The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents Volume 7

PREFACE TO VOL. VII

Following is a synopsis of the documents contained in the present volume:

XXIII. The first installment (chaps. i.-ix.) of Le Jeune's Relation of 1634, written to the provincial at Paris, was given in Vol. VI. of our series. In the concluding portion herewith presented, the superior of the Quebec mission continues his account of the Montagnais. He describes their clothing and ornaments; then their language, which, though deficient in expressions for abstract ideas, he praises for its fullness and richness in vocabulary and grammatical forms. He offers to the provincial numerous reasons why he made so little progress in learning the tongue while he wintered among them—his own defective memory; the malice of a medicine man, whom he had opposed; the perfidy of the interpreter Pierre, who refused to teach him; his sufferings from hunger and illness; and the inherent difficulties of the language itself. All these points are elaborated, with many details, the result being a vivid picture of savage life, and of the hardships, danger, and suffering endured by this heroic missionary while wandering with the savages through the forests and mountains along the southern shore of the River St. Lawrence. At last, after almost six months of this wretched life, and many hair-breadth escapes from [page 1] death, Le Jenne, ill and exhausted, reaches his humble home, the mission house on the St. Charles. In the closing chapter he recounts, in the form of a journal, the events of the summer of 1634 at Quebec; the arrival of the French fleet, with Father Buteux and the colonists of Sieur Robert Giffard; the departure of Brébeuf, Daniel, and Davost for the Huron mission, and their hardships on the voyage; the foundation of new settlements above Quebec,—at St. Croix island (not to be confounded with the site of De Monts's colony), and Three Rivers. He announces his intention to go, with Buteux, to Three Rivers; and closes with an appeal for more missionaries, who shall be competent to learn the Indian dialects.

XXIV. In this letter to Cardinal Richelieu (dated August 1, 1635), Le Jeune congratulates him on his efforts to root out the Huguenot heresy; thanks him for his kindness, and for evidences of affection for the Jesuit mission in Canada; and urges the great man to aid the Company of New France in their colonizing enterprise, for on their success depends that of the mission. The cardinal is reminded how many poor French families might be provided with homes if sent to the New World, where land is abundant; he is also informed that some savages have been converted to the faith.

XXV. This document is known as Le Jeune's Relation of 1635. Heretofore the superior of Quebec has been the sole author of the annual report of the Jesuit mission in New France. But with the arrival of new missionaries the work was greatly broadened, and hereafter we shall find the Relation a composite, arranged by the superior from the several individual reports forwarded to him by his assistants in the field, [page 2] often with the addition of a general review from his own pen. Of such a character is the present Relation, which, like its successors, is for convenience designated by the name of the superior who forwarded it to the provincial at Paris, for publication.

The 112 introductory pages are by Le Jeune, dated Kebec, August 28, 1635; of these, we have space in this volume for but 51 pages (chaps. i., ii.). Commencing with p. 113 (original pagination), we shall find a report from Brébeuf, dated Ihonatiria (in the Huron country), May 27, 1635. Then will appear, commencing on p. 207, an undated report from Perrault, for 1634–35, describing the island of Cape Breton and the characteristics of its people; and, commencing on p. 220, a number of brief, unaccredited extracts from letters by various members of the missionary staff .

In his opening letter, addressed to the provincial, Le Jeune anticipates most hopefully the growth and prosperity of Canada in the hands of the French, but is especially rejoiced at the great interest which the mission has aroused in France. There, many pious laymen are aiding the enterprise with their efforts and money; many priests desire to join the Canadian mission; and many nuns are eagerly awaiting some Opportunity to labor among the Indian women and children for their conversion to the Christian faith. Le Jenne advises these sisters not to come to Canada until they are suitably provided with a house and means Of Support: and he appeals to the ladies of France to furnish this aid for the nuns. He then describes the condition and extent of the mission, which now has six residences at various points, all the way from Cape Breton to Lake Huron. At the [page 3] oldest of these, Notre Dame des Anges, near Quebec, center their plans for educational work. He wishes here to establish a college for French children, and is beginning a seminary for the instruction of Indian youth. He describes the importance of the Huron mission, and states that he has received promises of funds for its extension. He recounts the work of himself and his brethren in the French settlements, especially mentioning the comfort they gave to the sick and dying during an epidemic of scurvy at the new settlement at Three Rivers. He then gives detailed accounts of the religious experiences and deaths of various Indian converts; and relates the tragic death of the two Montagnais with whom he had spent the preceding winter,—Carigonan, "the sorcerer," and his brother Mestigoit, in whose cabin they all lived.

R. G. T.

Madison, Wis., April, 1897.

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[164] CHAPTER X.

ON THEIR CLOTHES AND ORNAMENTS.

T WAS THE OPINION of Aristotle that the world had made three steps, as it were, to [165] arrive at the perfection which it possessed in his time. At first, men were contented with life, seeking purely and simply only those things which were necessary and useful for its preservation. In the second stage, they united the agreeable with the necessary, and politeness with necessity. First they found food, and then the seasoning. In the beginning, they covered themselves against the severity of the weather, and afterward grace and beauty were added to their garments. In the early ages, houses were made simply to be used, and afterward they were made to be seen. In the third stage, men of intellect, seeing that the world was enjoying things that were necessary and pleasant in life, gave themselves up to the contemplation of natural objects and to scientific researches; whereby the great Republic of men has little by little perfected itself, necessity marching on ahead, politeness and gentleness following after, and knowledge bringing-up the rear.

Now I wish to say that our wandering Montagnais Savages are yet only [166] in the first of these three stages which I have just touched upon. Their only thought is to live, they eat so as not to die; they cover themselves to keep off the cold, and not for the sake of appearance. Grace, politeness, the knowledge [page 7] of the arts, natural sciences, and much less supernatural truths, have as yet no place in this hemisphere, or at least in these countries. These people do not think there is any other science in the world, except that of eating and drinking; and in this lies all their Philosophy. They are astonished at the value we place upon books, seeing that a knowledge of them does not give us anything with which to drive away hunger. They cannot understand what we ask from God in our prayers. "Ask him," they say to me, " for Moose, Bears, and Beavers; tell him that thou wishest them to eat; " and when I tell them that those are only trifling things, that there are still greater riches to demand, they laughingly reply, " What couldst thou wish better than to eat thy fill of these good dishes? " In short, they have nothing but life; yet they are not always sure of that, since they often die of hunger.

[167] Judge now how elegant must be their garments, how noble and rich their ornaments. You would enjoy seeing them in company. During the Winter all kinds of garments are appropriate to them, and all are common to both women and men, there being no difference at all in their clothes; anything is good, provided it is warm. They are dressed properly when they are dressed comfortably. Give them a hood, and a man will wear it as well as a woman; for there is no article of dress, however foolish, which they will not wear in all seriousness if it helps to keep them warm, in this respect being unlike those Lords who affect a certain color. Since they have had intercourse with our Europeans, they are more motley than the Swiss. I have seen a little six-year-old girl dressed in the greatcoat of her father, [page 9] who was a large man; yet no Tailor was needed to Adjust it to her size, for it was gathered around her body and tied like a bunch of fagots. One has a red hood, another a green one, and another a gray,—all made, not in the fashion of the Court, but in the way best suited to their convenience. Another will wear [168] a hat with the brim cut off, if it happens to be too broad.

The women have for dress a long shirt, or a hooded cloak, or a greatcoat, or a blanket, or some skins tied in as many places as may be necessary to keep out the wind. A man will wear one stocking of leather, and another of cloth; just now they are cutting up their .old coverings or blankets, with which to make sleeves or stockings; and I leave you to imagine how neatly and smoothly they fit. In a word, I repeat what I have already said,- to them propriety is convenience; and, as they only clothe themselves according to the exigencies of the weather, as soon as the air becomes warm or when they enter their Cabins, they throw off their garments and the men remain entirely naked, except a strip of cloth which conceals what cannot be seen without shame. As to the women, they take off their bonnets, sleeves and stockings, the rest of the body remaining covered. In this you have the clothing of the Savages, now during their intercourse and association with our French.

