Several men at Champlain’s bedside were of a new seigneurial class that was emerging in Quebec with his patronage. Robert Giffard de Moncel was there, the wealthy gentleman from Perche who shared Champlain’s dream, invested heavily in New France, and brought many settlers from his province at his own expense. There was Olivier Le Tardif, who looked after the company’s trade and became Champlain’s most trusted interpreter and companion in his meetings with the Indians. Guillaume Couillard stood beside them. This very able man had come from Saint-Malo to New France as an illiterate ship’s carpenter. He married Guillemette Hébert, sired a large family, and rose to high rank in the colony. These men all received large seigneuries, high offices, and titles of nobility. Champlain had helped them rise; now they came to him.14
Others in Champlain’s chamber were men of humble rank. Three were recent immigrants who had come to Quebec in 1635. We scarcely know their names: Pierre Goblet, D. Rousseau, and Boulard. Probably they worked as servants in Champlain’s habitation and helped to look after him.15 In close attendance was Champlain’s valet, Jean Poisson, who would later found an important family in Quebec.16
Also present was an Indian boy, a young Montagnais who had become Champlain’s godson—one of many young Indian boys and girls he had looked after. This lad had lost his parents at an early age. A warrior was about to kill him—a common fate of unwanted orphans in that cruel world. Another Montagnais intervened and carried him to the Jesuits, who gave him a home and named him Fortuné. Champlain took a liking to him, became his godfather, and christened him Bonaventure. That name had many meanings. It honored a great Franciscan saint who combined piety with a passion for learning. Champlain also chose it with a flash of humor that was typical of him. At sea a bonaventure was the French name for a very short mizzen mast, stepped abaft a tall mainmast—in much the same way that this young Indian lad tagged along behind the governor. He was living in his house, much as Champlain’s three Montagnais girls, Faith, Hope, and Charity had done.17
Another witness was Jacques De Laville, a sturdy old soldier who became the official greffier, or registrar, of Quebec, and joined the bedside group in an official capacity. His task was to record and certify Champlain’s testament.18 Champlain dictated his will to this gathering, and all the witnesses added their names except Couillard, who signed by mark.
As always, Champlain had several purposes in mind when he made his will. It was first a testament of Christian faith. He began with the usual phrases but gave them a touch of his own. “Considering that nothing is so uncertain as the hour of death,” he wrote in his prevoyant way, “and not wishing to be surprised without declaring my last wishes, I leave this present script so that they will be manifest and made known to everyone.”19 Yet another confession of faith followed: “Now my God, summoned to your presence and all your celestial court, I proclaim that I wish to live and die in the faith and religion that is Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman, and to receive all the sacraments of which I am capable.” Champlain forgave all those who had sinned against him, and asked God to pardon his own sins. “You have given me a rational soul, O my God, and I return it to your hands, begging you to dispose of it for your glory.
Then Champlain gave away his worldly goods, and in a most extraordinary way. He was a man of substantial means—not wealthy by the standards of his world or ours, but he had amassed considerable property in the course of his life. As part of his will he made individual bequests in cash, which alone totaled nearly 10,000 French livres, a sum roughly equal to 50,000 silver thalers, or dollars, in 1635 values.20 Lacking an inventory of Champlain’s wealth, it is impossible to know the full value of his estate, but it was much larger than his cash bequests. He had made commercial investments in the Company of the Hundred Associates and other ventures. At various times he had owned real estate in Paris, Brouage, and La Rochelle. His wife’s dowry had been large. Her inheritance had been restored, and her assets probably exceeded his own. She had dedicated some of them to his cause while he was in America.21
Champlain disposed of his personal wealth in a highly purposeful way. Even as he lay on his deathbed, he still actively pursued his great project for New France. Most of his bequests were instruments of that purpose. One major goal was to strengthen its institutions, and especially the Church of Notre-Dame-de-la-Recouvrance. Champlain began his benefactions by announcing in his own inimitable way, “I desire now, O my God, that the most holy Virgin your mother should inherit everything that I possess here in personal property, gold, and silver.” The language was a little confused on the Trinity, but it was crystal clear on Champlain’s earthly intent. He explained that everything not otherwise committed was to go to “the Chapel devoted to her name and commonly called Notre-Dame de Recouverance,” with exceptions for which “I ask her permission to dispose in favor of certain individuals.” Champlain specified particular sums for furnishings, altars, tapestries, and other decorations in the chapel. Clearly he intended the chapel to become a church, and even a cathedral as the colony grew larger. Another large sum was given to the mission of the Jesuits in Quebec, on condition that they would pray for Champlain and sing a mass for the repose of his soul every year, on the anniversary of his death. Its purpose was also to strengthen the Society of Jesus in New France.
