III

THE LORDS OF ACADIA. — LATER HISTORY OF CHAMPLAIN

We must now turn our attention for a moment from Quebec to the Bay of Fundy, where it will be remembered that the withdrawal of the monopoly once granted to Monts had for the moment brought things to a standstill. While Monts and Champlain had forthwith renewed their labours on the banks of the St. Lawrence, Poutrincourt had clung to his beloved settlement at Port Royal. Thither he returned in 1610 with a good priest who converted and baptized the squalid Micmacs of the neighbourhood, and then found it hard to restrain them from testing the efficacy of their new religion by sallying forth with their tomahawks against the nearest heathen tribes. A certified list of baptisms was drawn up, and Poutrincourt’s son, usually known by the family name of Biencourt, returning next year to France for assistance, carried with him this list as a partial justification of the enterprise. Arriving

in Paris the gallant young sailor found the world turned topsy-turvy. The great Henry had been murdered by Ravaillac. “Never was king so much lamented as this,” says James Howell in one of his letters.¹ The effects upon Europe were far-reaching, and in the New France, which had as yet been scarcely more than half ushered into existence, a new and unexpected turn was given to the course of events.

The society of the Jesuits, which began in the year 1534 with seven members, had now come to number not less than 7000, and it was everywhere recognized as one of the most powerful agencies of the counter-reformation. In many directions its influence was beneficial, but there can be no doubt as to its disastrous results in France. The dagger of Ravaillac pointed the way to the discontinuance of the States-General, the expatriation of the Huguenots, the wasting warfare of the last days of Louis XIV., the degrading, despotism of the next reign, and the ruthless surgery of the guillotine. Such were the cumulative results of the abandonment of the broad and noble policy inaugurated by Henry in 1598. At the time of his death they were of course too remote to be foreseen, but it was clear to everybody that the power of the

Jesuits was rapidly growing, and it was dreaded by many people for its ultramontane and Spanish tendencies.

At that time the spirit of propaganda was very strong among the Jesuits; they aimed at nothing short of the conversion of the world, and displayed in the work such energy, such ability, such unalloyed devotion as the world has never seen surpassed. As early as 1549 St. Francis Xavier had penetrated to the remotest East and set up a flourishing church in Japan. Before the death of Claudio Aquaviva in 1615 they had made their way into China. They had already established Christian communities in Brazil, and about this time began their ever memorable work among the Indians of Paraguay. It was quite in the natural course of things that they should include New France in their far-reaching plans. From Henry IV. they obtained but slight and grudging recognition, but his death for a moment threw the reins quite into their hands. There is something irresistibly funny in the alliance of the three women who made the success of the Jesuits their especial care, when one thinks of their various relations with the lamented king, — Marie de Medicis, the miserable and faithless queen; Henriette d’Entraigues, the vile mistress; and Antoinette, the admirable Marchioness de Guercheville, whom

Henry had wooed in vain. The zealous fathers might well believe that Satan and the good angels were alike enlisted in their behalf. Young Biencourt soon learned that resistance was useless. It was in vain that the merchants of Dieppe, who were fitting out a new expedition for America, protested that they would have no Jesuit priests, or other agents of the king of Spain, on board. Madame de Guercheville forthwith raised money by subscription, and bought a controlling interest in the business. So the Jesuits came to Port Royal, and bitter were the disputes which they had with Poutrincourt and his high-spirited son Biencourt. An Indian sagamore of the neighbourhood, who loved these old friends, the grantees and true lords of Port Royal, came forward one day with a suggestion for simplifying the situation and securing, a quiet life. Provided he could be sure it would be agreeable, he would take great pleasure in murdering the newcomers! To his surprise this friendly service was declined. The grantees found that there was no contending against money. Loans were offered to Poutrincourt in emergencies when he had not the courage to refuse them, and thus a load of debt was created with the result that on his next visit to France, in 1613, he was thrown into prison.

At that juncture a ship bearing the inauspicious

name of Jonas was fitted up with Jesuit money and manned by persons entirely in the interest of that order. Madame de Guercheville had bought out all the rights and claims of Monts to lands in Acadia, and she had also obtained from the boy king, Louis XIII., a grant of all the territory between the river St. Lawrence and Florida. Here was a grant that came into direct conflict with that which James I. of England had given only six ears before to his great double-headed Virginia Company. According to this new French charter the settlers at Jamestown were mere trespassers upon territory over which Madame de Guercheville was lady paramount! Would she venture to claim their allegiance?

