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As spring approached, the starving multitude on Isle St. Joseph
grew reckless with hunger. Along the main shore, in spots where the
sun lay warm, the spring fisheries had already begun, and the
melting snow was uncovering the acorns in the woods. There was
danger everywhere, for bands of Iroquois were again on the track of
their prey.1 The miserable Huron, gnawed
with inexorable famine, stood in the dilemma of a deadly peril and
an assured death. They chose the former; and, early in March, began
to leave their island and cross to the main-land, to gather what
sustenance they could. The ice was still thick, but the advancing
season had softened it; and, as a body of them were crossing, it
broke under their feet. Some were drowned; while others dragged
themselves out, drenched and pierced with cold, to die miserably on
the frozen lake, before they could reach a shelter. Other parties,
more fortunate, gained the shore safely, and began their fishing,
divided into companies of from eight or ten to a hundred persons.
But the Iroquois were in wait for them. A large band of warriors had
already made their way, through ice and snow, from their towns in
Central New York. They surprised the Huron fishermen, surrounded
them, and cut them in pieces without resistance,--tracking out the
various parties of their victims, and hunting down fugitives with
such persistency and skill, that, of all who had gone over to the
main, the Jesuits knew of but one who escaped.2
"My pen," writes Ragueneau, "has no ink black enough to describe the
fury of the Iroquois." Still the goadings of famine were relentless
and irresistible. "It is said," adds the Father Superior, "that
hunger will drive wolves from the forest. So, too, our starving
Huron were driven out of a town which had become an abode of horror.
It was the end of Lent. Alas, if these poor Christians could have
had but acorns and water to keep their fast upon! On Easter Day we
caused them to make a general confession. On the following morning
they went away, leaving us all their little possessions; and most of
them declared publicly that they made us their heirs, knowing well
that they were near their end. And, in fact, only a few days passed
before we heard of the disaster which we had foreseen. These poor
people fell into ambuscades of our Iroquois enemies. Some were
killed on the spot; some were dragged into captivity; women and
children were burned. A few made their escape, and spread dismay and
panic everywhere. A week after, another band was overtaken by the
same fate. Go where they would, they met with slaughter on all
sides. Famine pursued them, or they encountered an enemy more cruel
than cruelty itself; and, to crown their misery, they heard that two
great armies of Iroquois were on the way to exterminate them. . . .
Despair was universal." [Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 24.]
The Jesuits at St. Joseph knew not what course to take. The doom of
their flock seemed inevitable. When dismay and despondency were at
their height, two of the principal Huron chiefs came to the fort,
and asked an interview with Ragueneau and his companions. They told
them that the Indians had held a council the night before, and
resolved to abandon the island. Some would disperse in the most
remote and inaccessible forests; others would take refuge in a
distant spot, apparently the Grand Manitoulin Island; others would
try to reach the Andaste; and others would seek safety in adoption
and incorporation with the Iroquois themselves.
"Take courage, brother," continued one of the chiefs, addressing
Ragueneau. "You can save us, if you will but resolve on a bold step.
Choose a place where you can gather us together, and prevent this
dispersion of our people. Turn your eyes towards Quebec, and
transport thither what is left of this ruined country. Do not wait
till war and famine have destroyed us to the last man. We are in
your hands. Death has taken from you more than ten thousand of us.
If you wait longer, not one will remain alive; and then you will be
sorry that you did not save those whom you might have snatched from
danger, and who showed you the means of doing so. If you do as we
wish, we will form a church under the protection of the fort at
Quebec. Our faith will not be extinguished. The examples of the
French and the Algonquins will encourage us in our duty, and their
charity will relieve some of our misery. At least, we shall
sometimes find a morsel of bread for our children, who so long have
had nothing but bitter roots and acorns to keep them alive."
| [Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 25. It
appears from the MS. Journal des Supérieurs des Jésuites,
that a plan of bringing the remnant of the Hurons to
Quebec was discussed and approved by Lalemant and his
associates, in a council held by them at that place in
April.] |
The Jesuits were deeply moved. They consulted together again and
again, and prayed in turn during forty hours without ceasing, that
their minds might be enlightened. At length they resolved to grant
the petition of the two chiefs, and save the poor remnant of the
Huron, by leading them to an asylum where there was at least a hope
of safety. Their resolution once taken, they pushed their
preparations with all speed, lest the Iroquois might learn their
purpose, and lie in wait to cut them off. Canoes were made ready,
and on the tenth of June they began the voyage, with all their
French followers and about three hundred Huron. The Huron mission
was abandoned.
