Part One MEMORIALS TO SAMUEL CHAMPLAIN (continued 3)

We learned that Mr. Pell has sought to buy all the lands around Ticonderoga where the French and English fought, so that no one shall build a hotel there and lessen the sacred character of this landscape. Is it not a fine stroke, and does he belong by chance to this “material civilization,” of which they have made in respect to Americans so much reproach, so much hard compliment? We go out of the house; we cross the field, and, the ground falling away a little, we are in front of a square fortress of stone, protected by ditches. The proprietors have restored it, but the great part of these old stones are truly stones of war, and the black rafters of the chambers have become brown by the smoke of pipes which were lighted in the hard winter of this climate by the lost and almost abandoned children of the regiments of France.

One thinks of the reproaches which they would have made to the news brought by the Indians, to the wind which howled, to the snow storm.... The fort is decorated in our honor. On its front, a bronze plaque bears this inscription: “Germain redoubt constructed by captain Germain, régiment des Gardes de la Reine, in 1758, by order of the marquis de Montcalm, in command of the fortress of Carillon.”

The extent of the old covered way, cut through to-day, brings us to the interior of the earthworks. Before us, at 500 meters, high glacis crown the hill and conceal just at the roof line a construction which would have served as quarters for the officers. I notice two flags waving at the end of two great flagstaffs, and more below, like a basket of violets moving, for the wind is brisk, where they have been planted. But no one explains to me yet what we have come to see, and Mr. Pell, who walks with me, stooping, picks a woolly leaf of a wild plant, and says to me: “Keep it as souvenir. Right here, some years ago, we set out to make an excavation. At the first stroke of the pick the workmen uncovered some bodies clothed in trimmed uniforms. They were immediately ordered to cover them up and not to disturb them.” We were moved. I continued to ascend the hill. One has to turn a little to find the entrance into the fortress of Carillon. A dozen cannon outside are still pointed towards the lake and towards the little neighboring mountain, “The mount of France” which drew the English artillery. I enter the enclosure of the fortress. It is trimmed up. It awaits France. Ah, see who has come—La France! and she sees in front of the wall of Montcalm’s old quarters, ten silken standards which the wind lifts and lets fall heavily on the staffs; violet squares bordered with white, blue panels barred with red, many-colored banners, all the standards of the regiments of France which were represented at the battle of Carillon. The victorious colors live again in the light, and a little above, dominating the broken walls and the roofs, two great flags protect the others, command them and explain them; the starry flag of young America and the banner of ancient France, all white and strewn with Fleur-de-lis. My eyes fill with tears, and I really think that two tears have fallen. I am sure that they said, “Long live this American who has a deep heart.” They say still other things and I feel myself living wholly in the France of other days.

The house of the fort has become a museum; swords, guns, ammunition, letters, keys, spades which were broken in throwing up the entrenchments, engravings of several periods, are there hung on the walls or arranged in showcases; even an old watch, which the journal of the fortress, likewise preserved, states, had been lost among the ruins. We linger there and I notice that our traveling companions speak less as time passes. But when we have made the round of the walls of Carillon and when we notice in the full light of ten o’clock in the morning all the country which the old fort commands, words come again; joy, also; the ground descends from there down to the lake, narrow at this point; the hills rise gradually and the blue of the distance defines itself in clear lines upon the pale azure of the horizon. Some one says: “Do you not notice how that resembles the plain of Pau, as seen from the terrace?” Indeed, if I efface from my memory the image of blue waters, which the waters of Lake Champlain disturbed by the melting snows do not at all resemble, and which do not reflect the sky, the two landscapes have a similarity. Even the atmosphere is transparent here, revealing the elevated conformation of the distance. Another of our companions, who soon notices the extended form of the lake and the color of the trees on the lower level, says, almost at the same moment, “I believe I see the Vosges with Retournemer and Longemer.” In other ways we recognize here French harmonies.

Some hours later, we are on a point of land quite far from the fort of Carillon, at the foot of a white stone lighthouse. The light overlooks a stretch of bad rock land, standing in the midst of low places and fields which stretch out behind it. What a desert this would be, and from the origin of the world, this spur on which break the short waves of Lake Champlain!

