The era of colonial history which this chapter covers is coincident with a period of decline in France. The transmission of the throne in the line of descent was not, however, interfered with, nor were the traditions of colonial policy changed. The causes of the rise and fall of the colonies of European Powers at that time are to be found in the history of European politics; and European politics in turn were largely influenced by the desire to control territory in the New World. The life of French colonies was in close contact with European events. If the pulse of the English settlements did not throb in such sympathy with the mother country, it was because there was a fundamental difference in the methods by which English colonies had been formed and in the conditions of their growth. A colony was not looked upon at that time as forming a part of the parent State. It was a business venture, entered into directly by the State itself, or vicariously by means of a grant to some individual or company. If the colony did not earn money, it was a failure. Spain had derived wealth from ventures of this sort. Other nations were tempted into the pursuit of the same policy in the hope of the same result. To preserve the proper relations to the parent State, the colony should have within itself elements of wealth which should enrich its projectors; it should absorb the productions of the State which founded it; and in no event ought it to come into competition with its progenitor. The form of the French government was so logical that its colonies could be but mimic representations of France. Priests and nuns, soldiers and peasants, nobles and seigniors, responded to the royal order, and moved at the royal dictation in the miniature Court at Quebec much the same as at Paris. There was so little elasticity in French life that the French peasant, when relieved from the cramp of his surroundings, still retained the marks of pressure. Without ambition and without hope, he did not voluntarily break away from his native village. If transported across the water, he was still the French peasant, cheerful in spirit, easily satisfied, content with but little, and not disposed to wrestle for his rights. The priest wore his shovel-hat through the dense thickets of the Canadian forests, and clung to his flowing black robe even though torn to a fringe by the brambles through which it was trailed. Governor and council, soldier, priest, and peasant, all bore upon their persons the marks that they were Frenchmen whose utmost effort was to reproduce in the wilds of America the artificial condition of society which had found its perfect expression in Versailles. Autocratic as was Frontenac, unlikely as he was to do anything which should foster popular notions of liberty, or in any way endanger monarchical institutions,—even he drew down upon himself a rebuke from the Court for giving too much heed to the people in his scheme of reorganization.