The King's Warrant: A Story of Old and New France

by Alfred H. Engelbach

  Produced by Al Haines

  [Frontispiece: "'You can tell me where they are,' she said softly, butvery earnestly."]

  THE KING'S WARRANT.

  A Story of Old and New France

  BY

  ALFRED H. ENGELBACH,

  _Author of_

  _"Poor Little Gaspard's Drum," "Lionel's Revenge," "Two Campaigns," &c., &c._

  PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.

  LONDON: SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS, W.C.; 43, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET, E.C.; BRIGHTON: 135, NORTH STREET. NEW YORK: E. & J. B. YOUNG & CO.

  1878

  CONTENTS.

  PART I.

  THE TWO ORPHANS

  PART II.

  THE LETTRE DE CACHET

  PART III.

  THE FALL OF NEW FRANCE

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  LOI"'You can tell me where they are,' she said softly, but very earnestly."

  "The fiery little king of the kitchen bounded from his chair, sprang athim, and seized him by the throat."

  "Flinging away his sword, he knelt beside her."ELOI

  PART I

  THE TWO ORPHANS.

  Headpiece to Chapter I]

  THE KING'S WARRANT.

  THE TWO ORPHANS.

  CHAPTER I.

  At last England and France had formally drawn the sword which they hadsheathed only eight years before at the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, andthe great struggle known in history as the Seven Years' War had begunin earnest. Yet although the old countries had until now managed toabstain from a declared and open rupture in the Old World, it had forwell-nigh two years past been far otherwise with their greatdependencies beyond the Atlantic. There, during the years 1754 and1755, New France and New England had already been carrying on a deadlyconflict, which seemed to increase in intensity and fierceness as themonths rolled on, and in which for some time the royal troops of bothkingdoms had taken a prominent part, notwithstanding the nominal stateof peace between the mother countries. Some short-sighted men, indeed,tried to persuade themselves of the possibility that the colonistsmight carry on the war on the soil of the New World, withoutnecessarily compromising the peace of Europe; but the European powershad their own apples of discord, and the ambitious designs of the GreatFrederick had now set Europe once more in a blaze.

  But what was to be the issue of the struggle in America? With thehistory of the last hundred years open before us--with such names asthose of Wolfe, Abercrombie, and Wellington; Rodney, Howe, and Nelsonever ringing now like household words in our ears--with suchachievements as those of the plains of Abraham, the sand-hills ofAboukir, Waterloo, the Nile and Trafalgar ever present to our minds, weare apt enough to ignore the uncertainty which, humanly speaking, inthose days hung about the result of a collision between New England andNew France, backed by the power of their respective sovereign states.From the descendants of the Pilgrim Fathers might, indeed, be expectedan amount of vigour, energy, and self-reliance, that must needscontribute greatly to success in such a contest; but these veryqualities, so far from finding much favour with their rulers in the OldCountry, were like enough to be met with jealousy and distrust, toproduce coldness and estrangement, and perhaps even to weaken thesupport of the government in England. In addition to this, therivalries and dissensions that were always springing up amongst theseveral colonies themselves could hardly fail to interfere materially,as they had done for years past, with their cordial combination in anyeffort, however needful, for their common good. Canada, on the otherhand, was essentially the creation of the parent State, its favouredoffspring; it was unceasingly cherished and fostered as a nursery ofcommerce, and as the means of planting the Christian faith amongst theheathens, over which France would spread her protecting wings with thejealousy of an eagle defending its young even at the cost of its life.Yet so far as the colony was concerned that protection had been dearlybought at a cost of patronage and favouritism that had checked allhealthy exertion amongst the colonists. With some bright exceptions,oppression, rapacity, and bigotry had ever characterised the rulingpowers in the colony, and now that the hour of trial had come therecould be little hope that the colonists of New France, however loyallydisposed, could do much to help King Louis to retain this much-prizeddependency of the French crown. But what of that? The French kingprobably cared as little for the help of his Canadian subjects as hedid for the enmity of the New Englanders. Nearly fifty years hadpassed away since the victories of Marlborough, whilst the humiliationof Dettingen had been eclipsed by the triumph of Fontenoy. England,moreover, had but just succeeded, with no little difficulty, in puttingdown a rebellion at home, and Jacobite disaffection was still rife inthe land--such at least might well be the French view of the Englishsituation. In America, too, the successes of General Johnson on LakeChamplain, however substantial, could not efface the recollection ofBraddock's disastrous rout at Fort Duquesne.