But to-day the people of the American towns, those who live in the Adirondacks, those from the other side of the water, miners, farmers, and various workers, or trout fishers, who have come to prepare for the coming season, have assembled at Crown Point Forts. Some horses, picketed, browse in the fields; others are hitched to the branches of a hawthorne—the remains, perhaps of an old plantation, set out by the hand of a jealous old French soldier. Some American carriages, a little seat on four very light wheels; some wagons, twenty automobiles, are scattered on the grass, while around the lighthouse, on all the levels of the rock, are seated upon benches or on the ground a mixed population, intimate, badly controlling the children who race around like young quail; listening, understanding—or pretending to understand—the speeches which glorify Champlain. The bronze medallion which represents France, the work of Rodin, brought by us, is already set in its niche in front. The wind blows; it causes to vibrate the ten cords stretched from the lantern of the lighthouse to the ground in a crown, and flaps the big canopy and all the flags which ornament it. And as my mind wanders when the speeches are in English, I listen to what the flags are saying:

“Do you see them, these people seated in the front row? They don’t belong here.”

“It’s plain that they don’t belong here. You’re not saying much of anything: Are they tanned by the open air? Have they the free and easy way of the American citizen?”

“I suppose that they are from Paris?”

“You have a very simple way of being sure of it, my dear. Did you ever hear such a noise! Listen! When they are from Paris, there is never any lack of talk!”

“—Precisely, the orator proclaims himself; he comes from Paris.”

“Not of great extent, this France?”

“Not very formidable?”

One flag, smoke-blackened, said:

“Not very serious?”

Then, the English flag, which had said nothing, snapped a blow so sharp that a whip wouldn’t have been better.

“Very serious, my dear. I’ve known the French. I’ve known the French at a time when you were not such a much, be it said without offense to you. I have known Champlain. He had a jovial way. He was usually pleasant. The Indians said of him: ‘We like to hear you speak. You always have something pleasant to say.’ But, believe me, I understood him: it was as a colonial and a rough adversary, I say adversary, because that is the name that one gives to his old enemies when they have become his friends, you understand?”

“Pretty well.”

I leave the flags, ruffling. I think of this brave man, whose fête this is, at this moment, in his little sleepy and grass-grown town of Brouage: of the dreams of glory that were his, all youthful, like those of a good many men of his time, and which he accomplished because he had a heart capable of suffering for his love. For he loved France. He left her, the better to serve her. He bore with him, to the West Indies, and afterwards to Canada, a poor companion, a perfect and holy image. Almost alone among the savages, having carried upon his strong shoulders, oars, provisions and the blanket for his bed at night, enured to heat, to cold, to mosquitoes, to long exiles and the perpetual treason of men, over these identical grounds where we now are, he made his way to discovery, beholding a new world reveal itself about him, and giving it to his Lord in heaven, as he gave it to his King, secretly, hourly, by each glance with which he took possession of this unknown world. For he says: “Kings should not think of extending their domination in infidel lands, except to establish there the reign of Christ.” Commerce was not forgotten. But what superior humanity! It is still living, only disregarded. Champlain has passed here. I realize that this landscape has been reflected in his eyes as it is in mine. This landscape? Is it indeed sure? Where are the trusty witnesses? Not the meadow, which is new. Not the trees, too young for him to have known, nor the waters, which have changed, nor the clouds, nor even the ancestors of the spectators assembled on this strand. We can scarcely say that the movement of the sun sang as to-day, the same verse in the hymn universal.

M. Bazin concludes with a running account of his continued journey to Montreal and Quebec, recalling at length their wealth of historic associations.

IX. COMMENT IN APPRECIATION OF THE VISIT OF THE FRENCH DELEGATION AND HONORS CONFERRED

The mission of the French delegation proved to be of far deeper import, than the mere presentation of the Rodin bust, gratifying to Americans as was that superb gift on the part of its donors. It awakened in the people of this country, quite as much as it did in the members of that delegation, renewed interest in the activities and achievements of the peoples of the two Republics, which are the foremost democracies of the world. M. Hanotaux, a scholar, a statesman and a diplomat and his distinguished colleagues, are among the foremost citizens of France. They represented the several departments of the Government as well as the various trades and professions in the civil life of that Republic. Commerce and industries were represented by M. Antoine Girard, Counsellor of Foreign Commerce. Their reputation had long been established in science, in literature and in the fine arts and also in jurisprudence, in statesmanship and in diplomacy, as exemplified in the genial and charming personality of Ambassador Jusserand. They are among the present day celebrities of the French nation and were invited to become members of the Embassy on account of their individual standing in the official, social and intellectual life of that Republic.

