As spring came, life awakened on the bay. Wild geese darkened the sky, the shrill honk, honk, calling the sailors’ notice to the long curved lines marshaled like armies with leaders and scouts, circling, maneuvering, filing north. Whiskey jays became noisier and bolder than in winter. Red bills alighted in flocks at the crew’s camp fires, and a constant drumming told of partridge hiding in underbrush the color of his own plumage. There was no lack of sport to Gillam’s crew. The ice went out with the rush of a cataract in May, and by June it was blistering hot, with the canaries and warblers and blue jays of Southern climes nesting in the forests of this far Northern bay. By June, The Nonsuch was ship-shape for homeward voyage, and the adventurers sailed for England, coming into the Thames about the time Radisson was driven back on The Wavero.
There is no record of what furs Groseillers and Gillam brought back, doubtless for the reason that the proceeds of their sale had to satisfy those creditors, who had outfitted the ships and to purchase new ships for future voyages. But the next move was significant. With great secrecy, application was made to King Charles II for a royal charter granting “the Gentlemen Adventurers Trading to Hudson’s Bay” monopoly of trade and profits for all time to come.
In itself, the charter is the purest piece of feudalism ever perpetrated on America, a thing so alien to the thought of modern democracy and withal destined to play such a necessary part in the development of northern empire that it is worth examining. In the first place, though it was practically deeding away half America—namely all of modern Canada except New France, and the most of the Western States beyond the Mississippi—practically, I say, in its workings; the charter was purely a royal favor, depending on that idea of the Stuarts that the earth was not the Lord’s, but the Stuarts, to be disposed of as they wished.
The applicants for the charter were Prince Rupert, the Duke of Albermarle, the Earl of Craven, Lord Arlington, Lord Ashley, Sir John Robinson, Sir Robert Viner, Sir Peter Colleton, Sir Edward Hungerford, Sir Paul Neele, Sir John Griffith, Sir Philip Carterett, Sir James Hayes, John Kirke, Frances Millington, William Prettyman, John Fenn and John Portman. “Whereas,” runs the charter, “these have at their own great cost and charges undertaken an expedition for Hudson’s Bay for the discovery of a new passage to the South Sea and for trade, and have humbly besought us to incorporate them and grant unto them and their successors the whole trade and commerce of all those seas, straits, bays, rivers, creeks and sounds in whatsoever latitude that lie within the entrance of the straits called Hudson’s Straits together with all the lands, countries and territories upon the coasts and confines of the seas, straits, bays, lakes, rivers, creeks and sounds not now actually possessed by the subjects of any other Christian State, know ye that we have given, granted, ratified and confirmed” the said grant. There follow the official name of the company, “the Governor and Company of Adventurers of England trading with Hudson’s Bay,” directions for the appointment of a governor and a governing committee—Prince Rupert to be the first governor—Robinson, Viner, Colleton, Hayes, Kirke, Millington and Portman to be the first committee, to which elections are to be made each November. Their territory is to be known as Rupert’s Land. Of this territory, they are to be “true and absolute lords” paying as token of allegiance to the King when he shall happen to enter these dominions “two elks and two black beaver.”
Permission is given to build forts, employ mariners, use firearms, pass laws and impose punishments. Balboa has been laughed at ever since he crossed Panama to the Pacific for claiming Heaven and earth, air and water, “from the Pole Arctic to the Pole Antarctic” for Spain; but what shall we say of a charter that goes on royally to add, “and furthermore of our own ample and abundant grace we have granted not only the whole, entire and only liberty of trade to and from the territories aforesaid; but also the whole and entire trade to and from all Havens, Bays, Creeks, Rivers, Lakes, and Seas unto which they shall find entrance by water or land out of the territories aforesaid ... and to, and with, all other nations adjacent to the said territories, which is not granted to any other of our subjects?”
In other words, if trade should lead these Adventurers far afield from Hudson Bay where no other discoverers had been—the territory was to be theirs. For years, it was contended that the charter covered only the streams tributary to Hudson Bay, that is to the headwaters of Churchill and Saskatchewan and Moose and Rupert Rivers, but if the charter was to be valid at all, it was to be valid in all its provision and the company might extend its possessions indefinitely. And that is what it did—from Hudson Bay to Alaska, and from Alaska to California. The debonair King had presented his friends with three-quarters of America.
All other traders are forbidden by the charter to frequent the territory on pain of forfeiture of goods and ships. All other persons are forbidden to inhabit the territory without the consent of the Company. Adventurers at the General Court in November for elections are to have votes according to their stock, for every hundred pounds one vote. The Company is to appoint local governors for the territory with all the despotic power of little kings. In case of misdemeanors, law-breakers may be brought before this local governor or home to England for trial, sentence, and punishment. The Shah of Persia had not more despotic power in his lands than these local governors. Most amazing of all, the Company is to have power to make war against other “Prince or People whatsoever that are not Christians,” “for the benefit of the said company and their trade.” Should other English intrude on the territory, the Company is explicitly granted the right to seize and expel them and impose such punishment as the offense may warrant. If delinquents appeal against such sentence, the Company may send them home to England for trial. Admirals, judges, sheriffs, all officers of the law in England are charged by the charter to “aid, favor, help and assist” the Company by “land and sea....” signed at Westminster, May 2, 1670.
We of to-day may well smile at such a charter; but we must remember that the stones which lie buried in the clay below the wall are just as essential to the superstructure as the visible foundation. Let us grant that the charter was an absurd fiat creating a tyranny. It was an essential first step on the trail that was to blaze a way through the wilderness to democracy.
In the charter lay the secret of all the petty pomp—little kings in tinsel—with which the Company’s underling officers ruled their domain for two hundred years. In the charter lay the secret of all the Company’s success and all its failure; of its almost paternal care of the Indians and of its outrageous, unblushing, banditti warfare against rivals; of its one-sidedness in driving a bargain—the true caste idea that the many are created for exploitation by the few—of its almost royal generosity when a dependent fell by the way—the old monarchical idea that a king is responsible for the well-being of his subjects, when other great commercial monopolists cast their useless dependents off like old clothes, or let them rot in poverty. Given all the facts of the case, any man can play the prophet. With such a charter, believing in its validity as they did in their own existence, it is not surprising the Adventurers of Hudson Bay ran the magnificent career the Company has had, and finally—ran their privileges aground.