  There were, nevertheless, some circumstances in the case which ledreflecting men to think that even were the troops of France commandedby another Marshal Saxe the victory might yet be doubtful. Theexploits of Anson, Hawke, Boscawen, and Warren, both previously to thepeace, and now again immediately on the resumption of hostilities, hadestablished almost beyond question England's superiority at sea, andthis could scarcely fail to be of incalculable advantage in a contestwhich would make it necessary to transport and convey land forces to adistant theatre of war. There was, moreover, yet another circumstancethat could not be put out of sight, even by those most inclined to relyon the military prestige of France, acquired in wars of the oldconventional European type. Brought year by year more and more intocontact with the white man, and year by year more debased by aninsatiable thirst for the deadly fire-water, the American Indian hadindeed gradually become less and less formidable to his foes; he was,however, by no means an enemy to be despised. Many a well-conceivedplan was defeated by the sudden and murderous onslaught of a tribewhose stealthy approach had eluded all common precautions, and many anengagement which in civilised war might have had but small results, wasturned into a massacre from which not one escaped to tell the tale.Even the hardy colonists, whilst they affected to despise the wild anduntutored savage, felt a secret dread of him, and as for those who hadcome less in contact with him, the stories of the Red Indian's ruthlessbarbarity, blended as it was with traits of generous magnanimity, ofhis stoical indifference to physical suffering, and of his incrediblesagacity in following up the trail of his enemies, seemed to invest himwith a strange and almost supernatural power. Against such a foe merebravery, or even the common prudence of ordinary warfare, was utterlyinsufficient, and the knowledge that there were a hundred red men inthe ranks of the enemy entailed an amount of harassing precautions andfatigue that even the alliance of a thousand friendly Indians could dolittle to relieve. In the present struggle, which indeed may be saidto have originated mainly in the jealous rivalry of Canada and NewEngland to obtain monopolies of the trade with the red man, bothparties were aided by many tribes of Indians. The powerful Iroquois,otherwise called the "Five Nations," with the Outagamis, the FoxIndians, and others, were for the most part allies of the English;whilst the Hurons, the Outamacs, the Morian Indians, and others, weregenerally found fighting on the French side.

  The campaign of 1756 was opened with some inconsiderable advantagesobtained by the French along the line of forts that lay betweenMontreal and Oswego. The erection of this latter fort, where theOnondaga river falls into Lake Ontario, had been amongst the
firstcauses of serious enmity between the French Canadians and their NewEngland neighbours, the latter having boldly planted this outpost rightin the teeth of their rivals, for the better prosecution of their tradewith the Indians--the great and ever-recurring subject of dispute. Thereduction of this small stronghold was accordingly the first object ofthe Marquis de Montcalm, who this year took the command in Canada ofthe French forces, which had been largely increased by drafts fromhome. Fort Ontario, situated on the right bank of the river oppositeto Oswego, was first attacked, and, running short of ammunition, owingto some unaccountable neglect on the part of the British, was carriedin little more than twelve hours. The French artillery, and such gunsas were found available in the captured fort, were then turned upon themore important stronghold of Oswego. The English commandant and manymore of its brave defenders were soon killed, and on the 14th of Augustit fell into the hands of the French. It is to be lamented, however,that the massacre, by Montcalm's savage Indian auxiliaries, of a largenumber of the prisoners who had placed themselves under his protection,has cast a stain on the otherwise irreproachable character of therenowned and chivalrous commander, and tarnishes the glory of thisbrilliant exploit. The loss on the French side had been comparativelysmall, nevertheless the evening of that same 14th of August found thearmy surgeons busy enough, and from many a rude couch in the shed onwhich the wounded had been laid the doctor turned away with a shrug,which told plainly enough that all further human aid was hopeless.Such was the case with a certain Captain Lacroix, of the Regiment ofAuvergne, who had at first seemed only slightly wounded; but symptomsof more serious injury suddenly became apparent, and one of hiscompanions in arms, who now stood by his bedside, had just broken tohim the intelligence that in a few hours more he would be no longer ofthis world.

  "Yes," said the dying man, "I was afraid that it was so; and yet Ihoped it might not be--for her sake, for her sake, Valricour. As formyself, what could I wish better than to die a soldier's death in thehour of victory? But my poor Marguerite! My heart bleeds for her,left so young without a father--without a friend."

  "Say not so, old comrade," replied the other, scarcely able to speakfor emotion. "I should be a base hound indeed if I could let such athought embitter the last moments of an old brother officer to whom Ionce owed my life. Poor Marguerite shall never want a home--I swear itto you."

  "I thank God! I thank God!" exclaimed the dying man, faintly, as hewrung the hand of his friend. But this effort, coupled with the suddenrevulsion of feeling produced by the unexpected promise, proved toomuch for him, and poor Rene Lacroix fell back upon his pillow to riseno more.

  For a brief space Valricour, and a young officer who had shared withhim the task of watching by the bedside of his comrade, remainedabsorbed in mournful silence. It was at last broken by Valricour, who,half soliloquising, half speaking to his younger companion, sorrowfullyuttered the words--

  "Poor fellow! It was indeed a hard thing for him to leave her allalone and friendless here in a strange land. I could not but promisehim that I would care for her, though how to set about it as mattersstand is truly more than I exactly know at present. Well, we must seewhat can be done."

  "His daughter is motherless too, is she not, my uncle?" said the youngsoldier.

  "Yes, Isidore; she is, as he even now told us, utterly alone in theworld, and penniless too, I fancy. When poor Lacroix came out with theregiment, and brought her with him, it was in the hope that he mightultimately obtain a grant of land here in New France and settle downupon it, for what little property he had was thrown away upon aworthless son, who died some little time ago."

