The Young Seigneur Or, Nation-Making

In the year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy odd, about six years

after the confederation of the Provinces into the Dominion of Canada, an

Ontarian went down into Quebec,-an event then almost as rare as a

Quebecker entering Ontario.

"It's a queer old Province, and romantic to me," said the Montrealer with whom old Mr. Chrysler (the Ontarian) fell in on the steamer descending to Sorel, and who had been giving him the names of the villages they passed in the broad and verdant panorama of the shores of the St. Lawrence.

In truth, it is a queer, romantic Province, that ancient Province of Quebec,-ancient in store of heroic and picturesque memories, though the three centuries of its history would look foreshortened to people of Europe, and Canada herself is not yet alive to the far-reaching import of each deed and journey of the chevaliers of its early days.

Here, a hundred and thirty years after the Conquest, a million and a half of Normans and Bretons, speaking the language of France and preserving her institutions, still people the shores of the River and the Gulf. Their white cottages dot the banks like an endless string of pearls, their willows shade the hamlets and lean over the courses of brooks, their tapering parish spires nestle in the landscape of their new-world patrie.

"What is that?" exclaimed the Ontarian, suddenly, lifting his hand, his eyes brightening with an interest unwonted for a man beyond middle age.

The steamer was passing close to the shore, making for a pier some distance ahead; and, surmounting the high bank, a majestic scene arose, facing them like an apparition. It was a grey Tudor mansion of weather-stained stone, with churchy pinnacles, a strange-looking bright tin roof, and, towering around the sides and back of its grounds a lofty walk of pine trees, marshalled in dark, square, overshadowing array, out of which, as if surrounded by a guard of powerful forest spirits, the mansion looked forth like a resuscitated Elizabethan reality. Its mien seemed to say: "I am not of yesterday, and shall pass tranquilly on into the centuries to come: old traditions cluster quietly about my gables; and rest is here."

"That is the Manoir of Dormillière," replied the Montrealer, as the steamer, whose paddles had stopped their roar, glided silently by.

Impressive was the Manoir, with its cool shades and air of erect lordliness, its solemn grey walls and pinnacled gables, the beautiful depressed arch of its front door; and its dream-like foreground of river mirroring its majestic guard of pines.

"I knew," said Chrysler, "that you had your seigniories in Quebec, and some sort of a feudal history, far back, but I never dreamed of such seats."

"O, the Seigneurs[A] have not yet altogether disappeared," returned the Montrealer. "Twenty years ago their position was feudal enough to be considered oppressive; and here and there still, over the Province, in some grove of pines or elms, or at some picturesque bend of a river, or in the shelter of some wooded hill beside the sea, the old-fashioned residence is to be descried, seated in its broad demesne with trees, gardens and capacious buildings about it, and at no great distance an old round windmill."

[Footnote A: The old French gentry or noblesse]

"Who lives in this one?"

"The Havilands. An English name but considered French;-grandfather an officer, an English captain, who married the heiress of the old D'Argentenayes, of this place."

"Mr. Haviland is the name of the person I am going to visit."

"The M.P.?"

"Yes, he is an M.P."

"A fine young fellow, then. His first name is Chamilly. His father was a queer man-the Honorable Chateauguay-perhaps you've heard of him? He was of a sort of an antiquarian and genealogical turn, you know, and made a hobby of preserving old civilities and traditions, so that Dormillière is said to be somewhat of a rum place."

The Ontarian thanked his acquaintance and got ready for landing at the pier.

A young man stepped forward and greeted him heartily. It was the

"Chamilly" Haviland of whom they had been speaking.

Mr. Chrysler and he were members together of the Dominion Parliament and the present visit was the outcome of a special purpose. "It is a pity the rest of the country does not know my people more closely," Haviland wrote in his invitation:-"If you will do my house the honor of your presence, I am sure there is much of their life to which we could introduce you."

"I am delighted you arrive at this time;" he exclaimed. "My election is coming." And he talked cheerfully and busied himself making the visitor comfortable in his drag.

As luck will have it, the enactment of one of the old local customs occurs as they sit waiting for room to drive off the pier. The rustic gathering of Lower-Canadian habitants who are crowding it with their native ponies and hay-carts and their stuff-coated, deliberate persons, is beginning to break apart as the steamer swings heavily away. The pedestrians are already stringing off along the road and each jaunty Telesphore and Jacques, the driver of a horse, leaps jovially into his cart; but all the carts are halting a moment by some curious common accord. Why is this?

Suddenly a loud voice shouts:

"MALBROUCK IS DEAD!"

A pause follows.

"It is not true" one forcibly contradicts.

"Yes, he is dead!" reiterates the first.

"It is not true!" insists the other.

"He is dead and in his bier!"

The second is incredulous:

"You but tell me that to jeer?"

But the crowd who have been smiling gleefully over the proceedings, affect to resign themselves to the bad news of Malbrouck's death, and all altogether groan in hoarse bass mockery:

"?A VA MA-A-A-L!!"[B]

Every one immediately dashes off in all haste, whips crack, wheels fly, and shouting, racing and singing along all the roads, the country-folk rattle away to their homes. Our two turn their wheels towards the Manor-house, gleefully amused.

