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THE
FALSE CHEVALIER
OR
The Lifeguard of Marie Antoinette
BY
W. D. LIGHTHALL
F. E. GRAFTON & SONS
MONTREAL
1898
_This Edition is intended for circulation only in the Dominion of
Canada._
[Illustration: THE PALACE OF VERSAILLES
_After the contemporary acquarelle by Portail._]
(_All rights reserved_)
To
CYBEL, MY WIFE,
THE SWEET COMPANION AND CRITIC
OF MY LABOURS ON
THIS BOOK
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. THE FUR-TRADER'S SON
II. GERMAIN IN FRANCE
III. THE INNKEEPER'S LESSON
IV. THE CASTLE OF QUIET WATERS
V. MONSIEUR DE RÉPENTIGNY
VI. EPERGNES AND WAX-LIGHTS
VII. "THE LEAP IS TAKEN"
VIII. THE ABBÉ'S DISASTER
IX. A PHILOSOPHER BEHIND HORSE-PISTOLS
X. THE GALLEY-ON-LAND
XI. THE COURT
XII. GERMAIN GOES TO PARIS
XIII. A JAR IN ST. ELPHÈGE
XIV. THE OLD-IRON SHOP
XV. THE BEGGARS' BALL
XVI. BROKEN ON THE WHEEL
XVII. THE SAVING OF LA TOUR
XVIII. MADAME L'ETIQUETTE
XIX. THE COMMISSION
XX. DESCAMPATIVOS
XXI. THE SHADOW OF THE GOLDEN DOG
XXII. THE SECRET OUT
XXIII. THE EXECUTIONER OF DESTINY
XXIV. A CURIOUS PROFESSION
XXV. FACING THE MUSIC
XXVI. A DUEL
XXVII. JUDE AND THE GALLEY
XXVIII. ANOTHER DUEL
XXIX. THE LETTRE DE CACHET
XXX. THE HEAVENS FALL
XXXI. ONE DEFENDER
XXXII. A STRONG PROOF
XXXIII. THE REGISTER OF ST. GERMAIN-DES-PRÉS
XXXIV. AT QUEBEC
XXXV. AT ST. ELPHÈGE
XXXVI. AT MONTREAL
XXXVII. ONCE MORE THE SWORD
XXXVIII. THE RECORD
XXXIX. THE MARQUIS'S VISITOR
XL. AN UNEXPECTED ALLIANCE
XLI. A POOR ADVOCATE
XLII. A HARD SEASON
XLIII. BACK AT EAUX TRANQUILLES
XLIV. SELF-DEFENCE
XLV. THE NECESSITIES OF CONDITION
XLVI. THE PATRIOTS
XLVII. THE DEFENCE OF THE BODYGUARD
XLVIII. SISTERS DEATH AND TRUTH
XLIX. CIVIC VIRTUE
L. JUDGMENT DAY
LI. LOVE ENDURETH ALL THINGS
LII. THE SUPREME EXACTITUDE
LIII. RETRIBUTION ACCOMPLISHED
PREFATORY NOTE
This story is founded on a packet of worm-eaten letters and documents
found in an old French-Canadian house on the banks of the St. Lawrence.
The romance they rudely outline, its intrigues, its brilliancy of
surroundings, its intensity of feelings, when given the necessary
touches of history and imagination, so fascinated the writer that the
result was the present book. A packet of documents of course is not a
novel, and the reader may be able to guess what is mine and what is
likely to have been the scanty limit of the original hint.
The student of history will recognise my debt to many authorities; among
whom the chief are Paul Lacroix and Taine. I wish it distinctly
understood that the person attacked in the documents in question is not
the hero of this narrative.
W. D. L.
THE FALSE CHEVALIER
CHAPTER I
THE FUR-TRADER'S SON
The son of the merchant Lecour was a handsome youth, and there was great
joy in the family at his coming home to St. Elphège. For he was going to
France on the morrow; it was with that object that his father had sent
to town for him--the little walled town of Montreal.
It was evening, early in May, of the year 1786. According to an old
custom of the French-Canadians, the merchant, surrounded by his family,
was bestowing upon his son the paternal blessing. It was a touching
sight--the patriarchal ceremony of benediction.
The father was a fine type of the peasant. His features might, in the
strong chiaroscuro of the candle-light, have stood as model for some
church fresco of a St. Peter. His dress was of grey country homespun,
cut in a long coat, and girded by a many-coloured arrow-pattern sash,
and on his feet he wore a pair of well-worn beef-skin mocassins.
The son was some twenty years of age, and his mien and dress told of the
better social advantages of the town. Indeed, his costume, though
somewhat worn, had marks of good fashion.
