A BRAVE HEART
“Father, are there no convents in Canada?” asked Mercèdes.
“At Quebec, my daughter, I believe the Ursuline Convent is a very fine
establishment,” said the General. “It was founded more than a hundred years
ago, in 1640, by a very rich and very beautiful woman, Madame de Peltrie. It
is a romantic story. Her home was near Caen, in Normandy, and her husband
dying soon after her marriage, she desired to enter a nunnery; but her father,
who was old, opposed her wishes, and she remained with him until his death.
Then she sold all her possessions, and with another lady like-minded, Marie de
l’Incarnation, set sail with a party of Jesuit missionaries for Canada. After
untold hardships they arrived at Quebec; and there she built a convent and
opened a school for Indian children, which she dedicated to St. Ursula.”
“How do you know all this, father?” asked the young girl, as she walked beside
him on the terrace early the following morning.
Mercèdes was the General’s especial favourite, and when he was at home was
always with him; nevertheless, being the third daughter, from an early age she
had been destined to a convent life. She was perfectly happy, and looked upon
her future with complacent satisfaction; it was the fate of many highborn
girls in those days. She closely resembled her father, was small, sallow of
complexion, with dark, sparkling eyes, full of intelligence and sweetness.
“I learnt the story through a Jesuit whom I met the other day at Court,”
answered her father. “He had just returned from Canada, and when he heard who
I was, and my position, he gave me much useful information. He is a remarkably
intelligent man, and very devoted to the interests of the colony. He has been
a missionary amongst the Indian tribe of the Iroquois for over twenty years.
He will probably return with me. His name is Father Mathevet.”
“And he said the convent was a good one? Are the nuns French?” asked Mercèdes.
“French Canadians mostly; but I believe he mentioned that two or three ladies
from the mother country had joined the community within the last year.”
“Father, let me go.”
“You, Mercèdes? My child, it is impossible!”
“Why impossible?” she said, in a coaxing voice. “It is settled for me to begin
my novitiate at the Augustines; why should I not go out to Canada with you and
enter the Ursulines? I should like it much better. It would be rather amusing
teaching Indian children; and then you would not be alone.”
He looked down at her. The plan seemed to chime in with his dearest wishes.
The General was a man devoted to his home and his children, and the thought of
being separated from them all, though he accepted it as a necessity, was very
painful to him. The sudden idea of having this child, his little Mercèdes,
within reach, to whom he might speak of the dear absent ones, who in all
things would sympathise with and understand him, was such an unexpected joy.
“Do you really mean it?” he asked.
“If I did not, should I propose it?” she answered. “You know I am of small
account in the house, as it has always been settled I should be a nun; whether
I am here or in Canada it can make no difference. I do not belong to the
world, but to God; you and my mother gave me to Him when I was an infant; and
think how happy I shall be if, whilst fulfilling my vocation, I can be a
comfort to you, my dearest father,” and she clung to his arm.
“That you would most assuredly be,” he said; “the very fact of having you near
me would be a comfort. But shall you not be afraid to go so far--to cross the
sea, Mercèdes?”
She laughed such a bright, happy laugh. “Afraid of what?” she said. “Is not
God with us always on sea or on land? And your daughter! Shall I dare to be
afraid?”
Her father smiled. “Brave heart!” he said; “truly I do not see why you should
not have your wish. A convent in France or in Canada, it cannot make much
difference--except to me,” he added, and, stooping, he kissed the young, eager
face.
“You will speak to mother then?” she said.
“Yes,” he answered thoughtfully. “If only I knew of some woman going out to
Canada!”
“I know some one who would gladly go,” said Mercèdes.
“Who?” asked the General.
“My foster-mother, Marthe Dervieu. You know her husband is dead, and all her
children; she is quite alone, and loves no one in the world as she loves me.
Only last week she told me that when I entered the Augustines, she should go
there also as serving sister.”
“That would indeed be just the thing; she is of a good age, neither too young
nor too old. Why, Mercèdes, everything seems to combine to carry out your
wishes,” said her father.
