Chapter 36

AT MONTREAL

Next morning, after old Lecour had, with a heart full of content, and a pipeful of tobacco, taken his son the round of his warehouses and granaries, his piles of furs, his mountains of wheat, and the rising vaults of what was to be his newest and greatest building, they set off down the village street to the Notary's house.

D'Aguilhe was of a famous breed of notaries, who had driven the quill and handed it down from father to son from the earliest days of the colony. When Lecour discovered that he was founding St. Elphège, one of the first things he did was to jolt up to Montreal, and catch a young scion of this race of d'Aguilhes, and here he had kept him making a comfortable living at his profession ever since. It was therefore not improper that the man of the _paraphe_--and a wondrous _paraphe_ his signature had, flourishing from edge to edge of a foolscap page, in woolly and laborious curves--should, when called upon next morning, treat his best client to his best office manners.

"Monsieur d'Aguilhe," commenced old Lecour, "here is my son, who thinks me a noble--and upon my honour I cannot argue against him; he is too able for me."

"Aha!" returned d'Aguilhe, pricking up his ears, and saying to himself, "This looks like something important."

"We desire," said Germain, taking the business into his own hands, "to see the marriage contract of my father and mother."

"Certainly, Monsieur Germain," he answered, and going to his cupboards, took his package of deeds for the year 1765, picked out the document and handed it to Germain, who read a few lines at the beginning.

"I see," the latter said, "that my father is improperly described here, as you will observe by these documents I now place before you. He is entitled to be called in this contract 'François Xavier LeCour, Chevalier de Lincy.'"

"A--ah!" exclaimed again the Notary, solemnly, raising his eyebrows and poking over Germain's parchments.

"Are they not correct?" asked Germain.

"Without a doubt."

"Is not my father the Chevalier de Lincy?"

"It seems so."

"Then we have only to ask, as it is a family matter, that you add this name to the contract of marriage, and give us a copy."

"It cannot be done, sir."

Germain felt a check. He was silent.

"Do not say that, d'Aguilhe," the merchant said; "if the boy wants it, let him have it. What do I care?"

"No sir, it cannot be done."

"Cannot be done? for _me_? Have I done nothing for you, M. d'Aguilhe? Have I not been a good client to you?"

"Nevertheless, sir, nothing can weigh with me against the rules of my profession," pompously replied the Notary. "A Public Person must not allow himself to be swayed by private considerations."

"In what lies your difficulty in changing this deed?" Germain asked.

"A deed once deposited in the archives of the Notary is sacred."

"But you see a mistake has been made?"

"Etiquette, Monsieur."

"You see that the honour of the family is concerned in rectifying that mistake."

"Etiquette, Monsieur."

"But is there no way? If I offer fifty livres for your advice upon a way, for instance?"

"Ah, Monsieur, that is different; the heart of the professional man should open, and his knowledge be accessible to his client. There is a way."

"What is it?"

"Obtain an order of the Judge upon me to add the required paragraphs to my deed."

"Here are your fifty livres."

"I thank you, sir," and, so saying, d'Aguilhe put his quill behind his ear and showed them politely to the door.

Germain and his father--the father arrayed by Madame in his best black coat--set, therefore, off for Montreal. They crossed the ferry near Répentigny church, and drove through open country along the riverside till, as evening drew on, they came in sight of the walls, the citadel hill, the enchanting suburban estates and green Mount Royal in the background, which denoted the city.

They drew up in the court of a bustling inn, stabled their horse, went to bed, and the next morning sought the house of a celebrated advocate, the great Rottot. The great Rottot was chiefly known for his imposing proportions, and no sight was thought so beautiful by the _habitants_ as that of his black silk leg, as, with his robe fluttering out in the breezes, he seemed to be flying from his office across the street to the court-house, followed by a bevy of clients.

He listened, standing, to the respectful request of Lecour, helped out in his explanations by Germain, who desired to have the pleader obtain for them the requisite order of the Judge.

"Ah," said he, "I see, gentlemen, you do not appreciate the importance of your case. Such a matter ought to be made the subject of the profoundest studies, and we should at length approach the Legislature itself with a petition and demand the passage of a private bill. The affair tempts my powers."

"But we have no special wish for publicity."

"Gentlemen, you know not what would be your good fortune. It would make you the talk of the Province. _In re Lecour_ would be a great precedent."

"Such is not our desire."

"What! not to establish a precedent?"

"No, Mr. Advocate," Germain said firmly; "a simple petition to obtain this order is what we want. We must have it, and quickly, and nothing more."

"Ah, then, this is what you want," said he. "I will draw it for you," and, sitting down, he wrote out a document as follows:--

"To the Honourable Judges of the Court of Common Pleas of the District of Montreal:

"The petition of François Xavier LeCour de Lincy, Esquire, residing at St. Elphège, respectfully shews:--That when he contracted marriage with Mademoiselle Lanier, he knew not that he was of noble origin, having left Europe at a very early age with scarcely any knowledge of his family; that since then he has learned of his extraction and obtained his titles of _noblesse_ which he now presents to your Honours in evidence.