These people always go bareheaded, except [169] in the most severe cold, and even then some of them go uncovered, which makes me think that very few of them used hats before their intercourse with our Europeans; nor do they know how to make them, buying them already made, or at least cut, from our French people. So for their head gear they have [page 11] nothing but their hair, both, men and women and .even the children, for they are bareheaded in their swaddling clothes.

Their clothes are made of the skin of Elk, Bears, and other animals. The ones that they value the most are made of the skins of a kind of little black animal found in the Huron country; it is about the size of a Rabbit, the skin is soft and shiny, and it takes about sixty of them to make a robe. The tails of the animals are fastened to the bottom, to serve as fringe; and the heads above, to make a sort of border. These robes are nearly square in shape; the women paint colored stripes on them from top to bottom, which are about as wide as two thumbs, and are equally distant from each other, giving the effect of a kind of lace-work.

[170o] The men wear their robes in two ways. When it is a little warm they do not put these around them, but carry them over one arm and under the other; or else stretched across the back, and held in place by two little leather strings which they tie over the chest. This does not prevent them from appearing almost naked. When it is cold they all, men and women, wear the robe under one arm and over the shoulder of the other, then crossed; and thus they wrap themselves up comfortably, though awkwardly, against the cold; for when this garment is tied below the chest, they turn it up, fasten and tie it down near the belt or middle of the body, these folds forming a big belly or large flap in which they carry their little belongings. I once saw a Merry-andrew in a theatre in France, whose belly was built out exactly like those affected by our Savage Men and Women in Winter. [page 13]

Now as these robes do not cover their arms, they make themselves sleeves of the same skin, and draw upon them the stripes of which I have spoken, sometimes lengthwise, [171] sometimes around. These sleeves are quite broad at the top, covering the shoulders and almost uniting at the back,—two little strings fastening them in front and behind, but so clumsily that a bundle of thorn-sticks are better put together than the women are muffled up in these skins. Observe that there is no difference between the garments of a man and those of a woman, except that the woman is always covered with her robe, while the men discard theirs or wear them carelessly, in warm weather, as I have said.

Their stockings are made of Moose skin, from which the hair has been removed, nature and not art setting the fashion for them; they are considered well made if the feet and legs go into them, no ingenuity being used in making corners; they are made like boots, and are fastened under the foot with a little string. The seam, which is scarcely more than basted, is not at the back of the leg, but on the inside. When they sew them, they leave an edge of the skin itself, which they cut into fringe, occasionally fastening to this [172] a few matachias.[1] These stockings are quite long, especially in front, for they leave a piece which reaches quite high, and covers a great part of the thigh; to the upper edge of this piece are fastened small cords, tied to a leather belt which they all wear next to their skin.

Their shoes are not hard like ours, for they do not know enough to tan the leather. Our deerskin gloves are made of skin which is firmer, or at least as [page 15] firm, as their Moose skins of which they make their shoes. Also they have to wait until these hides have been used as robes, and until they are well oiled, otherwise their shoes would shrink at the first approach to the fire, which they do anyhow, well oiled as they are, if they are brought too near the heat. Besides, they absorb water like a sponge, so that the Savages cannot use them in this Element, but they are very serviceable against snow and cold. It is the women who are the seamstresses and shoemakers; it costs them nothing to learn this trade, and much less to procure [173] diplomas as master workmen; a child that could sew a little could make the shoes at the first attempt, so ingeniously are they contrived.

They make them large and capacious, especially in the Winter. In order to furnish them against the cold, they generally use a Rabbit skin, or a piece of an old blanket folded two or three times; with this they put some Moose hair; and then, having wrapped their feet in these rags, they put on their shoes, occasionally wearing two pairs, the one over the other. They tie them over the instep with a little string which is wound about the corners of the Shoe. During the snows we all, French and Savages, have made use of this kind of foot gear, in order to walk upon our Snowshoes; when the Winter had passed, we resumed our French shoes, and the Savages went barefooted.

This is not all that can be said about their clothes and ornaments, but it is all that I have seen and that I recall to mind just now; I forgot to say that those who can have or buy our French shirts wear them in the new fashion; for, instead [174] of wearing them [page 17] under, as we do, they put them on over all their clothes,—and, as they never wash them, they are in no time as greasy as dish-cloths; but this is just as they wish them to be, for the water, they say, runs ,.over them and does not penetrate into their clothes. [page 19]

CHAPTER XI.

ON THE LANGUAGE OF THE MONTAGNAIS SAVAGES.

WROTE last year that their language was very rich and very poor, full of abundance and full of scarcity, the latter appearing in a thousand different ways. All words for piety, devotion, virtue; all terms which are used to express the things of the other life; the language of Theologians, Philosophers, Mathematicians, and Physicians, in a word, of all learned men; all words which refer to the regulation and government of a city, Province, or Empire; all that concerns justice, reward and punishment; the names of an infinite number of arts which are in our Europe; of an infinite number of flowers, [175] trees, and fruits; of an infinite number of animals, of thousands and thousands of contrivances, of a thousand beauties and riches, all these things are never found either in the thoughts or upon the lips of the Savages. As they have no true religion nor knowledge of the virtues, neither public authority nor government, neither Kingdom nor Republic, nor sciences, nor any of those things of which I have just spoken, consequently all the expressions, terms, words, and names which refer to that world of wealth and grandeur must necessarily be absent from their vocabulary; hence the great scarcity. Let us now turn the tables and show that this language is fairly gorged with richness.

First, I find an infinite number of proper nouns [page 21] among them, which I cannot explain in our French, except by circumlocutions.

Second, they have some Verbs which I call absolute, to which neither the Greeks, nor Latins, nor we ourselves, nor any language of Europe with which I am familiar, have anything similar. For example, the verb Nimitison means absolutely, "I eat," without saying what; for, if you determine the [176] thing you eat, you have to use another Verb.

Third, they have different Verbs to signify an action toward an animate or toward an inanimate object; and yet they join with animate things a number of things that have no souls, as tobacco, apples, etc. Let us give some examples: "I see a man," Niouapaman iriniou; "I see a stone," niouabatè; but in Greek, in Latin, and in French the same Verb is used to express, "I see a man, a stone, or anything else." "I strike a dog," ni noutinau attimou ; "I strike wood," ninoutinen misticou. This is not all; for, if the action terminates on several animate objects, another Verb has to be used,—"I see some men," niouapamaoueth irinioueth, ninoutinaoueth attimoueth, and so on with all the others.

In the fourth place, they have Verbs suitable to express an action which terminates on the person reciprocal, and others still which terminate on the things that belong to him; and we cannot use these Verbs, referring to other persons not reciprocal, without speaking improperly. I will explain myself. The Verb [177] nitaouin means, "I make use of something;" nitaouin agouniscouehon, "I am using a hat;" but when I come to say, "I am using his hat," that is, the hat of the man of whom I speak, we must change the verb and say, Nitaouiouan outagoumiscouhon; [page 23] but, if it be an animate thing, the verb must again be changed, for example, "I am using his dog," nitaouiouan õtaimai. Also observe that all these verbs have their moods, tenses and persons; and that they are conjugated differently, if they have different terminations. This abundance is not found in the languages of Europe; I know it of some, and conjecture it in regard to others.

In the fifth place, they use some words upon the land, and others upon the water, to signify the same thing. As, for instance, I want to say, "I arrived yesterday;" if by land, I must say, nitagochinin outagouchi,-if by water, I must say, nimichagan outagouchi. I wish to say, "I was wet by the rain;" if it were in walking upon land, I must say, nikimiouanoutan,—if it were upon the water, nikhimiouanutan. "I am going to look for [178] something;" if upon land, I must say, ninaten,—if by water, ninahen; if it is an animate thing, and upon land, I must say, ninatau; if it be animate and in the water, I must say, ninahimouau ; if it is an animate thing that belongs to some one, I must say, ninahimouau; if it is not animate, niuahimouau. What a variety! We have in French only a single expression for all these things, "Ie vay querir," to which we add, in order to distinguish, "par eau," or "par terre."