One cannot read their addresses and their reports to Paris of the impressions, which they formed on their visit to America, without appreciating the spontaneity of their tributes to the American people and to their institutions, the warmth of their expressions of good will and generous impulses towards the people of this nation and their gratitude for the deep interest shown by the people of the United States, and especially by those of Vermont and New York, in commemorating the achievements and the character of one of their countrymen.

The unreported addresses of Baron D’Estournelle de Constant, member of the French Senate and the representative of France at the Hague International Peace Tribunal, and of M. Louis Barthou, ex-Minister of Justice and one of the leading Parliamentarians of the Chamber of Deputies, will long be remembered for their urbanity, for the breadth of their views, and for the brilliancy of their eloquent periods. The addresses of M. Hanotaux and others and the foregoing reports of Gaston Deschamps, of M. de la Blache, the geographer of the University of Paris, and of René Bazin, of the French Academy, disclose the character and beauty of the style of the French littérateurs. Wherever the members of the delegation went, they were gratefully welcomed and entertained in stately manner. The social functions taxed the powers of endurance on the part of the visitors to their full extent. They made hosts of friends and gave Americans opportunity to meet them and to become acquainted with gentlemen and ladies possessed of the rare culture and refinement of French life. Their visit was timely and did much to strengthen the ties that bind the peoples of the two Republics in friendly accord. They made an impression on the people of this country that will be quite as enduring as the bronze testimonial of the good will of the people of France towards those of the United States, firmly set in the granite base of the Champlain Memorial at Crown Point Forts and there was voiced by the friends, whom they made in America, the sentiment, Vive la France.

Some months after the return of the French delegation to France, Commissioner Walter C. Witherbee was appointed by the President of the French Republic a Knight of the Legion of Honor, which was formally and appreciatively acknowledged by this Commission.

Knighthood in the Legion of Honor was also conferred by the President of France upon Hon. Frank S. Witherbee, a member of Preliminary Champlain Commission and President of the Lake Champlain Association, which participated in the entertainment of the French delegation at the Waldorf-Astoria banquet on May 1, 1912.

Hon. A. Barton Hepburn, President of the Chamber of Commerce of the State of New York, which entertained the French delegation at luncheon on May 2, 1912, has recently been decorated by the President of France with the honorary rank of Officer in the Legion of Honor.

The French Government has recently presented to Honorable Charles B. Alexander, member of the Society of the Cincinnati, who gave a reception on April 30, 1912, to the French delegation in his beautiful home at No. 4 West 58th Street, New York City, the artistic Sèvres bisque group of national manufacture, known as “Télémaque chez Calypso,” by the sculptor, M. Louis Simon Boizot.

Knighthood in the Legion of Honor was also conferred by the President of the Republic of France upon President John H. Finley of the College of the City of New York, who has taken deep interest in the life of Samuel Champlain and in French colonization in America. His felicitous remarks at the Waldorf-Astoria banquet on May 1, 1912, were genuinely appreciated by Ambassador Jusserand, the members of the French delegation, and all others in attendance. President Finley was the Harvard Exchange lecturer under the Hyde Foundation in 1910 at the University of Paris and at ten other French universities.

In February, 1913, His Excellency, Raymond Poincaré, President of the Republic of France, appointed Henry W. Hill, Secretary of the New York Lake Champlain Tercentenary Commission, a Knight of the Legion of Honor, in recognition of his public, literary and other services in connection with the Tercentenary Celebration from its inception in 1907 to the conclusion of the Final Report of the Commission in 1913.

These delicate and touching expressions of appreciation on the part of President Fallières, President Poincaré, Ambassador Jusserand and the citizens of France of the courtesies shown to the members of the French delegation, while in the United States, are still further evidences of the warmth of the kindly feelings existing between the people of that Republic and those of this nation, and are gratefully appreciated.