hostly yellowish white

diva's entrance

No athlete has embodied the soul of a city and the spirit of itspeople as Richard did in the 1940s and '50s in Montreal,

On the night of Thursday, March 17, 1955, the haze was aghostly yellowish white. Smoke from a tear-gas canister haddriven thousands of hockey fans into the streets, sparking afour-hour rampage that yielded the requisite fires, shatteredwindows, looted stores, overturned cars and 137 arrests.

"The fans, they pray for two things. The first is that the Canadiens will win. The second thing is that they pray for the Canadiens to crush the Maple Leafs, but I think you don't need any God for that," he said with a laugh.

, "Are the Montreal Canadiens a religion?

The arena is their temple

became the first to score 50 goals in a season (in 50 games, no less)

. 9 had already previously walloped a ref

ly one that says the "hearing" with the playe

After the riot, the NHL began to crack down on all-out brawls (especially carrying your stick into one), though it would take another 25 years for the changes to take effect with the institution of the third-man-in rule.

137 arrests

At times, he appeared superhuman. Like that night in December 1944 when he showed up at the Forum exhausted from moving furniture all day into his family’s new apartment — then scored five goals and added three assists, setting the NHL record for most points in a single game.

He hits him with such force across the shoulders that his stick splinter

The protests did indeed contain seeds of revolution. André Robinson, the man who smooshed the tomato against Campbell’s chest, became a minor folk hero. Supporters sent him more than 50 letters, enough money to afford his legal fees and a gold watch.

The barrage continued. Peanuts, tomatoes, galoshes, crumpled newspapers, programs. A hardboiled egg bounced off Campbell’s hat. An orange nailed him in the back. A rubber overshoe jostled Ms. King’s headwear.

Campbell ordered a ham sandwich on brown bread

In an era when the game was more violent than today’s version, when players did not wear helmets or mouth guards and when they jousted more frequently with their sticks, Richard still exceeded the acceptable standards. On one occasion he knocked out New York Rangers’ tough guy Bob “Killer” Dill twice in the same game. In 1947, he broke his stick over the head of another Ranger, Bill Juzda. A month later, he clubbed the Maple Leafs’ Bill Ezinicki in the Stanley Cup finals. Opponents frequently antagonized Richard because they could count on him retaliating and they would rather see him in the penalty box than on the ice. By 1955, he had become one of the game’s most penalized players. During 18 seasons total, he was assessed 1,285 minutes in penalties.

The late  Earl Seibert once learned about that intensity. The Detroit defenseman threw himself at Richard during a game in the 1945-46 season as Richard brought the puck into the Red Wings’ zone. Richard lowered his head and neck to buttress himself for the collision then straightened, with Seibert, draped atop his back. Richard carried the 200-pound defenseman to the net, deked the goaltender with one hand on his stick and flipped the puck into the far corner of the net.

A little distance away the other three men handled the stumping-machine with the aid of Charles Eugene. The pyramidal scaffolding was put in place above a large stump and lowered, the chains which were then attached to the root passed over a pulley, and the horse at the other end started away quickly, flinging himself against the traces and showering earth with his hoofs. A short and desperate charge, a mad leap often arrested after a few feet as by the stroke of a giant fist; then the heavy steel blades a giant would swing up anew, gleaming in the sun, and fall with a dull sound upon the stubborn wood, while the horse took breath for a moment, awaiting with excited eye the word that would launch him forward again. And afterwards there was still the labour of hauling or rolling the big stumps to the pile-at fresh effort of back, of soil-stained hands with swollen veins, and stiffened arms that seemed grotesquely striving with the heavy trunk and the huge twisted roots.

His excuses for so late a call were made without touch of awkwardness. "We are camped at the end of the portage above the rapids. The tent had to be pitched and things put in order to make the Belgians comfortable for the night. When I set out I knew it was hardly the hour for a call and that the paths through the woods must be pretty bad. But I started all the same, and when I saw your light..."

