I
recently finished Robert Rumilly’s Histoire de Montréal, Tome I (of VI). Rumilly
himself was a reactionary Catholic born in France who expatriated to Canada in
the early 20th century and, in his own words, “did not come to New
France, but to another France that resembled France before 1899.” If you can
imagine a Frenchman who didn’t think the Belle Époque was quite so belle, that would be Robert Rumilly.
Rumilly
found much to commend in his adopted homeland, and became a prolific writer on
its history and in fact one of the foremost authorities on Quebecois history of
the last century. His history of Quebec Province includes forty-one volumes. I
picked up the book serendipitously in a Montréal bookstore last summer but
decided I could not afford the whole series, so I stuck with the volume most
closely aligned with my own family’s history. This covers Montreal from its
beginnings through the end of the French and Indian War. I bought the book
without reading much of it at all, but was quickly and pleasantly surprised to
find not only Cicotte ancestors mentioned by name, but a volume relatively free
from revisionism (if not bias) as a change of pace from most of my common
experience.
Great Men Theory:
Maisonneuve, Queylus and Mance
(to name a few)
The
book starts off with the perfunctory pre-history and the scant visits by early
explorers. Then the author jumps into a riveting tale of a 17th
century semi-secret society dedicated to combatting “irreligion, immorality,
and deviation from Orthodoxy.” (Rumilly, 22). The group, La Compagnie du Saint-Sacrement,
methodically gathered resources and influence for their cause of a New World
filled with French Catholics. While efforts to build colonies in New France
appeared to be under the direction of the crown and church, La Compagnie hidden
in the wings, ensured they had their own in the most key positions.
None
was more key to them than the governorship of Montréal, and they found their
man (through a bit of inoffensive spying) in Paul de Chomedey, Sieur de
Maisonneuve. A devout Catholic and a veteran officer of the Thirty Years War
(31), Maisonneuve was the genuine article. He wanted to put his skills to use
in the New World for king and country, and did so with great aplomb.
Having
been appointed the first Governor of Vile-Marie (Montréal) through the
influence of La Compagnie du Saint-Sacrement, Maisonneuve spent the middle decades
of the 1600’s as the unbending but dearly loved leader of the fledgling
community. He was a religious hard-liner, severely punishing drunkenness,
bigamy and adultery, gambling, and the sale of whiskey to natives. Those lucky
enough to pay fines for their crimes saw the funds used to build churches (93).
Once surrounded by an Indian ambush, Maisonneuve shot an Iroquois chief at the
last moment before the tomahawk could land its blow, causing the others to
retreat with their wounded leader’s body (56). He was, among many things, one
of the official witnesses at Jean Sicot’s marriage to Marguerite Maclin.
But even
Maisonneuve could not keep Montréal completely out of church politics. Rumilly
gives a dutiful and detailed account of church history and politics in New
France, which remained a bit opaque to me throughout, gentile that I am. I
suspect most lay-Catholics would find it pretty hard, too. Despite not catching
every nuance of church position and process, I followed the central theme that religion
and politics in New France were a matter of practicalities.
On
one side were the cloistered orders, mostly female, whose petitions for charter
the governors of New France, Québec City and Montréal rebuffed time and time
again. The frontier simply could not accommodate people who would not work and
fight side by side with the colonists (176). On the other side were the
Jesuits, the sine qua non of 17th
century handshake-ful-ness and progressive politics. Their publication, Relations de la Nouvelle France or Tales of New France first ignited the
imaginations of La Compagnie du Saint-Sacrement, et al. Their charisma and high-society
influence, however, threatened the local power structure and conventional
attitudes of the tiny colony.
The
compromise lay in the Order of Saint Sulpician, a modest priestly order and the
de facto local religious authority in Montréal. The king retained the Bishop of
Rouen (who favored Jesuits) as the official ecclesiastic authority of New
France well into the 18th century, but the Sulpicians were the
favored group of the people and governor of Montréal (345). The most famous of this order was Father
Gabriel de Queylus, a Sulpician priest and contemporary of Maisonneuve with
charisma and imagination to rival the Jesuits.
Montrealers
loved M. de Queylus for his fiery sermons, one of which denounced those who
“would rule both the state and religion,” a clear jab at the Jesuits
(105). The Jesuits responded by
convincing the Bishop of Rouen to exile Queylus, who managed through La
Compagnie du Saint-Sacrement to obtain secret passage back to Montréal. Despite
having obtained a papal bull ordering his return, he required secrecy to avoid
Québec City, whose leaders were firmly within Jesuit influence and not above
the kind of intrigue that makes papal declarations disappear (135).
M. de
Queylus made his most lasting contribution to Montréal with his ambitious decision
to build the Cathédral Notre de Dame de Montréal and adjoining Seminary of
Saint Sulpice when the colony boasted only a few permanent structures. The
wooden church burned down and has since been rebuilt, but the much smaller
stone seminary still stands. M. de Queylus named François Bailly, Cicotte
ancestor, chief architect for both original structures (183).
