The Indians, feathered, greased and painted, were seated in close ranks on the grass, braves, chiefs and sachems gravely smoking their pipes in silence. Troops, making the best possible show, were drawn up in lines along the sides. At one side, under a canopy of boughs and leaves, were seats for the spectators; these were occupied by ladies, officials, and the principal citizens of Ville Marie. In front was placed a chair for the Governor-General.
The French yielded themselves up readily to the spirit of the occasion. The whole community had recently passed through unheard-of sufferings, yet on the appearance of the faintest gleam of sunshine the colonists were ready to smile, to deck themselves out in their bravest, to seize eagerly all the brightness of the hour. Eyes and jewels flashed, brocades rustled, feathers waved, and here and there was a shimmer of filmy lace. In carf and coif, ladies whose noble manners, stately bearing and sparkling wit would have fitly graced the Court of Versailles, whose elegant and ingenious coquetries were the product of the most finished civilization, promenaded, escorted by officers bedecked with gold and silver lace and all the martial foppery rendered necessary by the etiquette of the day.
“Vive M. le Comte de Frontenac! It is M. le Gouverneur who has saved us from the clutches of those vultures, the Iroquois! Yes, and opened the fur trade, that we may not starve! Vive le Gouverneur!” shouted the crowd.
Frontenac’s gallantry and open-handed liberality, his success in dealing with the Indians, the prosperity which his policy had brought to Canada, rendered him the idol of the populace, who had not been blinded by jealousy or rent by internal divisions, as were the officials, civil, military and ecclesiastical, all of whom apparently wanted to obtain aid from the Government. In the upper classes every man had a grievance against somebody or something, of which he was continually writing complaints to France. These bickerings and animosities added, at least, a spice of variety to the life of the colony.
A detachment of guards in the King’s livery preceded the Governor, who was surrounded by a brilliant retinue of young nobles, gorgeous in lace and ribbons. Louis de Buade, Comte de Frontenac, Chevalier de l’Ordre de St. Louis and Governor-General of New France, had already attained his seventieth year, though the alert, decided movements of the bold and impetuous soldier showed no diminution of vitality. He represented the best type of French courtier and gentleman soldier of the reign of le Grand Monarque. A fine martial figure, erect and vigorous, the natural distinction of his mien and pose, the assured ease of look and manner, marked him as one familiar with the usages of courts. His keen black eyes shone beneath a broad brow upon which the years, with their many troubles, had traced scarcely a wrinkle. The Roman nose, thin lips, and firm, prominent chin, imparted a severe and imperious expression to his face. He wore a wig, lightly powdered, with long ringlets falling on either side of his face, crowned by a three-cornered hat bordered with gold. His fine red surtout and short embroidered vest were of the latest fashion; his loosely knotted cravat was of point lace, while his white and delicate hands were partly concealed by falling ruffles of the same. He wore shoulder and sword knots. A broad belt, inlaid with gold, fell from his right shoulder, encircling the waist, and held a sword whose hilt, resting upon the left hip, glittered with jewels. His shapely limbs showed to advantage in long black silk stockings and shoes with jewelled buckles. The Governor had a decided taste for splendor and profusion, delighting in brilliancy of clothing and luxury of service. All his surroundings presented as much pomp and magnificence as the slender resources of the colony would permit. This was an hour of triumph precious to the daring and potent spirit of the French noble, who fully perceived the force of his own position. Some time before he had been recalled in disgrace owing to the machinations of his enemies, and during his absence the colony’s fortunes had fallen to their very lowest ebb; he had now returned to taste the sweetness of success, and even his foes were forced to acknowledge the beneficial results which his policy had already achieved.
