Chapter III — The “Ancient Capital”
Quebec — Its Highways and By-Ways, Edifices, Monuments, Citizens, Legends, Chronicles, and Antiquities
“I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That do renown this city.”—(Shakespeare.)
What a field here for investigation? Has not each thoroughfare its distinctive feature—its saintly, heathenish, courtly, national, heroic, perhaps burlesque, name? Its peculiar origin? traceable sometimes to a dim—a forgotten past; sometimes to the utilitarian present time. What curious vistas are unfolded in the birth of its edifices—public and private—alive with the memories of their clerical, bellicose, agricultural or mercantile founders? How much mysterious glamour does not relentless time shed over them in its unceasing march? How many vicissitudes do they undergo before giving way to modern progress, the exigencies of commerce, the wants or whims of new masters? The edifices, did we say? Their origin, their progress, their decay, nay, their demolition by the modern iconoclast—have they no teachings? How many phases in the art of the builder and engineer, from the high-peaked Norman cottage to the ponderous, drowsy Mansard roof—from Champlain’s picket fort to the modern citadel of Quebec—from our primitive legislative meeting-house to our stately Parliament Buildings on the Grande Allée?
The streets and by-ways of famous old world cities have found chroniclers, in some instances of rare ability: Timbs, Howitt, Augustus Sala, Longfellow, &c. Why should not those of our own land obtain a passing notice?
Is there on American soul a single city intersected by such quaint, tortuous, legend-loving streets as old Quebec? Is there a town retaining more unmistakable vestiges of its rude beginnings—of its pristine, narrow, Indian-haunted, forest paths?
Our streets and lanes bear witness to our dual origin: Champlain, Richelieu, Buade streets, by their names proclaim the veneration our fathers had for the memory of men who had watched over the infancy of the colony, whilst the mystic, saintly nomenclature of others exhibited the attachment of the early dwellers in Quebec to the hallowed old Roman faith which presided at their natal hour.
One also finds here and there, in the names of certain thoroughfares, traces of the sojourn within our walls of popular Governors, famous Viceroys, long since gathered to their fathers, some of whose ashes mingle in our cemeteries with the dust of our forefathers—[8] Champlain, Frontenac, Mesy, De Callières, De Vaudreuil, De la Jonquière, Ramsay, Carleton, Hope, Dalhousie, Richmond and Aylmer.
A student of history, in the signboards affixed to street corners, loves to light on the names of men whose memories are fragrant for deeds of heroism, devotedness, patriotism or learning. Bréboeuf, Champlain, Dollard, Ferland, Garneau, Christie, Turgeon, Plessis, and many others of blameless and exemplary life—each has his street. We know of a worthy and learned old antiquary whose lore and advice has been more than once placed at our disposal in unravelling the tangled skein on which we are engaged, who rejoices that his native city, unlike some of the proud capitals of Europe, is free from vulgar names, such as “Tire-Boudin,” “P—t—au D——le,” in gay Paris, and “Crutched Friars,” “Pall-Mall,” and “Mary-le-bone,” in great London.
In fact, does not history meet you at every turn? Every nook, every lane, every square, nay, even the stones and rocks, have a story to tell—a record to unfold—a tale to whisper of savage or civilized warfare—a memento to thrill the patriot—a legend of romance or of death—war, famine, fires, earthquakes, land and snow-slides, riot?
Is it not to be apprehended that in time the inmates of such a city might become saturated with the overpowering atmosphere of this romantic past— fall a prey to an overweening love of old memories—become indifferent, and deadened to the feelings and requirements of the present? This does not necessarily follow. We are, nevertheless, inclined to believe that outward objects may act powerfully on one’s inner nature: that the haunts and homes of men are not entirely foreign to the thoughts, pursuits and impulses, good or bad, of their inmates.
Active, cultured, bustling, progressive citizens, we would fain connect with streets and localities partaking of that character, just as we associate cheerful abodes with sunshine, and repulsive dwellings with dank, perennial shadows.
