inspired by the air of the country. In the present day an evil of exactly the opposite description exists; as population became denser, the settlements became continuous, and the holdings smaller. The habitans, who are social to a vice, can not be induced to separate and clear new lands on a fresher but remoter soil.
In 1689 the King of France was urgently entreated by Comte de Frontenac to make a great effort against the English at New York. His answer was that he could spare no forces from Europe for America, and that the Canadians, by settling in closer neighborhood, would be fully capable of defending themselves. Thus, while the king could not understand the difficulty of the habitans giving up their old and cherished homes to seek others closer together, on the other hand they could not be convinced of his inability to send supplies; and, indeed, the system advocated by the crown would have been more costly in property than the most vigorous aggressive campaign could have proved.
Before the continuous wars with the English colonies, and internal corruption, had exhausted the sap of Canada, no people in the world enjoyed a happier lot than the simple habitans; they were blessed in a healthy climate, in the absence of all endemic diseases, in a fertile soil and an unlimited domain. These advantages might at least have retained in the colony those to whom it gave birth, and who could not be ignorant of its advantages; but love of change, hatred of steady labor, and impatience of restraint, have always urged many of the young and energetic, the life-blood of the population, to seek the irresistible allurements of the distant prairie and of the forest.
The Canadians were accused of an excessive greed of gain even by their greatest panegyrists; no enterprise was too difficult or dangerous that offered a rich reward. They were, however, far from miserly, and often dissipated their hardly-won treasures without restraint or consideration. Like all people in isolated communities, they had a high opinion of their own merits: this was not without some advantages, as it strengthened self-reliance, and gave spirit to overcome difficulties. The form and stature of the Canadian ranked high in the scale of mankind, but his vitality, though great, was not lasting; at a comparatively early age his frame exhibited symptoms of decline, and the snows of time descended upon his head.
Father Charlevoix simply remarks upon the intellectual powers of the Canadians, that "they are supposed to be incapable of any great scientific acquirements, or of patient study and application: I can not, however, answer for the justice of this remark, for we have never yet seen any one attempting to follow such pursuits." He gives them credit, however, for a rare taste for mechanics, and states that they frequently arrive at great perfection in trades to which they have never been apprenticed.
To reduce this volatile people to rules of military discipline was always found extremely difficult, but, in many respects, their own peculiar manner of waging war, at least against the Indians, was far more efficient in the wild scenes of savage contest: they were more to be depended upon for a sudden effort than for the continuous operations of a campaign, and in a time of excitement and under a commander whom they could trust, they have shown themselves capable of deeds of real daring. They were not commendable for filial affection, but elicited the warmest eulogiums from the reverend father (Charlevoix) on their piety and zeal. The sum of their virtues and vices denoted the promise more of a good than of a great people.
The Provincial revenue, produced by custom dues on imports and exports, charges on the sales of land, duties on spirituous liquors, rights on intestate deaths, shipwrecks, and miscellaneous sources, amounted to something under £14,000 sterling the year of the conquest, and the aid from the coffers of France to the ecclesiastical, civil, and military establishments was nearly £4760. These resources could not provide liberal salaries for the numerous colonial officials; as before stated, however, they made up for the deficiency by shameless and enormous peculations.
All the male inhabitants of the colony, from ten to sixty years of age, were enrolled by companies in a Provincial militia, except those who by birth or occupation enjoyed the privileges of nobility. The captains were usually the most respectable men in the country parishes, and were held in great respect. When the services of the militia were required, their colonels, or the town majors, transmitted the order of levy to the captains, who chose the required numbers, and conducted them under escort to the town; there each man received a gun, ammunition, and a rude sort of uniform: they were then marched to their destination. This force was generally reviewed once or twice a year for the inspection of their arms; that of Quebec was frequently exercised, and had attached thereto an efficient company of artillery. Many duties of law, police, and the superintendence of roads in the country districts were also imposed on the captains of militia: the governor-general was every year accustomed to bestow a quantity of powder and ball by way of gratification upon these useful officials.
Besides this numerous but somewhat uncertain militia force, there were in Canada ten veteran battalions of French infantry. These, however, were much reduced from their original strength by desertion, fatigue, and the casualties of war. The peculiar nature of the service, and the necessity of quartering the troops abroad in small detachments, had relaxed the rigor of European discipline, but the loss in this respect was more than counterbalanced by the knowledge of the country, and the habit of braving the severity of the climate. Their high military virtue was still well worthy of men who had fought under Marshal Saxe. The proud carriage and domineering conduct of these soldiers of Old France rendered them little loved by the Canadian people, and, as their pretensions were invariably supported by the government, it shared in the general unpopularity.
The one hundred and fifty years that had elapsed since Champlain first planted the banner of France upon the headland of Quebec told with terrible effect upon the Red Men: already among the Canadian hamlets on the banks of the Great River they were well-nigh forgotten. Whole tribes had sunk into the earth, and left not a trace behind; others had wandered away, and were absorbed among those more fortunate races as yet undisturbed by the white man's neighborhood; while some, in attempting a feeble and fatal imitation of civilized life, had dwindled to a few wretched families, who had cast away the virtues of savage life, and adopted instead only the vices of Europe. The Hurons of Jeune Lorette, near Quebec, were, however, as yet, a happy exception to this general demoralization. Many years before, they had been driven from the fertile countries between Lakes Huron and Erie, and found refuge upon the Jesuit lands: they lived much in the same manner as the Canadian peasantry, tilled the soil with equal success, and dwelt in comfortable houses. But in one respect they had not escaped the mysterious curse which has ever hung upon the red race in their contact with their European brethren; from year to year their numbers diminished in an unchecked decay.