"Wherefore may it please your Honours to grant an order upon Maître d'Aguilhe, Notary, of St. Elphège, to add to the minute of his contract of marriage the name and title of 'de Lincy, Esquire'; and you will do justice."

"Sign, sir, please."

François Xavier attached his signature.

"It will do," Rottot sighed; "but I should have preferred the precedent."

They crossed the road and entered the court-room.

A rubicund, easy-going old judge, Fraser by name, sat on the bench, the royal arms painted large in oils on a canvas behind him. In front were a lawyer or two and a few clients--a slack court. Rottot, with a flourish, read the petition.

The judge smiled. "Only a _habitant_ from the country," he mused, good-humouredly, "who wants to add some mouldy flourishes to his name. Well, if it pleases him, let him have them. Does anybody oppose the petition?" he said aloud. "No? Well, it is granted. Hand it up for my signature."

The astute Rottot had added the words--"Granted as prayed for, as well as to all other deeds and writings."

This gave Germain great satisfaction. With the precious order in his pocket he spent a few hours reconnoitring the town, and especially the headquarters of the garrison and the Governor's residence, the Château de Ramezay.

Returning to St. Elphège, he presented the order of the Court at once to Maître d'Aguilhe, and obtained a copy of the amended marriage contract, which he stored in his box as proof for use in France of the titles of his father in Canada.

While in Montreal he had determined to make that place also useful to him. So, after a decent delay, he found lodging at an elegant little house which suited him in St. Jean Baptiste Street, secluded behind the great Convent of the Grey Nuns and yet not far away from garrison headquarters.

His first act when he was left alone in his room was to don his uniform, his next to take out of his pocket the certified copy of the marriage contract of his parents which had been made for him by the Notary d'Aguilhe. He conned it a minute, standing by the Louis XIV. mantel, which may still be seen in that house, and sought but his mother's name. "Dame Catherine Lanier," it read. He drew out his little inkstand and quill, and, seizing a scrap of paper, tried some marks on it. Finding the ink to his satisfaction, he carefully touched the point of the quill to the contract and rapidly inserted the particle "de," making the name "Catherine de Lanier."

Rushing out of the house--it was afternoon--he sought relief in the open air and garden-like freshness of Notre Dame Street, a thoroughfare up to which the serried buildings of the "Lower Town"--for Montreal also had a Lower and Upper Town, even within its contracted width--had not yet crept, and which, situated on the top of the long, low ridge of the city, commanded free views of the river, the town, and all the prominent landmarks on one side, and of the fortification walls and the beautiful country seats on the slopes towards Mount Royal on the other. At first he noticed these alone, but gradually the wind from the west cooled his blood, and his eyes became conscious of military men and frilled and powdered people of fashion promenading the street to and from the barracks, and of his uniform becoming, as at Quebec, a subject of public curiosity. He stopped at length to note a prisoner in the town pillory, when a promenader of somewhat frayed attire and a countenance which bore marks of dissipation looked at him closely.

"I know your face very well," said he, coming forward, "though I cannot recall you. Do you remember any one of the name of Quinson St. Ours?"

"Quinson St. Ours? I should think I do. Are you my old schoolfellow of the Little Seminary?"

"Yes, it was at the Little Seminary--I have not been wrong then--but it is your name, my good schoolfellow, which escapes me; and now you look so distinguished that I hope you are not going to forget a schoolmate on that account?"

"Never, sir. My name is the Chevalier LeCour de Lincy, officer of the Guards of His Most Christian Majesty. I am the boy whom you knew as the little Lecour of St. Elphège."

The somewhat humble and seedy Quinson, black sheep of an excellent family, was glad to brighten up his tarnished career as the cicerone of so brilliant a butterfly, and only too proud to be the means of introducing Germain to the young bloods of the city. At the end of the week, when departing, Lecour gave a banquet, to which he invited all the choicest spirits, and having brought the feast well on into the drinking he said, casually--

"I am about, gentlemen, to go from here into the American colonies before I return to Europe and have a letter drawn which is necessary to identify me, when requisite, in places where I shall be totally unknown. Will you all do me the favour of signing it?"

"By Pollux and Castor we will!" shouted St. Ours, decidedly vinous.

"Certainly, friend," cried the others, and each in turn affixed his signature to the paper laid on the table. It read--

"MONTREAL, _September 19, 1788_.

"We, gentlemen of Montreal, voluntarily attest to whomsoever it may concern that Mons. Germain LeCour de Lincy is a gentleman of good character and standing in Canada, and son of Monsieur François Xavier LeCour de Lincy, _Esquire_, an honourable person of St. Elphège.

(Signed) "QUINSON DE ST. OURS, "LONGUEUIL, "DE ROUVILLE, _fils_, "ST. DIZIER, "LOUVIGNY DE MONTIGNY, "LA CORNE, _fils_,"

and over thirty others.

In this paper Germain had secured the apparent attestation of his claims by many of the principal younger _noblesse_ of the country. He made off with it to St. Elphège, where he spent a week, drawing from his mother a crowd of tales about the de Lérys and the LeGardeurs, which had been gossiped around her when she was housekeeper to Governor de Beauharnois. Then, under excuse of pressing business in France, he left St. Elphège again.