Mr. N. Legendre, in a small work intituled “Les Échos de Quebec,” has graphically delineated the leading features of several of our thoroughfares:—
“In a large city each street has its peculiar feature. Such a street is sacred to commerce—a private residence in it would appear out of place. Such another is devoted to unpretending dwellings: the modest grocery shop of the corner looks conscious of being there on sufferance only. Here resides the well-to-do—the successful merchant; further, much further on, dwell the lowly—the poor. Between both points there exists a kind of neutral territory, uniting the habitations of both classes. Some of the inmates, when calling, wear kid gloves, whilst others go visiting in their shirt sleeves. The same individual will even indulge in a cigar or light an ordinary clay pipe, according as his course is east or west. All this is so marked, so apparent, that it suffices to settle in your mind the street or ward to which an individual belongs. The ways of each street vary. Here, in front of a well-polished door, stands a showy, emblazoned carriage, drawn by thoroughbreds; mark how subdued the tints of the livery are. There is, however, something distingué about it, and people hurrying past assume a respectful bearing.
“In the next street, the carriage standing at the door is just as rich, but its panelling is more gaudy—more striking in colour are the horses—more glitter—more profusion about the silver harness mountings. Though the livery has more éclat, there seems to be less distance between the social status of the groom and that of his master.
“Walk on further—the private carriage has merged into the public conveyance; still further, and you find but the plain calèche.
“Finally, every kind of vehicle having disappeared, the house-doors are left ajar; the inmates like to fraternise in the street. On fine evenings the footpath gets strewed with chairs and benches, occupied by men smoking—women chatting al fresco unreservedly—laughing that loud laugh which says, “I don’t care who hears me.” Passers-by exchange a remark, children play at foot-ball, while the house-dog, exulting in the enjoyment of sweet liberty, gambols in the very midst of the happy crowd. These are good streets. One travels over them cheerfully and gaily. An atmosphere of rowdyism, theft, wantonness, hovers over some thoroughfares. Dread and disgust accompany him who saunters over them. Their gates and doorways seem dark—full of pit-falls. Iron shutters, thick doors with deep gashes, indicate the turbulent nature of their inhabitants. Rude men on the sidepaths stare you out of countenance, or make strange signs—a kind of occult telegraphy, which makes your flesh creep. To guard against an unseen foe, you take to the centre of the street—nasty and muddy though it should be,—for there you fancy yourself safe from the blow of a skull-cracker, hurled by an unseen hand on watch under a gateway. The police make themselves conspicuous here by their absence; ’tis a fit spot for midnight murder and robbery—unprovoked, unpunished. Honest tradesmen may reside here, but not from choice; they are bound to ignore street rows; lending a helping hand to a victim would cause them to receive, on the morrow, a notice to quit.
“Be on your guard, if necessity brings you, after nightfall, to this unhallowed ground. Danger hovers over, under, round your footsteps. If an urchin plays a trick on you at a street corner, heed him not. Try and catch him, he will disappear to return with a reinforcement of roughs, prepared to avenge his pretended wrongs by violence to your person and injury to your purse.
“Should a drunken man hustle you as he passes, do not mind him: it may end in a scuffle, out of which you will emerge bruised and with rifled pockets.
“We dare not tell you to yield to fear, but be prudent. Though prudence may be akin to fear, you never more required all your wits about you. It is very unlikely you will ever select this road again, though it should be a short cut. Such are some of the dangerous streets in their main features. There are thoroughfares, on the other hand, to which fancy lends imaginary charms; the street in which you live, for instance. You think it better, more agreeable. Each object it contains becomes familiar, nay cherished by you—the houses, their doors, their gables. The very air seems more genial. A fellowship springs up between you and your threshold—your land. You get to believe they know you as you know them—softening influences—sweet emanations of ‘Home.’”—Translation.
THE UPPER TOWN.
The Upper Town in 1608, with its grand oaks, its walnut trees, its majestic elms, when it formed part of the primeval forest, must have been a locality abounding in game. If Champlain, his brother-in-law, Boullé, as well as his other friends of the Lower Town, [9] had been less eager in hunting other inhabitants of the forest infinitely more dreaded (the Iroquois), instead of simply making mention of the foxes which prowled about the residency (l’abitation), they would have noted down some of the hunting raids which were probably made on the wooded declivities of Cape Diamond and in the thickets of the Coteau Sainte Geneviève, more especially when scurvy or the dearth of provisions rendered indispensable the use of fresh meats. We should have heard of grouse, woodcock, hares, beavers, foxes, caribou, bears, &c., at that period, as the probable denizens of the mounts and valleys of ancient Stadacona.