Many individual bequests followed, always with the same large purpose in mind. Champlain deliberately used his will to promote the growth of the French population at Quebec. He gave much of his money to individual French families who had put their roots into the American soil, and were beginning to increase and multiply. Among the leading beneficiaries were the family of his Scottish friend Abraham Martin l’Écossais, and his French wife, Marguerite Langlois. Champlain was very fond of them both and delighted in their daughters. The Martin family received his largest individual bequests, totaling about 1,200 livres.22 Abraham and his wife were given 600 livres expressly to pay the cost of “clearing land in this country of New France.” Perhaps Champlain had in mind the ground above and behind the lower town of Quebec, part of which is still known as the Plains of Abraham.
Champlain also used his wealth to subsidize the peopling of the land in very specific ways. Another sum of 600 livres went to the Martin family for their daughter Marguerite, “to aid her to marry in this country of New France a man who must be resident of the said country, and not otherwise.” Similar bequests were given to four families in Quebec—the Couillards, Giffards, Piverts, and Héberts. Champlain’s purpose was clearly to encourage the habitants of New France to increase and multiply.
Another interesting pattern in Champlain’s bequests was his support of exploration and discovery. He bequeathed his copper astrolabe, compasses, and other navigational instruments to a man who would use them, Father Charles Lalement, his confessor, who was interested in exploration and the tradition of Jesuit science. Like Champlain, the object of his scientific inquiries was to study God’s way in the world. Along with Champlain’s scientific instruments, Father Lalement also received a painting of the Crucifixion. Champlain expected the good father to combine Christian faith and empirical science in the way he had done.
Other bequests were offered in the spirit of Christian charity. Champlain’s valet, Jean Poisson, received some of his best clothing, including a red and gray jacket. The Indian godson, Bonaventure, received a suit of fine English cloth, in the same bright red color. The will tells us that one of Champlain’s favorite color was red. Other large sums were directed toward religious institutions for the poor in Paris.
Yet another purpose of the will was to express Champlain’s love for his wife, Hélène. He left her all his property in France, naming his cousin in La Rochelle, Marie Camaret, residual legatee if his widow was unable to inherit. Champlain also bequeathed to his wife two prized possessions, his Agnus Dei, a wax medallion of the Lamb of God, made with the dust of martyrs’ bones, and a gold ring with “something like a diamond,” perhaps a piece of Canadian crystal. He also gave Hélène a bundle of
fine gray fox furs that she loved.
Champlain asked Father Lalement and Derré de Gand to collect his papers and deliver them to his wife. For historians, this was the most valuable part of the estate. From the language of the will, Champlain understood their importance, but others apparently did not. His papers have disappeared. Perhaps some day they might turn up in a French attic, but the odds are not encouraging. Champlain’s manuscripts are very rare today.
Champlain made all these arrangements in the document that he dictated on November 17, 1635, with the help of his companions, friends, and servants in Quebec. He signed it with their assistance. Now he could do nothing on his own. On December 2, he decided that he was no longer able to function as governor, and on that date he yielded some of the duties of his office to his pious and upright friend François Derré de Gand. Here again Champlain’s choice reveals his values and purposes.23
As Champlain continued in his bed, the North American seasons changed yet again. Winter came to Quebec, and the first snow fell on the settlement. The world turned white and clean. The quiet air smelled wondrously fresh, and the fallen snow was pure and pristine. After the snow, the sky turned a pale ethereal blue, and the temperature began to fall. In Champlain’s chamber, the casement windows were etched in frost. The fire in the hearth flared and faded, and the candles guttered in the wintry drafts that swept the room. Champlain’s spirit was slipping away, and the Jesuits in black robes kept a vigil beside him.
