The Champlain tercentenary — Text and Context
Edition facts
Before opening The Champlain tercentenary — Text and Context, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 95,670 words, 6 hr 56 min estimated reading time, and 36 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 19.7 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Champlain, Samuel de, 1574-1635,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
ve an historical treatment of the important events occurring in the Champlain valley, nor of so wide a range of literary productions, as did the Tercentenary exercises, a record of which may be found in the First Report of this Commission. Nevertheless, the interchange of felicitations between the representatives of France and of this country, the cordial greetings everywhere extended to the French visitors and the amicable relations existing between the two peoples, prompting the warmest expressions of good will and generous impulses in addresses of rare literary quality, together with the dedicatory ceremonies themselves, are worthy a permanent record in this Final Report, thereby enlarging it into a volume, and are a fitting sequel to the historical Tercentenary Celebration.
The Commissioners fully realized the opportunity at Crown Point Forts for the construction and embellishment of a great Memorial Lighthouse to commemorate the advent of Samuel Champlain, the herald of civilization, into that valley, and they spared no pains to accomplish that result.
After examining some American memorials to Samuel Champlain and looking over the photographs of others and especially in view of the utilitarian character of the Crown Point memorial in the form of a Lighthouse and of its adaptability to sculptural embellishment, the Commissioners decided to undertake the production of such a Memorial after a design submitted by the architects, Messrs. Dillon, McLellan & Beadel of New York City, including a bronze statue group, the work of the sculptor, Carl Augustus Heber, of New York City. For three years, Mr. Heber was in the studios of Augustus St. Gaudens and Paul Bartlett in Paris and afterward worked on the embellishments of the Pan-American Exposition at Buffalo under Karl Theodore Francis Bitter.
Among Heber’s more important works are the equestrian statue of General Sheridan at Somerset, Ohio; the statue of Franklin at Princeton University; the Schiller at Rochester, N. Y., the heroic statue “Roman Poet” in the Brooklyn Institute, and the bronze statue in St. Andrew’s Church at Stamford, Connecticut. He received a medal at the St. Louis Exposition for his “Pastoral” which is now in the museum of the Chicago Art Institute, and he won the Avery prize at the Architectural League in 1910.
Contracts were let to Booth Brothers and Hurricane Isle Granite Company for the construction of the Memorial Lighthouse on the property of the United States at Crown Point Forts of Fox Island granite according to the design found at pages 346-347 of the original Report of the Commission and for the bronze statue group after the Heber model, consisting of a bronze statue of Champlain with one of his soldiers crouching at his feet at one side and an Indian at the other. Just below the group is a conventionalized stone canoe prow laden with the products of the country. The work progressed as rapidly as was planned. The Fox Island granite came from the State of Maine and had to be delivered at Crown Point Forts, several miles distant from a railroad station. The memorial was practically completed on July 5, 1912, although the foundry work on the bronze statue group was not finished, but was in place before the close of navigation. The Commissioners are gratified that the entire memorial, including granite and bronze work, and architects’ fees, was completed within the contract price of approximately $51,313.83, and has been generally approved by the Governors of New York and Vermont and by all others who have passed judgment upon it. In the production of such memorials, where æsthetics must be combined with utilitarian purposes, not readily susceptible of artistic treatment, it is not to be determined _a priori_ from plans, what the result may be and especially when so much depends upon the location and landscape surroundings, as in the case of this memorial.
The report opens with a formal letter of transmittal to the New York legislature, signed by a commission of eleven men, establishing the document as an official state record. Yet the excerpts quickly reveal a hybrid genre: part commemorative volume, part political theater. Speeches at the Waldorf-Astoria banquet and at Crown Point mix historical tribute with self-deprecating jokes about Vermont Republicans and the weather. One speaker, claiming ignorance of the Battle of Plattsburgh, pivots to praising the view of Vermont's Green Mountains from the New York shore—a rhetorical move that turns scenery into a diplomatic asset.
Official Framing, Informal Tone
The commission's report is structured as a bureaucratic document—contents, lists of commissioners, accounts of memorial construction—but the included speeches undercut that formality. A Vermont representative jokes that New Yorkers have been “capitalizing our resources without our permission” by enjoying Vermont's mountains from across the lake. The same speaker deflects from politics by claiming to know nothing of history, then delivers a tourism pitch. This tension between the solemn purpose of a tercentenary and the casual, even comic, asides suggests the event served multiple audiences: state legislators, French dignitaries, and local boosters.
Rodin’s Bust and the French Delegation
Part One devotes several chapters to the French delegation's visit, including the presentation of Auguste Rodin's allegorical bust “La France” at the Waldorf-Astoria. The bust is described as a concrete expression of Franco-American amity, but the report also records the delegation's itinerary across New York, Washington, Philadelphia, and Boston, and their impressions of America. The inclusion of a chapter titled “Impressions and comments by French visitors” indicates the commission valued the visitors' perspective as part of the memorial record. The bust itself becomes a physical anchor for the tercentenary's transatlantic dimension.
Champlain as Christian Explorer and State Builder
In the acceptance speech for Plattsburgh's memorial, Francis Lynde Stetson recites Champlain's achievements: crossing the Atlantic twenty times, exploring from Newfoundland to Cape Cod, proposing a canal across the Isthmus of Darien, and founding New France. The speech frames Champlain as a “Christian Explorer” who replaced “savagery with orderly government and religious civilization.” This language reflects early twentieth-century imperial and religious assumptions. The report does not critique these views, but the excerpts allow readers to observe how the tercentenary speakers constructed a heroic, providential narrative around Champlain's career.
Readers approaching this report should expect a document that is simultaneously a government record, a souvenir album, and a repository of oratory. The speeches, not the commission's administrative summaries, carry the emotional and ideological weight. Pay attention to who speaks, in what setting, and what they choose to emphasize—or joke about. The gaps between the official purpose and the informal asides reveal the social and political work that a tercentenary celebration performs.
Rereading the tercentenary report, I lingered on the speeches about endurance and memory, how a single place holds so many layers of hope and loss. It put me in mind of something quieter, more personal—that study of Gettysburg’s aftermath, which I once kept beside my chair. Both documents share a curious tenderness toward the past, the way we catalog sorrow and celebration alike. I found myself reaching for The Battle of Gettysburg — Reading Notes again, just to hold that feeling a little longer.
There are no reviews for this eBook.
What did you think of this book?
Answer a few questions and save a private reflection on this device.