Nothing nearly so bold was attempted; but when the Jonas arrived on the Acadian coast, the chief of the expedition, a gentleman of the court named La Saussaye, set up a standard bearing Madame de Guercheville’s coat of arms. At Port Royal he picked up a couple of Jesuits and thence stood for Penobscot Bay, but first he entered Frenchman’s Bay at Mount Desert, and dropped anchor there, for the place attracted him. Presently a spot was found so charming that it was decided to make a settlement there. It was on the western shore of Somes Sound, between

Flying Mountain and Fernald Cove. Scarcely had work begun there when a sloop of war came into the sound, carrying fourteen guns, and at her masthead was flying the little red flag of England. She was commanded by young Captain Samuel Argall, who had come all the way from James River to fish for cod, but incidentally Sir Thomas Dale, who was then governing Virginia under the title of High Marshal, had instructed him to look out for any Frenchmen who might have ventured to trespass upon the territory granted by King James to the Virginia Company. Argall had picked up some Indians in Penobscot Bay who told him of the white men at Mount Desert, and from their descriptions he recognized the characteristic shrugs and bows of Frenchmen. When his flag appeared in Somes Sound, the French commander La Saussaye, with some of the more timid ones, took to the woods, but a few bold spirits tried to defend their ship. It was of no use. After two or three raking shots the English boarded and took possession of her. The astute Argall searched La Saussaye’s baggage until he found his commission from the French government, which he quietly tucked into his pocket. After a while La Saussaye, overcome by hunger, emerged from his hiding-place and was received with extreme politeness by Argall, who expressed

much regret for the disagreeable necessity under which he had laboured. It was a pity to have to disturb such estimable gentlemen, but really this land belonged to King James and not to King Louis. Of course, however, the noble chevalier must be acting under a royal commission, which would lay the whole burden of the affair upon the shoulders of King Louis and exonerate the officers who were merely acting under orders. So spake the foxy Argall, adding with his blandest smile that, just as a matter of formal courtesy, he would like to see the commission. We can fancy the smile growing more grim and Mephistophelean as the bewildered Frenchman hunted and hunted. When at length it appeared that La Saussaye could produce no such document Argall began to bluster and swear. He called the Frenchmen pirates, and confiscated all their property, scarcely leaving a coat to their backs. Then as he had not room enough for all the prisoners, he put La Saussaye, with one of the Jesuit fathers and thirteen men, into an open boat and left them to their fate, which turned out to be a kindly one, for after a few days they were picked up by a French merchant ship and carried back to the Old World.

As for the other Jesuit father with thirteen other men, Argall carried them to Jamestown,

where that great stickler for martial law, Sir Thomas Dale, was inclined to hang them all without ceremony; but the wisdom of Master Reynard was Argall’s, and he saw that this would be going too far. It might make serious trouble between the two Crowns, and would tend to reveal his trickery in a way that would be awkward. So he revealed it himself to Sir Thomas Dale, pulled La Saussaye’s commission from his pocket, saved the lives of the captives, and remained master of the situation. Presently he sailed for the north again with three ships and burned the settlement at Port Royal, destroying the growing crops and carrying away the cattle and horses. At the moment of the catastrophe Biencourt and most of his armed men were absent, and when they returned they were too few to engage with Argall; so after a fruitless parley and much recrimination the English skipper sailed away. Next year the Baron de Poutrincourt was slain in battle in France, and his steadfast son Biencourt, succeeding to the barony and the title, still remained devoted to the father’s beloved Port Royal. He obtained fresh recruits for the enterprise, and the little wooden town rose Phœnix-like from its ashes. At the French court there was grumbling over the conduct of Argall, and complaint was made to King James; and there the matter rested.