“Marthe is just thirty-five; she was only nineteen when she nursed me,”
answered Mercèdes. “She will be so glad to go away from here, where she has
had so much sorrow. Here comes my mother; I will leave you with her, my dear
father. I am so happy!” and catching up his hand, she pressed it to her lips,
and then ran lightly down the steps leading from the terrace into the Château
gardens.
That evening, after supper, it was announced to the assembled family that
Mercèdes was going out to Canada to become a novice in the Convent of the
Ursulines, and that her nurse Marthe Dervieu had agreed to accompany her. The
mother’s eyes were red with weeping, and the old grandmother, Madame de St.
Verin, held Mercèdes in her arms murmuring, “My poor lamb!”
“Nay, grandmother,” said the girl, though tears choked her own voice. “You are
giving me to God; what matters it whether it be here or there, so that I do
Him service? And my dear father needs me; he will feel that I am near him,
praying, always praying for him; and when he is weary he will come into the
quiet cloister, and we shall speak of home and of you all. Nay, rather rejoice
that such high honour is accorded to me. Instead of an easy life of personal
devotion, which would be mine if I stayed here, I shall teach little Indian
children to worship Christ and show them the way to heaven. Give me your
blessing, grandmother;” and she sank on her knees before Madame de St. Verin,
who, touched by the girl’s devotion and enthusiasm, laid her thin white hands
on the dark hair, saying,--
“May God bless thee, my child, and have you in His holy keeping now and for
evermore.”
“Amen,” said all present; and then they gathered round Mercèdes and embraced
her, and it was even as she desired, a scene more of joy than of sorrow.
The following day the General left, accompanied only by his son the Chevalier
and Estève, his secretary. He decided at the last moment that his two servants
should wait to escort Mercèdes and Marthe when the time came for them to join
him.
He would not allow the parting to be a sad one, reminding his children that
they were descended from heroes, and must demean themselves accordingly.
The Montcalms traced their lineage back to Dieudonné Gozon, Grand-Master of
the order of St. John of Jerusalem, who in the sixteenth century delivered the
island of Rhodes from a monstrous serpent, which had long been the terror of
the inhabitants. For this service he was made Lieutenant-General, and
continued to distinguish himself so greatly that, when he died, at a good old
age, he was honoured and revered by all men. His race was continued by a long
line of knights and noble gentlemen, and so the Montcalms came to be reckoned
as a race of heroes, and were proud of their descent.
The present Marquis, Louis de Montcalm, General-in-Chief of his Majesty’s army
in Canada, had entered upon his military career at the early age of fourteen,
as did also his great opponent General Wolfe. Boys were men in those days by
the force of circumstances. At the battle of Plaisance, in 1746, Montcalm was
three times wounded, and at the combat before Exiles twice.
When still very young, he had stated in a letter to his father his idea of
what his aim and object in life ought to be. It is characteristic and worthy
of record.
“First, to be an honourable man, of good morals, and a Christian.
“Secondly, to read in moderation, to know as much Greek and Latin as most men
of the world; also to know the four rules of arithmetic, and something of
history, geography, and _belles lettres_, and have a certain knowledge of the
arts and sciences.
“Thirdly, and above all things, to be obedient, docile, and very submissive to
your orders and those of my dear mother, and also to defer to the advice of
Monsieur Dumas.
“Fourthly, to fence and ride as well as my small abilities will allow.”
The above-mentioned Monsieur Dumas was the family preceptor, and he and the
young heir were somewhat antagonistic, Louis not responding as readily as
Dumas could have desired to the educational pressure to which he would have
subjected him. The tutor found a more apt pupil in the younger brother, who is
stated to have been an infant prodigy, but died at the early age of seven
years of water on the brain, having acquired during his short life, besides a
fair knowledge of his own maternal language, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, geography,
history sacred and profane, and various other minor studies. Probably his
early death by no means incited his brother to follow in his steps.
Throughout life the Marquis de Montcalm maintained his code of honour, and, as
his ancestors had done before him, left to his children an untarnished name.