In 1617 the chase had doubtless to give way to tillage of the soil, when the first resident of the Upper Town, the apothecary Louis Hébert, established his hearth and home there.
“He presently,” (1617) says Abbé Ferland, “commenced to grub up and clear the ground on the site on which the Roman Catholic cathedral and the Seminary adjoining now stand, and that portion of the upper town which extends from St. Famille Street up to the Hôtel-Dieu. He constructed a house and a mill near that part of St. Joseph Street where it received St. François and St. Xavier Streets. These edifices appear to have been the first which were erected in the locality now occupied by the upper town.”
At that period there could have existed none other than narrow paths, irregular avenues following the sinuosities of the forest. In the course of time these narrow paths were levelled and widened. Champlain and Sir David Kirtk bothered themselves very little with improving highways. Overseers of roads and Grand-Voyers were not then dreamed of in La Nouvelle France: those blessed institutions, macadamized [10] roads, date for us from 1841.
One of the first projects of Governor de Montmagny, after having fortified the place, was to prepare a plan for a city, to lay out, widen and straighten the streets, assuredly not without need. Had he further extended this useful reform, our Municipal Council to-day would have been spared a great amount of vexation, and the public in general much annoyance. On the 17th November, 1623, a roadway or ascent leading to the upper town had been effected, less dangerous than that which had previously existed.
“As late as 1682, as appears by an authentic record (procès-verbal) of the conflagration, this steep road was but fourteen feet wide. It was built of branches, covered with earth. Having been rendered unserviceable by the fire, the inhabitants had it widened six feet, as they had to travel three miles, after the conflagration, to enter the upper town by another hill.”—(T. B. Bédard.)
In the summer season, our forefathers journeyed by water, generally in birch-bark canoes. In winter they had recourse to snow-shoes.
To what year can we fix the advent of wheeled vehicles? We have been unable to discover.
The first horse presented by the inhabitants to the Governor of the colony arrived from France on the 25th June, 1647. [11] Did His Excellency use him as a saddle horse only? or, on the occasion of a New Year’s day, when he went to pay his respects to the Jesuit Fathers, and to the good ladies of the Ursulines, to present, with the compliments of the season, the usual New Year’s gifts, was he driven in a cariole, and in the summer season in a calèche? Here, again, is a nut to crack for commentators. [12]
Although there were horned cattle at Quebec in 1623, oxen for the purpose of ploughing the land were first used on the 27th April, 1628.
“Some animals—cows, sheep, swine, &c.—had been imported as early as 1608. In 1623, it is recorded that two thousand bundles of fodder were brought from the pasture grounds at Cap Tourmente to Quebec for winter use.”—(Miles.)
On the 16th of July, 1665, [13] a French ship brought twelve horses. These were doubtless the “mounts” of the brilliant staff of the Marquis de Tracy, Viceroy. These dashing military followers of Colonel de Salières, this jeunesse dorée of the Marquis de Tracy, mounted on these twelve French chargers, which the aborigines named “the moose-deer (orignaux) of Europe,” doubtless cut a great figure at Quebec. Did there exist Tandems, driving clubs, in 1665? Quien sabe? A garrison life in 1665-7 and its amusements must have been much what it was one century later, when the “divine” Emily Montague [14] was corresponding with her dear “Colonel Rivers,” from her Sillery abode in 1766; she then, amongst the vehicles in use, mentions, calèches. [15]
They were not all saints such as Paul Dupuy, [16] the patriarchal seigneur of Ile-aux-Oies, these military swells of Colonel de Salières! Major Lafradière, for instance, might have vied with the most outrageous rake in the Guards of Queen Victoria who served in the colony two centuries later.
If there were at Quebec twelve horses for the use of gentlemen, they were doubtless not suffered to remain idle in their stables. The rugged paths of the upper town were levelled and widened; the public highway ceased to be reserved for pedestrians only. This is what we wanted to arrive at.
