defence of Madame La Tour, D'Aulnay's superior numbers prevailed. All resistance was overcome; the fort was pillaged, and all the survivors of the garrison, including Madame La Tour, were taken prisoners. At first the lady was left at liberty, but after she had been detected in an attempt to communicate with her husband by means of an Indian, she was put into confinement. Then, and then only, did she fall ill. Three weeks later she was dead.

D'Aulnay had now robbed his rival of his wife and captured Fort St. Jean, the best trading station in Acadia. The King complimented him highly, and when he demanded reparation for the part Boston had taken against him his right to satisfaction was indirectly admitted. Winthrop had learned his lesson. D'Aulnay's stay as described in the governor's Journal makes interesting reading:

"It being the Lord's day [of September, 1646] and the people ready to go to the assembly after dinner, Monsieur Marie and Monsieur Louis, with Monsieur D'Aulnay [and] his secretary arrived at Boston in a small pinnace and Major Gibbons sent two of his chief officers to meet them at the waterside who conducted them to their lodgings without noise or bustle. The public worship being ended the

Governor repaired home, and sent Major Gibbons with other gentlemen and a guard of musketeers to attend them to the Governor's house, who meeting them without his door carried them into his house, where they were entertained with wine and sweetmeats, and after a while he accompanied them to their lodgings being the house of Major Gibbons, where they were entertained that night.

"The next morning they repaired to the Governor, and delivered him their commission, which was in form of a letter directed to the Governor and magistrates. . . . Their diet was provided at the ordinary, where the Magistrates used to diet in Court times; and the Governor accompanied them always at meals. Their manner was to repair to the Governor's house every morning about eight of the clock, who accompanied them to the place of meeting; and at night either himself or some of the Commissioners, accompanied them to their lodgings."

A great deal of ceremony surely for a little place like Boston! But then, D'Aulnay had asked £8,000 indemnity and the government had to look as if it could pay in case it had to. The Commissioners, though, sturdily denied any guilt" on their part maintaining that

they had only permitted La Tour to hire the vessels. And they brought counter-charges against D'Aulnay. Finally, it was agreed that the matter be settled amicably and that Boston "send a small present to D'Aulnay in satisfaction." A treaty was accordingly signed. In due time the proposed "small present was sent. It consisted of a sedan chair which the marauding Captain Cromwell had taken as a prize and presented to Winthrop a few months before. Winthrop gave it to D'Aulnay, as he frankly says, because it was of no value to him!

But the suite of the victorious French lord was sent off with all possible honours just the same" the Governor and our Commissioners accompanying them to their boat, attended with a guard of musketeers, and gave them five guns from Boston, three from Charlestown, and five from Castle Island; and we sent them aboard a quarter cask of sack and some mutton. . . .' 99 D'Aulnay was evidently satisfied with the results of his visit. For he had not in the least expected the large sum of money for which he had asked. All that he wished to make clear to the Puritans was that they should fit out no more expeditions for La Tour. And now, when he had made this point, forced Fortune to crown his life-work and saw ahead

of him promise of a thriving trade and a constantly growing colony,

"Death stepped tacitly and took him."

On the 24th of May, 1650, as he and his valet were canoeing in the basin of Port Royal, not far from the mouth of the Annapolis, their frail craft overturned, and though they clung to it and got astride of it, one at either end, in an endeavour to save themselves, they could not. At the end of an hour and a half D'Aulnay was dead, not from drowning but from cold, for the water still retained the chill of winter. So Father Ignace, the Superior of the Capuchins, found him. With fitting ceremonies he was buried in the chapel of the fort at Port Royal in the presence of his soldiers, his tenants and his sorrowing wife.

That poor, poor wife! For she still had Charles La Tour to deal with, and with him her own life was destined to be linked. That La Tour had friends in France she soon came to know only too well. Through false papers, intrigues and dastardly treachery Port Royal was promptly wrested from her, and she was even persuaded to return to La Tour Fort St. Jean, which her husband had taken fairly in a well-fought fight. Beset with insidious ene

mies and tortured beyond endurance by fears for her eight young children, the brave spirit of this lovely woman broke with her heart, and three years after the death of her noble husband she married (February 24, 1653) the man who had so long been her tormentor. With him she took up her abode at Fort St. Jean. Of the children for whose sake she had sold herself the four boys were killed in the wars of Louis XIV, and the girls all became nuns. So no single trace of D'Aulnay's blood may to-day be found in the land for which he gave his life and wealth out of the great love he bore France and the Church.

The significant lesson of this whole episode so far as Boston history is concerned lies, however, in the fact that what was, properly speaking, an international matter took place wholly within the borders of the town; and that Massachusetts assumed, throughout, the attitude of a completely independent government, dealing with D'Aulnay and La Tour just as independently and in the same manner as Charles and Buckingham dealt with the Huguenots and the French monarchy. We shall do well to recall this incident later on in Boston's history and contrast it with the claims made by England in regard to her attitude of "protection."