“Monsieur Langlade, why are you such a stranger? Major Péan was speaking only yesterday of your services, how inestimable they are. Will you not come in and partake of supper? We happen to be almost alone to-night, and our little nun will then come out of her shell. You and she are great friends, if I mistake not.”
“You honour me too much, Madame,” answered Charles. “I am but a poor hunter, a chief among savages. I can scarcely venture to call myself the friend of my illustrious General’s daughter. When, as now, I have been with her father, if I happen to meet her, I give her news of him—that is all.”
Madame looked at him steadily for a minute, then said, “But you will come in to supper?” He shook his head, bowed low, and was gone. And Mercèdes from her window, looking down, watched the tall figure as it strode up the street, and at last disappeared. These interviews made her feel strangely bright and happy, and she gradually grew to look forward to them. She knew that he was her father’s right hand, that, so to speak, he kept guard upon all the country for many miles round Quebec down the St. Lawrence. The General himself had told her that, out of his own army, there was no one he trusted like Charles Langlade and the tribe he commanded.
Events were crowding upon each other; and the General knew full well that unless France came to his assistance, England must gain the mastery. Pitt was determined to win and to carry on the colonisation of the continent under the auspices of Protestantism, rather than allow France leagued with the Roman Catholics to gain the ascendency. His policy was popular; he invited the colonies to co-operate willingly, and entirely rejected the coercive policy of his predecessors. He was eminently successful; and whilst Montcalm wrote in 1758, “New France needs peace, or sooner or later it must fall—such are the numbers of the English, such the difficulty of our receiving supplies,” the colonies were making immense sacrifices to levy, pay, and clothe the provincial army.
Massachusetts set a noble example; she was the frontier and advance-guard of all the colonies against the enemy. Notwithstanding the extreme poverty of her population, which lived mainly by fishing, farming, and a trade hampered by the British navigation laws, she still imposed taxes to the amount of thirteen shillings in the pound, and there was no murmuring. The war gradually assumed almost the character of a crusade, and was viewed with religious enthusiasm. All sects for the time being sank their differences, and the chaplains exhorted their congregations to unite together, themselves setting the example of good fellowship.
“Be courageous, for no cowards go to heaven,” said Dr. Caleb Rea, chaplain of a Massachusetts regiment, in his last sermon to a young band of volunteers; and they went forth, like the Puritans of old, singing hymns and psalms.
The Canadian population were not less desirous of supporting Montcalm and maintaining their independence; but they had two parties to contend with, the civil and military government, between whom there was no union. Besides which, vice, luxury, and an exorbitant love of gain were rampant among those who ought to have set the example of moderation and self-sacrifice; and thus their resources were undermined. In vain Montcalm applied to the mother country for help, despatching Bougainville to represent the state of affairs to the Court at Versailles; but the sins which were to cause the loss of Canada were in full force there; and to Bougainville’s earnest pleading he received for answer, “Eh, Monsieur, when the house is on fire, one cannot occupy one’s self with the stable.”
And so the French officer returned sadly to Canada and gave this message. Montcalm recognised that from henceforth he was forsaken by the Court, and could reckon only upon God’s mercy and his own genius and courage.
“Poor king, poor France, cara patria,” was his only answer; and he prepared for what he knew to be an almost hopeless struggle.