Near the Governor stood the interpreters, whose services were constantly required, while scattered about were a number of Canadian officers nearly every man of whom had been the hero of some marvellous exploit. Here was the Chevalier de Callière, Governor of Ville Marie, dark and haughty, almost as imperious as Frontenac himself, a man respected by the savages and adored by his own men. His rival, de Vaudreuil, a fluent, voluble Gascon, was in attendance upon the beautiful Louise de Joybert of Quebec, who was soon to become his bride, and had little attention to give to the animated conversation of d’Ailleboust de Mousseaux, Civil and Criminal Magistrate of Ville Marie, and his brother d’Ailleboust de Mantet, who had won laurels at the taking of Schenectady. All three courteously saluted Boisberthelot de Becancourt and Augustin le Gardeur de Coutremanche as they passed. Leaning on his sword stood the Sieur d’Hertel, who at the head of fifty Canadians and savages had taken Salmon Falls during the winter of 1690. Near by, Boucher de Boucherville, who with forty-six Frenchmen had held the fort of Three Rivers against five hundred Iroquois, was holding animated discussion with the Sieur de Montigny, whose body bore traces of conflict in innumerable wounds, and who in command of only twelve Canadians had taken forcible possession of Portugal Cove, and with M. de Pontneuf, son of the Baron de Becancourt, the preceding winter had gallantly silenced the eight cannon defending Casco. On one side the Sieurs de Beaujeu, de St. Ours, Baby de Rainville, de Lanandière, Deschambault, Chartier de Lobinière, d’Estimanville, de la Brossee, Repentigny de Montesson, Captains Subercase, d’Orvilliers, Sieur de Valrennes, and his lieutenant, M. Dupuy, conversed with something emphatically Gallic in their vivacious gestures and absorbed faces.
The clergy were also well represented. Talking to the Marquise de Monesthrol appeared Dollier de Casson, Superior of the Seminary, gigantic in stature, hearty of voice, with bold, brown, earnest face, frank and simple in expression. He had been a cavalry officer, and had fought bravely under Turenne; the soldier and the gentleman still lived under the priest’s hassock. Father Joseph Denys, Superior of the Recollets, benign and jovial, basking openly in the Governor’s favor, eyed jealously askance by the Jesuits, stood close behind Frontenac. Father Denys had to a great extent shared the Governor-General’s disgrace; the period of Frontenac’s banishment had proved evil days for the Recollets, and their Superior would have been more than human had he not exulted in their present exaltation.
In a group apart stood Jacques Le Ber, Le Moyne de Longueuil, La Chesnaye, de Niverville and Aubert de Gaspé. Some of these men had been the Governor’s most resolute antagonists during his first term of office, and were not at all sure of the ground upon which they were treading or the turn which affairs were likely to take.
Now ensued a striking scene, an essential preliminary to the treaty which the Governor-General hoped to conclude with the Indians. Few white men have ever surpassed the Count in skill in dealing with the aborigines. Those who had succeeded to his position after his recall to France had utterly failed in this direction. The only hope of maintaining this little settlement planted in the wilderness was in inducing the other Indian tribes to unite in a determined resistance to the encroachments of the Iroquois. He now listened to their orators with gravest attention, as though weighing every word that was uttered. When, in his turn, he addressed them with an air of mingled kindness, firmness and condescension that inspired them with respect, their expressions of approval came at every pause in his address. Then with the same ceremonious grace with which he might have bowed before Louis the Magnificent, the Governor grasped the hatchet, brandished it skilfully in the air, and in a clear, strong voice, intoned the war-song. To a punctilious courtier the position might have seemed utterly absurd, but Frontenac was a man of the world in the widest sense, and as much at home in a wigwam as in the halls of princes; as a diplomat he retained a clear, logical perception of all the facts of the situation. Many, under such circumstances, would have lost respect by an undignified performance, but the Count’s native tact enabled him to harmonize the most incongruous elements; the faculty of imitativeness, the utter absence of self-consciousness, the determination faithfully to execute a disagreeable duty, served his purpose. Instead of exciting ridicule his achievements delighted the Indians, aroused his friends to enthusiasm, and extorted a reluctant admiration even from the most determined of his opponents.
“This poor M. le Gouverneur! he possesses my sincere sympathy. Figure to yourself how these cries and howls, worse indeed than those made by the wild beasts of the forest, must prove trying to the throat,” remarked the Marquise, with a sincere appreciation of the loyalty involved in undergoing so very objectionable an ordeal.