It was an easy guess, as Eutrope Gagnon was their only neighbour. The year before he had taken up land two miles away, with his brother; the brother had gone to the shanties for the winter, and he was left alone in the cabin they had built of charred logs. He appeared on the threshold, lantern in hand. "Greeting to each and all," was the salutation as he pulled off his woollen cap. "A fine night, and there is still a crust on the snow-, as the walking was good I thought that I would drop in this evening to find out if you were back."

They had spent the last evening at St. Michel de Mistassini-viewing everything in the full light of the afternoon: the great wooden bridge, covered in and painted red, not unlike an amazingly long Noah's ark; the high hills rising almost from the very banks of the river, the old monastery crouched between the river and the heights, the water that seethed and whitened, flinging itself in wild descent down the staircase of a giant. But to see this young man after seven years, and to hear his name spoken, aroused in Maria memories clearer and more lively than she was able to evoke of the events and sights of yesterday.

Sometimes, merely at the sight of the clothes with which the most blessed Virgin appeared to him to be clad, and of the fringes which hung at the bottom of her robes he was so much occupied and absorbed in the luster of her glory that he dared not raise his eyes higher for fear of being oppressed with the excess of the lights which might flash from her face. [page 175] But those were not the favors which he desired, nor which he had ever desired. And he kept those favors so secret and concealed, except to those from whom he could not in conscience conceal anything, that he never spoke of them? nor even gave any one at all the least indication of them. And the conclusion which he drew from them, every time, was to humiliate himself further, to distrust himself, to esteem himself the least of the household, and to feat lest the Devil should deceive him. Finally, he never guided himself by these visions, although often God had [72] given him to understand things, afar off, and even gave him great illuminations ill the secret place of conscience, and in the depth of the heart. But he guided himself solelyby the principles of the Faith, through the operations of obedience and the lights of reason. One day, speaking in prayer to Our Lord, and saying to him, Domine, quid me vis facere.?—he heard this answer, which Jesus Christ formerly made to St. Paul: Vade ad Ananiam, et ipse dicet tibi quid te oporteat facere. And from that time he was so confirmed in the resolutions which he had, of never seeking other guidance than that of obedience, that I may say, in truth, that this virtue was perfect in him,—seeing only God in the person of the Superior, discovering his heart to him with a child's simplicity, showing an entire docility to the answers which were given him, and acquiescing without resistance in everything which was said to him, although contrary to his natural inclinations,—not only in that which appeared to the eyes of men, but in the depth of his heart, where he knew that God sought the true obedience

The enemy was warned that the Christians had betaken themselves, in very great number, into the Church, and that it was the easiest and the richest prey that he could have hoped for; he hastens thither, with barbarous howls and stunning yells. At the noise of these approaches, " Flee, my Brothers," said the Father to his new Christians, " and bear with you your faith even to the last sigh. As for me " (he added), " I must face death here, as long as I shall see here any soul to be gained for Heaven; and, dying here to save you, my life is no longer anything to me; we shall see one another again in Heaven." At the same time, he goes out in the direction whence come the enemy, who stop in astonishment to see one man alone come to meet them, and even recoil backward, as if he bore upon his face the terrible and frightful appearance of a whole company. Finally,—having come to their senses a little, and being astonished at themselves,—they incite one another; they surround him on all sides, and cover him with arrows, until, having inflicted upon him a mortal wound from an arquebus shot,—which pierced him through and through, in the very middle of his breast,—he fell. Pronouncing [12] the name of JESUS, he blessedly yielded up his soul to God,—truly as a good Pastor, who exposes both his soul and his life for the salvation of his Rock.