In the sixth place, a single one of our adjectives in French is associated with all our substantives. For example, we say, "the bread is cold, the tobacco is cold, the iron is cold;" but in our Savage tongue these adjectives change according to the different -kinds of substantives,—tabiscau assini, "the stone is cold;" tacabisisiou nouspouagan," my tobacco pipe is cold; "takhisiou khichtemau, "this tobacco is cold;" [page 25] tacascouan misticou, "the wood is cold." If it is a large piece, tacascouchan misticou, "the wood is cold;" siicatchiou attimou, "this dog is cold;" and thus you see a strange abundance.

Observe, in passing, that all these [179] adjectives, and even all the nouns, are conjugated like Latin impersonal verbs. For example, tabiscau assini, "the stone is cold;" tabiscaban, "it was cold;" cata tabiscan, "it will be cold;" and so on. Noutaoui, is a noun which means, "my father;" noutaouiban, "it was my father, or my deceased father;" Cata noutaoui, "it will be my father," if such expressions could be used.

In the seventh place, they have so tiresome an abundance that I am almost led to believe that I shall remain poor all my life in their language. When you know all the parts of Speech of the languages of our Europe, and know how to combine them, you know the languages; but it is not so concerning the tongue of our Savages. Stock your memory with all the words that stand for each particular thing, learn the knot or Syntax that joins them together, and you are still only an ignoramus; with that, you can indeed make yourself understood by the Savages, although not always, but you will not be able to understand [180] them. The reason for this is, that, besides the names of each particular thing, they have an infinite number of words which signify several things together. If I wish to say in French, "the wind drives the snow," it is enough for me to know these three words, "the wind," the verb "drive," and "the snow," and to know how to combine them; but it is not so here. I know how they say "the wind," routin; how they say "it drives something [page 27] noble," as the snow is in the Savage estimation,—the word for this is rakhineou; I know how they say it snow," it is couné. But, if I try to combine these three words, Routin rakhineou couné, the Savages will not understand me; or, if they understand, will begin to laugh, because they do not talk like that, merely making use of a single word, piouan, to say "the wind drives or makes the snow fly." Likewise the verb nisiicatchin, means "I am cold;" the noun nissitai, means "my feet;" if I say nisiicat chin nissitai, to say "my feet are cold," they will indeed understand me; but I shall not understand them when they say Nitatagouasisin, which is the proper word to say, "my feet are cold." And what [181] ruins the memory is, that such a word has neither relation, nor alliance, nor any affinity, in its sound, with the other two; whence it often happens that I make them laugh in talking, when I try to follow the construction of the Latin or French language, not knowing these words which mean several things at once. From this it happens, also, that very often I do not understand them, although they understand me; for as they do not use the words which signify one thing in particular, but rather those that mean a combination of things, I knowing only the first, and not even the half of those, could not understand them if they did not have sufficient intelligence to vary and choose more common words, for then I try to unravel them.

This is enough to show the richness of their language; if I were thoroughly acquainted with it, I would speak with more certainty. I believe they have other riches which I have not been able to discover up to the present.

I forgot to say that the Montagnais have not so [page 29] many letters in their Alphabet as we have in ours; they confound B and P, and [182] also C, G, and K; that is, if two Savages were to pronounce the same word, you would think that one was pronouncing a B, and the other a P, or that one was using a C or K, and the other a G. They do not have the letters F, L, consonant V, X, and Z. They use R instead of L, saying Monsieur du Pressi for Monsieur du Plessi;[2] they utter the sound of P instead of consonant V, Monsieur Olipier instead of Monsieur Olivier. But, as their tongues are quite flexible, they will soon acquire our pronunciation if they are instructed, especially the children.

Father Brébeuf tells me that the Hurons have no M, at which I am astonished, for this letter seems to me almost natural, so extensively is it used.

Now if, as conclusion of this Chapter, Your Reverence asks me if I made much progress in the knowledge of this language during the winter I spent with these Barbarians, I answer frankly, "no;" and here are the reasons.

First, my defective memory, which was never very good, [183] and which continues to wither every day. Oh, what an excellent man for these countries is Father Brébeuf! His most fortunate memory, and his amiability and gentleness, will be productive of much good among the Hurons.

Second, the malice of the sorcerer, who sometimes prevented them from teaching me.

Third, the perfidy of the Apostate, who, contrary to his promise, and notwithstanding the offers I made him, was never willing to teach me,—his disloyalty even going so far as to purposely give me a word of one signification for another. [page 31]

In the fourth place, famine was for a long time our guest; and I scarcely ventured in her presence to question our Savages, their stomachs not being like barrels which sound all the louder for being empty; they resemble the drum, - the tighter it is drawn, the better it talks.

In the fifth place, my attacks of illness made me give up the care for the languages of earth, to think about the language of the other life whither I was expecting to go.

[184] In the sixth place, and finally, the difficulty of this language, which is not slight, as may be guessed from what I have said, has been no small obstacle to prevent a poor memory like mine from advancing far. Still, I talk a jargon, and, by dint of shouting, can make myself understood.

One thing would touch me keenly, were it not that we are not expected to walk before God, but to follow him, and to be contented with our own littleness; it is that I almost fear I shall never be able to speak the Savage tongues with the fluency necessary to preach to them, and to answer at once, without stumbling, their demands and objections, being so greatly occupied as I have been up to the present. It is true that God can make from a rock a child of Abraham. May he be forever praised, in all the tongues of the nations of the earth! [page 33]

[185] CHAPTER XII.

WHAT ONE MUST SUFFER IN WINTERING WITH THE SAVAGES.

PICTETUS says that he who intends to visit the public baths must previously consider all the improprieties that will be committed there; so that, when he finds himself sur-rounded by the derision of a mob of scoundrels who would rather wash his head than his feet, he may lose none of the gravity and modesty of a wise man. I might say the same to those in whom God inspires the thought and desire to cross over the seas, in order to seek and to instruct the Savages. It is for their sake that I shall pen this Chapter, so that, knowing the enemy they will encounter, they may not forget to fortify themselves with the weapons necessary for the combat, especially with patience of iron or bronze, or rather with a patience entirely of gold, in order to bear bravely and lovingly the great trials that must be endured among these people. Let us begin [186] by speaking of the house they will have to live in, if they wish to follow them.

In order to have some conception of the beauty of this edifice, its construction must be described. I shall speak from knowledge, for I have often helped to build it. Now, when we arrived at the place where we were to camp, the women, armed with axes, went here and there in the great forests, cutting the frame-work of the hostelry where we were to lodge; meantime [page 35] the men, having drawn the plan thereof, cleared away the snow with their snowshoes, or with shovels which they make and carry expressly for this purpose. Imagine now a great ring or square in the snow, two, three or four feet deep, according to the weather or the place where they encamp. This depth of snow makes a white wall for us, which surrounds us on all sides, except the end where it is broken through to form the door. The framework having been brought, which consists of twenty or thirty poles, more or less, according to the size of the cabin, it is planted, not upon the ground but upon the snow; then they throw upon these poles, which converge [187] a little at the top, two or three rolls of bark sewed together, beginning at the bottom, and behold, the house is made. The ground inside, as well as the wall of snow which extends all around the cabin, is covered with little branches of fir; and, as a finishing touch, a wretched skin is fastened to two poles to serve as a door, the doorposts being the snow itself. Now let us examine in detail all the comforts of this elegant Mansion.

You cannot stand upright in this house, as much on account of its low roof as the suffocating smoke; and consequently you must always lie down, or sit flat upon the ground, the usual posture of the Savages. When you go out, the cold, the snow, and the danger of getting lost in these great woods drive you in again more quickly than the wind, and keep you a prisoner in a dungeon which has neither lock nor key.