On Christmas Eve the people of Quebec held a joyous celebration of their Savior’s birth. A midnight mass was sung in the church of Notre-Dame-de-la-Recouvrance. At Fort Saint-Louis on the hill, a crash of cannon marked the birth of Christ with a feu de joie.24 It was one of the last earthly sounds that Champlain heard. On Christmas Day, as Father Lalement prayed at his side, Champlain drew his last breath and died peacefully in his bed. Father Le Jeune recorded the moment. “On the twenty-fifth of December,” he wrote, “the day of the birth of our Savior upon earth, Monsieur de Champlain, our Governor was reborn in heaven. The least we were able to say is that his death was full of blessings.”25
Father Le Jeune saw the day and manner of Champlain’s passing as a mark of Providence. He added, “I believe that God has shown him this favor in consideration for the good things he has obtained for New France.” The good father also believed that the last struggle of Champlain on his deathbed was a prophecy. “One day,” the Jesuit predicted, “God will be loved and served by all our French, and known and adored by all our Indians.” Champlain had shown the way, not by words but by acts. “Truly he led a life of great justice and equity, and with a perfect fidelity to his King and to the gentlemen of the Company: but at his death he crowned his virtues with a piety so great that he astonished us all.”26
In Quebec the entire population turned out to honor him. They walked together in a procession through the settlement: Jesuits in their black robes, soldiers in the king’s uniform of white and blue and gold; seamen in their bizarria, officers in brilliant finery, feudal seigneurs in feathered hats, and hundreds of French habitants—bundled against the bracing cold in their caps and capes and wooden shoes. The Indians were there, wrapped in lustrous furs. They marked his passing with genuine grief. A delegation of Huron later arrived with a large gift of wampum to console the French people of Quebec on their loss. Their myths and legends kept his memory green for many generations.
Champlain was buried in a small private grave while a chapel was constructed next to the Church of Notre-Dame-de-la-Recouvrance. Five years later the buildings were burned, perhaps by an arsonist. The congregation rebuilt the church, and the resting place of Champlain’s body remains in doubt. The Church sextons believe that his bones remain in a crypt below the beautiful cathedral that stands there today, but nobody knows for sure. The mystery of Champlain’s tomb has inspired a large literature in Quebec, and many scholars have tried to solve it without success. It is one of the persistent puzzles of Quebec’s history. But one fact is clear. Wherever Champlain’s remains may be, they have become part of the soil of New France.27
In old France Champlain’s wife accepted his will. She withdrew into a convent and became an Ursuline nun, Hélène de Saint-Augustin. Later she founded an Ursuline convent in Meaux, not far from Paris, and lived there until her death in 1654.28 Champlain’s testament was challenged by his Protestant relatives in La Rochelle. His first cousin Marie Camaret went to court and sought to break the will, insisting that it was contrary to the terms of his marriage settlement (which in fact it was). She also argued speciously that “it was difficult to suppose that Champlain had chosen the Virgin Mary as his heir,” which he did not do. Her argument suggests that Cousin Marie was staunchly Protestant and not sympathetic to the sanctity of the Holy Virgin. She also appears to have been desperate for his money. She or her lawyer twisted the language of the will in an effort to prove that Champlain was not of sound mind. The Parlement of Paris accepted their appeal, if not their arguments, and annulled the will. One suspects that some of Champlain’s benefactions may have been distributed in Quebec before the lawyers went to work in France, probably even before the will was made, but the disposition of Champlain’s many bequests remains unclear.29