The death of the elder Poutrincourt occurred in 1615. We must now return for a moment to 1609 and take up the story of Champlain after his memorable experience at Ticonderoga. In June, 1610, he was called upon to repeat it on a larger scale. A party of 100 Mohawks had advanced as far as the site of Contrecœur, on the peninsula formed there by the St. Lawrence and the Richelieu, a few miles above the mouth of the latter river, and there they were overwhelmed by a large force of Algonquins aided by a dozen Frenchmen. The Mohawks, driven to bay, fought until only fifteen were left alive. These were taken prisoners, and one of them was surrendered to Champlain, while another was chopped into fragments and eaten. The rest were put to death with slow fires by the Algonquin women, who in this respect, Champlain tells us, are much more inhuman than the men, “for they devise by their cunning more cruel punishments, in which they take pleasure, putting an end to their lives by the most extreme pains.”¹

After this second taste of Indian warfare Champlain returned to France, and in the following December married a young girl, Helen Boullé, daughter of one of the late king’s private secretaries. Clearly Champlain was now no

Huguenot, for as this young lady was somewhat too much of a Calvinist he left her for a while in the following spring at an Ursuline convent, where she might learn more wholesome opinions. At a later time she accompanied him to Canada, but he was not yet quite ready to bring her to such a place. On his next return, in 1611, he began building a Christian city on the site of the old Hochelaga. Both in the interests of the fur-trade and of his proposed western explorations he thought it best to have an available station higher up the river than Quebec. The site where building operations were begun he called Place Royale, and on a part of it the Hospital of the Gray Nuns was afterwards erected. Scarcely was the work well begun, and a few substantial walls built, when Champlain again crossed the ocean. His old colleague Monts had been appointed governor of Pons, an important place near Rochelle, and could no longer pay attention to things in America. He therefore entrusted everything to Champlain, and it was agreed that in order to give to his enterprise the requisite dignity and protection it was desirable to secure as patron some personage of great social influence. Such a person was found in Charles de Bourbon, Count of Soissons, a prince of the blood royal, who was made viceroy over New France, with Champlain for his lieutenant. To

the latter was given full control over the fur-trade. This arrangement was scarcely made when Soissons died and a still greater magnate was found to succeed him, — namely, Henri de Bourbon, Prince of Conde, a man celebrated, as Voltaire says, for having been the father of the great Conde, but eminent for nothing else save petty ambition and greed. Champlain had come to doubt the wisdom of too exclusive a policy of monopoly, and he sought to organize a numerous association of merchants in the seaport towns. During this arduous work, whenever some little assistance at court was wanted the Prince of Conde was always ready to absorb the spare cash as a retaining fee.

There was so much to be done that Champlain could not leave France in 1612, but a young man appeared in Paris with such a story about his experiences in the New World that fashionable society had an unwonted sensation. The name of this youth was Nicolas de Vignau. Two years before Champlain had let him go home with a party of Ottawas, in order to learn what he could about their country and perhaps to inculcate a few civilized ideas into the heads of their warriors. Now Vignau strutted about Paris with the story that he had seen with his own eyes the western ocean; at all events, he had followed the river Ottawa

up to its origin in a lake, whence a river flowing northward had carried him down to the sea. On its shore he had seen the wreck of an English ship and the heads of eighty Englishmen who had been massacred by the natives! It is not likely that this story was pure invention. The Ottawa River has its sources in a chain of small lakes, and from these a group of rivers, such as the Moose and Abbittibi, flow northward into James Bay, the southeasternmost portion of the vast Hudson Bay. Vignau may very well have heard of this route and have coupled with it some vague rumour of the mutiny and disaster at James Bay in which Henry Hudson lost his life in June, 1612. The plausibleness of his story and his straightforward manner carried conviction to everybody, to Champlain among others; and Champlain resolved to make the visiting of that western sea the chief work of the summer of 1613.

Late in May he started from the island opposite Montreal, which in honour of the wife he had left behind he called Helen’s Island. He had two canoes, carrying, besides himself and Vignau, three other Frenchmen and one Indian. Far up the Ottawa River they made their way, with fierce and sanguinary opposition from the mosquitoes, of which Champlain writes with most lively disgust, but otherwise without unpleasant

experiences. At Allumette Island they came to a thriving Ottawa village, many of the inmates of which had never seen any white man except Vignau. After the usual formalities of feasting and smoking, Champlain addressed the warriors in the kind of speech which he had learned that they liked, and concluded by asking for canoes and guides to take him further on, even to the country of the Nipissings. But here he read in the faces of his hearers that he had touched an unpleasant chord; they were not on good terms with the Nipissings. The old chieftain Tessouat, who replied, gently rebuked Champlain for not having been at Montreal the preceding summer to take part once more in a fight against the Iroquois. As for the canoes, of course if Champlain wanted them he should have them; but oh, those Nipissings! what could he be thinking of in wishing to go to them? They would be sure to kill him! and what a day of mourning for every true Ottawa that would be! On Champlain’s further representations the canoes and guides were promised, and he stepped out of doors to get a breath of fresh air. No sooner was his back turned than the assembled warriors reconsidered the subject and decided not to grant the canoes. A message to this effect brought him back into the wigwam, and once more he had to listen to the tale of Nipissing depravity. Naturally he pointed to

