Their commander sets the example, and will come back with three or four
hundred thousand francs; the pettiest ensign, who does not gamble, will
have ten, twelve, or fifteen thousand. The Indians don't like Ligneris,
who is drunk every day. Forgive the confusion of this letter; I have not
slept all night with thinking of the robberies and mismanagement and
folly. _Pauvre Roi, pauvre France, cara patria!_" "Oh, when shall we get
out of this country! I think I would give half that I have to go home.
Pardon this digression to a melancholy man. It is not that I have not
still some remnants of gayety; but what would seem such in anybody else
is melancholy for a Languedocian. Burn my letter, and never doubt my
attachment." "I shall always say, Happy he who is free from the proud
yoke to which I am bound. When shall I see my chateau of Candiac, my
plantations, my chestnut grove, my oil-mill, my mulberry-trees? _O bon
Dieu! Bon soir; brulez ma lettre."_[677]
[Footnote 677: The above extracts are from letters of 5 and 27 Nov. and
9 Dec. 1758, and 18 and 23 March, 1759.]
Never was dispute more untimely than that between these ill-matched
colleagues. The position of the colony was desperate. Thus far the
Canadians had never lost heart, but had obeyed with admirable alacrity
the Governor's call to arms, borne with patience the burdens and
privations of the war, and submitted without revolt to the exactions and
oppressions of Cadet and his crew; loyal to their native soil, loyal to
their Church, loyal to the wretched government that crushed and
belittled them.
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