CHAPTER XVIII.
THE AMERICAN FRANCE.
Chrysler and Genest, after reaching the Manoir, sat conversing under the large triple tree on the side of the lawn.
"You have no idea of the simplicity of life here," l'Honorable philosophised. "We dwell as peacefully, in general, and almost as much in one spot as these great trees. After all, is there any condition in which mortal existence is happier than that of pure air and tranquility. We have a proverb, 'Love God and go thy path.' To love God, to live, to die, are the complete circle."
Chamilly's entrance put an end to these idyllic observations. He was driven up in a cart by a country jehu, and leaping out, there followed him a couple of friends.
Haviland called Tardif, the head servant, who appeared at the door of the house, bareheaded, with an apron on:
"Bring the dinner out here, Tardif," he ordered; and a light table was set under the spreading boughs.
"Now tell us, De La Lande, about your trip to Montreal."
Of the two friends who drove up with their host in the cart, one was Breboeuf, a hunchback. This little creature on being introduced, bowed and shook hands with an aspect of hopeless resignation, and sitting down, relapsed into thought, telescoping his neck into his squarish shoulders. His companion was a young man of small build, but spirited, good-looking face—De La Lande, schoolmaster of the village, a son of the farmer "Duke."
"And where commence?" responded the schoolmaster to the request for an account of the trip to Montreal.
"In the middle, as I am doing," retorted Haviland, flourishing the carving-knife over the joint.
"Ah well. The middle was the climax with me. It was the Fête of St. Jean
Baptiste!"
"You saw Notre Dame, and the great procession?" inquired the Honorable.
"Yes, I saw that vast Cathedral fifteen thousand full! And the Curé of Colonization climbed up in the midst, and I heard the most glorious words that were ever spoken to French Canadians!"
"Was the procession like ours here?"
"At Dormillière? Pah!—we have two Curés, a beadle and the choir-boys! Theirs was a mile in length. There were nineteen bands playing music, all in fine uniforms, and there were all the Societies of St. Jean Baptiste walking, with their gold chains and their badges, and as many as forty magnificently decorated cars, bearing representations of the discovery of Canada by Jacques Cartier, and the workings of all the trades, and innumerable splendid banners, of white, and blue, and red and green, with gold inscriptions and pictures—and the Curé of Col——"
"Were the streets well decorated? How were the arches and flags?"
"They were good. The streets were full of flying tricolors and Union
Jacks stretched across them. They were lined with green saplings as we
do here. The crowd was enormous. There were thousands from the States.
And the Cathedral of Notre Dame was all excitement; for the Curé——,"
"Tell us about it! Every one speaks of it! What did he say?"
(A well-known priest had just electrified the people of the land with an extraordinary declaration.)
"But, to speak of his aims, I must recollect the numbers of our people."
"Breboeuf, mon brebis," said Chamilly, turning to the little fellow, "what is the number of the French Canadians?"
The hunchback lifted his face gravely, and issued in a monotonous voice, but with the precision of a machine:—"One million, eighty-two thousand, nine hundred and forty-three, in Canada, by the census of 1870; one million, one hundred and ten thousand, in Canada, by the computation of the Abbé Zero; four hundred and thirty-five thousand in the United States by the computation of the same."
The Ontarian was surprised at his odd, machine-like accuracy, but Haviland only laughed a little chuckle and Chrysler's glance was drawn away towards a figure entering the gate, walking abstractedly, his hands in his hip pockets and eyes on the path. He was of slender but agile person, the decision which marked every movement showing his consciousness of latent activity. Haviland espied him presently:
"Bravo, here is Quinet. Quinet, what are you doing?"
"Cultivating dulness," replied the figure, scarcely glancing up.
"Come and cultivate us, for a contrast, my friend."
"Would I be changing occupation?"
"Sit here and we will show you. Yourself may be as dull as you like."
The stranger, nonchalantly, and half-defiantly, seated himself, after introduction. Chrysler scanned him curiously in recollection of the references to him in Haviland's Book of Enthusiasms, and recognized the strange red-brown scale of hues of hair, eyebrows and moustache, which gave character to his appearance; but the pale countenance was strong now, and tanned, though spare, and all the signs of former weakness had departed.
Chamilly continued to Chrysler:
"I am not a little proud of the cheerfulness, the spirit, the respectability, the intelligence of my little people. And if you had seen the mottoes which I have read on cars and banners in the processions of our national saint; such as, "GOD HAS MADE LAW TO EVERY MAN TO LABOR," and: "TO MAKE THE PEOPLE BETTER,"—you would have felt with me that it must be a people responsive to sober and admirable aims."
