That Quebec was to become the capital of a great empire there seemed
in truth good reason to believe. The young king and his minister
Colbert had labored in earnest to build up a new France in the west.
For years past, ship-loads of emigrants had landed every summer on the
strand beneath the rock. All was life and action, and the air was full
of promise. The royal agent Talon had written to his master: "This
part of the French monarchy is destined to a grand future. All that I
see around me points to it; and the colonies of foreign nations, so
long settled on the seaboard, are trembling with fright in view of
what his Majesty has accomplished here within the last seven years.
The measures we have taken to confine them within narrow limits, and
the prior claim we have established against them by formal acts of
possession, do not permit them to extend themselves except at peril of
having war declared against them as usurpers; and this, in fact, is
what they seem greatly to fear." [Footnote: _Talon au Ministre_, 2
_Nov_., 1671.]

Frontenac shared the spirit of the hour. His first step was to survey
his government. He talked with traders, colonists, and officials;
visited seigniories, farms, fishing-stations, and all the infant
industries that Talon had galvanized into life; examined the new ship
on the stocks, admired the structure of the new brewery, went to Three
Rivers to see the iron mines, and then, having acquired a tolerably
exact idea of his charge, returned to Quebec. He was well pleased with
what he saw, but not with the ways and means of Canadian travel; for
he thought it strangely unbecoming that a lieutenant-general of the
king should be forced to crouch on a sheet of bark, at the bottom of a
birch canoe, scarcely daring to move his head to the right or left
lest he should disturb the balance of the fragile vessel.