In reality, the streets of Quebec grew rapidly into importance in 1665. Improvements effected during the administration of the Chevalier de Montmagny had been highly appreciated. The early French had their Saint Louis (Grande Allée), Saint Anne, Richelieu, D’Aiguillon, Saint John, streets, to do honour to their Master, Louis XIII.; his Queen the beautiful Anne of Austria; his astute Premier the Cardinal of Richelieu; his pious niece la Duchesse D’Aiguillon; his land surveyor and engineer Jehan or Jean Bourdon. This last functionary had landed at Quebec on the 8th August, 1634, with a Norman priest, the Abbé Jean LeSueur de Saint-Sauveur, who left his surname (St. Sauveur) to the populous municipality adjoining St. Roch suburbs. [17]
In the last and in the present century, St. Louis Street was inhabited by many eminent persons. Chief Justice Sewell resided in the stately old mansion, up to June 1881 occupied as the Lieutenant-Governor’s offices; this eminent jurist died in 1839. “One bright, frosty evening of January 1832,” says Mr. Chauveau, “at the close of a numerously attended public meeting held at the Ottawa Hotel, to protest against the arrest of Messrs. Tracy, editor of the Vindicator, and Duvernay, editor of the Minerve, the good citizens of Quebec, usually so pacific, rushed in a noisy procession, led by a dozen students wearing tri-coloured ribbons in their button-holes, and sang the Marseillaise and the Parisienne under the windows of the Chief Justice, whose ear was little accustomed to such a concert.” The ermined sage, ’tis said, was so startled, that he made sure a revolution was breaking out.
“Among the fiery, youthful leaders, the loudest in their patriotic outburst, there was one who would then have been much surprised had any one predicted that after being President of the Legislative Council, Prime Minister of the Canadas, and knighted by H. R. H. the Prince of Wales in person, he would one day, as Lieutenant-Governor, enter in state this same former residence of Chief Justice Sewell, whilst the cannon of Britain would roar a welcome, the flag of England stream over his head, and a British regiment present arms to him.” Such, however, has been the fate of Sir Narcissus Fortunatus Belleau.
The mansion of M. de Lotbinière, in St. Louis street, was the residence of Madame Pean, the chère amie of M. Bigot the Intendant. The late Judge Elmsley resided there about the year 1813; Government subsequently purchased it to serve as an officers’ barracks. Nearly opposite the old Court-House (burned in 1872), stands the “Kent House,” in which His Royal Highness the late Duke of Kent resided in summer, 1791-3. [18] No. 42 St. Louis Street is the house [19] which belonged to the cooper, François Gobert; it now has become historical. In it were deposited the remains of General Montgomery on the 31st December, 1775. This summer it is leased by Louis Gonzague Baillargé, Esq., the proprietor, to Widow Pigott, whose late husband was in the “B” Battery.
In the street sacred to Louis XIII., St. Louis street, Messrs. Brown [20] & Gilmor established, in 1764, [21] their printing office for the Quebec Gazette, “two doors higher up than the Secretary’s Office,” wherever this latter may have stood. The Gazette office was subsequently removed to Parloir Street, and eventually settled down for many a long year at the corner of Mountain Hill, half-way up, facing Break-Neck steps,—the house was, with many others, removed in 1850 to widen Mountain Street. According to a tradition published in the Gazette of the 2nd May, 1848, the prospectus of this paper had, it would appear, been printed in the printing office of Benjamin Franklin.