Vignau and observed that here was a man who had been to the Nipissings and had not found them quite so black as they were painted. “Ah!” exclaimed old Tessouat, turning upon the wretched impostor, “Nicolas, did you tell him that you had been to the Nipissings?” It was a terrible moment for that silly young man, before that scowling company, with all those pairs of little snakelike eyes fixed savagely upon him. It mattered little whether he answered yes or no; but after some moments of silence he replied stoutly that he had been there. Angry shouts of “Liar!” arose; for Vignau had really spent his whole winter in this very village, and everybody present knew it. Effrontery was of no avail; he was plied with sarcastic queries which left him dumb and bewildered. Then quoth Champlain “Look here, Vignau, if you have told me lies I will forgive what is past, but I insist that you tell the truth now, and if you fail me you shall be hanged on the spot.” For a moment more the young rascal hesitated, then fell upon his knees and confessed the whole. The Indians begged to be allowed to kill him, but Champlain kept his word and the worthless life was spared. There was no further talk of canoes and guides, and our hero returned somewhat crestfallen to Montreal.

[Later in the season Champlain took ship

[The bracket at the beginning of the last paragraph is not closed in the original text.]

for France where he enlisted the interest of the Recollet friars in the establishment of missions among the Indians. Armed with a royal patent and the authorization of the Pope, he returned to Canada in the spring of 1615, accompanied by four friars, whose singular garb at first greatly astonished their prospective flock.

One of these missionaries, Le Caron, leaving his brethren at Quebec went on to Montreal, where he found the yearly gathering of Indian fur-traders. Champlain appeared a few days later, and was then besought by the throng of Hurons to join them in an attack upon the Iroquois. Yielding to these solicitations he returned to Quebec for equipment. In the mean time Le Caron went on with Indians, making his way in a northwesterly direction until he, the first of white men, gazed on the great Fresh water Sea of the Hurons. Not many days later, Champlain arrived at the Huron villages and rejoined Le Caron, and on August 12 the first Christian service was held.

Hardly was the work of the church in this abode of evil spirits begun with these solemn rites before attention was directed to the worldly project which the Hurons had most at heart. Champlain reached the chief village of the Hurons, Cahiagué, the 17th of August. Feasts

and war dances filled the hours of waiting till all the bands were gathered, and then, crossing Lake Simcoe, the Indians, accompanied by a handful of Frenchmen under the intrepid Champlain, pushed on rapidly by lakes and the river Trent to Lake Ontario.

Boldly venturing upon this inland sea in their frail craft they safely reached the other shore. A few days’ march brought them to the Iroquois village,¹ where their first rash attack was successfully repelled, but at the sound of French muskets and the hissing of the bullets the pursuing Iroquois fell back and sought protection within the palisades of their town.

To enable an effective assault to be made upon these defences Champlain had a movable tower built, from which sharp-shooters could pick off Iroquois behind the palisades; and also large shields to protect the assailing party from arrows and stones, in their efforts to set fire to the palings. But the excitement of battle was too much for these undisciplined hordes. They threw away the shields, rent the air with cries which made it impossible for Champlain to be

heard, and in their haste lighted the fires on the lee side of the stockade, where they were quickly put out by the water poured down by the defenders. After three hours of aimless and ineffectual struggle, the Hurons fell back discouraged. Nor was Champlain able to rouse them to another set attack. They refused to stir unless they should be reinforced by some expected allies. These failing to arrive, the defeated Hurons gave up the contest and stole off, carrying their wounded in baskets upon their backs. They found their canoes unharmed, and safely recrossed the lake, but Champlain, greatly to his chagrin, was unable to induce the leaders to fulfil their promise to conduct him back to Quebec. At the last he was fain to accept the shelter of the lodge of a Huron chief. After some months spent in hunting, exploration, and the observation of Huron manners, Champlain returned to Quebec, where he was received as one from the dead.