[Footnote B: That is bad!]

"Who is Malbrouck?" Chrysler enquired.

"Marlborough. That must have been originally enacted in the French camps that fought him in Flanders. I fancy the soldiers of Montcalm shouting it at night among their tents here as they held the country against the English."

They drove along looking about the country and conversing. Chrysler breathed in the fresh draughts which swept across the wide stretches of river-view that lay open in bird-like perspective from the crest of the terraces on which the Dormillière c?te, or countryside, was perched, and along which the road ran.

"Come up, my little buds!" the young man cried in French, to a pair of baby girls who, holding each others' hands, were crowding on the edge of the ditch-weeds, out of the wheels' way.

"Houp-la!" he cried, helping the laughing little things up one after the other by their hands, and then whipping forward. "How much, are you going to give me for this? Do you think we drive people for nothing, eh?" The children nestled themselves down with beaming faces. "Tell me, bidoux,"[C] he laughed again, "What are you going to give me?"

[Footnote C: Bidoux is a term of endearment for children.]

Both hung their heads. One of them quickly threw her arms up around his neck and, kissing him, said, "I will pay you this way," and the other began to follow suit.

"Stop, stop, my dears. You must not stifle your seigneur," he cried in the highest glee, returning their embraces.

One of our poets claims that there is something of earthliness in the kisses of all but children:-

"But in a little child's warm kiss

Is naught but heaven above,

So sweet it is, so pure it is,

So full of faith and love."

So it seemed to Chrysler as he saw this first of the relations between the young Seigneur and his people.

"GRAND MASTER.-O, if you knew what our astrologers say of the coming age and of our age, that has in it more history within a hundred years than all the world had in four thousand years before." -CAMPANELLA-The City of the Sun.

When they arrived before the Manor House front, Mr. Chrysler could almost believe himself in some ancestral place in Europe, the pinnacles clustered with such a tranquil grace and the walk of pines surrounding the place seemed to frown with such cool, dark shades.

Within, he found it a comfortable mingling of ancient family portraits and hanging swords strung around the walls, elaborate, ornate old mantel ornaments, an immense carved fireplace, and such modern conveniences as Eastlake Cabinets, student's lamps and electric bell. In a distant corner of the large united dining and drawing-room, the evidently favorite object was a full-size cast of the Apollo Belvedere.

Chamilly introduced him respectfully to his grandmother, Madame

Bois-Hébert, an aged, quiet lady, with dark eyes.

In the expressive face of the young man could be traced a resemblance to hers, and the grace of form and movement which his firmer limbs and greater activity gave him, were evidently something like what the dignity of mien and carriage that were still left her by age had once been.

He was tall and had a handsome make, and kindly, generous face. The features of his countenance were marked ones, denoting clear intelligent opinions; and his hair, moustache and young beard, of jet black, contrasted well with the color which enriched his brunet cheek. Whether it was due to a happy chance or to the surroundings of his life, or whether descent from superior races has something in it, existence had been generous to him in attractions.

When Madame withdrew, after the tea, he gave Mr. Chrysler a chair by the fireplace in the drawing-room end of the apartment, for it was a cool evening, and saying:-"Do you mind this? It is a liking of mine," stepped over to the lamps and turned them down, throwing the light of the burning wood upon the pictures and objets d'art which adorned the apartment.

The great cast of Apollo, though in shadow, stood out against a background of deep red hangings in its corner and attracted the older gentleman's remarks.

"I have arranged the surroundings to recall my first impression of him in the Vatican Galleries," said the other. "I was wandering among that riches of fine statues and had begun to feel it an embarras, as our own phrase goes, when I came into a chamber and saw in the midst of it this most beautiful of the deities rising lightly before me, looking ahead after the arrow he has shot."

"You have been in Italy, then?"

"I have, Sir," he answered, "I have had my Italian days like Longfellow;" and, looking into the fire, he continued low, almost to himself:-

"... Land of the Madonna:

How beautiful it is! It seems a garden

Of Paradise ... Long years ago

I wandered as a youth among its bowers

And never from my heart has faded quite

Its memory, that like a summer sunset,

Encircles with a ring of purple light

All the horizon of my youth."

As Chrysler regarded him then and heard this free expression of feeling he could not but feel that Haviland was a foreigner, different from the British peoples.

"And yet," mused Haviland, in a moment again, "Have we not a more than

Italy in this beautiful country of our own?"

After weighing his companion in thought for a few moments longer, according to a habit of his, the elder man recollected another matter:-

"You have resigned your seat in the Dominion House to enter the

Provincial. Why is that?"

"A new turn has arrived in affairs, sir. The Honorable Genest's fever has broken him down. He cannot fill a place where activity is needed. Until the fever, he was an influence, you know, in the Dominion House, while I was in the Local. After it, he arranged that we should exchange seats, as the Legislature has latterly been so quiet. Lately, however, Picault's corruptionists, whom we thought crushed, have made another assault for the moneys, bullied, lied, and bribed, weighed their silver to the Iscariots, and edged Genest out of his seat."