This venerable sheet, which had existed one hundred and ten years, when it was merged, in 1874, by purchase of the copyright, into the Morning Chronicle, in its early days, was nearly the sole exponent of the wants— of the gossip (in prose and in verse)—and of the daily events of Quebec. As such, though, from the standard of to-day, it may seem quaint and puny, still it does not appear an untruthful mirror of social life in the ancient capital. Its centenary number of June, 1864, with the fyles of the Gazette for 1783, have furnished the scholarly author of the “Prophecy of Merlin,” John S. Reade, with material for an excellent sketch of this pioneer of Canadian journalism, of which our space will permit us to give but some short extracts:—
“The first number of the Quebec Gazette, judged by the fac-simile before me, was a very unpretending production. It consists of four folio pages, two columns to each page, with the exception of the ‘Printer’s Address to the Public,’ which takes up the full width of the page, and is written in French and English, the matter in both languages being the same, with the exception of a Masonic advertisement, which is in English only. In the address, accuracy, freedom and impartiality are promised in the conduct of the paper. The design of the publishers includes ‘a view of foreign affairs and political transactions from which a judgment may be formed of the interests and connections of the several powers of Europe’; and care is to be taken ‘to collect the transactions and occurrences of our mother-country, and to introduce every remarkable event, uncommon debates, extraordinary performance and interesting turn of affairs that shall be thought to merit the notice of the reader as matter of entertainment, or that can be of service to the publick as inhabitants of an English colony.’ Attention is also to be given to the affairs of the American colonies and West India Islands; and, in the absence of foreign intelligence, the reader is to be presented with ‘such originals, in prose and verse, as will please the fancy and instruct the judgment. And,’ the address continues, ‘here we beg leave to observe that we shall have nothing so much at heart as the support of virtue and morality and the noble cause of liberty. The refined amusements of literature and the pleasing veins of well-pointed wit shall also be considered as necessary to the collection; interspersed with other chosen pieces and curious essays extracted from the most celebrated authors; so that, blending philosophy with politicks, history, &c., the youth of both sexes will be improved, and persons of all ranks agreeably and usefully entertained.’
“As an inducement to advertisers, it is held out that the circulation of the Gazette will extend, not only through the British colonies, but also through the West India Islands and the trading ports of Great Britain and Ireland. The address very sensibly concludes with the following remarks, which, however, cast a shade over the rather tedious prolegomena: ‘Our intention to please the whole, without offence to any individual, will be better evinced by our practice than by writing volumes on this subject. This one thing we beg may be believed, that party prejudice or private scandal will never find a place in this paper.’
“With this large promise began the first Canadian newspaper on the 21st of June, 1764.
“The news in the first number is all foreign. There are despatches from Riga, St. Petersburg, Rome, Hermanstadt, Dantzic, Vienna, Florence and Utrecht, the dates ranging from the 8th of March to the 11th of April. There are also items of news from New York, bearing date the 3rd, and from Philadelphia the 7th of May. News-collecting was then a slow process, by land as well as by sea.
“Of the despatches, the following is of historical importance: ‘London, March 10th. It is said that a scheme of taxation of our American colonies has for some time been in agitation, that it had been previously debated in the Parliament whether they had power to lay a tax on colonies which had no representative in Parliament and determined in the affirmative,’ etc. The occasional insertion of a dash instead of a name, or the wary mention of a ‘certain great leader’ or ‘a certain great personage’ tell a simple tale of the jealousy with which the press was then regarded both in England and on the continent. The prosecution of Smollett, Cave, Wilkes and others were still fresh in the minds of printers and writers.
“Another despatch informs the readers of the Gazette of an arrêt lately issued for the banishment of the Jesuits from France, and another of a deputation of journeymen silk weavers who waited on the King at St. James with a petition setting forth their grievances from the clandestine importation of French silk, to which His Majesty graciously replied, promising to have the matter properly laid before Parliament.
“An extract from a letter from Virginia gives an account of some Indian outrages, and there is some other intelligence of a similar nature. The other news is of a like temporary interest.
“I have already mentioned a masonic advertisement. I now give it in full:
Notice Is Hereby Given
That on Sunday, the 24th, being the Festival of St. Jhon (sic), such strange BRETHREN who may have a desire of joining the Merchants Lodge, No. 1, Quebec, may obtain Liberty, by applying to Miles Prenties, at the Sun, in St. John Street, who has Tickets, Price Five Shillings, for that Day.
“One thing is evident, that a printing establishment of 1764 had to be supplied with abundance of italics and capitals to meet the exigencies of the typographic fashion of the time.
