Читать книгу The Power And The Glory - Gilbert Parker - Страница 3

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High above the St. Lawrence stood Louis, Count Frontenac alone, soon after his arrival at Quebec as Governor. From a window of the Château St. Louis he was looking across the vast stream which is more renowned than any other in that hemisphere. As his eyes scanned the immense flood and saw the exquisite coloring of the foliage on the farther shore in the bright sunlight, his cheek flushed with admiration. He was now fifty-two, but in years only. His mind was twenty-five, his body framed to endure hardships and trials, and these were before him in immense degree.

As looking out he dreamed big dreams—he had a fiery, eloquent soul full of imagination and temperament—and compared his humble court with that of Louis XIV, where he had so much been, grim humor came to his eye. He could not feel he had mistaken his course. He was poorly paid, but the destiny of this unknown land had entered into his bones, and it remained there till the end of his powerful career in Canada, where he yielded up his breath to the suspirations of millions yet to come of another race, but bound to him as the skin is to the flesh.

There were not so very many homes in tower Town far below the cliffs where was the Château St. Louis, but people were moving about briskly, and there came to Frontenac's ears the refrain of a song:

“In Heaven there is a dance,

Alleluia!

All the young Virgins danced,

Benedicamus Domino,

Alleluia! Alleluia!

It is for you and me,

Alleluia!

We dance like the young Virgins,

Benedicamus Domino

Alleluia! Alleluia!”

These were only two of many verses, but the eyes of the Governor lighted, for they were the spirit of the place; at the same time there was the ringing of bells in the towers of the cathedral, and around the Bishop's palace came people eager for the blessing of Laval, the Bishop of Quebec, poor, unhandsome, but a power always.

From Lower Town there came the words of another song, that of the Fête of St. Anne:

“Now is the Fête of St. Anne,

Eh! courage, hurrah!

Already at the bell one struts about,

Eh! courage, hurrah! sa, sa!

Eh! courage, hurrah!”

The air was so clear that the Governor could hear the words floating up the cliffside to the Château from which could be seen Upper and Lower Town; and through it all there came the steady tramp, tramp of feet of soldiers near the citadel. Frontenac closed his eyes and he heard the footfalls of soldiers in his beloved France and other lands where he had led them.

His lips moved, speaking to himself, then he opened his eyes again. He now saw a canoe approach the shore hundreds of feet below, and a figure issue from it and begin to climb the hill leading to his Château St. Louis. Somehow this figure fitted in with his late dreaming. It belonged to one who knew the life of Canada,—bold, strong, in tattered clothes, as though he had come a long distance, with rugged, dauntless air, and yet with a curious union of triumph and tragedy. Presently he lost sight of the man, and turned to his desk.

As he did so, the door opened and his orderly announced:

“Le Sieur de la Salle!”

This was not the man Frontenac had seen leaving the canoe, but a tall, alert, handsome, rather grim-faced man whose eyes looked clearly at those of Frontenac and at whose lips was a faint smile. He was clearly a man of splendid physique, and of iron will. Frontenac had immediately taken to him, for he saw in him, Réné Robert Cavelier, better known as La Salle, the true pioneer, who would put all away from him but the land he loved, and would live for that alone. Also he knew him opposed by the Jesuits who once had controlled in Canada by influencing Governor and Intendant, but had seen their power gradually decline.

Frontenac advanced to La Salle with outstretched hands, a warm smile on his distinguished face.

“You come at the right moment, Sieur de la Salle—I think of Canada's future! Who more welcome then than you!”

La Salle's face lighted. He had come to urge Frontenac to found a fort at the head of Lake Ontario where the Iroquois could be held in check, and trade with the English and Dutch from the Upper Lakes could be stayed. La Salle had discovered the Ohio and the Illinois, and was eager to trade and explore, the latter most to him of all. Hunger for wealth never entered his head, and all his life proved his freedom from lust of gain.

“Your Excellency! I am your faithful and devoted servant, and I have come to beg—”

“La Salle a beggar, but tell that to the wild men of China—you come not to beg, my friend!”