On the 1st of June, we arrived at Montreal. On the third, which was the Day of Corpus Christi, we made no procession anywhere, on account of the rain; but on Sunday one was made at Quebek, also at Montreal, where I bore the Blessed Sacrament; 12 soldiers marched in front, their heads Covered,—quod grave mihi admodum fuit, nec deinceps tolerandum. On that same 6th of June, those who were going to the Hurons left,—to the number of 34 Frenchmen and two Hurons, in twelve Canoes. [page 53] I took possession of the two leagues of land opposite Montreal, from the Grant of Monsieur de Lauzon. More than 300 Sturgeon were taken in 15 Days, as Montreal, during our sojourn. We started thence on the 11th, and arrived the next day at 3 rivers, where we learned of the capture of 14 Algonquains by the yroquois, above the 2nd sault from 3 rivers. A little later, arrived the great boat from Montreal, which brought the Savages and their peltry,—Algonquain savages, I mean, who had gone to trade with the petite nation. 3 of these having been surprised by fire catching in some powder that they had, one or two had died; and a 3rd had remained on the spot, very sick. They brought news that 7 Yroquois had been killed by those of the petite nation. At 3 rivers, no bonfire was made on St. John's day,—the governor claiming that the warehouse ought to make it, and the warehouse referring it to the governor. They made one at Quebek: it was father Vimont who took part therein, for want of another. We left 3 rivers on the 26th, and returned hither on the 27th. On arriving, we learned that a poor sailor had been drowned, and that there had been but little fishing,—the fish having failed, and every one having taken up his nets after a month of time lost. There were plenty of fine Sturgeon, which helped people to live; but there were few if any salmon.

This Relation, as originally published, ends with Chaumonot's letter; but the second edition appends a postscript, containing additional nears—brought by a later vessel from Canada—of the fortunes of the Huron mission. One of the letters thus received—written from St. Joseph Island, in August, 1649—states that three hundred Huron families have taken refuge on that island; and that the Jesuits have also gone thither, having abandoned Ste. Marie. Here all suffer fearful privations; for, having fled from their cultivated fields to a wilderness, they must resort for food to wild roots and fruits. The Fathers are, however, consoled by the eagerness of these people to embrace the Faith; during the past thirteen months, they have baptized [page 16] over 2,700 persons, besides those who received that rite at the hands of the martyrs, at the storming of their villages. The Paris editor adds the description of a terrible shipwreck which occurred last summer off the Great Banks; and the miraculous rescue, by an English vessel, of the lost ship's crew, when, reduced to the last extremity, they were about to eat the flesh of one of their own number. This shipwreck is apparently that of the vessel mentioned as lost, by Lalemant, in the Journal des Jésuites, in the last entry under August, 1649 (q.v. in the present volume).

Word of the death is also sent to the friends who live in the other Villages; and, as each family has some one who takes care of its Dead, these latter come as soon as possible to take charge of everything, and determine the day of the funeral. Usually they inter the Dead [188] on the third day; as soon as it is light, the Captain gives orders that throughout the whole Village a feast be made for the dead. No one spares what he has of the best. They do this, in my opinion, for three reasons: First, to console one another, for they exchange dishes, and hardly anyone eats any of the feast he has prepared; secondly, on account of those of other Villages, who often come in great numbers. Thirdly, and principally, to serve the soul of the deceased, which they believe takes pleasure in the feast, and in eating its share. All the kettles being emptied, or at least distributed, the Captain publishes throughout the Village that the body is about to be borne to the Cemetery. The whole Village assembles in the Cabin; the weeping is renewed; and those who have charge of the ceremonies get ready a litter on which the corpse is placed on a mat and enveloped in a Beaver robe, and then four lift and carry it away; the whole Village follows in silence to the Cemetery. A Tomb is there, made of bark and supported on four stakes, [page 269] eight to ten feet high. However, before the corpse is put into it, [189] and before they arrange the bark, the Captain makes known the presents that have been given by the friends. In this Country, as well as elsewhere, the most agreeable consolations for the loss of friends are always accompanied by presents, such as kettles, axes, Beaver robes, and Porcelain collars. If the deceased was a person of importance in the Country, not only the friends and neighbors, but even the Captains of other Villages, will come in person and bring their presents. Now all the presents do not follow the dead man into the grave; sometimes a Porcelain collar is put around his neck, and near by a comb, a gourd full of oil, and two or three little loaves of bread; and that is all. A large share goes to the relatives, to dry their tears; the other share goes to those who have directed the funeral ceremonies, as a reward for their trouble. Some robes, also, are frequently laid aside, or some hatchets, as a gift for the Youth. The Chief puts into the hand of some one of the latter a stick about a foot long, offering a prize to the one who will take it away from him. They throw themselves [190] upon him in a body, with might and main, and remain sometimes a whole hour struggling. This over, each one returns quietly to his Cabin.