"It was not without tears," writes the Father Superior, "that we
left the country of our hopes and our hearts, where our brethren had
gloriously shed their blood." [Compare Bressani, Relation Abrégée,
288.] The fleet of canoes held its melancholy way along the shores
where two years before had been the seat of one of the chief savage
communities of the continent, and where now all was a waste of death
and desolation. Then they steered northward, along the eastern coast
of the Georgian Bay, with its countless rocky islets; and everywhere
they saw the traces of the Iroquois. When they reached Lake
Nipissing, they found it deserted,--nothing remaining of the
Algonquins who dwelt on its shore, except the ashes of their burnt
wigwams. A little farther on, there was a fort built of trees, where
the Iroquois who made this desolation had spent the winter; and a
league or two below, there was another similar fort. The River
Ottawa was a solitude. The Algonquins of Allumette Island and the
shores adjacent had all been killed or driven away, never again to
return. "When I came up this great river, only thirteen years ago,"
writes Ragueneau, "I found it bordered with Algonquin tribes, who
knew no God, and, in their infidelity, thought themselves gods on
earth; for they had all that they desired, abundance of fish and
game, and a prosperous trade with allied nations: besides, they were
the terror of their enemies. But since they have embraced the Faith
and adored the cross of Christ, He has given them a heavy share in
this cross, and made them a prey to misery, torture, and a cruel
death. In a word, they are a people swept from the face of the
earth. Our only consolation is, that, as they died Christians, they
have a part in the inheritance of the true children of God, who
scourgeth every one whom He receiveth." [Ragueneau, Relation des
Huron, 1650, 27. These Algonquins of the Ottawa, though broken and
dispersed, were not destroyed, as Ragueneau supposes.]
As the voyagers descended the river, they had a serious alarm. Their
scouts came in, and reported that they had found fresh footprints of
men in the forest. These proved, however, to be the tracks, not of
enemies, but of friends. In the preceding autumn Bressani had gone
down to the French settlements with about twenty Huron, and was now
returning with them, and twice their number of armed Frenchmen, for
the defense of the mission. His scouts had also been alarmed by
discovering the footprints of Ragueneau's Indians; and for some time
the two parties stood on their guard, each taking the other for an
enemy. When at length they discovered their mistake, they met with
embraces and rejoicing. Bressani and his Frenchmen had come too
late. All was over with the Huron and the Huron mission; and, as it
was useless to go farther, they joined Ragueneau's party, and
retraced their course for the settlements.
A day or two before, they had had a sharp taste of the mettle of the
enemy. Ten Iroquois warriors had spent the winter in a little fort
of felled trees on the borders of the Ottawa, hunting for
subsistence, and waiting to waylay some passing canoe of Huron,
Algonquins, or Frenchmen. Bressani's party outnumbered them six to
one; but they resolved that it should not pass without a token of
their presence. Late on a dark night, the French and Huron lay
encamped in the forest, sleeping about their fires. They had set
guards: but these, it seems, were drowsy or negligent; for the ten
Iroquois, watching their time, approached with the stealth of
lynxes, and glided like shadows into the midst of the camp, where,
by the dull glow of the smoldering fires, they could distinguish the
recumbent figures of their victims. Suddenly they screeched the
war-whoop, and struck like lightning with their hatchets among the
sleepers. Seven were killed before the rest could spring to their
weapons. Bressani leaped up, and received on the instant three
arrow-wounds in the head. The Iroquois were surrounded, and a
desperate fight ensued in the dark. Six of them were killed on the
spot, and two made prisoners; while the remaining two, breaking
through the crowd, bounded out of the camp and escaped in the
forest.
The united parties soon after reached Montreal; but the Huron
refused to remain in a spot so exposed to the Iroquois. Accordingly,
they all descended the St. Lawrence, and at length, on the
twenty-eighth of July, reached Quebec. Here the Ursulines, the
hospital nuns, and the inhabitants taxed their resources to the
utmost to provide food and shelter for the exiled Hurons. Their good
will exceeded their power; for food was scarce at Quebec, and the
Jesuits themselves had to bear the chief burden of keeping the
sufferers alive. [Compare Juchereau, Histoire de l'Hôtel-Dieu, 79,
80.]
But, if famine was an evil, the Iroquois were a far greater one;
for, while the western nations of their confederacy were engrossed
with the destruction of the Huron, the Mohawks kept up incessant
attacks on the Algonquins and the French. A party of Christian
Indians, chiefly from Sillery, planned a stroke of retaliation, and
set out for the Mohawk country, marching cautiously and sending
forward scouts to scour the forest. One of these, a Huron, suddenly
fell in with a large Iroquois war party, and, seeing that he could
not escape, formed on the instant a villainous plan to save himself.
He ran towards the enemy, crying out, that he had long been looking
for them and was delighted to see them; that his nation, the Hurons,
had come to an end; and that henceforth his country was the country
of the Iroquois, where so many of his kinsmen and friends had been
adopted. He had come, he declared, with no other thought than that
of joining them, and turning Iroquois, as they had done. The
Iroquois demanded if he had come alone. He answered, "No," and said,
that, in order to accomplish his purpose, he had joined an Algonquin
war-party who were in the woods not far off. The Iroquois, in great
delight, demanded to be shown where they were. This Judas, as the
Jesuits call him, at once complied; and the Algonquins were
surprised by a sudden onset, and routed with severe loss. The
treacherous Huron was well treated by the Iroquois, who adopted him
into their nation. Not long after, he came to Canada, and, with a
view, as it was thought, to some further treachery, rejoined the
French. A sharp cross-questioning put him to confusion, and he
presently confessed his guilt. He was sentenced to death; and the
sentence was executed by one of his own countrymen, who split his
head with a hatchet. [Ragueneau, Relation, 1650, 30.]