Rumilly,
a reactionary traditionalist, gives a Great Man history of Montréal. In this
sense, however, “man” is merely a universal pronoun. Among many of the women
whom the author gives their due, a favorite is the famous Jeanne Mance. She is
perhaps Montreal’s second household name behind Maisonneuve, and also his
contemporary.
Inspired
by Tales of New France (whose last
chapter was titled, The Need to Colonize
New France)(15), Mance procured an astonishing (and secret) £22,000 from a
family friend to build a new hospital in Canada. Accounts disagree, but
tradition accepts that she originally headed for Québec City until La Compagnie
du Saint-Sacrement intervened (as with Maisonneuve) to direct her to
Montréal. Whatever the case, Mance
arrived in Montréal on August 24th, 1641 with an endowment equal to
her ambition (30-36).
Sadly,
the hospital, christened l’Hôtel-Dieu, became a subject of dispute in the small
colony. Jeanne Mance entrusted the £22,000 to Jérôme de la Dauversière, a
leader within the colony and member of La Compagnie du Saint-Sacrement. By 1659
M. de la Dauversière had only spent £2,000, paid to the Sulpicians for the
hospital land and to the satisfaction of the women who ran the Hôtel-Dieu
(called Hôspitalières). Unfortunately, his untimely death left him no
opportunity to properly arrange the hospital’s funds, which were found locked
alongside his personal treasury and were used to dispose of his debts (127).
At a
time when the colony was suffering, the money ended up in the hands of the
Sulpicians. Recalling that they had undertaken the enormous task of building two
church structures, a default on de la Dauversière’s debt would have bankrupted
them. Jeanne Mance protested the concession of her hospital’s funds, and
Maisonneuve -forced to choose between two essential civic organs- attempted a
compromise by giving the Hôtel-Dieu land owned by the Sulpicians that they
could rent to others, as well as some of his personal holdings (127). Jeanne
Mance and the Hospitalières remained unsatisfied (and very poor), and in 1664
the Bishop in partibus of New France,
Mgr François de Montmorency de Laval (a Jesuit), ordered the Sulpicians to take
back their land -minus the hospital- and repay the entire £22,000 (153)[i].
Jeanne
Mance and her Hôtel-Dieu left an indelible mark on Montréal. When an Iroquois
raiding party scalped Jean Sicot and took a part of his skull in 1651 (76),
Jeanne Mance cared for him for over a year until he healed. Such an experience
was not unique to the colony, and though not a proper nun, Jeanne Mance’s
compassion for her chosen community was certainly saintly. When Maisonneuve
retired to France he gave all the money he had (£6,000 in settled debts) to the
Hôtel-Dieu (159). Jeanne Mance’s statue stands today next to Maisonneuve’s in front
of Nôtre Dame de Montréal, M. de Queylus’ Sulpician church.
Indians and Outlaws
Inevitably,
the colonists’ worked together despite their differences because the faced the
constant threat of Indian attack. 1660 saw one of the greatest acts of bravery
among the colonists of Montréal (Ville-Marie). The Iroquois determined to rid
themselves permanently of the largest settlements including Ville-Marie, and a
force of twelve hundred or so natives advanced on the fort, about three hundred
from the Ottawa River and nine hundred from upstream the St Lawrence River
(127-128).
In
the face of overwhelming odds, Maisonneuve ordered a bold plan. Seventeen
volunteers would disrupt the weaker force on the Ottawa River to prevent the
coordinated attack. Blaise Juillet, Cicotte ancestor and one of the seventeen,
died when he and another man were guarding the canoes of a reconnaissance and
fell in the river with no one to help them. Another man was killed by an
Iroquois scout, also conducting reconnaissance. The three were replaced and the
new group of seventeen continued on to a small fort in the path of the Indian
advance (128).
The small
French force surprised and repulsed the Iroquois avant-garde who returned to
alert the main force. Three hundred Iroquois attacked the small outpost, but
the colonists’ defense lasted hours, fatiguing the Iroquois and inflicting
heavy losses. The seventeen were killed to a man, the last three captured and
tortured to death. With Ville-Marie’s population only 450, it was a heavy
sacrifice indeed (129-130).
But a
victorious one. The other nine hundred
Iroquois, destined to victory, were so disenchanted at hearing of the heavy
cost of victory, that they abandoned their attempt on Montréal. Jérôme
Lalement, contemporary historian of New France wrote,
“One must give here
glory to these seventeen Frenchman of Montréal and honor their ashes which are
owed an elegy of righteousness, and which we cannot refuse them but for
ingratitude. All was lost if they had not perished, and their misfortune saved
the country, having conjured the storm so as to dissipate it, and by such put
an end to its first blows and absolutely changed its course.” (130-131, translation by this author)
Indeed,
the frontier was no place for a cloister. The Indian attacks continued, and in
1663 Maisonneuve received the formal authority to organize a militia. 139 men
volunteered, whom he divided into twenty squads of seven. Maisonneuve then
ordered each squad to elect a leader from among them who would receive the rank
of corporal. Among the names of the twenty corporals is that of Jean Sicot
(145).