His younger sister (for he had two, of whom one was absent), and his
mother, a lively, black-eyed woman, who dressed and bore herself
ambitiously for her station, gazed on him in fond pride as he knelt.
"My son," the merchant said reverently, his hands outstretched over his
boy, "the Almighty keep and guard thee; may the blessing of thy father
and thy mother follow thee wherever thou goest."
"Amen," the son responded.
He rose and stood before his parent with bent head.
The old man exhorted him gravely on the dangers before him--on the
ruffians and lures of Paris, and the excitements of youth. He warned him
to attend to his religious duties, and to do credit to his family and
their condition in life by respectful and irreproachable conduct. "Never
forget," he concluded, in words which the young man remembered in after
years, "that the Eternal Justice follows us everywhere, and calls us to
exact account, either on earth or in the after life, for all our acts."
But here Lecour's solemn tone ceased, and he continued--"Now, Germain, I
must explain to you more closely the business on which I have sent for
you so suddenly. The North-West Company, who, as you know, command the
fur-trade of Canada, have word that a new fashion just introduced into
Paris has doubled the demand for beaver and tripled the price. They are
hurrying over all their skins by their ship which sails in ten days to
London from Quebec. I have space on a vessel which goes direct to Dieppe
the day after to-morrow, and can therefore forestall them by about two
weeks. I have gathered my winter stock into the boats you will see at
our landing; and your mother, who has always been so eager to send you
to France, has persuaded me to have you as my supercargo. Go, my boy; it
is a great opportunity to see the world."
"Yes, my Germain, at last," wife Lecour exclaimed joyfully, throwing her
arms around his neck, "at last you will set eyes on Versailles, and my
dreams about you will come true!"
The youth himself was in a daze of smiles and tears.
The chamber in which they were was the living-room of the house. Its low
ceiling of heavy beams, its spotlessly sanded floor, carpeted with
striped _catalogne_, its pine table, and home-made chairs of elm, were
common sights in the country. But a tall, brass-faced London clock in
one corner, a cupboard fuller than usual of blue-pattern stone-ware in
another, a large copper-plate of the "Descent from the Cross," and an
ebony and ivory crucifix on the walls, were indications of more than
average prosperity.
So thin was population throughout Canada in those days that to leave the
banks of the St. Lawrence almost anywhere was to leave human habitation.
The hamlet of St. Elphège was part of the half-wild parish of
Répentigny. The cause of its existence was its position some miles up
the Assumption, as a gateway of many smaller rivers tributary to the
latter, which itself was tributary to the River of Jesus; and that in
turn, less than a mile further on, to the vast St Lawrence. It
flourished on the trade of wandering tribes from up the Achigan, the
Lac-Ouareau, the St Esprit, and the Rouge, and on the sale of supplies
to rude settlers above and the farmers below. It flourished by the
energy of one man--this man, its founder, the Merchant Lecour. He had
started life with small prospects; his ideas were of the simplest, and
he was at first even a complete stranger to writing and figures. In his
youth a common soldier in the levies of the Marquis de Montcalm on the
campaigns towards lake Champlain, he had acquired favour with his
colonel by his steadiness, had been given charge of a canteen, and in
dispensing brandy to his comrades had found it possible to sell a few
small articles. The defence of New France against the British collapsed
on the investiture of Montreal by Sir Jeffrey Amherst in 1760. The
French army surrendered, and part of it was shipped back to the
motherland. Lecour remained, and shouldering a pedlar's pack, plodded
about the country selling red handkerchiefs, sashes, and jack-knives to
the peasantry. Being attracted by the convenience of the portage for
dealings with the Indians of the north, he selected a spot in the forest
and built a little log dwelling. Success followed from the first.
Beaver-skins rose into fabulous demand in Europe for cocked hats, and
made the fortunes of all who supplied them. The streams behind Lecour's
post were teeming with beaver-dams. He easily kept his monopoly of the
trade, and several times a year would send a fleet of boats down to
Quebec, which returned with goods imported from Europe. Finally he
extended his dealings throughout the Province into varied branches of
business, and "the Merchant of St. Elphège" became a household name with
the French-Canadians. The home of the Lecours--half dwelling, half
vaulted warehouse--was one of four capacious provincial stone cottage
buildings, standing about a quadrangular yard, each bearing high up on
its peak a date and brief inscription, one of which read "À Dieu la
Gloire!"--"To God the Glory."
Just at the end of the family scene previously described, a noise was
heard without, the latch was lifted, and a troop of Lecour's neighbours
and dependants pushed in, an old fiddler at their head, who, clattering
forward in _sabots_, removed his blue _tuque_ from his head, and
politely bowed to Lecour.
