Champlain had a hand in these events as a friend of Charles Daniel and associate of Charles de La Tour. In 1632, La Tour returned briefly to Paris. He made a great splash in the city, arriving with a party of Indian warriors, French traders, and their mixed offspring. La Tour lived on the rue Quincampoix in the financial district of Paris. One street away on the rue St. Martin were the offices of the Hundred Associates. There La Tour and Champlain worked together. In the winter of 1632–33, Nova Scotia historian M. A. MacDonald writes that these two men “were sure to have renewed their acquaintance, spending absorbed hours talking over affairs in New France, to which both would return the next Spring.”43
In this period, the Hundred Associates also sponsored a third subsidiary venture, and once again Champlain was a part of it. The object was to plant yet another small trading post and settlement at another strategic place on the fishing coast. The island of Miscou lay in the Bay of Chaleur, south of Gaspé Peninsula and northwest of Cape Breton. A fort there could control the approaches to the St. Lawrence estuary and much of the Atlantic coast. The French had operated a seasonal fishing station on Miscou since 1622, and had stayed the winter as early as 1626. It was the first permanent settlement on the fishing coast. But in July 1628, Miscou had been captured and looted by David Kirke. The French wanted it back.44
In 1632, while Champlain was in Paris, the Hundred Associates took an interest in Miscou, and sponsored a colonizing and commercial effort in the Bay of Chaleur and the Isle of Miscou. It authorized a subsidiary called the Company Cheffault-Rozée, with a capital of 100,000 livres. One third of the capital was contributed by the Hundred Associates. The rest was raised from individual entrepreneurs.45 Champlain himself became an active investor in the Company Cheffault-Rozée and paid 900 livres of his own money to develop the Miscou settlement. Here was an entirely new role for him. He participated not in the hope of realizing a profit, but with the intention of supporting an initiative that might help to recover New France. It worked. In 1632, the French successfully resettled Miscou, and Champlain’s friend and assistant Thierry Desdames became its commandant for many years.46 Champlain appears to have realized no monetary return from his capital investment, but Miscou Island became French again.47
These successes encouraged the Hundred Associates to think seriously about the recovery of Quebec. They turned to the de Caën family, who were still trading and fishing in troubled American waters. Protestant merchant Guillaume de Caën was the key figure. Richelieu was more comfortable working with Guillaume’s Catholic brother Émery. On March 4, 1632, Émery de Caën was asked to visit Quebec and see if it could be returned to French control. If so, he was authorized to take possession as acting commandant. He sailed for Quebec with the sieur Charles du Plessis-Bochart and Jesuit Father Paul Le Jeune.
On arrival, Émery de Caën found British traders still firmly in control of the fort and the settlement, and busily trading with the Indians. On June 29, 1632, de Caën and Father Le Jeune came ashore and boldly demanded that the occupiers should leave forthwith. The British delayed for a few days, and at last on July 13 they handed over the keys to Émery de Caën and departed. The colony was back under French control.48
The choice of a permanent leader for Quebec remained an open question. Richelieu was not pleased with Champlain. Perhaps the cardinal blamed him for the loss of the colony, though most people did not hold Champlain responsible, and it was amazing that he had held out as long as he did. Richelieu himself was more culpable for having interfered with the company at the critical moment and sending its largest fleet to destruction. Champlain’s open criticism of the cardinal and the king might have been another cause of Richelieu’s coolness. In negotiations with England, the relentless pressure that Champlain brought to bear at court must have been resented. Whatever the reason, Richelieu resolved in 1632 not to send Champlain to Quebec.
Many other people wanted the job. The merchant Guillaume de Caën had powerful friends in the Council of State, and they intervened in his support. He was a very able man, and his family had much experience of New France, but his Protestant religion made him unacceptable. Émery de Caën, although a Catholic, was not a strong candidate. The Caëns proposed du Plessis-Bochart, a good Catholic, but Richelieu had another idea. The Cardinal’s Ring was operating again. Richelieu decided to appoint his cousin Captain Isaac de Razilly. A commission was actually sent to Razilly with the name left blank.