This prison, in addition to the uncomfortable position that one must occupy upon a bed of earth, has four other great discomforts,—cold, heat, smoke, and [page 37] dogs. [188] As to the cold, you have the snow at your head with only a pine branch between, often nothing but your hat, and the winds are free to enter in a thousand places. For do not imagine that these pieces of bark are joined as paper is glued and fitted to a window frame; they are often like the plant mille-pertuis[3], except that their holes and their openings are a little larger; and even if there were only the opening at the top, which serves at once as window and chimney, the coldest winter in France could come in there every day without any trouble. When I lay down at night I could study through this opening both the Stars and the Moon as easily as if I had been in the open fields.

Nevertheless, the cold did not annoy me as much as the heat from the fire. A little place like their cabins is easily heated by a good fire, which sometimes roasted and broiled me on all sides, for the cabin was so narrow that I could not protect myself against the heat. You cannot move to right or left, [189] for the Savages, your neighbors, are at your elbows; you cannot withdraw to the rear, for you encounter the wall of snow, or the bark of the cabin which shuts you in. I did not know what position to take. Had I stretched myself out, the place was so narrow that my legs would have been halfway in the fire; to roll myself up in a ball, and crouch down in their way, was a position I could not retain as long as they could; my clothes were all scorched and burned. You will ask me perhaps if the snow at our backs did not melt under so much heat. I answer, "no, no;" that if sometimes the heat softened it in the least, the cold immediately turned it into ice. I will [page 39] say, however, that both the cold and the heat are endurable, and that some remedy may be found for these two evils.

But, as to the smoke, I confess to you that it is martyrdom. It almost killed me, and made me weep continually, although I had neither grief nor sadness in my heart. It sometimes grounded all of us who were in the cabin; that is, it caused us to place our [190] mouths against the earth in order to breathe. For, although the Savages were accustomed to this torment, yet occasionally it became so dense that they, as well as I, were compelled to prostrate themselves, and as it were to eat the earth, so as not to drink the smoke. I have sometimes remained several hours in this position, especially during the most severe cold and when it snowed; for it was then the smoke assailed us with the greatest fury, seizing us by the throat, nose, and eyes. How bitter is this drink! How strong its odor! How hurtful to the eyes are its fumes! I sometimes thought I was going blind; my eyes burned like fire, they wept or distilled drops like an alembic; I no longer saw anything distinctly, like the good man who said, video homines velut arbores ambulantes. I repeated the Psalms of my Breviary as best I could, knowing them half by heart, and waited until the pain might relax a little to recite the lessons; and when [191] I came to read them they seemed written in letters of fire, or of scarlet; I have often closed my book, seeing things so confusedly that it injured my sight.

Some one will tell me that I ought to have gone out from this smoky hole to get some fresh air; and I answer him that the air was usually so cold at those times that the trees, which have a harder skin than [page 41] man, and a more solid body, could not stand it, splitting even to the core, and making a noise like the report of a musket. Nevertheless, I occasionally emerged from this den, fleeing the rage of the smoke to place myself at the mercy of the cold, against which I tried to arm myself by wrapping up in my blanket like an Irishman; and in this garb, seated upon the snow or a fallen tree, I recited my Hours; the trouble was, the snow had no more pity upon my eyes than the smoke.

As to the dogs, which I have mentioned as one of the discomforts of the Savages' houses, I do not know that I ought to blame them, for they have sometimes rendered me good [192] service. True, they exacted from me the same courtesy they gave, so that we reciprocally aided each other, illustrating the idea of mutuum auxilium. These poor beasts, not being able to live outdoors, came and lay down sometimes upon my shoulders, sometimes upon my feet, and as I only had one blanket to serve both as covering and mattress, I was not sorry for this protection, willingly restoring to them a part of the heat which I drew from them. It is true that, as they were large and numerous, they occasionally crowded and annoyed me so much, that in giving me a little heat they robbed me of my sleep, so that I very often drove them away. In doing this one night, there happened to me a little incident which caused some confusion and laughter; for, a Savage having thrown himself upon me while asleep, I thought it was a dog, and finding a club at hand, I hit him, crying out, Aché, Aché, the words they use to drive away the dogs. My man woke up greatly astonished, thinking that [193] all was lost; but having discovered [page 43] whence came the blows, " Thou hast no sense," he said to me, " it is not a dog, it is I." At these words I do not know who was the more astonished of us two; I gently dropped my club, very sorry at having found it so near me.

Let us return to our dogs. These animals, being famished, as they have nothing to eat, any more than we, do nothing but run to and fro gnawing at everything in the cabin. Now as we were as often lying down as sitting up in these bark houses, they frequently walked over our faces and stomachs; and so often and persistently, that, being tired of shouting at them and driving them away, I would sometimes cover my face and then give them liberty to go where they wanted. If any one happened to throw them a bone, there was straightway a race for it, upsetting all whom they encountered sitting, unless they held themselves firmly. They have often upset for me my bark dish, and all it contained, in my gown. I was amused whenever there was a quarrel among them at [194] our dinner table, for there was not one of us who did not hold his plate down with both hands on the ground, which serves as table, seat, and bed both to men and dogs. From this custom arose the great annoyance we experienced from these animals, who thrust their noses into our bark plates before we could get our hands in. I have said enough about the inconveniences of the Savages' houses, let us speak of their food.

When I first went away with them, as they salt neither their soup nor their meat, and as filth itself presides over their cooking, I could not eat their mixtures, and contented myself with a few sea biscuit and smoked eel; until at last my host took me to task [page 45] because I ate so little, saying that I would starve myself before the famine overtook us. Meanwhile our Savages had feasts every day, so that in a very short time we found ourselves without bread, without our, without eels, and without any means of helping ourselves. For besides being very far in the woods, where we would have died a thousand times before [195] reaching the French settlement, we were wintering on the other side of the great river, which cannot be crossed in this season on account of the great masses of ice which are continually floating about, and which would crush not only a small boat but even a great ship. As to the chase, the snows not being deep in comparison with those of other years, they could not take the Elk, and so brought back only some Beavers and Porcupines, but in so small a number and so seldom that they kept us from dying rather than helped us to live. My host said to me during this time of scarcity, "Chibiné, harden thy soul, resist hunger; thou wilt be sometimes two, sometimes three or four, days without food; do not let thyself be cast down, take courage; when the snow comes, we shall eat." It was not our Lord's will that they should be so long without capturing anything; but we usually had something to eat once in two days,—indeed, we very often had a Beaver in the morning, and in the evening of the next day a Porcupine as big as [196] a sucking Pig. This was not much for nineteen of us, it is true, but this little sufficed to keep us alive. When I could have, toward the end of our supply of food, the skin of an Eel for my day's fare, I considered that I had breakfasted, dined, and supped well. [page 47]

At first, I had used one of these skins to patch the cloth gown that I wore, as I forgot to bring some pieces with me; but, when I was so sorely pressed with hunger, I ate my pieces; and, if my gown had been made of the same stuff, I assure you I would have brought it back home much shorter than it was. Indeed, I ate old Moose skins, which are much tougher than those of the Eel; I went about through the woods biting the ends of the branches, and gnawing the more tender bark, as I shall relate in the journal. Our neighboring Savages suffered still more than we did, some of them coming to see us, and telling us that their comrades had died of hunger. I saw some who had eaten only once in five days, and who considered themselves very well off if they found something [197] to dine upon at the end of two days; they were reduced to skeletons, being little more than skin and bones. We occasionally had some good meals; but for every good dinner we went three times without supper. When a young Savage of our cabin was dying of hunger, as I shall relate in the following Chapter, they often asked me if I was not afraid, if I had no fear of death; and seeing me quite firm, they were astonished, on one occasion in particular, when I saw them almost falling into a state of despair. When they reach this point, they play, so to speak, at "save himself who can;" throwing away their bark and baggage, deserting each other, and abandoning all interest in the common welfare, each one strives to find something for himself. Then the children, women, and for that matter all those who cannot hunt, die of cold and hunger. If they had reached this extremity, I would have been among the first to die. [page 49]

So these are the things that must be expected I before undertaking to follow them; for, although they may not be pressed with famine every year, yet they run the risk every [198] winter of not having food or very little, unless there are heavy snowfall and a great many Moose, which does not always happen.

