The wild little river _Sainte Marguerite_ runs joyously among
the mountains and the green woods, back of the Saguenay, singing
the same old song of liberty and obedience to law, as if the world
had never been vexed and tortured by the madness of war-lords.
A tired man who has a brief furlough from active service is lucky
if he can spend it among the big trees and beside a flowing stream.
The trees are ministers of peace. The stream is full of courage
and adventure as it rushes toward the big sea.
We are coming back to camp from the morning's fishing, with a
brace of good salmon in the canoe.
“Tell me, Iside,” I ask of the wiry little bowman, the best hunter
and fisher on the river, “why is it that you are not at the war?”
“But, M'sieu', I am too old. A father of family--almost a
grandfather--the war is not for men of that age. Besides, it does
not concern us here in Quebec.”
“Why not? It concerns the whole world. Who told you that it does
not concern you?”
“The priest at our village of _Sacre Coeur,_ M'sieu'. He says
that it is only right and needful for a good Christian to fight
in defense of his home and his church. Let those Germans attack us
here, _chez nous_, and you shall see how the men of _Sacre
Coeur_ will stand up and fight.”
It was an amazing revelation of a state of mind, absolutely simple,
perfectly sincere, and strictly imprisoned by the limitations of
its only recognized teacher.
“But suppose, Iside, that England and France should be beaten down
by Germany, over there. What would happen to French Canada? Do
you think you could stand alone then, to defend your home and your
church? Are you big enough, you French-Canadians?”
“M'sieu', I have never thought of that. Perhaps we have more than
a million people--many of them children, for you understand we
French-Canadians have large families--but of course the children
could not fight. Still, we should not like to have them subject to
a German Emperor. We would fight against that, if the war came to
us here on our own soil.”
“But don't you see that the only way to keep it from coming
to you on your own soil is to fight against it over there? Hasn't
the English Government given you all your liberties, for home and
church?”
“Yes, M'sieu', especially since Sir Wilfred Laurier. Ah, that is
a great man! A true French-Canadian!”
“Well, then, you know that he is against Germany. You know he
believes the freedom of Canada depends on the defeat of Germany,
over there, on the other side of the sea. You would not like a
German Canada, would you?”
“Not at all, M'sieu', that would be intolerable. But I have never
thought of that.”
“Well, think of it now, will you? And tell your priest to think of
it, too. He is a Christian. The things we are fighting for belong
to Christianity--justice, liberty, humanity. Tell him that, and tell
him also some of the things which the Germans did to the Christian
people in Belgium and Northern France. I will narrate them to you
later.”
“M'sieu',” says Iside, dipping his paddle deeper as we round the
sharp corner of a rock, “I shall remember all that you tell me, and
I shall tell it again to our priest. You know we have few newspapers
here. Most of us could not read them, anyway. I am not well convinced
that we yet comprehend, here in French Canada, the meaning of
this war. But we shall endeavor to comprehend it better. And when
we comprehend, we shall be ready to do our duty--you can trust
yourself to the men of _Sacre Coeur_ for that. We love peace--we
all about here _(nous autres d'icite)--but we can fight like the
devil when we know it is for a good cause--liberty, for example._
Meanwhile would M'sieu' like to stop at the pool _'La Pinette'_
on the way down and try a couple of casts? There was a big salmon
rising there yesterday.”
That very evening a runner comes up the river, through the woods,
to tell Iside and Eugene, who are Selectmen of the community of
_Sacre Coeur,_ that they must come down to the village for an
important meeting at ten o'clock the next morning.
So they set off, quite as a matter of course, for their thirty-five
mile tramp through the forest in the dark. They are good citizens,
as well as good woodsmen, you understand. On the second day they
are back again at their work in the canoe.
“Well, Iside,” I ask, “how was it with the meeting yesterday? All
correct?”
“All correct, M'sieu'. It was an affair of a new schoolhouse. We are
going to build it. All goes well. We are beginning to comprehend.
Quebec is a large corner of the world. But it is only a corner,
after all, we can see that. And those damned Germans who do such
terrible things in France, we do not love them at all, no matter what
the priest may say about Christian charity. They are Protestants,
M'sieu', is it not?”
“Well,” I answer, hiding a smile with a large puff of smoke, “some
of them call themselves Protestants and some call themselves
Catholics. But it seems to me they are all infidels, heathen--judging
by what they do. That is the real proof.”
_“C'est b'en vrai, M'sieu',_” says Iside. “It is the conduct
that shows the Christian.”