  Here M. de Valricour was interrupted by a summons to attend upon thegeneral at head-quarters. He accordingly quitted the shed, leaving toyoung de Beaujardin the melancholy duty of seeing their friendconsigned to his last resting-place amidst the battered outworks of thestronghold which his valour had helped to conquer.

  When Baron de Valricour had spoken of his friend's having come toCanada in the hope of restoring his broken fortunes, he had, in somemeasure at least, described his own case. Though descended from anancient family, he had never been a very wealthy man, and the lands ofValricour yielded an income quite inadequate to keep up a statebefitting the chateau of so noble a house. The baron had made mattersstill worse by marrying, at an early age, an imperious beauty of likenoble birth, but without a dowry, whose extravagance soon plunged herhusband into difficulties, which gradually increased until thereremained but one chance. By means of court influence he obtained asubordinate command in the army sent out to New France. A seigneurieon the St. Lawrence might well be looked forward to as the reward ofmilitary service when the war should be happily terminated; if not, itwas something to be able to reduce the great establishment whichotherwise must still be kept up in France. The Baroness de Valricourhad yet another hope; the same day that witnessed her union with theyoung baron had seen his sister united to the Marquis de Beaujardin,one of the wealthiest nobles in the west of France. The Valricours hada daughter now in her twentieth year, whilst the Beaujardins might wellbe proud of their son Isidore, about a twelvemonth older than Clotildede Valricour. The marriage of these two young people would blend intoone the small estate of Valricour and the magnificent heritage of theBeaujardins. This was the cherished object of Madame de Valricour'slife. Unfortunately for her design she had one day spoken of it to herhusband, whose pride rebelled at the idea of purchasing an advantagefor himself at the price of his daughter's hand. He had, moreover, nogreat liking for the young marquis, who carried to excess the luxuryand affected politeness then so prevalent amongst the wealthy youngnobles at the French court, where he was already a favourite. Thesewere no recommendations in the eyes of his uncle, who had fought in thelast wars, and had less of the polished courtier in him than of thebluff, straightforward soldier. But Madame de Valricour had no idea ofbeing foiled by such small obstacles. Finding that her husband hadresolved on going out to New France, she left no stone unturned untilshe had persuaded the Marquis de Beaujardin to obtain a commission foryoung Isidore, in order that he might accompany his uncle.

  It may be observed by the way that Isidore was not obliged to enter thearmy as a mere subaltern, and to work his way up through the lowergrades of command. As was usual with sons of the higher and moreinfluential nobles, he became at once what was styled colonel _ensecond_, a second colonelcy being specially attached to every regimentfor the immediate advancement of young soldiers of his rank andcondition. Madame de Valricour not only hoped that by this proceedingshe might keep the young marquis from the possibility of losing hisheart at Paris, but she felt assured that she would overcome Monsieurde Valricour's dislike to him. With a woman's shrewdness she perceivedthat underneath those courtly airs and graces, and the sillyaffectation of extreme politeness which then prevailed in France,Isidore had many striking qualities which a little campaigning mustneeds bring out, and which would soon win the heart of M. de Valricour.

  Thus it came about that Isidore de Beaujardin, instead of loungingamongst the gay and courtly throng in the brilliant _salons_ ofVersailles, found himself threading his way on the saddest of allerrands amongst ghastly and disfigured corpses in the far distant wildsof Canada.

  In one respect, at all events, the designs of the baroness were in afair way to succeed; for her husband, though there was much inIsidore's habits and behaviour that irritated him at times, wasunconsciously becoming daily more and more attached to his nephew.True, Isidore's hair was always dressed to perfection; his bow--that isto say, when he was off duty--might have gained a smile of approval atthe king's levee or at one of the Pompadour's receptions; his handswould scarce have disgraced a lady; and the perfumes and cosmetics heused were as choice as they were multifarious. But then the sameperfection was observable in his uniform and accoutrements, and themost exacting martinet would have sought in vain to find a fault inaught that pertained to his military duties. At the close of a longday's march under the burn
ing sun that had knocked up many an oldsoldier, the young marquis seemed quite cool and ready for any freshduty, whilst his imperturbable _nonchalance_, even when leading on hismen to the assault, had called forth an exclamation of surprise fromMontcalm himself, who was not slow to recognise true courage wheneverhe met with it.

  So, after liberally rewarding the soldiers who had helped him in hissorrowful task, and with a sigh of commiseration for the desolate butunknown Marguerite, the young soldier betook himself to his quarters toattend to his toilet and get rid, as far as might be, of thedistasteful and offensive traces of the day's fight. He had justcompleted that agreeable task, very much to his own satisfaction at allevents, when the orderly who had previously called M. de Valricouraway, once more made his appearance and informed Isidore that theMarquis de Montcalm desired his attendance at head-quarters.

  Tailpiece to Chapter I]

  Headpiece to Chapter II]