THE COUNCIL OF WAR.
The Council now opened in due form. The Secretary read the royal despatches, which were listened to with attention and respect, although with looks of dissent in the countenances of many of the officers.
The Governor rose, and in a quiet, almost a solemn strain, addressed the Council: "Gentlemen," said he, "from the tenor of the royal despatches just read by the Secretary, it is clear that our beloved New France is in great danger. The King, overwhelmed by the powers in alliance against him, can no longer reinforce our army here. The English fleet is supreme--for the moment only, I hope!" added the Governor, as if with a prevision of his own future triumphs on the ocean. "English troops are pouring into New York and Boston, to combine with the militia of New England and the Middle Colonies in a grand attack upon New France. They have commenced the erection of a great fort at Chouagen on Lake Ontario, to dispute supremacy with our stronghold at Niagara, and the gates of Carillon may ere long have to prove their strength in keeping the enemy out of the Valley of the Richelieu. I fear not for Carillon, gentlemen, in ward of the gallant Count de Lusignan, whom I am glad to see at our Council.
I think Carillon is safe.
The Count de Lusignan, a gray-headed officer of soldierly bearing, bowed low to this compliment from the Governor. "I ask the Count de Lusignan," continued the Governor, "what he thinks would result from our withdrawing the garrison from Carillon, as is suggested in the despatches?"
"The Five Nations would be on the Richelieu in a week, and the English in Montreal a month after such a piece of folly on our part!" exclaimed the Count de Lusignan.
"You cannot counsel the abandonment of Carillon then, Count?" A smile played over the face of the Governor, as if he too felt the absurdity of his question.
"Not till Quebec itself fall into the enemy's hands. When that happens, His Majesty will need another adviser in the place of the old Count de Lusignan."
"Well spoken, Count! In your hands Carillon is safe, and will one day, should the enemy assail it, be covered with wreaths of victory, and its flag be the glory of New France."
"So be it, Governor. Give me but the Royal Roussillon and I pledge you neither English, Dutch, nor Iroquois shall ever cross the waters of St. Sacrament."
"You speak like your ancestor the crusader, Count. But I cannot spare the Royal Roussillon. Think you you can hold Carillon with your present garrison?"
"Against all the force of New England. But I cannot promise the same against the English regulars now landing at New York."
"They are the same whom the King defeated at Fontenoy, are they not?" interrupted the Intendant, who, courtier as he was, disliked the tenor of the royal despatches as much as any officer present,-- all the more as he knew La Pompadour was advising peace out of a woman's considerations rather than upholding the glory of France.
"Among them are many troops who fought us at Fontenoy. I learned the fact from an English prisoner whom our Indians brought in from Fort Lydius," replied the Count de Lusignan.
"Well, the more of them the merrier," laughed La Corne St. Luc.
"The bigger the prize, the richer they who take it. The treasure- chests of the English will make up for the beggarly packs of the New Englanders. Dried stock fish, and eel-skin garters to drive away the rheumatism, were the usual prizes we got from them down in Acadia!"
"The English of Fontenoy are not such despicable foes," remarked the Chevalier de Lery; "they sufficed to take Louisbourg, and if we discontinue our walls, will suffice to take Quebec."
"Louisbourg was not taken by THEM, but fell through the mutiny of the base Swiss!" replied Bigot, touched sharply by any allusion to that fortress where he had figured so discreditably. "The vile hirelings demanded money of their commander when they should have drawn the blood of the enemy!" added he, angrily.
"Satan is bold, but he would blush in the presence of Bigot," remarked La Corne St. Luc to an Acadian officer seated next him.
"Bigot kept the King's treasure, and defrauded the soldiers of their pay: hence the mutiny and the fall of Louisbourg."
"It is what the whole army knows," replied the officer. "But hark! the Abbe Piquet is going to speak. It is a new thing to see clergy in a Council of War!"
"No one has a better right to speak here than the Abbe Piquet," replied La Corne. "No one has sent more Indian allies into the field to fight for New France than the patriotic Abbe."
Other officers did not share the generous sentiments of La Corne St.
Luc. They thought it derogatory to pure military men to listen to a priest on the affairs of the war.
"The Marshal de Belleisle would not permit even Cardinal de Fleury to put his red stockings beneath his council-table," remarked a strict martinet of La Serre; "and here we have a whole flock of black gowns darkening our regimentals! What would Voltaire say?"
"He would say that when priests turn soldiers it is time for soldiers to turn tinkers and mend holes in pots, instead of making holes in our enemies," replied his companion, a fashionable freethinker of the day.
"Well, I am ready to turn pedlar any day! The King's army will go to the dogs fast enough since the Governor commissions Recollets and Jesuits to act as royal officers," was the petulant remark of another officer of La Serre.
A strong prejudice existed in the army against the Abbe Piquet for his opposition to the presence of French troops in his Indian missionary villages. They demoralized his neophytes, and many of the officers shared in the lucrative traffic of fire-water to the Indians. The Abbe was zealous in stopping those abuses, and the officers complained bitterly of his over-protection of the Indians.
The famous "King's Missionary," as he was called, stood up with an air of dignity and authority that seemed to assert his right to be present in the Council of War, for the scornful looks of many of the officers had not escaped his quick glance.