In the course of the summer, the French at Three Rivers became aware
that a band of Iroquois was prowling in the neighborhood, and sixty
men went out to meet them. Far from retreating, the Iroquois, who
were about twenty-five in number, got out of their canoes, and took
post, waist-deep in mud and water, among the tall rushes at the
margin of the river. Here they fought stubbornly, and kept all the
Frenchmen at bay. At length, finding themselves hard pressed, they
entered their canoes again, and paddled off. The French rowed after
them, and soon became separated in the chase; whereupon the Iroquois
turned, and made desperate fight with the foremost, retreating again
as soon as the others came up. This they repeated several times, and
then made their escape, after killing a number of the best French
soldiers. Their leader in this affair was a famous half-breed, known
as the Flemish Bastard, who is styled by Ragueneau "an abomination
of sin, and a monster produced between a heretic Dutch father and a
pagan mother."
In the forests far north of Three Rivers dwelt the tribe called the
Atticamegue, or Nation of the White Fish. From their remote
position, and the difficult nature of the intervening country, they
thought themselves safe; but a band of Iroquois, marching on
snow-shoes a distance of twenty days' journey northward from the St.
Lawrence, fell upon one of their camps in the winter, and made a
general butchery of the inmates. The tribe, however, still held its
ground for a time, and, being all good Catholics, gave their
missionary, Father Buteux, an urgent invitation to visit them in
their own country. Buteux, who had long been stationed at Three
Rivers, was in ill health, and for years had rarely been free from
some form of bodily suffering. Nevertheless, he acceded to their
request, and, before the opening of spring, made a remarkable
journey on snow-shoes into the depths of this frozen wilderness. [Iournal
du Pere Iacques Buteux du Voyage qu'il a fait pour la Mission des
Attikamegues. See Relation, 1651, 15.] In the year following, he
repeated the undertaking. With him were a large party of Atticamegue,
and several Frenchmen. Game was exceedingly scarce, and they were
forced by hunger to separate, a Huron convert and a Frenchman named
Fontarabie remaining with the missionary. The snows had melted, and
all the streams were swollen. The three travelers, in a small birch
canoe, pushed their way up a turbulent river, where falls and rapids
were so numerous, that many times daily they were forced to carry
their bark vessel and their baggage through forests and thickets and
over rocks and precipices. On the tenth of May, they made two such
portages, and soon after, reaching a third fall, again lifted their
canoe from the water. They toiled through the naked forest, among
the wet, black trees, over tangled roots, green, spongy mosses,
moldering leaves, and rotten, prostrate trunks, while the cataract
foamed amidst the rocks hard by. The Indian led the way with the
canoe on his head, while Buteux and the other Frenchman followed
with the baggage. Suddenly they were set upon by a troop of
Iroquois, who had crouched behind thickets, rocks, and fallen trees,
to waylay them. The Huron was captured before he had time to fly.
Buteux and the Frenchman tried to escape, but were instantly shot
down, the Jesuit receiving two balls in the breast. The Iroquois
rushed upon them, mangled their bodies with tomahawks and swords,
stripped them, and then flung them into the torrent. [Ragueneau,
Relation, 1652, 2, 3.]
1 "Mais le Printemps estant venu, les Iroquois
nous furent encore plus cruels; et ce sont eux qui vrayement ont
ruiné toutes nos esperances, et qui ont fait vn lieu d'horreur, vne
terre de sang et de carnage, vn theatre de cruauté et vn sepulchre
de carcasses décharnées par les langueurs d'vne longue famine, d'vn
païs de benediction, d'vne terre de Sainteté et d'vn lieu qui
n'auoit plus rien de barbare, depuis que le sang respandu pour son
amour auoit rendu tout son peuple Chrestien."--Ragueneau, Relation
des Hurons, 1650, 23.
2 "Le iour de l'Annonciation, vingt-cinquiesme de
Mars, vne armée d'Iroquois ayans marché prez de deux cents lieuës de
païs, à trauers les glaces et les neiges, trauersans les montagnes
et les forests pleines d'horreur, surprirent au commencement de la
nuit le camp de nos Chrestiens, et en firent vne cruelle boucherie.
Il sembloit que le Ciel conduisit toutes leurs demarches et qu'ils
eurent vn Ange pour guide: car ils diuiserent leurs troupes auec
tant de bon-heur, qu'ils trouuerent en moins de deux iours, toutes
les bandes de nos Chrestiens qui estoient dispersées ça et là,
esloignées les vnes des autres de six, sept et huit lieuës, cent
personnes en vn lieu, en vn autre cinquante; et mesme il y auoit
quelques familles solitaires, qui s'estoient escartées en des lieux
moins connus et hors de tout chemin. Chose estrange! de tout ce
monde dissipé, vn seul homme s'eschappa, qui vint nous en apporter
les nouuelles."--Ragueneau, Relation des Hurons, 1650, 23, 24.
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The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century, 1867
Jesuits
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