Now if you were to ask me what my feelings were in the terrors of death, and of a death so lingering as is that which comes from hunger, I will say that I can hardly tell. Nevertheless, in order that those who read this Chapter may not have a dread of coming over to our assistance, I can truly say that this time of famine was for me a time of abundance. When I realized that we began to hover between the hope of life and the fear of death, I made up my mind that God had condemned me to die of starvation for my sins; and, a thousand times kissing the hand that had written my sentence, I awaited the execution of it with a peace and joy which may be experienced, but cannot be described. I confess that one suffers, and that he must reconcile himself to the Cross; but God glories in helping a soul when it is no longer aided by his creatures. Let us continue on our way.

[199] After this famine, we had some good days. The snow, which had been only too deep to be cold, but too shallow to take the Moose, having greatly increased toward the end of January, our Hunters captured some Moose, which they dried. Now either on account of my lack of moderation, or because this meat, dried as hard as wood and as dirty as the street, did not agree with my stomach, I fell sick in the very beginning of February. So behold me obliged to remain all the time lying upon the cold ground; this [page 51] did not tend to cure me of the severe cramps that tormented me and compelled me to go out at all hours of the day and night, plunging me every time in snow up to my knees and sometimes almost up to my waist, especially when we had first begun our encampment in any one place. These severe attacks lasted about eight or ten days, and were accompanied by a pain in the stomach, and a weakness in the heart, which spread through my whole body. I recovered from this sickness, but not entirely, for I was [200] only dragging myself around at mid-Lent, when I was again seized with this disease. I tell the following in order to show how little help may be expected from the Savages when a person is sick. Being very thirsty one day, I asked for a little water; they said there was none, and that they would give me some melted snow if I wanted it. As this drink was bad for my disease, I made my host understand that I had seen a lake not far from there, and that I would like very much to have some of that water. He pretended not to hear, because the road was somewhat bad; and it happened thus not only this time, but at any place where the river or brook was a little distance from our cabin. We had to drink this snow melted in a kettle whose copper was less thick than the dirt; if any one wishes to know how bitter this drink is, let him take some from a kettle just out of the smoke and taste it.

As to the food, they divide with a sick man just as with the others; if they have fresh meat they give him his share, if he wants it, but if he does not eat it [201] then, no one will take the trouble to keep a little piece for him to eat when he wants it; they will give him some of what they happen to have at the [page 53] time in the cabin, namely, smoked meat, and nothing better, for they keep the best for their feasts. So a poor invalid is often obliged to eat among them what would horrify him even in good health if he were with our Frenchmen. A soul very thirsty for the Son of God, I mean for suffering, would find enough here to satisfy it.

It remains for me yet to speak of their conversation, in order to make it clearly understood what there is to suffer among these people. I had gone in company with my host and the Renegade, on condition that we should not pass the winter with the Sorcerer, whom I knew as a very wicked man. They had granted my conditions, but they were faithless, and kept not one of them, involving me in trouble with this pretended Magician, as I shall relate hereafter. Now this wretched man and the smoke were the two greatest trials [202] that I endured among these Barbarians. The cold, heat, annoyance of the dogs, sleeping in the open air and upon the bare ground; the position I had to assume in their cabins, rolling myself up in a ball or crouching down or sitting without a seat or a cushion; hunger, thirst, the poverty and filth of their smoked meats, sickness,—all these things were merely play to me in comparison to the smoke and the malice of the Sorcerer, with whom I have always been on a very bad footing, for the following reasons:—

First. because, when he invited me to winter with him, I refused; and he resented this greatly, because he saw that I cared more for my host, his younger brother, than I did for him.

Second. because I could not gratify his covetousness [page 55]. I had nothing that he did not ask me for, often taking my mantle off my shoulders to put it on his own. Now as I could not satisfy all his demands, he looked upon me with an evil eye; indeed, even if I had given him all the little I had, I could not have gained [203] his friendship, because we were at variance on other subjects.

Third. In the third place, seeing that he acted the Prophet, amusing these people by a thousand absurdities, which he invented, in my opinion, every day, I did not lose any opportunity of convincing him of their nonsense and childishness, exposing the senselessness of his superstitions. Now this was like tearing his soul out of his body; for, as he could no longer hunt, he acted the Prophet and Magician more than ever before, in order to preserve his credit, and to get the dainty pieces. So that in shaking his authority, which was diminishing daily, I was touching the apple of his eye and wresting from him the delights of his Paradise, which are the pleasures of his jaws.

Fourth. In the fourth place, wishing to have sport at my expense, he sometimes made me write vulgar things in his language, assuring me there was nothing bad in them, then made me pronounce these shameful words, which I did not understand, in the presence of the Savages. Some women having warned me of this trick, I told him I would no longer soil my paper nor My [204] lips with these vile words. He insisted, however, that I should read before all those of the cabin, and some Savages who had come thither, something he had dictated to me. I answered him that, if the Apostate would interpret them to me, I would read them. That Renegade refusing to [page 57] do this, I refused to read. The Sorcerer commanded me imperiously, that is, with high words, and I at first begged him gently to excuse me; but as he did not wish to be thwarted before the Savages, he persisted in urging me, and had my host, who pretended to be vexed, urge me also. At last, aware that my excuses were of no avail, I spoke to him peremptorily, and, after reproaching him for his lewdness, I addressed him in these words: " Thou hast me in thy power, thou canst murder me, but thou canst not force me to repeat indecent words." They are not such," he said. " Why then," said I, will they not interpret them to me? " He emerged from this conflict very much exasperated.

Fifth. In the fifth place, seeing that my [205] host was greatly attached to me, he was afraid that this friendliness might deprive him of some choice morsel. I tried to relieve him of this apprehension by stating publicly that I did not live to eat, but that I ate to live; and that it mattered little what they gave me, provided it was enough to keep me alive. He retorted sharply that he was not of my opinion, but that he made a profession of being dainty; that he was fond of the good pieces, and was very much obliged when people gave them to him. Now although my host gave him no cause for fear in this direction, yet he attacked me at almost every meal as if he were afraid of losing his precedence. This apprehension increased his hatred.

Sixth. In the sixth place, when he saw that the Savages of the other cabins showed me some respect, knowing besides that I was a great enemy of his impostures, and that, if I gained influence among his flock, I would ruin him completely, he did all he could to [page 59] destroy me and to make me appear ridiculous in the eyes of his people.

Seventh. In the seventh place, add to all these things the aversion which he and all the Savages of Tadoussac had, up to the present time, against the French, since their intercourse with the English; and judge what treatment I might have received from these Barbarians, who adore this miserable Sorcerer, against whom I was generally in a state of open warfare. I thought a hundred times that I should only emerge from this conflict through the gates of death. He treated me shamefully, it is true; but I am astonished that he did not act worse, seeing that he is an idolater of those superstitions which I was fighting with all my might. To relate in detail all his attacks, gibes, sneers, and contempt, I would write a Book instead of a Chapter. Suffice it to say, that he sometimes even attacked God to displease me; and that he tried to make me the laughingstock of small and great, abusing me in the other cabins as well as in ours. He never had, however, the satisfaction of inciting our neighboring Savages against me; they merely hung their heads when they heard the blessings he showered upon me. As to the servants, instigated by [207] his example, and supported by his authority, they continually heaped upon me a thousand taunts and a thousand insults; and I was reduced to such a state, that, in order not to irritate them or give them any occasion to get angry, I passed whole days without opening my mouth. Believe me, if I have brought back no other fruits from the Savages, I have at least learned many of the insulting words of their language. They were saying to me at every turn, eca titou, eca titou nama khitirinisin, [page 61] "Shut up, shut up, thou hast no sense." Achineou, "He is proud;" Moucachtechiou, "He plays the parasite;" sasegau, "He is haughty;" cou attimou, "He looks like a Dog;" cou mascoua, "He looks like a Bear;" cou ouabouchou ouichtoui, "He is bearded like a Hare;" attimonai oukhimau, "He is Captain of the Dogs;" cou oucousimas ouchtigonan, "He has a head like a pumpkin;" matchiriniou, "He is deformed, he is ugly;" khichcouebeon, "He is drunk." So these are the colors in which they paint me, and a multitude of others, which I omit. The best part of it was that they did not think sometimes that I understood them; and, seeing me smile, they became embarrassed,—at least, those who sang [208] these songs only to please the Sorcerer. The children were very troublesome, playing numberless tricks upon me, and imposing silence when I wanted to talk. When my host was at home, I had some rest; and, when the Sorcerer was absent, I was in smooth water, managing both great and small just as I wished. So these are some of the things that have to be endured among these people. This must not frighten any one; good soldiers are animated with courage at the sight of their blood and their wounds, and God is greater than our hearts. One does not always encounter a famine; one does not always meet Sorcerers or jugglers with so bad a temper as that one had; in a word, if we could understand the language, and reduce it to rules, there would be no more need of following these Barbarians. As to the stationary tribes, from which we expect the greatest fruit, we can have our cabins apart, and consequently be freed from many of these great inconveniences. But let us finish this Chapter; otherwise I see myself in danger [page 63] of becoming as troublesome as that impostor, [209] whom I commend to the prayers of all those who will read this. I shall set down in the following Chapter some conversations I had with him when we were enjoying a truce.