"Father," he said, "these young people ask your permission to give a
dance in honour of Monsieur Germain."
The Lecours appreciated the honour; the room was cleared, music struck
up, and festivity was soon in progress. What a display of neat ankles
and deft feet in mocassins! What a clattering of _sabots_ and shuffling
of "beefs"! The perspiration rolled off the brow of the musician, and
young Lecour was whirling round like a madcap with the daughter of the
ferryman of Répentigny, when the latch was again lifted, and the door
silently opened.
Every woman set up a shriek. The threshold was crowded with Indians in
warpaint!
All the settlers knew that paint and its dangers.
The dancers drew back to one side of the room, and some opened the door
of the warehouse adjoining and took refuge in its vaulted shadows. But
Lecour himself, the former soldier, was no man to tremble. "Come in," he
said, without betraying a trace of any feeling.
Seven chiefs stalked grimly across the floor in single file, carrying
their tomahawks and knives in their hands, their great silver treaty
medals hanging from their necks, and their brightly dyed eagle feathers
quivering above their heads, and six sat down opposite Lecour on the
floor. Their leader, Atotarho, Grand Chief of Oka, stood erect and
silent, an expression of warlike fierceness on his face.
"Atotarho!" exclaimed the merchant.
"It is I," the Grand Chief answered. "Where is the young man?"
"Here," replied Germain, stepping forward with a sangfroid which pleased
his father. He faced the powerful Indian.
Atotarho shook his tomahawk towards the ceiling, uttered a piercing
war-whoop, and commenced to execute the war-dance, chanting this song in
his native Six-Nation tongue--
"Our forefathers made the rule and said: 'Here they are to kindle a
fire; here at the edge of the woods.'"
One of the chiefs drummed on a small tom-tom. The chant continued--
"Show me the man!
"Hail, my grandsires; now hearken while your grand-children cry
unto you, you who established the Great League. Come back, ye
warriors, and help us.
"Come back, ye warriors, and sit about our Council. Lend us your
magic tomahawks. Lend us your arrows of flint. Lend us your knives
of jade. I am the Great Chief, but ye are greater chiefs than I.
"Of old time the nations wandered and warred.
"Ye were wonderful who established the Great Peace.
"Assuredly six generations before the pale-faces appeared, ye
smoked the redstone pipe together, giving white wampum to show that
war would cease.
"Thenceforth ye bound the nations with a Silver Chain; ye built the
Long House; ye established the Great League.
"First Hiawatha of the Onondaga nation proposed it; then
Dekanawidah of the Mohawks joined him; then Atotarho, my mighty
ancestor.
"First the Mohawks; then their younger brothers, the Oneidas,
joined them; then the Cayugas; then the Onondagas, then the
Senecas; and then the Tuscaroras were added. Victorious were the
SIX NATIONS!"
With a piercing cry of triumph the chiefs sprang up and brandished their
tomahawks.
"Then we took the sons of the Wyandots, the Eries, the Algonquins.
Wherever we found the son of a brave man we adopted him. Wherever
we found a brave man we made him a chief.
"Here is the son of a brave man, our friend. Let us adopt him. Be
ye his grandsires, oh ye chiefs of old!
"He is a brave man; let us make him a chief. Our forefathers said:
'Thither shall he be led by the hand, and shall be placed on the
principal seat.'
"Smoke the peace-pipe with us, chiefs of old, Hiawatha,
Dekanawidah, Atotarho, us who bear your names, to-day, being
descended of your blood through the line of the mother."
"Brighten the Silver Chain, extend the Long House, smoke the magic
pipe, sharpen his tomahawk, for he is a son of your League, and
shall sit with you in the Council for ever, bearing the name of
Arahseh, 'Our Cousin,' and the totem of the Wolf.
"Smoke the peace-pipe, Arahseh, 'Our Cousin.'"
The tom-tom beat furiously and the six chiefs leaping up and circling
round Germain, struck the air with their tomahawks and cried together--
"Continue to listen
Ye who are braves;
Ye who established the Great League,
Continue to listen."
They gave the peace-pipe to Germain, and again seating themselves in
semicircle, gravely passed it from lip to lip.
Gradually the settlers during these rites began to learn by those who
understood Iroquois, the friendly nature of the fierce-looking actions
of the savages and gazed with delight while the merchant's son was made
a chief.
Thus out of a semi-savage corner of the world Germain Lecour was
launched on his voyage to Europe, which commenced at the head of the
boats of his father next morning when the dawn first carmined the sky
through the forests.