Lafayette (LA) Daily Advertiser, January 26, 1999

Bitter winter ends hope of French settlement on St. Lawrence

by Jim Bradshaw

The king chose Jean Francois de le Roque, Sieur de Roberval. He was a soldier, a courtier, and, implausibly, a Protestant. Nonetheless, he was made lieutenant-general, chief, commander, and captain, with complete authority over the new lands that were to be settled. Cartier became second-in-command.

Cartier was ready to sail in early May 1541, but Roberval was not. His ships were not loaded, his plans incomplete. When he continued to procrastinate, Cartier decided to go ahead alone, and sailed from Saint-Malo on May 23. He reached Donnaconna's village August, and faced his first test. Donnaconna died in France and Cartier had to tell the villagers that their chief was dead.

Fortunately for Cartier, Agona, the Indian who had been acting as chief in Donnaconna's absence, liked the news. It meant that he would become permanent chief.

Cartier and his men began to set up a base of operations at a point where the Cap Rouge River empties into the St. Lawrence. They built two forts and named the settlement Charlesbourg Royal. And they grew more and more excited as they built. They found iron deposits as they dug foundations. There were flakes of gold in the sand next to the river. They found sparkling quartz stones that they thought were diamonds. They also found that Agona's easy acceptance of Donnaconna's death was not shared by all of the village. The Indians were growing hostile.

Cartier's hope was that Roberval would arrive quickly with reinforcements. The Indians attacked first, killing some carpenters who were out cutting wood. They continued to kill men when they could, 35 of them in all. Scurvy broke out again, taking more men, although this time Cartier was better prepared to deal with it. It was a long and hard winter. Roberval never showed up.

In the spring, without reinforcements, Cartier decided that he could not hold on to Charlesbourg Royal. He loaded his ships with all of the surviving colonists, eleven barrels of "gold," a basket of precious stones "such as rubies and diamonds," and seven barrels of "silver."

On his way home he stopped at the harbor of what is now St. John's, Newfoundland. Waiting there were Roberval's three big ships. They had finally sailed in April, 1542, and had just reached Newfoundland.

Roberval was amazed to see Cartier sailing into the harbor and accused him of deserting his post. Cartier charged Roberval with negligence in leaving Cartier to winter alone without enough men or supplies. At the end of the argument, Roberval ordered Cartier to return with him to Charlesbourg Royal. Cartier refused and sailed back to France. Roberval went on to the settlement, which he renamed France-Roy.

Had he been wise, he would have followed Cartier back to France. There was another hard winter. One-third of the company with Roberval died before spring.

Historian Samuel Eliot Morison gives this eulogy, "The balance of the story is largely conjecture. Spring came and the ice broke on the St. Lawrence and began to grind its way out to sea. Green showed under the fast-melting snow. But there was no capacity left for the joy of spring in the hearts of the men and women who had survived the dreadful winter. The Sieur de Roberval reached the same conclusion that Cartier had come to the preceding spring: The odds were too heavy to overcome and their mission was doomed to failure. He decided to take what was left of his company back to France.

"One version has it that King Francis sent Cartier to assist in bringing them home and that the man from Saint-Malo did his duty. The only definite evidence bearing on the winding up of this ill-fated adventure was the holding of a court of inquiry before which both Cartier and Roberval appeared to settle their accounts. King Francis apparently became convinced that he had nothing to gain in the New World.

"Many, many years elapsed before any French expedition comparable with Cartier's and Roberval's came in this direction; for Canada had, as it were, been laughed off the map. As all things in France end in jest, so here; it became a popular saying, applied to everything that glittered and was not gold, or sparkled and was not diamond, 'C'est un diamant du Canda,' a Canadian diamond."