“I come to urge your building a fort at Lake Ontario, and if I may command it, good things may come to our dear France and Canada.”

Frontenac laughed. “Yes, yes, that was in my mind. We shall do it, yet we are fought by powerful forces. We think alike, La Salle.” He turned to a table on which lay a map and portfolio.

“You shall go ahead to Onondaga, the headquarters of the Iroquois, and ask their sachems to meet me in council. Then we, shall build the fort. That is not popular, but we must stand firm or Laval—the starved and wonderful Monsieur de Quebec of high birth and educated by the Jesuits—will have us under his thumb.” He laughed softly. “He is a big man, but there can only be one authority in Canada—the King, and not the Church. There is our fighting ground, La Salle, there and nowhere else. But we shall win, for God and the King will be with us—eh!”

La Salle bowed. “Though much be against us—the Bishop and Duchesneau and all, we shall win by the grace of God.”

“Jacques Duchesneau—an Intendant that makes trouble, and will make more! The tool of the Jesuits, but not strong enough to conquer me, La Salle!”

At that moment came a tapping at the door, and an orderly entered. “M'sieu' Joliet would speak with Your Excellency.”

“Joliet, the explorer—good!” said Frontenac. “Admit him.”

Joliet entered, a man of vigor, firm and good to see, and about the same age as La Salle. He was tattered and wayworn, but determined and keen-eyed. He had studied for the Jesuit priesthood in Canada, where he was born, and had left it to become a fur-trader.

Frontenac saw he had news of importance. He offered his hand and said: “Well, M. Joliet, you have traveled far”—he pointed to his ragged clothes—“that have you to tell?”

Joliet bowed. “With Père Marquette we were sent by M. Talon, the late Intendant, to explore, and after trials and dangers on the Illinois, we entered the muddy surge of the Missouri. Out of this chaos we came at last upon the great quiet waters of the Mississippi.”

“The Mississippi—the Mississippi!” said Frontenac astonished. “So, it flows south, not west.”

“To the Gulf of Mexico!” said Joliet.

“It is a great deed,” interposed La Salle. “By that, trade will not be stopped for months by ice in the river there. All the year round to France!”

“And the records of the journey?” said Frontenac.

“Naught, naught! We had escaped every peril from the Indians. I had passed forty-two rapids, and was landing at La Chine when my canoe was wrecked. I lost two men and my box of papers within sight of the settlements I had left years before. Nothing remains but my life—to use it as Your Excellency may direct, if you will!”

Frontenac's face was a study in pride, regret and sympathy. “What matter your records, man! The Mississippi! France will thank you, as it does now through its Governor. You shall have service with me, Joliet, and henceforth, so far as I can, all shall go well with you.”

Joliet bowed low with gratitude. Then he said: “I will serve you proudly, monseigneur.” He turned to leave, his eyes alight with pleasure.

“But a moment, Joliet. Here is to relieve your instant wants,” and Frontenac placed a few gold pieces in his hand.

Joliet shook his head. “But no, Your Excellency. You need them more, for you must spend whether you will or no.”

Frontenac smiled and took back the gold. “I have not seen such great faith, no, not in Israel!” he said cheerfully.

When Joliet had gone La Salle said: “The finding of the Mississippi is the summit of all. It opens up a marvelous field of trade for Louis, the Sun King!” His head lifted, his face shone, vision filled his eyes. “I see great things for France.”

Frontenac, hand at his chin, looked meditatively at La Salle for a moment, and then said: “You live for your country and naught else, La Salle. You have the unselfish soul.” He dropped a hand on La Salle's shoulder. “We can make New France the wider power of Old France—you and I!”

He smiled. The proud, irascible Frontenac felt himself in accord with this well-born son of Rouen, who was to bring to France and the new world high honor. La Salle, shy, and with few popular gifts, still with the power to win all who were not selfishly against him, said slowly:

“You honor me, Excellency. We have far to go. I shall find the mouth of the Mississippi and make from here to the Caribbean Sea subject to the King of France.”

Frontenac laughed quietly. “You see far, La Salle! You have been at work here seven years and you have paid the utmost price for all you have got and done. For your first trip of exploration you sold your seigneury of La Chine and spent the money in exploration. You are a dreamer, but that you have vast practical qualities, your deeds show. All you have you give.”