It would have made a strong appointment. Razilly was an officer of ability, deeply interested in New France. Champlain had great respect for him. But to Richelieu’s surprise, Razilly refused the job. He returned the blank commission, with the message that he would be happy to serve under anyone whom it pleased the king to appoint. He is alleged to have added that he would prefer to serve as a lieutenant to Samuel Champlain, “because he is more competent in colonial affairs.”49
Richelieu yielded to that advice. After long delay and at the last possible moment, he reluctantly appointed Champlain to the top job in New France, with the title of lieutenant to the cardinal. It was not the title that Champlain wanted, and it did not come in the way he hoped. But once again Champlain was in command at Quebec.50
INDIAN FESTIVALS AND ALLIANCES
On Champlain’s first visit to New France (1603), he and Pont-Gravé walked boldly into a camp of a thousand Indians on the Saguenay River, joined a tabagie or tobacco feast, and made an alliance that lasted two centuries. He did it again with Penobscots, Mi’kmaq, Huron, Algonquins, and many other nations. In some ways, these scenes resembled George Catlin’s later painting of this festival among the Mandan nation, who lived near the Great Lakes in Champlain’s era, and later moved west to the Great Plains. (B1)
SAINT CROIX
Sainte-Croix Island in this aerial photo of 2004 is remarkably similar to Champlain’s map of 1604. The sieur de Mons and Champlain planted their first colony here, with disastrous results during the terrible winter of 1604–05. It is in the Saint Croix river, part of the present boundary between the United States and Canada. (B2)
PORT-ROYAL
In 1605 the French moved from Sainte-Croix to Port-Royal, now Annapolis Royal in Nova Scotia. It flourished in America with strong support from the Mi’kmaq nation, but it failed in France when the Council ended its monopoly in 1607. Francis Back’s drawing rests on much contemporary evidence and archaeology. (B3)
MI’KMAQ WARRIORS
The seventeenth-century Codex Canadiensis of Louis Nicolas shows a seaborne war party of Champlain’s Souriquois or Mi’kmaqs on its way to fight hereditary enemies across the Gulf of Maine. Champlain worked to end incessant violence among the maritime Indian nations. (B4)
INDIAN FISHERMEN AT WORK
Indians of the St. Lawrence and Acadia were skilled watermen. The Codex Canadiensis of Louis Nicolas shows them at work. The bowman uses a flute to please the Spirit and summon the fish, while the sternman works with a weighted net and spear. Their catch included sturgeon, salmon, carp, flounder, mackerel, bass, and shad. (B5)
FUR-TRADING IN QUEBEC
Champlain’s Second Habitation at Québec, 1624–35, stood in today’s Place Royale. This scene by Francis Back, derived from Champlain’s accounts and archaeology, shows a busy trading day. Hurons arrive (left), while Algonquins gather in the background, and a perfectly coiffed Cheveux-Relevé departs (right front). Champlain in his favorite red suit talks with a truchement and Montagnais, while other Indians move freely through his habitation. (B6)
THREE RULERS IN CHAMPLAIN’S FRANCE
Champlain kept his American dream alive under three very different French rulers. He flourished with the support of Henri IV (1589–1610), survived the enmity of Marie de Medici (1610–1617), and won over young Louis XIII (1617–1635). It is a marvel to see how he managed it. Rubens shows the Queen taking the Orb from the King in one hand, while she grasps the Dauphin in the other. Is she helping him up, or holding him down? (B7)
CHAMPLAIN’S AMERICAN CIRCLE AT C
OURT
At court, three powerful men helped Champlain during the regency of Marie de Medici and youth of Louis XIII. Charles II de Cossé-Brissac (top left) was a Maréchal of France, and Champlain’s former commander. Pierre Jeannin (1540–1622) (left) was president of the Dijon parlement, and royal councillor. Nicolas Brûlart de Sillery (1544–1624) was Lord Chancellor of France. All supported Champlain’s Grand Design. (B8)
RICHELIEU AND CHAMPLAIN
Cardinal Richelieu (1585–1642) was chief minister under Louis XIII, architect of French absolutism, and ruler of its colonies. His ruthless realpolitik was far removed from the spirit of Champlain’s dream. The two men worked together but never got on. Their troubled history was a conflict of two ethics. This triple portrait by Philippe de Champaigne suggests something of the cardinal’s complexity. (B9)
CHAMPLAIN’S LAST LABOR
In 1635, a stroke left Champlain paralyzed but keen of mind. He prepared for death with his accustomed prévoyance, and studied works such as The Pious Learning of the Christian Poet (1600), with its poem about “contemplation of death” by a “wise and well-versed navigator.” In his last months, Champlain dictated a will and testament in which he left much of his estate to support New France, subsidize settler marriages, and help his Indian godson. Even on his deathbed he served his dream of humanity and peace. (B10)
FATHER OF FRENCH CANADA
21.