“Of the two remaining advertisements, one is an order of the Collector of Customs for the prevention of composition for duties and the other gives a list of ‘an assortment of goods,’ ’just imported from London, and to be sold at the lowest prices by John Baird, in the upper part of Mr. Henry Morin’s house at the entry of the Cul de Sac’—an assortment which is very comprehensive, ranging from leather breeches to frying-pans. From this and subsequent trade advertisements we are able to gather some not unimportant information as to the manner of living of the citizens of Quebec in those days.” [22]
William Brown was succeeded in the editorship and proprietorship of this venerable sheet by his nephew, Samuel Neilson, the elder brother of John Neilson, who for years was the trusted member for the County of Quebec; as widely known as a journalist—a legislator—in 1822 our worthy ambassador to England—as he was respected as a patriot.
Samuel Neilson had died in 1793;—his young brother and protégé, John, born at Dornald, in Scotland, in 1776, being, in 1793, a minor, the Gazette was conducted by the late Rev. Dr. Alex. Sparks, his guardian, until 1796. When John Neilson became of full age, he assumed the direction of the paper for more than half a century, either in his own name or in that of his son Samuel. Hon. John Neilson closed his long and spotless career, at his country seat (Dornald), at Cap Rouge, on the 1st February, 1848, aged 71 years. Who has not heard of the Nestor of the Canadian Press, honest John Neilson? May his memory ever remain bright and fragrant—a beacon to guide those treading the intricate paths of Journalism—a shining light to generations yet unborn!
In a pretty rustic cemetery, the site of which was presented by himself to the Presbyterian Church of Valcartier, near Quebec, were laid, on the 4th February, 1848, the remains of this patriotic man—escorted by citizens of every origin, after an eloquent address had been delivered by the Rev. Dr. John Cook, the present pastor of St Andrew’s Church.
The Literary and Historical Society of Quebec is indebted to his son John
Neilson, of Dornald, for a precious relic, the iron lever of the first
Press used at Quebec in 1764—precious, indeed, as a souvenir of Canadian
Journalism.
There are indeed many Scotch names associated with the Quebec Press. Space precludes us from enlarging more on this subject. In alluding to notable Quebec Journalists we are bound to name Daniel Wilkie, LL.D., the editor of the Quebec Star,—a literary gazette—in 1818—still better remembered as the esteemed instructor of Quebec youth for forty years.
Dr. Wilkie was born at Tollcross, in Scotland, in 1777, one year later than John Neilson: he settled in Quebec in 1803, and died here on the 10th May, 1851. His pupils had the following truthful words inscribed on the monument they erected to their patron in Mount Hermon cemetery:
“He was a learned scholar
And indefatigable student of philosophy and letters,
An able and successful instructor of youth,
Of genuine uprightness and guileless simplicity
A devout, benevolent and public spirited man.”
The Abbé Vignal resided at the corner of St. Louis and Parloir street, previous to joining the Sulpiciens. In October, 1661, he was roasted alive and partly eaten by the Mohawks at Isle à la Pierre, la Prairie de la Magdeleine, near Montreal. In our day, the judicial and parliamentary heads, and the Bar have monopolized the street. In it have resided at various times, Sir N. F. Belleau, Chief Justice Duval, the Judges Taschereau, Tessier, Bossé, Caron, Routhier; Hon. H. L. Langevin, P. Pelletier, M.P.; Messrs. Bossé, Baby, Alleyn, Languedoc, Tessier, Chouinard, Hamel, Gauthier, Bradley, Dunbar, cum multis aliis, some of whose rustic clients are as early birds as those in the days of Horace, and scruple not to wake up their trusted advisers, “sub galli cantum.” [23]
St. Louis street legal luminaries are careful not to endanger their hard-earned reputations by delivering their consultations with the oracular, Solon-like gravity of the barristers who flourished in the palmy days of Hortensius or Justinian. ’Twould be an anachronism. The traditional fee, however, is rarely omitted. A busy day, indeed, in this neighborhood, watched over by the shades of Louis XIII., St. Louis street, is, in each year, the 1st of September, when the close of the sultry midsummer vacation brings round “the first day of term,” then
“Grave gownsmen, full of thought, to ‘chambers hie, From court to court, perplexed, attorneys fly; … each! Quick scouring to and thro’, And wishing he could cut himself in two That he two places at a time might reach, So he could charge his six and eightpence each.” —(The Bar, a Poem, 1825.)