[page 65]

CHAPTER XIII.

CONTAINING A JOURNAL OF THINGS WHICH COULD NOT BE SET FORTH IN THE PRECEDING CHAPTERS.

F THIS Chapter were the first in this relation, it would throw some light upon all the following ones; but I have given it the last place, because it will continue to increase every day until the departure of the ships, through the occurrence of more noteworthy events which may happen. It is only a memoir, in the form of a journal, of all the things that could not be given in the preceding Chapters.

After the departure of our French,—who left the roadstead of Kebec on the 16th of August of last year, 1633, to sail for Tadoussac and thence to France,—in order to have [210] opportunity of conversing with the savages, and thus learning their language, I crossed the great saint Lawrence river to a cabin of branches, and went every day to school in those of the savages, who were encamped around me—allured by my hopes, if not of bringing the Renegade to a sense of his duty, at least of drawing from him some knowledge of the language. This poor wretch had newly arrived from Tadoussac, where he had shown great repugnance to the French. The famine which afflicted this Apostate and his brothers caused them to come up to Kebec in search of food. Now, as they were occupied in fishing, I was very often in their cabin, and occasionally [page 67] invited the Renegade to come again and pass the winter with us in our little house. He would very readily have agreed to this, had he not taken a wife from another nation than his own, and he could not send her away then. Therefore, seeing that he could not follow me, I threw out some hints about passing the winter with him; but during these negotiations, a furious tempest having one night swept down upon US, [211] Father de Noüe, two of our men, and myself, in our cabin, I was seized with a violent fever, which made me go back to our little home to recover my health.

The Apostate, seeing how I was inclined, discussed my plan with his brothers. There were three of them; one named Carigonan, and surnamed by the French the Married Man, because he made a great deal of the fact that he was married. He was the most famous sorcerer, or manitousiou, (thus they call these jugglers) of all the country; it is he of whom I have spoken above. The other was called Mestigoït, a young man about thirty-five or forty years of age, a brave Hunter, and endowed with a good disposition. The third was called Sasousinat, who is the happiest of all, for he is now in Heaven, having died a good Christian, as I stated in the second Chapter. The sorcerer, having learned from the Renegade that I wished to pass the winter with the Savages, came to see me toward the end of my sickness, and invited me to share his cabin,—giving me as his reason that he loved good men, because he himself was good, and had [212] always been so from his early youth. He asked me if Jesus had not spoken to me about the disease which tormented him. " Come," said he, "with me, and thou wilt make me [page 69] live now, for I am in danger of dying." But as I knew him for a very impudent fellow, I refused him as gently as I could; and, taking the Apostate aside, who also wished to have me, as he had shown to Father de Noüe that he had some desire to return to God, I told him that I would be glad to winter with him and with his brother Mestigoït, on condition that we should not go across the great river, that the sorcerer should not be of our party, and that he, who understood the French language well, would teach me. They both agreed to these three conditions, but they did not fulfill one of them.

On the day of our departure I gave them, for my support, a barrel of sea biscuit, which we borrowed from the storehouse of those Gentlemen, a sack of flour, some ears of Indian corn, some prunes, and some parsnips. [213] They urged me very strongly to take a little wine, but I did not wish to yield to them, fearing they would get drunk. However, having promised me they would not touch it without my permission, and having assured them that, if they did, I would throw it into the sea, I followed the advice of those who counseled me to carry a little barrel of it. Also I promised Mestigoït that I would take him for my host, for the Apostate is not a Hunter, and has no management; but I promised to make him a present upon our return, which I did. It was the expectation of this food which made them wish to have a Frenchman with them.

So I embarked in their shallop on the 18th of October precisely, making profession as a little pupil on the same day that I had previously begun the profession of master of our schools. When I went to take leave of Monsieur our Governor, he recommended [page 71] me very particularly to the Savages; and my host answered him, " If the Father dies, I will die with him, and you will never see me in this country again." Our French people showed [214] the most profound regret at my departure, knowing the dangers that one encounters in following these Barbarians. When all our Farewells were said, we set sail about ten o'clock in the morning. I was the only Frenchman, with twenty Savages, counting the men, women and children. The wind and tide were favorable, and we turned to go down past the Island of Orleans to another Island called by the Savages Ca ouahascoumagakhe; I know not whether it was the beauty of the day which spread over this Island, but I found it very pleasant.

As soon as we had set foot on land, my host took an arquebus he had bought from the English, and went in search of our supper. Meanwhile the women began to build the house where we were to lodge. Now the Apostate, having observed that every one was busy, returned to the boat that was lying at anchor, took the keg of wine, and drank from it with such excess, that, being drunk as a lord, he fell into the water and was nearly drowned. Finally he got out, after considerable scrambling, and started for the place where they were putting up the cabin. [215] Screaming and howling like a demon, he snatched away the poles and beat upon the bark of the cabin, to break everything to pieces. The women, seeing him in this frenzy, fled to the woods, some here, some there. My Savage, whom I usually call my host, was boiling in a kettle some birds he had killed, when this drunken fellow, coming upon the scene, broke the crane and upset everything into [page 73] the ashes. No one seemed to get angry at all this, but then it is foolish to fight with a madman. My host gathered up his little birds and went to wash them in the river, drew some water and placed the kettle over the fire again. The women, seeing that this madman was running hither and thither on the shores of the Island, foaming like one possessed, ran quickly to get their bark and take it to a place of security, lest he should tear it to pieces, as he had begun to do. They had scarcely had time to roll it up, when he appeared near them completely infuriated, and not knowing upon what to vent his fury, for they had suddenly disappeared, thanks to the darkness which had begun to conceal us. He approached [216] the fire, which could be seen on account of its bright light, and was about to take hold of the kettle to overturn it again; when my host, his brother, quicker than he, seized it and threw the water into his face, boiling as it was. I leave you to imagine how this poor man looked, finding himself thus deluged with hot water. He was never so well washed. The skin of his face and whole chest changed. Would to God that his soul had changed as well as his body. He redoubled his howls, and began to pull up the poles which were still standing. My host has told me since that he asked for an ax, with which to kill me; I do not know whether he really asked for one, as I did not understand his language; but I know very well that, when I went up to him and tried to stop him, he said to me in French, " Go away, it is not you I am after; let me alone;" then pulling my gown, " Come," said he, " let us embark in a canoe, let us return to your house; you do not know these people here; all they [page 75] do is for the belly, they do not care for you, but for your food." [217] To this I answered in an undertone and to myself, in vino veritas.