Champlain’s plans to found a colony were in conflict with the commercial interests of the company of merchants who controlled the fortunes of New France. For them the fur-trade was the chief concern, and the growth of settlement could but diminish the profitableness of this commerce. As a trading-post Quebec was a success, but the lapse of eight years from its

beginnings saw only two farms in cultivation, one by the Recollet friars, the other by Louis Hebert, who brought his wife and children to Quebec in 1617, and established the first Christian household in Canada. In 1620 Champlain brought his own young wife to Quebec, where she devoted herself with the zeal of a young convert to the spiritual welfare of the Indian women and children. These four years of missionary apprenticeship seem to have kindled her piety to such a flame that nothing would satisfy her but retirement from the world, and after her husband’s death she became a nun.

In 1621 the merchants of St. Malo and Rouen, owing to repeated complaints, were ordered to give place to two Huguenot merchants named De Caen. Their refusal brought on quarrels between the rival traders, and in weariness at these discords Montmorency sold his viceroyalty of New France to his nephew the Duke of Ventadour, whose interest in the welfare of Canada was wholly religious. It was through him that the order of the Jesuits embraced New France in the world-wide field of their labours. In 1625 Lalemant, Masse, and Brébeuf began the work which was to place their names so high in the history of Canada. The far-seeing eye of Richelieu

was now directed to the possibilities for the extension of French power in the New world, and the wasted opportunities of eighteen years devoted to the conflicting interests of trade and religion, which had left Quebec with only one or two self-supporting families, and at most a motley population of little over one hundred persons, convinced the great minister that a radical change was necessary. He abolished the privileges of the De Caens, and formed the company of New France, to consist of one hundred members with himself at their head. To this body, commonly known as the “One Hundred Associates,” were granted the political control of all of New France, the commercial monopoly of the fur-trade forever, and of other commerce, except whaling and cod-fishing, for fifteen years, for which period the trade of the colony was to be exempt from taxation. In return, the Associates must settle in Canada during these fifteen years not less than four thousand men and women, who were to be provided with cleared lands after three years’ residence. In contrast to the lax unconcern with which for the most part England saw her colonies peopled with all sorts and conditions of men, German Protestants and English Catholics, English Puritans and Irish Papists, New France was henceforth to be open only to

Catholics and Frenchmen. To attain the ideal of religious unity the strongest inducement for an energetic and progressive population to migrate was relinquished, and the interesting possibility of the growth of a Huguenot New France side by side with a Puritan New England was rejected.

Hardly had this reorganization been effected, when, through the outbreak of war between England and France, these plans were interrupted, and not only the possession but even the existence of the colony hung in the balance. The new company despatched four armed vessels in April, 1628, under Roquemont, one of their number, to succour the distressed colonists, and simultaneously Charles I. of England authorized a private expedition, patronized by London merchants and commanded by the three sons of their associate, Gervase Kirke, to dislodge the French from Acadia and Canada. The English fleet arrived first, but Champlain’s sturdy resolution and the apparent strength of his position disconcerted them, and they turned back. But if the Kirkes failed to capture Quebec, the blow they did inflict was hardly less serious, for they overwhelmed the expedition of relief led by Roquemont, and the feeble garrison dragged through another year in such misery that Champlain meditated the desertion of Quebec

and the capture of some Iroquois village where they would find a buried store of corn. Before so desperate a plan was resolved upon, Captain Kirke reappeared, this time to secure the surrender of Quebec, not through the valour of his attack, but through the despair of its holders. The English possession, however, was short-lived. Three years later, in accordance with the treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye, Canada and Acadia were restored to France in response to a demand which the honour of France, the personal pride of Richelieu as the head of the One Hundred Associates, and the pious urgency of Champlain for the conversion of the savages, all combined to press. In 1633 Champlain returned to Quebec as governor under commission from the One Hundred Associates. For a brief two years more he guided the destinies of New France. His days of exploration were over, and his mind turned more and more to the development and extension of the missions, to which all other interests were now subordinate. On Christmas day, 1635, the father of New France passed away. Like Bradford and Winthrop, his contemporaries, he was not only the brave, patient, and wise leader of an epoch-making enterprise, but also its honest and dispassionate historian. Yet this was not all, for to-day he is not less remembered as the