REALIZING THE DREAM
Champlain as Acting Governor, 1632–35
When the French were absent, the earth was no longer the earth, the river was no longer the river, the sky was no longer the sky. But on the return of the sieur de Champlain everything was as before; the earth was again the earth; the river was again the river, and the sky was again the sky.
—A Huron captain on Champlain’s leadership, 16331
The wise conduct and prudence of Monsieur de Champlain, Governor of Quebec and the St. Lawrence River, honors us with his good will, holding everyone to the path of duty.
—A Jesuit missionary on Champlain’s leadership, 16342
IN THE OLD PORT OF DIEPPE, on March 23, 1633, three small French ships prepared to sail on a very large mission. Their orders were to recover the lost colony of New France and rebuild its ruined capital at Quebec. Nobody knew what to expect. Were the English conquerors still there? Would they fight? The French ships were armed with thirty-two guns and a small force of the king’s musketeers and pikemen, but their instructions were to avoid battle if possible. This was not a military expedition. It was a colonizing voyage, and the ships were crowded with passengers.3
In the flagship Saint-Pierre, 150 tons, Captain Pierre Grégoire took aboard 82 souls. Among them were four Jesuit priests, at least one married woman, and two girls aged six and thirteen.4 Captain Pierre de Nesle’s Saint-Jean (160 tons) carried 75 men. Many were artisans and workmen. Captain Michel Morieu’s Don-de-Dieu, 90 tons, had 40 souls aboard. Altogether the three ships carried 197 people. About 150 were hivernants who had promised to stay through the next Canadian winter.5
The mission commander was Samuel de Champlain, now with an extraordinary array of titles and powers. He carried the King’s Commission as Captain in the Royal Navy, and another as Lieutenant General in New France. Cardinal Richelieu had appointed him “Lieutenant” for “the St. Lawrence Valley .”Directors of the Company of the Hundred Associates had made him their chief representative in North America. He was also général de la flotte, or commodore of their ships for the crossing, commander of the troops who sailed with him, chief judge and lawgiver for Quebec, and administrator of the colony. All these powers were gathered in a single hand. In 1633 Champlain was the absolute ruler of his domain, subject only to the will of Louis XIII and Cardinal Richelieu.
But there were limits to his authority, especially where Richelieu was concerned. He had not wanted to appoint Champlain, and he gave clear signals of distrust. One factor may have been the memory of Champlain’s association with Henri IV. Another might have been a lingering suspicion of Protestant origins. A third was the matter of rank. Champlain had no quarterings of nobility on his escutcheon—at least none without the bar sinister of illegitimate birth. He was not a Knight of Malta. But perhaps what rankled Richelieu most were the qualities of Champlain’s character. He was always obedient to his superiors, but his deepest loyalty was to his design for New France. Whatever the reason, Richelieu limited Champlain’s authority to the rank of lieutenant for the St. Lawrence Valley, and denied him the official title of governor. The cardinal was careful to proclaim his own authority and to restrain his subordinates, especially when the leash was 3,000 miles long.
Those who knew Champlain and sailed with him to America had a different understanding of the man and his role. Even when the title of governor was officially denied by Richelieu, the people of Quebec gave it to him anyway. They called him their governor, often “our governor,” even “my governor.” The Indians of the St. Lawrence Valley went further. In 1633, they called him “the Captain of the French,” all the French. Europeans of other nations treated Champlain with deference and respect when they met him in America. So did the people of New France. Clerics and laymen, habitants and seamen, Québécois and Acadians, fishermen and interpreters recognized this man as their leader.6
By mid-March preparations for the voyage were complete. Prominent French leaders descended on Dieppe to see the ships off. Major investors and directors of the Company of the Hundred Associates arrived for a last round of meetings with Champlain. Father Barthélemy Jacquinot, head of the Jesuit Order in France, came to the harbor himself and led the blessing of the ships. The departure was something new in Champlain’s experience—a national event. In France this display of interest in North America was unprecedented. More than a few French leaders did not discover the importance of their American colony until the English tried to take it away from them.