As the night was coming on rapidly, I retired into the woods, to escape being annoyed by this drunkard, and to get a little rest. While I was saying my prayers near a tree, the woman who managed the household of my host came to see me; and, gathering together some leaves of fallen trees, said to me, Lie down there and make no noise," then, having thrown me a piece of bark as a cover, she went away. So this was my first resting place at the sign of the Moon, which shone upon me from all sides. Behold me an accomplished Chevalier, after the first day of my entrance into this Academy. The rain coming on, a little before midnight, made me fear that I might get wet, but it did not last long. The next morning I found that my bed, although it had not been made up since the creation of the world, was not so hard as to keep me from sleeping.

The next day I wanted to throw the barrel, with what was left of the wine, into the river, as I had told them I would do, [218] in case any one abused it; but my host, seizing me around the waist, cried out, eca toute, eca toute, " Do not do that, do not do that. Dost thou not see that Petrichtich" (it is thus they call the Renegade in derision) " does not know anything, that he is a dog? I promise thee that we will never touch the barrel unless thou art present." I yielded, and made up my mind to distribute it liberally, in order to free myself of the fear that a little wine might make us drink a great, deal of water; for, if they were to get drunk while we were sailing, we would be lost. [page 77]

We intended leaving this Island in the morning; but the tide fell sooner than we expected, and stranded our Boat. Hence we had to wait for the evening tide, upon which we embarked, and sailed away by the aid of the Moon as well as of the wind. We reached another Island, called Ca ouapascounagate. As we arrived about midnight, our people did not take the trouble to make a house; and we slept in the same bed and lodged at the same sign as the night before, [219] under the shelter of the trees and sky.

The next day we left this Island to go to another one, called Ca chibariouachcate; we might have called it the Island of the white Geese, for I saw there more than a thousand of them in one flock.

The following day we tried to leave, but the bad weather compelled us to land again at the end of this same Island. It is a solitude, like all the country; that is, it has only temporary inhabitants, for these people have no fixed habitation. It is bordered by rocks so massive, so high, and so craggy, and is withal covered so picturesquely with Cedars and Pines, that a Painter would consider himself favored to view it, in order to derive therefrom an idea of a desert frightful in its precipices and very pleasing in the variety and number of its trees, which one might say had been planted by the hand of art rather than of Nature. As it is indented by bays full of mud, there hides here such a quantity and variety of game, some of which I have never seen in France, that it must be seen in order to be believed.

[220] Leaving this Island of game, we sailed all day and toward nightfall landed at a small Island, [page 79] called Atisaoucanich etagoukhi, that is, place where dyes are found; I am inclined to think that our people gave it that name, for they found there some little red roots which they use in dyeing their Matachias.¹ I would like to call it the Isle of misfortune; for we suffered a great deal there during the eight days that the storms held us prisoners. It was night when we disembarked; the rain and wind attacked us, and in the meantime we could scarcely find five or six poles to serve as beams for our house,—which was so small, so narrow, and so exposed for such weather as this, that in trying to avoid one discomfort we fell into two others. We had to shorten ourselves, or roll up like hedgehogs, lest we scorch the half of our bodies. For our supper, and dinner as well, because we had eaten nothing since morning, my host threw to each one a piece of the biscuit I had [22 I] given him, informing me that we were not to drink anything with our food, as the water of this great river began to be salty in this place. The next day we collected some rainwater, which had fallen into dirty rocks, and drank it with as much enjoyment as they drink the wine of Aï in France.

They had left our Shallop at anchor in a strong tidal current. I told them it was not safe, and that it ought to be placed under shelter behind the Island; but, as we were only waiting for a good breeze in order to depart, they did not heed me. During the night the tempest increased, so that it seemed as if the winds were uprooting our Island. Our host, foreseeing what might occur, roused the Apostate, and urged him to come and help him save our Shallop, which threatened to go to pieces. Now either [page 81] this wretch was lazy, or he was afraid of the billows; for he did not even try to get up, giving as his only reason that he was tired. During this delay, the wind broke the fastening, or cable of the anchor, and in an instant carried away our Shallop. My host, seeing this fine [222] management, came and said to me, "Nicanis, my well-beloved, the Shallop is lost; the winds, which have loosened it, will break it to pieces against the rocks which surround us on all sides." Who would not have been vexed at that Renegade, whose negligence caused us untold trials, considering that we had a number of packages among our baggage, and several children to carry? Yet my host, barbarian and savage that he is, was not at all troubled at this accident; but, fearing it might discourage me, he said to me, "Nicanis, my well-beloved, art thou not angry at this loss, which will cause us so many difficulties?" " I am not very happy over it, " I answered. " Do not be cast down, " he replied, " for anger brings on sadness, and sadness brings sickness. Petrichtich does not know anything; if he had tried to help me, this misfortune would not have happened." And these were all the reproaches he made. Truly, it humiliates me that considerations of health should check the anger and vexation of a Barbarian; and that the law of God, his good pleasure, the hope of his great rewards, the fear of his [223] chastisements, our own peace and comfort, cannot check the impatience and anger of a Christian.

The above misfortune was soon followed by another. In addition to the Shallop, we had a little bark Canoe, and the tide, rising higher than usual through the force of the wind, robbed us of that; [page 83] and there we were, more than ever prisoners. I neither saw tears nor heard complaints, not even among the women, upon whose shoulders this disaster fell more particularly, as they are like beasts of burden, usually carrying the baggage of the Savages; on the contrary, everybody began to laugh.

When morning came, for it was at night when the tempest committed this theft, we all ran along the edge of the river, to learn with our own eyes some news of our poor Shallop and our Canoe. We saw both of them stranded a long distance from us, the Shallop among the rocks and the Canoe along the edge of the woods of the mainland. Every one thought they were all in pieces; as soon as the sea had receded, [224] some ran toward the Shallop, and others toward the Canoe. Wonderful to relate, nothing was harmed; I was amazed, for out of a hundred ships made of wood as hard as bronze, scarcely one would have been saved in those violent blasts of wind, and upon those rocks.

While the wind held us prisoners in this unhappy Island, a number of our people went to visit some Savages who were five or six leagues from us, so that there only remained in our cabin the women and children, and the Hiroquois. During the night, a woman who had gone out, returned, terribly frightened, crying out that she had heard the Manitou, or devil. At once all the camp was in a state of alarm, and every one, filled with fear, maintained a profound silence. I asked the cause of this fright, for I had not heard what the woman had said; eca titou, eca titou, they told me, Manitou, " Keep still, keep still, it is the devil. " I began to laugh, and rising to my feet, went out of the cabin; and to reassure them I [page 85] called, in their language, the Manitou, crying in a loud voice that I [225] was not afraid, and that he would not dare come where I was. Then, having made a few turns in our Island, I reëntered, and said to them, " Do not fear, the devil will not harm you as long as I am with you, for he fears those who believe in God; if you will believe in God, the devil will flee from you." They were greatly astonished, and asked me if I was not afraid of him at all. I answered, to relieve them of their fears, that I was not afraid of a hundred of them; they began to laugh, and were gradually reassured. Now seeing that they had thrown some eels in the fire, I asked them the reason for it. " Keep still, " they replied; " we are giving the devil something to eat, so that he will not harm us."

My host, upon his return, having learned this story, thanked me very much for giving courage to his people, and asked me if I really had no fear of the Manitou, or devil, and if I knew him very well; as for them, they feared him more than a thunderbolt. I answered that, if he would believe and obey him who had made all, the Manitou would have no power over him; that for ourselves, being helped by him whom [226] we adored, the devil had more fear of us than we had of him. He was astonished, and told me that he would be very glad if we knew his language, for you must be aware that we were making each other understand more through our eyes and hands than through our lips.

I arranged a few prayers in their language, with the help of the Apostate. Now, as the Sorcerer had not yet come, I repeated them in the morning and before our meals, they themselves reminding me of [page 89] and I would now be saved. As long as I have any relations, I will never do anything of any account; for when I want to stay with you, my brothers tell me I will rot, always staying in one place, and that is the reason I leave you to follow them." I urged all the reasons and made him all the offers I could to strengthen him; but his brother, the Sorcerer, who will soon be with us, will upset all my plans, for he does whatever he wills with this poor Apostate.