"Who is their man here?"

"Libergent, lawyer. The election was annulled for frauds, but by moving the heavens and earth of the Courts they saved Libergent from disqualification, and now he appears again against us. Our cause calls for energetic action, in the Legislature, so Genest and I are changing places back again."

"I hope you will not be lost to us long?"

"No longer than I can help. The national work will never cease to attract me. Is it not sublime this nation-making?-that this generation, and particularly a few individuals like you, sir, and myself should be honored by Heaven with the task of founding a people! It is as grand as the nebulous making of stars!"

The seigneur's manner was full of enthusiasm.

"I can't see it as you young men do," Chrysler said, in an inflection suggestive of regret. "What may we effect beyond trying to keep Government pure and prudent, and we are often powerless to do even that? Nor can we form the future character of the people much, but must leave that to themselves, don't you think?"

"A partial truth," he returned, meditatively,-"a great one too. When I go into the country among the farmers, I often think: 'The people are the true nation-makers.'"-

"And Providence has apparently designed it," the old man proceeded in his gentle strain, "to be our modest lot to follow the lead of other lands more developed and better situated. Where do you discover anything striking in the outlook?"

"I do not care for a thing because it is striking; but I care for a great thing if it is really great. Do not think me too daring if I suggest for a moment that Canada should aim to lead the nations instead of being led. I believe that she can do it, if she only has enough persistence. A people should plain for a thousand years and be willing to wait centuries. Still, merely to lead is very subordinate in my view: a nation should only exist, and will only exist permanently, if it has a reason of existence. France has hers in the needs of the inhabitants of a vast plain; local Britain in those of an island; with Israel it was religion; with Imperial Rome, organised civilization; Panhellenism had the mission of intellect; Canada too, to exist, must have a good reason why her people shall live and act together."

"What then is our 'reason of existence?'"

"It must be an aim, a work," he said soberly.

The elder man was surprised. "My dear Haviland," he exclaimed, "Are you sure you are practical?"

"I think I am practical, Mr. Chrysler," Haviland replied firmly. "I have that objection so thoroughly in mind, that I would not expose my news to an ordinary man. It is because you are broad, liberal and willing to-examine matters in a large aspect, and that I think that in a large aspect I shall be justified, as at least not unreasonable, that I open my heart to you. Believe me, I am not unpractical, but only seeking a higher plane of practicality."

"But how do you propose to get the people to follow this aim?"

"If they were shown a sensible reason why they ought to be a nation," said he with calm distinctness,-"a reason more simple and great than any that could be advanced against it-it is all they would require. I propose a clear ideal for them-a vision of what Canada ought to be and do; towards which they can look, and feel that every move of progress adds a definite stage to a definite and really worthy edifice."

"The-oretical" Chrysler murmured slowly, shaking his head.

"For a man, but not for a People!" the young Member cried.

Both were silent some moments. The elder looked up at last "What sort of

Ideal would you offer them?"

"Simply Ideal Canada, and the vista of her proper national work, the highest she might be, and the best she might perform, situated as she is, all time being given and the utmost stretch of aims. As Plato's mind's eye saw his Republic, Bacon his New Atlantis, More his Utopia; so let us see before and above us the Ideal Canada, and boldly aim at the programme of doing something in the world."

"Can you show me anything special that we can do in the world?" the old man asked. His caution was wavering a little. "It is not impossible I may be with you," he added.

The Ontarian, in fact, did not object in a spirit of cavil. He did so apparently neither to doubt nor to believe, but simply to enquire, for in life he was a business man. His father had left him large lumber interests to preserve, and the responsibility had framed his prudence. He took the same kind of care in examining the joints of Haviland's scheme as he would have exacted about the pegging or chains of a timber crib which was going to run a rapid.

"Why, here for instance," answered Haviland, "are great problems at our threshold:-Independence, Imperial Federation, both of them bearing on all advance in civilized organizations,-Unification of Races-development of our vast and peculiar areas. Education, too, Foreign Trade, Land, the Classes-press upon our attention."

"You would have us awake to some such new sense of our situation as

Germany did in Goethe's day?"

"I pray for no long-haired enthusiasts. We have business different from altering the names of the Latin divinities into Teutonic gutturals."

"The country itself will see to that. We have the fear of the nations round about in our eyes," grimly said Chrysler; then he added: "I have never known you as well as I wish, Haviland. You speak of this work as if you had some definite system of it, while all the notions I have ever met or formed of such a thing have been partial or vague."

Chamilly stood up and the firelight shone brightly and softly upon his flushed cheek; the dark portraits on the walls seemed to look out upon him as if they lived, and the statue of Apollo to rise and associate its dignity with his.

"I have a system," he said. "I almost feel like saying a commission of revelation. The reason, sir, why I asked you here was that you, my venerated friend, might understand my ideas and sympathize with them, and help me."

He hesitated.

"I will ask you to read a manuscript, of which you will find the first half in your room. The remainder is not written yet"

Pierre, the butler, brought in coffee and they talked more quietly of other subjects.