Another factor was the recent publication of Champlain’s Voyages, his largest and most important work. It made a splash when it came off the press in 1632. So also did his magnificent maps. Champlain was a tireless promoter of New France, and he was quick to discover the expanding power of the periodical press. The sailing of the ships was covered by the Paris gazettes in 1633, especially by the Mercure François. Champlain later published a long account of the voyage anonymously in the Mercure, a major piece of writing that was missed by the editors of his works.7
At last, on the morning of March 23, the ships were ready. On board the flagship Saint-Pierre, Champlain nodded to the master and pilot. On command, master-gunners fired a salute that echoed across the anchorage. Seamen in gaudy dress hauled in the slippery anchor-cable, dripping with green weed. Topmen ran aloft and released the great sails from their gaskets. The canvas caught the wind, and filled with the happy thump that warms a sailor’s heart. On steering decks, burly helmsmen threw their weight against the long tillers, and guided the ships through the harbor.
It must have been a happy moment for Champlain. He was going to sea again, doing what he loved to do more than anything in the world. As the three ships cleared the harbor and turned together into the English Channel, he would have felt the wind on his cheek and smelled the salt in his nostrils. Flocks of white gulls soared free around him, and black cormorants raced straight and low across the water. In that moment he must have shared the feeling of release that any blue-water sailor will recognize.
The wind was fair for America, and westward they went with white bow waves streaming beneath sharp-pointed prows. They sailed along the emerald coast of England, passed Torbay in a fresh breeze, left the Isles of Scilly behind, and settled on a course for the new world. Overhead the flags of France snapped and fluttered on their halyards—the beautiful marine ensign with its white cross on a blue field, and the Bourbon banner with its gilded lilies on a white cloth. Perhaps the mastheads of the Saint-Pierre also flew Cardinal Richelieu’s standard, and the house flag of the Hundred Associates, as well as Champlain’s bro
ad pennant as général de la flotte.
This was his twenty-seventh Atlantic crossing, and Champlain was the most experienced navigator in the fleet. His expertise gave him yet another responsibility for guiding the ships across the ocean. All his skill would be needed on this voyage. Trouble began as they left the English Channel in what the sailor-poet John Masefield called “the mad March days.” On the morning of March 30, lookouts reported that little Don-de-Dieu had vanished in the night. Champlain shortened sail and found her again. He ordered all his ships to hoist lanterns in the night and instructed them to keep beacon-fires burning in iron cressets above their high stern rails.8
The three ships pressed on together with all sail set, and made very good time. By April 12, they were a thousand miles at sea. Then, inevitably, the Atlantic weather changed. The sky turned dark, and seamen were ordered aloft to take in topsails, just in the nick of time. On a pitch-black night the little ships ran into a mid-ocean storm of terrific violence, with strong head winds, high seas, a clatter of hail, sheets of driving rain, and the crash of thunder. All around them, the horizon was filled with great flashes of lightning that reflected on the wet sails and rigging. Champlain wrote that “in the darkness of the night, everything appeared to be on fire.” It was a stunning sight, and even he was shaken by it after all his many years at sea.9
The storm passed quickly, and the next day they found themselves in fair weather. All hands thanked God for their delivery. The ships set their topsails and ran before a favorable wind. Champlain reckoned his latitude by noon sunlines and the elevation of Polaris in the evening. He also studied his seamarks, and by April 24 he knew they were in American waters very near the Grand Bank. Here they met another hazard. The three small ships sailed into huge banks of rolling fog so thick that Champlain wrote that they “could see nearly nothing.” He ordered out the deep-sea lead, and on April 26, 1633, the leadsmen found bottom at 45 fathoms, or 270 feet. The lead brought up a few bits of sand and shell embedded in a pocket of tallow on its hollow bottom. A skilled Atlantic seaman could learn much from these telltale signs by sight and smell, and even taste. Champlain studied the evidence and reckoned from long experience that they were twelve leagues on the Grand Bank in the latitude of 45 degrees 30 minutes. Even in the fog he was able to identify his position with uncanny accuracy. They were exactly on course after five weeks at sea.
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