On the thirtieth day of October, we went away from this unhappy Island, and toward nightfall disembarked at another Island which bears a name almost as big as it is, for it is not half a league in circumference; and this is what our Savages tell me it is called, Ca pacoucachtechokhi chachagou achiganikhi, Ca pakhitaouananiouikhi; I believe they forge these names upon the spot. This Island is nothing but a big and frightful rock; as there was no spring of fresh water, we had to [129 i.e., 229] drink very dirty rainwater that we collected in the bogs and upon the rocks. The sail of our shallop was thrown over some poles, on our arrival at this place, and this formed our shelter; our beds were white and green, I mean there were so few pine branches under us that in several places we touched the snow, which three days before had begun to cover the earth with a white mantle.

We found here the cabin of a Savage, named Ekhennabamate, whom our host was seeking. He learned from him that his brother, the Sorcerer, had passed, a short time before; and that, having the wind against him, he had not gone far. He did not wait until broad daylight to follow him; his Canoe, paddled by three men, went like the wind; and, in [page 91] short, on the first of November, a beautiful day, dedicated to the memory of all the Saints, he brought back this Demon, I mean the Sorcerer. I was very much surprised when I saw him, for I was not expecting him, imagining that my host had gone hunting; would that he had, and that this miserable prey [230] had escaped from his hands.

As soon as he came, there was nothing but feasting in our cabins; we had only a little food left, but these Barbarians ate it with as much calmness and confidence as if the game they were to hunt was shut up in a stable.

One day, when my host had a feast in his turn, the guests made me a sign that I should make them a speech in their language, as they wanted to laugh; for I pronounce the Savage as a German pronounces French. Wishing to please them, I began to talk, and they burst out laughing, well pleased to make sport of me, while I was very glad to learn to talk. I said to them in conclusion that I was a child, and that children made their fathers laugh with their stammering; but in a few years I would become large, and then, when I knew their language, I would make them see that they themselves were children in many things, ignorant of the great truths of which I would speak to them. Suddenly I asked them if the Moon was [231] located as high as the Stars, if it was in the same Sky; where the Sun went when it left us; what was the form of the earth. (If I knew their language perfectly I would always propose some natural truth, before speaking to them of the points of our belief; for I have observed that these curious things make them more attentive.) Not to let me wander from my speech, one of them [page 93] beginning to speak, after having frankly confessed that they could not answer these questions, said to me: " But how canst thou thyself know these things, since we do not know them? " I immediately drew out a little compass that I had in my pocket, opened it, and, placing it in his hand, said to him, We are now in the darkness of night, the Sun no longer shines for us; tell me now, while you look at what I have given you, in what part of the world it is; show me the place where it must rise to-morrow, where it will set, where it will be at noon; point out the places in the Sky where it will never be." My man answered with his eyes, staring at me without saying a word. I took the compass and explained[232] to him with a few words all that I had just asked about, adding, "Well, how is it that I can know these things and you do not know them? I have still other greater truths to tell you when I can talk." "Thou art intelligent, " they responded; " thou wilt soon know our language. " But they were mistaken. What I write in this journal has no other order except that of time, and hence I shall frequently be telling cock-and-bull stories, as the saying is; that is, I shall pass from one observation to another which has no connection with it, time alone serving as a link to the parts of my discourse.

As the bow and arrow seem to be weapons invented by Nature, since all the Nations of the earth have made use of them, so you might say there are certain little games that children find out for themselves without being taught. The little Savages play at hide-and-seek as well as the little French children. They have a number of other childish sports that I have noticed in our Europe; among others, I have [page 95] seen the little Parisians [233] throw a musket ball into the air and catch it with a little bat scooped out; the little montagnard Savages do the same, using a little bunch of Pine sticks, which they receive or throw into the air on the end of a pointed stick. The little Hiroquois have the same pastime, throwing a bone with a hole in it, which they interlace in the air with another little bone. I was told this by a young man of that nation as we were watching the montagnard children play.

My Savage and the Sorcerer, his brother, having learned that there were a great many Montagnais near the place where they wished to pass the winter, decided to turn Northward, lest we should starve each other. They decided to go to the place where my host and the Renegade had promised me they would go; but we had scarcely made three leagues in crossing the great river, when we met four canoes which turned us back to the South, saying the hunting was not good up North. So I was obliged to remain with the sorcerer, and to winter beyond the great river, in spite of all I could [234] urge to the contrary. I realized well the dangers into which they were throwing me, but I saw no other remedy than to trust in God and leave all to him.

As soon as these new Savages, who had come in the four canoes, had landed, my host made them a banquet of smoked eels, for we were already out of bread. Hardly had these guests returned to their cabin, when they made a feast of peas which they had bought in passing through Kebec. But that you may understand the excesses of these people, [I will add that] in emerging from this banquet, they went to a third, prepared by the sorcerer, composed of eels, [page 97] and of the flour I had given to my host. This man gave me a hearty invitation to be one of the party. He had made a little apartment in our cabin with skins and blankets, and all the guests entered this place. They gave me my share in a little bark plate; but, as I was not altogether accustomed to eating their mixtures, so dirty and insipid, after having tasted it, I wanted to give the rest to one of the relations of my host; [235] but they immediately cried out, Khita, Khita, "Eat all, eat all," acoumagouchan, "It is an eat-all feast." I began to laugh, and told them they were playing a game of "burst themselves open," seeing they had already had two feasts, and were making a third at which nothing was to be left. My host, hearing me, said, "What art thou saying, Nicanis?" "I am saying that I cannot eat all. "Give it to me," he answered, "give me thy plate, I will help thee." Having presented it to him, he gulped down all it contained in two swallows, thrusting out a tongue as long as your hand to lick the bottom and sides, so that nothing might remain.

When they were full almost to bursting, the Sorcerer took his drum and invited everyone to sing. The best singer was the one who howled the loudest. At the end of this uproar, seeing that they were in a very good humor, I asked permission to talk. This being granted, I began to affirm the affection I had for them, " You see, " I said, " what love I bear you; I have not only left my own country, which is beautiful and very pleasant, to come into your [236] snows and vast woods, but I have also left the little house we have in your lands, to follow you and learn your language. I cherish you more than my brothers, since I have left them for love of you; it is he [page 99] who has made all who has given me this affection for you, it is he who created the first man from whom we have all descended; hence see how it is that, as we have the same father, we are all brothers, and ought all to acknowledge the same Lord and the same Captain; we ought all to believe in him, and obey his will." The Sorcerer, stopping me, said in a loud voice, "When I see him, I will believe in him, and not until then. How believe in him whom we do not see?" I answered him: "When thou tellest me that thy father or one of thy friends has said something, I believe what he has said, supposing that he is not a liar, and yet I have never seen thy father; also, thou believest that there is a Manitou, and thou hast never seen him. Thou believest that there are Khichicouakhi, or Spirits of light, and thou hast n

Editor	Reuben Gold Thwaites

Translators.	\| Finlow Alexander [French]
	\| Percy Favor Bicknell [French]
	\| John Cutler Covert [French]
	\| William Frederic Giese [Latin]
	\| Crawford Lindsay [French]
	\| Mary Sifton Pepper [French & Italian]
	\| William Price [French]
	\| Hiram Allen Sober [French]
	\| John Dorsey Wolcott [Latin]

Assistant Editor	Emma Helen Blair

Bibliographical Adviser	Victor Hugo Paltsits

Electronic Transcription	Thom Mentrak

CONTENTS OF VOL. VII.

Preface To Volume VII.
Documents:—
XXIII.	Relation de ce qui s'est passé en La Novvelle France, en l'année 1634 [Chapters x.-xiii., completing the document]. Paul le Jeune; Maiƒon de N. Dame des Anges, en Nouvelle France, August 7, 1634.
XXIV.	Lettre á Monseigneur le Cardinal. Paul le Jeune; Kebec, August 1, 1635.
XXV.	Relation de ce qui s'est passé en la Novvelle France, en l'année 1635 [Chapters i., ii.]. Paul le Jeune; Kebec, August 28, 1635.
Bibliographical Data; Volume VII.
Notes