The sun shone brilliantly in the room where were few signs of distinction save the fleur-de-lis, a portrait of Louis XIV, of Cartier, and of Champlain, and a map roughly drawn of New France, old oak chairs, wooden walls, dark with time, and a statue head of Brebeuf, the famous Jesuit missionary who had given his life under dreadful torture without a sign of pain. Frontenac's eyes were on this statue now. The Jesuits were against him, but his soul was too big to let his own wrongs affect his historical sense, and he had profound admiration for their courage and devotion, though he would fight to the last their national ambitions. The State first and last was his theory. Frontenac had vision and the sense of progress, and he was at one with La Salle.

La Salle said: “Excellency, I would receive direct from His Majesty my right to work in the Far West where foes retard all I do. The Church is against you as the head of all, and it is against me.”

Frontenac interrupted: “I may be the head, but you are not the tail. You belong to our full body of progress. No, no, La Salle, you shall not fail. You must go to France. I will give you a letter to Colbert, the great minister of Louis.” His eyes brightened, his lips laughed gently. “You will come back bigger than you went, and always, I hope, a friend of Frontenac.”

La Salle inclined his head gratefully. “But not till you have opened the new Fort. We must have a large background of western trade before I go to France. It will have weight at Court.”

Frontenac nodded.

At that moment came a tapping at the door, and an orderly announced the Intendant Duchesneau, the foe of Frontenac, and of La Salle whom he hated for his trade ambitions and because of his friendship with the Governor. A look of distrust crossed Frontenac's face, but he greeted the Intendant courteously. Duchesneau's eyes lowered sullenly when he saw La Salle, but he bowed to him with exaggerated impressiveness, while La Salle looked him steadily in the eyes and responded with grave precision. The Governor seeing, moved forward and shook La Salle warmly by the hand.

“Bon voyage, cher Sieur de la Salle,” he said, in courteous and suggestive dismissal.

“I thank Your Excellency,” responded La Salle and left the room, knowing why the Governor had spoken as he did.

The Intendant's eyes showed he did not understand Frontenac's “Bon voyage,” but he did grasp the warm friendliness of the Governor.

“Your Excellency,” he said, “that man has neither birth nor position in Canada. Your favor to him is not popular.”

Frontenac's face showed satire. “Well, his family were burghers of Rouen. They were wealthy merchants with the elements of nobility, and La Salle was trained for a Jesuit. That's why he came to Canada poor—training for a Jesuit priest deprived him of his natural inheritance by the laws of France. I find him patriotic, unselfish, and sincere.”

The Intendant scowled. “Sincere—a wild discoverer who sought to reach the Vermilion Sea on the way to China, and that's why his little Seigneury above Montreal was called La Chine!”

Frontenac sardonically replied; “La Chine! a good name, and his China will be here. He need not discover China. There is enough discovery here to last a lifetime.”

Duchesneau smiled satirically. “Bon voyage to Sieur de la Salle!”

“Bon voyage, it shall be. Before him lies a wonder of achievement. History will record him, France will be proud of him, this continent will adore him.”

“His brother, the Abbé Cavelier, does not adore him, Your Excellency. He is older and a good priest, and often disapproves of him.”

“The Abbé Cavelier is a priest of St. Sulpice. He received part of La Salle's inheritance, and he is cold to La Salle as are those who receive something for nothing. Is the Abbé Cavelier a man of unselfishness and patriotism?”

“He is a devoted priest, and Your Excellency should like him for he is not a Jesuit.”

Frontenac's eyes rested on the statue of Brebeuf. He pointed: “Tiens, there is proof that I love the Jesuit for his piety, fearlessness, and faith. In all spiritual matters I am his perfect friend. Now let us to business, Intendant. What surprises have you! What grievances and public virtues!” He spoke satirically.

“No surprises. The English and Dutch at Albany, as you know, mean to get the trade of our Indians and to set the Iroquois against us.”

“Bon voyage, Sieur de la Salle!” said the Governor with deep meaning.