They have a faith in dreams which surpasses all belief; and if Christians were to put into execution all their divine inspirations with as much care as our Savages carry out their dreams, no doubt they would very soon become great Saints. They look upon their dreams as ordinances and irrevocable decrees, the execution of which it is not permitted without crime to delay. A Savage of our Village dreamed this winter, in his first sleep, that he ought straightway to make a feast; and immediately, night as it was, he arose, and came [117] and awakened us to borrow one of our kettles. The dream is the oracle that all these poor Peoples consult and listen to, the Prophet which predicts to them future events, the Cassandra which warns them of misfortunes that threaten them, the usual Physician in their sicknesses, the Esculapius and Galen of the whole Country,—the most absolute master they have. If a Captain speaks one way and a dream another, the Captain might shout his head off in vain,—the dream is first obeyed. It is their Mercury in [page 169] their journeys, their domestic Economy in their families. The dream often presides in their councils; traffic, fishing, and hunting are undertaken usually under its sanction, and almost as if only to satisfy it. They hold nothing so precious that they would not readily deprive themselves of it for the sake of a dream. If they have been successful in hunting, if they bring back their Canoes laden with fish, all this is at the discretion of a dream. A dream will take away from them sometimes their whole year's provisions. It prescribes their feasts, their dances, their songs, their games,—in a word, the dream does [118] everything and is in truth the principal God of the Hurons. Moreover, let no one think I make herein an amplification or exaggeration at pleasure; the experience of five years, during which I have been studying the manners and usages of our Savages, compels me to speak in this way.

The occasion of the coming of these Island Savages to the country of the Hurons was the death [52] of twenty-three persons whom the Iroquois had massacred, notwithstanding the peace. This perfidy had excited a strong desire for vengeance. They had collected some twenty-three collars of Porcelain, to rouse the Hurons and the Algonquins to take up arms and lend them assistance, promising that our French would be of the party, as against the common [page 75] enemy; but neither the Hurons nor the Algonquins have been willing to listen to them, and have refused their presents. The Bissiriniens likewise have refused to listen to them, on account of the extortion practiced on them by the Island Savages in going down for trade. As to the Hurons, they have covered their refusal with the apprehension they have of an army with which they were lately threatened. But the real cause was in fact that the Nation of the Bear, which constitutes the half of the Hurons, was piqued because the Island Savages not invite them as well as the others,—offering them no presents, and on the contrary forbidding that they should be told of the matter.

Nothing was growing, everything was dying, so that we apprehended a serious famine, and rightly; for, the soil of the Huron country and adjacent regions being sandy, if three days pass without its being watered with rain from Heaven, everything begins to fade and hang its head. Filled with these apprehensions, the whole Country was dreading a famine, especially as last Spring three villages had been burned which, but for this accident, might have served in case of necessity as granaries to the whole Country.

. The deafness of this sick woman, and the depths of the mysteries I brought to her notice, prevented her from sufficiently understanding me; and, besides, the accent of that Nation is a little different from that of the Bears, with whom we live. My own imperfect acquaintance with the language rendered me [page 11] still less intelligible, and increased my difficulties. But Our Lord, who willed to save this soul, immediately sent us a young man, who served us as interpreter. He had been with us in the Cabin of Louys, and had heard us talking of our mysteries, so that he already knew a considerable part of them, and understood very well what I said. It is said that this woman, who was named Marie, in the midst of her greatest weakness foretold that she would not die for eight days; and so it happened.