adventurous and indefatigable explorer and the curious observer of savage life and manners. Recurring now to the rivalry between France and England for the possession of Acadia, the next stage to be noticed is the grant of that region in 1621 by King James I. to Sir William Alexander, a member of the newly organized Council of New England, to be held under the name Nova Scotia as a fief of the Crown of Scotland. The first obstacle to the establishment of his sway Sir William found in the French occupants under the leadership of Biencourt. At Biencourt’s death about the year 1623 his possessions and claims fell to his friend and companion, Charles de la Tour. In 1627 Charles de la Tour petitioned the king of France to be appointed commandant of Acadia. His messenger was his own father, Claude de la Tour, who, upon his return with Roquemont’s Quebec relief expedition, was captured by the Kirkes and carried to England. Here, being a Protestant, he renounced his French allegiance and entered the

service of Sir William Alexander, who made him a baronet of Nova Scotia in 1629.

The return of the father with a commission from England after he had been despatched to secure one from France produced a situation which has appealed alike to poet, historian, and novelist, who have depicted the son sternly rejecting the father’s solicitations to change his allegiance. The story is a doubtful one, and the facts seem to be that La Tour adapted himself to the changes in the political world with the readiness of the Vicar of Bray.¹

The restoration of Canada and Acadia to France in 1632 forced the La Tours to trim their sails again, and Charles de la Tour succeeded in getting a grant of lands and a command from the French king. He soon found himself confronted by a shrewd and tireless rival, D’Aunay Charnisay, the heir of the authority of Claude de Razilly, whom the king had sent over in 1632 to receive back Acadia from the English. The rivalry of these two chieftains revived in Acadia the petty warfare of the feudal ages. Ensconced in their rustic castles, first on opposite sides of the peninsula of Acadia, — D’Aunay at Port Royal and

La Tour at Cape Sable, — and later, on opposite sides of the Bay of Fundy, where La Tour established his Fort St. Jean, — contesting each other’s holdings, capturing each other’s retainers, now proposing common action against the English interlopers, now appealing to Boston for assistance, they carried on the struggle intermittently for years.

Appeals to the king of France at first only complicated matters because of the uncertainties of Acadian geography, but in 1641 D’Aunay’s superior influence at court prevailed. La Tour’s commission was recalled; and he was ordered to report to the king in France. At the same time D’Aunay was authorized to take possession of La Tour’s forts. La Tour refused obedience and D’Aunay was ordered to seize him. La Tour, now finding himself in the dangerous plight of a rebel, had recourse to Boston for help, and convinced the leaders of the Puritan colony that his cause was just, and that D’Aunay was an intruder. Their help, however, was of little lasting advantage, and in 1645 D’Aunay captured Fort St. Jean and hanged most of the prisoners. Five years later the tide turned when

D’Aunay was drowned, leaving a widow and eight children. The skies then brightened for La Tour, and he came back to Acadia, having succeeded in getting a new commission from the king. Madame D’Aunay was now overwhelmed with misfortune; her claims and those of La Tour seemed incapable of adjustment, and, urged by the necessities of her children, she accepted La Tour’s proposal to merge them with his by marriage.¹ Hardly had this promising settlement been effected when a force of New Englanders under Major Robert Sedgwick of Charlestown, following secret instructions received from Cromwell, suddenly attacked and conquered Acadia. Again La Tour’s adroitness served him well. In 1656 he secured for himself, in conjunction with Thomas Temple and William Crowne, a grant of all of Acadia, but apparently he had now had enough of the labours and vicissitudes of founding a people, for in less than two months he relinquished his share to Temple, who devoted himself with great energy to building up the colony. Temple successfully weathered the change in government at the Restoration, reminding Charles II. that he had been faithful to his father, and “that one of the last commands that he whispered to Kirke on

the scaffold was to charge this king to have a care of honest to have a care of honest Tom Temple.”¹ The injunction was heeded so far as to allow Temple to retain Acadia, but it was not heeded to the extent of indemnifying him for his losses when Acadia was transferred again to France in 1667.

The Lords of Acadia, from Sir William Alexander to Sir Thomas Temple, and not least the two indefatigable rivals, La Tour and D’Aunay Charnisay, had learned to their cost how great a labour it is to found a state.