Almost
as dangerous as the Indians, les coureurs du bois, or mountain men, maintained
an equally tenuous relationship with the citizens of Montréal. Though often
necessary for the fur trade, les coureurs du bois often augmented their fur
trapping with theft (sometimes coupled with murder), the sale of contraband[ii], and the illegal sale of
whiskey to Indians. When Maisonneuve arrested one such man, his friends
assaulted the jailer, Francois Bailly (the same), and sprung him from jail
(190). Rarely could the territorial
governors completely marginalize les coureurs du bois because often as not,
their most profitable business associates were French aristocrats.
Home and Hearth
Rumilly’s
heroic narrative of history pleases adventurous minds, but it comes at the
sacrifice of the kind of daily-life detail that modern readers expect and
appreciate. What he does write of ordinary life revolves mostly around that
subject that drives the course of human history and man’s daily preoccupations.
That is, sex.
Well
known to readers of this publication are the Filles du Roi, or King’s
Daughters, mostly orphan girls collected by nun Marguerite Bourgeoys in France
and taken to New France to help the small colony grow. 17th century Montréal
was perhaps the most desperate for potential wives, populated almost entirely
by men, many of whom were disenfranchised Huguenots escaping persecution.[iii]
While
I have often taken a sympathetic view towards these events, I was surprised
to read of Marie du Mesnil, whom Mme Bourgeoys promised to a “young French
soldier.” Rumilly writes, “The marriage is celebrated November 9th,
1654, and the young bride, who is not yet thirteen, runs away the next morning
all in tears, to tell her disappointment to Marguerite Bourgeoys… Marguerite
Bourgoys calms her down; Marie du Mesnil returns to [her husband’s] home who
henceforth proves a worthy young man.” (92) The phrase “not yet thirteen” makes
me think (hope?) that even an entrenched conservative like Rumilly is
uncomfortable with the words “twelve year-old bride” in that order.
Marginal
cases aside, the focus on fecundity bore fruit, so to speak. The leaders of Montréal took the cradle war
against the English and the Indians seriously. Jean Talon, able successor to
Maisonneuve, even recommended a public mark of indignation like the Puritans’ scarlet
“A”, but for men who refused to marry (180). In eighty years the population of
Montréal jumped from 450 to more than 16 times that (most from birth, not immigration),
not including all the settlements that originated from the city, including
Detroit, Des Moines, Duluth, St. Louis, MO and New Orleans, to name a few. In
1745 the population was 7,500 and growing (366).
Sadly,
not everyone bridled their passion for home and country. Though small by modern
measure, the bustling urban center of 7,500 found itself in need of
establishing a special kind of halfway house for les filles de mauvaise vie, or “girls of bad living.” (366) Some
members of the upper class began to lead rather decadent lifestyles in their chateaus
more in tune with the popular philosophies in France (Voltaire, etc.), which
Rumilly unsurprisingly blames for their insouciance and the rising force known
as New England (378).
In
fact, the theme of the 18th century in New France is the end of
major hostilities between the French and the natives, and the beginning of
their defeat at the hands of the English. It is also, incidentally, mostly the
end of Cicotte family history in Montréal, as my ancestors continued to move
further upriver, with every generation moving closer to my father’s home near
Detroit. The latter half of Rumilly’s first volume on Montréal remains to be
related (but not here). Nevertheless, the end of Nouvelle France’s belle époque is a story worth telling, and should you find yourself
in Montréal with this author someday, he would be happy to tell it.
Bibliography
Rumilly,
Robert. Histoire de Montréal. Tome I,
Fides, Ottawa, 1970.
[i] By the time Mgr Laval ordered the
Sulpicians to repay the £22,000, the colony was doing much better and despite
the ordeal, the Sulpicians and Hospitalières continued to work together
successfully for the good of the colony. Maisonneuve, in his own history
written in retirement in France, attempted to justify the whole thing by
pointing out that rents on the land given to the Hospitalières had risen so
much that if they had retained the land it would be worth several times the
£22,000 in cash value (189).
[ii] In addition to sales made with New
Englanders which were strictly prohibited, les coureurs du bois often sold
their furs outside approved markets to avoid paying the government mandated
prices and taxes.
[iii] Here one finds a peculiarity of
Quebecois history that only makes the footnotes of Rumilly’s book but describes
my family quite accurately. Since so many of the first settlers were Huguenots,
a majority of the very first colonists (mostly men) came from La Rochelle, the
de facto Huguenot capital on the west coast of France. Most of the Filles du
Roi, however, came from Paris and central France. Recruiting efforts of much
greater scale came later and focused on la Maine, le Havre, l’Anjou and
Champagne, creating a misconception that those with the deepest roots in French
Canada are of predominantly Norman descent (82). This is precisely true in all
particulars concerning Jean Sicot and Marguerite Maclin (including the misconception), and the theme repeats
across my family tree.
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