Even before Champlain’s death was known in Paris, Cardinal Richelieu had decided to remove him from office. The decision was made before January 15, 1636, probably earlier. The replacement was Charles Hualt de Montmagny, a nobleman in the cardinal’s circle, a soldier who had won a reputation for courage, a lay churchman, and a Knight of Malta. Richelieu greatly favored that small fraternity of high Catholic noblemen who wore the Maltese Cross. He sought to place its members in command of the expanding French empire throughout the Mediterranean, Africa, Asia, and America. This was actually done in New France. Historian Marcel Trudel writes, “In the St. Lawrence, from 1636 and for many years, all superior authority was in the hands of Chevaliers of Malta.” That small elite of Catholic noblemen combined rigid authority and strict discipline with devotion to an absolute monarch, obedience to the princes of the Church, and loyalty to Cardinal Richelieu. Champlain had never been admitted to their order.30 The sieur de Montmagny was by all accounts a decent, colorless, and unimaginative man. He governed New France for twelve years, built a massive stone fortress at Quebec, broke with Champlain’s Indian policy, and involved the colony in bloody Indian wars. Today he is forgotten.31
When Montmagny was sent to replace Champlain, historians have noted that he “brought not even a word of thanks from King or Cardinal to his predecessor, news of whose death had not reached Paris when he sailed.” After thirty years of faithful service, Champlain received no major honors in France. Richelieu had always been cool to him. Louis XIII and the cardinal recognized his usefulness and employed him for their purposes, but they did not reward him for his service. Richelieu and his successors distributed patents of nobility to many settlers in Canada, but not to Champlain. They gave the formal title of governor to many forgotten functionaries, but denied it to Champlain even as he assumed all of the duties of that office. They created many seigneuries in the St. Lawrence Valley with large tracts of land. Champlain never received a grant, or any of the ceremonial sinecures of large profit and little labor that multiplied in the old regime. Historians have often remarked on this failure of Louis XIII and Richelieu to honor Champlain. The Boston historian Samuel Eliot Morison adds with a flash of republican fury, “What a perfect example of the ingratitude of princes!”32
True enough, but another cause also operated here, and it flowed from Champlain’s choices. At court he used his influence for his cause, and not for himself. Through many years of striving, Champlain asked much for New France and little for his own advantage. He fought to keep his pension, which was important to his project in many ways. Like most great workers he kept his focus on the work itself, and not on its rewards. For such a man in such a cause, the absence of honors became an honor in itself.
Honors came in other ways. At his
funeral ceremonies in Quebec, people who knew him spoke from the heart about his greatness and their grief. They talked most eloquently not of the things that Champlain had done, but of the way in which he did them. They celebrated his record of achievement, but mostly they remembered the manner in which he treated others and served purposes that were larger than himself. Most of all, they praised him as a principled leader, and celebrated the principles themselves.
In Quebec, the eulogy for Champlain was given by his good friend and close companion, Father Paul Le Jeune, Jesuit Superior in New France. He wrote, “I did not lack materials.” Le Jeune praised Champlain’s moral qualities. He described his foi and piété, faith and piety “so lofty as to astonish us all.” He spoke of Champlain’s integrity and reputation, his sense of justice and equity, and celebrated his qualities of loyalty and fidelity, loyauté and fidélité parfaite. And he praised Champlain’s sense of duty, devoir. Others, and Champlain himself, wrote of his concern for humanité, and of his regard for renommée. Most of these words from seventeenth-century French have cognates in modern English, and we tend to assume that they carried the same meaning for Champlain as they do for us. Not so. At Quebec in 1635, these words conveyed thoughts that were different from ours.
Foi et piété, faith and piety, sustained him in a special way. Champlain’s faith was not at all like that of English Puritans of Massachusetts Bay, who were driven by an ethic of striving to prove that they were God’s elect in a world where most people were condemned to depravity and damnation. Champlain’s faith was Roman Catholic, not in the sense of emphasizing a particular denomination of Christianity, but in the original and literal meaning of catholic as encompassing all humanity. His aspiration to this large ideal of Catholicism was Champlain’s driving passion. He believed that all people and all things were of God and revealed His divine purposes. This idea lay at the root of Champlain’s insatiable curiosity about the world—a form of faith and piety that was very different from most other people in his time, and many in our own.
Champlain's Dream Page 61