The Conquest of Canada (Vol. 1&2). George Warburton
bearing the name he gave. They left their harbor on the 7th, coasting westward along the north shore, and on the 10th came to a gulf filled with numerous and beautiful islands.[77] Cartier gave this gulf the name of St. Lawrence, having discovered it on that saint's festival day.[78]
On the 15th of August they reached a long, rocky island toward the south, which Cartier named L'Isle de l'Assumption, now called Anticosti.[79] Thence they continued their course, examining carefully both shores of the Great River,[80] and occasionally holding communication with the inhabitants, till, on the 1st of September, they entered the mouth of the deep and gloomy Saguenay. The entrance of this great tributary was all they had leisure to survey; but the huge rocks, dense forests, and vast body of water, forming a scene of somber magnificence such as had never before met their view, inspired them with an exalted idea of the country they had discovered. Still passing to the southwest up the St. Lawrence, on the 6th they reached an island abounding in delicious filberts, and on that account named by the voyagers Isle aux Coudres. Cartier, being now so far advanced into an unknown country, looked out anxiously for a port where his vessels might winter in safety. He pursued his voyage till he came upon another island, of great extent, fertility, and beauty, covered with woods and thick, clustering vines. This he named Isle de Bacchus:[81] it is now called Orleans. On the 7th of September, Donnacona, the chief of the country,[82] came with twelve canoes filled by his train, to hold converse with the strangers, whose ships lay at anchor between the island and the north shore of the Great River. The Indian chief approached the smallest of the ships with only two canoes, fearful of causing alarm, and began an oration, accompanied with strange and uncouth gestures. After a time he conversed with the Indians who had been seized on the former voyage, and now acted as interpreters. He heard from them of their wonderful visit to the great nation over the salt lake, of the wisdom and power of the white men, and of the kind treatment they had received among the strangers. Donnacona appeared moved with deep respect and admiration; he took Jacques Cartier's arm and placed it gently over his own bended neck, in token of confidence and regard. The admiral cordially returned these friendly demonstrations. He entered the Indian's canoe, and presented bread and wine, which they ate and drank together. They then parted in all amity.
After this happy interview, Jacques Cartier, with his boats, pushed up the north shore against the stream, till he reached a spot where a little river flowed into a "goodly and pleasant sound," forming a convenient haven.[83] He moored his vessels here for the winter on the 16th of September, and gave the name of St. Croix to the stream, in honor of the day on which he first entered its waters; Donnacona, accompanied by a train of five hundred Indians, came to welcome his arrival with generous friendship. In the angle formed by the tributary stream and the Great River, stood the town of Stadacona, the dwelling-place of the chief; thence an irregular slope ascended to a lofty height of table-land: from this eminence a bold headland frowned over the St. Lawrence, forming a rocky wall three hundred feet in height. The waters of the Great River—here narrowed to less than a mile in breath—rolled deeply and rapidly past into the broad basin beyond. When the white men first stood on the summit of this bold headland, above their port of shelter, most of the country was fresh from the hand of the Creator; save the three small barks lying at the mouth of the stream, and the Indian village, no sign of human habitation met their view. Far as the eye could reach, the dark forest spread; over hill and valley, mountain and plain; up to the craggy peaks, down to the blue water's edge; along the gentle slopes of the rich Isle of Bacchus, and even from projecting rocks, and in fissures of the lofty precipice, the deep green mantle of the summer foliage hung its graceful folds. In the dim distance, north, south, east, and west, where mountain rose above mountain in tumultuous variety of outline, it was still the same; one vast leafy vail concealed the virgin face of Nature from the stranger's sight. On the eminence commanding this scene of wild but magnificent beauty, a prosperous city now stands; the patient industry of man has felled that dense forest, tree by tree, for miles and miles around, and where it stood, rich fields rejoice the eye; the once silent waters of the Great River below now surge against hundreds of stately ships; commerce has enriched this spot, art adorned it; a memory of glory endears it to every British heart. But the name Quebec[85] still remains unchanged; as the savage first pronounced it to the white stranger, it stands to-day among the proudest records of our country's story.
The chief Donnacona and the French continued in friendly intercourse, day by day exchanging good offices and tokens of regard. But Jacques Cartier was eager for further discoveries; the two Indian interpreters told him that a city of much larger size than Stadacona lay further up the river, the capital of a great country; it was called in the native tongue Hochelaga; thither he resolved to find his way. The Indians endeavored vainly to dissuade their dangerous guests from this expedition; they represented the distance, the lateness of the season, the danger of the great lakes and rapid currents; at length they had recourse to a kind of masquerade or pantomime, to represent the perils of the voyage, and the ferocity of the tribes inhabiting that distant land. The interpreters earnestly strove to dissuade Jacques Cartier from proceeding on his enterprise, and one of them refused to accompany him. The brave Frenchman would not hearken to such dissuasions, and treated with equal contempt the verbal and pantomimic warnings of the alleged difficulties. As a precautionary measure to impress the savages with an exalted idea of his power as a friend or foe, he caused twelve cannon loaded with bullets to be fired in their presence against a wood; amazed and terrified at the noise, and the effects of this discharge, they fled, howling and shrieking, away.
Jacques Cartier sailed for Hochelaga on the 19th of September; he took with him the Hermerillon, one of his smallest ships, the pinnace, and two long-boats, bearing thirty-five armed men, with their provisions and ammunition. The two larger vessels and their crews were left in the harbor of St. Croix, protected by poles and stakes driven into the water so as to form a barricade. The voyage presented few of the threatened difficulties; the country on both sides of the Great River was rich and varied, covered with stately timber, and abounding in vines. The natives were every where friendly and hospitable; all that they possessed was freely offered to the strangers. At a place called Hochelai, the chief of the district visited the French, and showed much friendship and confidence, presenting Jacques Cartier with a girl seven years of age, one of his own children.
On the 29th, the expedition was stopped in Lake St. Pierre by the shallows, not having hit upon the right channel. Jacques Cartier took the resolution of leaving his larger vessels behind and proceeding with his two boats; he met with no further interruption, and at length reached Hochelaga on the 2d of October, accompanied by De Pontbriand, De la Pommeraye, and De Gozelle, three of his volunteers. The natives welcomed him with every demonstration of joy and hospitality; above a thousand people, of all ages and sexes, come forth to meet the strangers, greeting them with affectionate kindness. Jacques Cartier, in return for their generous reception, bestowed presents of tin, beads, and other bawbles upon all the women, and gave some knives to the men. He returned to pass the night in the boats, while the savages made great fires on the shore, and danced merrily all night long. The place where the French first landed was probably about eleven miles from the city of Hochelaga, below the rapid of St. Mary.
On the day after his arrival Jacques Cartier proceeded to the town; his volunteers and some others of his followers accompanied him, arrayed in full dress; three of the natives undertook to guide them on their way. The road was well beaten, and bore evidence of having been much frequented: the country through which it passed was exceedingly rich and fertile. Hochelaga stood in the midst of great fields of Indian corn; it was of a circular form, containing about fifty large huts, each fifty paces long and from fourteen to fifteen wide, all built in the shape of tunnels, formed of wood, and covered with birch bark; the dwellings were divided into several rooms, surrounding an open court in the center, where the fires burned.