"I have no doubt of it," remarked the visitor genially.
"But I scarcely think you can be familiar with a group of startling projects lately cherished in our circles."
"Plots against everybody," Quinet remarked. "Have the goodness to pass me the asparagus."
"The Continent of North America is a large acre," continued Haviland. "Can you fancy a race who a century ago were but ninety thousand, aspiring and actually planning for its complete control?"
Chrysler looked amused at the idea, for the handful of French-Canadians.
"That is our firmly-persuaded future!" asserted the young man, De La Lande, eagerly and boldly. "The Curé of Colonization has demonstrated that it is possible. We shall reconquer the continent!"
"Is it your view?" Chrysler asked of Chamilly.
"I instance it," he returned, "because it shows that my people are capable of thinking high."
"There is a progression of plans!" went on the eager De La Lande. "The first is to get control of the six English counties!"
"I will trust the Anglo-Saxon for holding his own," the Ontarian laughed, in the amusement of vigorous confidence.
"But we gain!" the young man cried. "Our race is always French! We win fast the British strongholds in our dear Province."
"This the least, of the plans," Haviland remarked. "All are founded on a curious fact."
"What fact is that?"
"Our phenomenal multiplication in numbers," returned the seigneur, smiling.
"What?" cried Chrysler.
He stopped a moment open-eyed, and then laughed heartily and long. He could not satisfy his laughter at such a basis for conquest of a continent, and it burst forth again at intervals for some time.
"Nevertheless it is true,—and Biblical," continued the undaunted schoolmaster. "Sicut saggittae in manu potentis, ita filii excussorum."
"Breboeuf," said Haviland, who took some part with De La Lande but joined in Chrysler's amusement, "help us. What was the number of French-Canadians at the conquest by the English?"
"Sixty-nine thousand two hundred and sixty-five, by the census of the
General Murray in 1765, including approximately 500 others."
"And now?"
"One million and eight-two thousand nine hundred and forty, by the census of 1870."
"You see, sir, what a growth. The clergy encourage it with satisfaction.
It is not comfortable for bachelors in some of our parishes."
All at the table were laughing, more or less, except De La Lande and the hunchback, who were perfectly serious.
"One plan, sir, I confess freely," said the former, "affects yourself. You are perfectly acquainted with the Ottawa River, separating your Province from our own, and that it cuts across and above yours, which is a peninsula. The fourth great plan (out of six), is to plant centres along the Ottawa which shall exert their expansive force downwards to overrun your peninsula."
"What a dangerous race!"
"While another contingent meets it further south, where our progress is well known. So we shall win the centre itself of the Dominion. Let us possess the North, says our Peter the Hermit, and we can rest sure of the whole. Yes, let us possess the North! let us populate the shores of Hudson's Bay!" the enthusiast cried, losing himself in his vision, "Let us possess the shores of Hudson's Bay, where d'Iberville of old dislodged our enemies!"
"Peter the Hermit!" laughed Chamilly. "What a name for our jolly old Curé of Colonization. But all that is well enough for ecclesiastics to recommend, since none others would invite their friends to die on those refrigerated wastes.—Yet the people themselves are heroically willing."
"Our next ambition," proceeded De La Lande, absorbed in his enthusiasm and quite guileless of any personal enmities, "is the conquest of the United States. Northern Maine is French Canadian. In New England we count half a million. Lowell, Worcester, Lawrence, Nashua and Fall River are ours. In farms, in parishes, in solid masses, we shall establish ourselves on the banks of the Merrimac as we have on our own historic streams, to increase and multiply and possess the land, replacing the degenerate New Englander, possedentes januas hostium, performing a divine mission, working out a high destiny for our language and the Catholic faith, and establishing a new, magnificent State out of the portions of those destroyed, over which shall fly the lilies of old—"
"And perhaps reign a duly fat Bourbon," interrupted Quinet over his salad.
"We shall re-unite at last again with France! The affection of this remnant of her children, turned adrift in their few arpents of snow, has never died towards the land so changed from the time of our forefathers. It is still to us the Palestine of our speech, our history and our faith of St. Louis! We are the American France! We are all ready. We are the people of God. In the words of a brother: 'This blood was set in America in the midst of a material world, like France in Europe, to regenerate these peoples and perpetuate the reign of ideals. God has willed it: 'GESTA DEI PER FRANCOS!'"
Chamilly turned to Chrysler as the school master ended, and said with a smile: "Do you not think there is enterprise in a people like this?"