The Courrier des États-Unis of November 10, 1912, published an address delivered at the annual meeting of the Five Academies by M. Paul Vidal de la Blache, delegate of the Academy of Moral and Political Science. On the occasion referred to, M. Frédéric Masson, of the French Academy, presided. M. de la Blache said in opening his address:
“Gentlemen: In the course of a journey which a French delegation made last spring, to pay homage to the memory of Samuel Champlain, there was one day interesting above all others. I am sure none of our company will lose the memory of it. Many have eloquently expressed the impression which they cherish. Impressions of travel are usually fleeting; they become dim by their very multiplicity, and the daily train of events soon relegates them to the limbo of the forgotten. However, the memory of this day has not ceased after several months to spring freshly to mind. Such is the quality of countries which are stamped by the seal of history. To know the regions upon which the eyes of Champlain rested, to press under foot the fragments of palisades upon which was spilled the blood of the soldiers of Montcalm, is assuredly a moving experience.”
The speaker found that a visit to places thus endowed with associations, was like reviewing history condensed. He sketched the course of history in the Champlain valley, recalled the scenes of strife between Iroquois and Huron, English and French, English and “Americans of the Union.” “These memories,” he said, “crowded upon our thought and took form as we visited the scene which served to frame them.” The speaker lightly reviewed the varied scene as presented to the French visitors passing northward from New York to Ticonderoga. When he found himself on the battlefield of July 8, 1758, he exclaimed: “How fiction pales before history!” The memories of Montcalm and his army are so vivid that he sees again the memorable conflict of the old days. “This corner of historic earth,” he said, “by turn the property of the State of New York and of Columbia University, in 1818 passed into the hands of an old New York family. The descendants of Mr. William F. Pell honor themselves in preserving the souvenirs of the past, which they have in keeping.” He described the work of restoration which has been done at Ticonderoga, and dwelt with pleasure on the reception accorded the visitors at the old house with its souvenirs, its old furniture, pictures and relics, and with its distinctive portico, or veranda, which M. de la Blache found an interesting feature of Anglo-American Colonial architecture, from New England to Virginia.
Crossing to Crown Point, he reviewed in like strain the scenes and the associations of the place. At Crown Point, the speaker was overwhelmed by the memory that here, in 1609, came Champlain with his Algonquin allies. In a few picturesque sentences, he sketched the first conflict in this region, of white man against Iroquois, not forgetting to emphasize the higher mission which Champlain sought to accomplish.
Of the exercises which were held at this point, where M. Hanotaux delivered a notable address, M. de la Blache spoke at length. It was, he said, a ceremony very beautiful in its simplicity. “Around us familiarly crowded the people of the neighborhood, worthy farmers with something of a Puritan aspect, an attentive throng in which mingled many French Canadians; for we had come near to the actual boundary line of the languages.” “While the orator recalled the expressions by which Champlain described the country which revealed itself to us, our attention sought and found the distinctive features in the setting of this scene. Opposite, on the western shore, reared the massive granite of the Adirondacks, wooded, and partly covered with snow, the silhouette of which recalled, in grander proportion, that of the mountains of Morvan, seen from the south. On the other side, the more distant outline of the Green mountains, bathed in the luminous calm of a spring-time day.”
In similar vein, the speaker described his progress down the lake to Plattsburgh, where he recalled the associations of 1814. Thence on to the first Canadian town of St. John: “The fading day permitted us only to dimly see in the shadows of evening the Grand Isle, Isle La Motte, Isle aux Noix, which Champlain describes as ‘These beautiful islands filled with the finest woods and prairies,’” etc. The speaker passed on in his address to recall his visit to Montreal and Quebec, with tributes to the heroes of France who have made this region famous. “There remains to-day in our minds,” he says, “a sentiment of high regard for those who inspired in 1909 the commemoration of the tercentenary of Champlain’s discovery. Resulting from the initiative of the states of New York and Vermont, and endorsed by Federal authority and later honored by the participation of France, this celebration has taken a more general character than the mere glorification of a great man. It signifies the adoption by America of all the heroes who have contributed to our greatness. This homage was not confined to Champlain; it is shared with Montcalm, it is addressed to La Salle, to Marquette, whose statue appears in the Capitol at Washington; to Maisonneuve, the founder of Montreal, to whom is reared a statue upon one of the city places; to La Clède, whose statue is reared in one of the parks of St. Louis; to Joliet, to d’Iberville, to Hennepin and Duluth, and to many others who, on Lake Champlain, on the Ohio, on the Great Lakes, or on the Mississippi, were the pioneers of a dominion, which should come to be realized some day, but far after them and otherwise than they would have conceived. Doubtless America honors herself in honoring and adopting our glories. With this act of courtesy mingles a strong sentiment of pride. It costs us nothing, however, to associate ourselves with an homage which concerns us, and from which we can draw a sense of consolation.
“The names which I have recalled are more popular in America than in their own country. We show ourselves forgetful of their fame, as if to make their memories bear the blame of our failings. A somewhat pusillanimous feeling makes us neglect this part of our historic inheritance, as one turns aside from painful memories, the bitterness of which he fears. These regrets assuredly are justified. ‘Sic vos non vobis’: such is the phrase which springs to the lips. I do not believe, however, that such should be the last word, nor the final sentiment at which we ought to stop. In an address delivered three years ago, July 4, 1909, on the occasion of the Champlain Tercentenary fêtes, Cardinal Gibbons said: ‘We are much indebted to France for the great men whom she has sent to our country.’ Must one see in these words only a passing compliment? Rather do I perceive therein the emphasis of history. These Frenchmen, above all others, had prophetic vision of the extent and dimensions which this continent could afford to political domination. They perceived with larger vision than the tenacious colonists who applied their Puritan virtue and their practical sense to inlaying their settlements, one by one, between the sea and the Appalachians. These were the founders; but we may ask whether, without the perspectives opened by our countrymen, without their example and the emulation which it stimulated, this powerful unity, of which our epoch has seen the accomplishment from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico, would be realized. There is a something in the views, the plans, of this generalizing spirit, characteristic of our compatriots. Thinking of France, they have outlived the grandeur of the United States. Since by commemorations and by monuments, America honors herself by reminding us that in her eyes, as happy inheritor, a part of her present grandeur is the work of Frenchmen of other days, it becomes us to take her at her word. In the work of civilization, as it evolves, each bit of metal which the old nations throw into the crucible adds a quality and communicates its own resonance to the ingot which comes out. Doubtless it is to recover this past, which arouses hope within us—something besides the memory of deceit, the sense of having lost what the heroic contemporaries of Richelieu and Colbert caught sight of, for their country. Our American work is not to be summed up as a failure. It is the Americans themselves who recognize this and who say it.”