Matters judicial, legal, financial, etc., have much changed—we are inclined to say improved—in Canada, especially for the Judges. “I will not say,” writes the satirical La Hontan, “that justice is more chaste and disinterested here than in France; but, at least, if she is sold, she is sold cheaper. We do not pass through the clutches of advocates, the talons of attorneys and the claws of clerks. These vermin do not infest Canada yet. Everybody pleads his own cause. Our Themis is prompt, and she does not bristle with fees, costs and charges. The judges have only four hundred francs a year—a great temptation to look for law in the bottom of the suitor’s purse. Four hundred francs! Not enough to buy a cap and gown, so these gentry never wear them.” [24] Justice is not now sold, either in Quebec or elsewhere, but judges, on the other hand, viz., in Ottawa, receive, not “four hundred francs,” but thirty-five thousand francs ($7,000) a year, and have “enough to buy a cap and a gown,” yea, and a brilliant red one, to boot. Voilà un progrès.
On an old plan, in our possession, of the Cape and Mount Carmel, showing the whereabouts of lots and the names of their proprietors, drawn by Le Maître Lamorille, a royal surveyor, bearing date 20th May, 1756, and duly sanctioned by the French Intendant Bigot on the 23rd January, 1759, can be seen at Mont Carmel, St. Louis street, a lot marked “No. 16, M. Pean.” [25]
M. Pean, Town Major of Quebec, a trusted confederate of the Intendant Bigot, the proprietor of this land, was the husband of the beautiful Angélique de Meloises, the inamorata of the voluptuous and munificent Intendant. In her youth she had been a pupil of the Ursuline nuns. In his Reminiscences of Quebec, 2nd edition republished in 1859, Col. Cockburn thus alludes to this St. Louis street house (now Dominion property and occupied by Lt.-Col. Forest and Lt.-Col. D’Orsonnes). “It sometimes happened in those days, when a gentleman possessed a very handsome wife, that the husband was sent to take charge of a distant post, where he was sure to make his fortune. Bigot’s chère amie was Madame P—— in consequence of which as a matter of course, Mr. P—— became prodigiously wealthy. Bigot had a house that stood where the officers barracks in St Louis street, now (1851) stands. One New Year’s Day he presented this house to Madame P—— as a New Year’s gift.”
Mr. Kirby, in his “Chien d’Or,” a historical novel of rare Merit, thus recalls this house—“The family mansion of the des Meloises was a tall and rather pretentious edifice overlooking the fashionable rue St Louis where it still stands, old and melancholy as if mourning over its departed splendors. Few eyes look up now-a-days to its broad façade. It was otherwise when the beautiful Angélique de Meloises sat of summer evenings on the balcony, surrounded by a bevy of Quebec’s fairest daughters, who loved to haunt her windows where they could see and be seen to the best advantage exchanging salutations, smiles and repartees with the gay young officers and gallants who rode or walked along its lively thoroughfare.”
The novelist has selected this historic house for the meeting of the lovers, on Christmas Eve 1748. Here Le Gardeur de Repentigny, the loyal and devoted cavalier was to meet the fascinating, but luckless Cleopatra of St Louis street a century ago and more.
“As Le Gardeur spoke, adds Mr. Kirby; a strain of heavenly harmony arose from the chapel of the Convent of the Ursulines, where they were celebrating midnight service for the safety of New France. Amid the sweet voices that floated up on the notes of the pealing organ was clearly distinguished that of Mère St. Borgia, the aunt of Angélique, who led the choir of nuns. In trills and cadences of divine melody, the voice of Mère St. Borgia rose higher and higher, like a spirit mounting the skies. The words were indistinct, but Angélique knew them by heart. She had visited her aunt in the convent, and had learned the new hymn composed by her for the solemn occasion. As they listened with quiet awe to the supplicating strain, Angélique repeated to Le Gardeur the words of the hymn as it was sung by the choir of nuns:—
Soutenez, grande Reine,
Notre pauvre pays!
Il est votre domaine,
Faites fleurir nos lis!
L’Anglais sur nos frontières,
Porte ses étandards
Exaucez nos prières
Protégez nos remparts!”
“The hymn ceased. Both stood mute until the watchman cried the hour in
the silent street.”
We shall not follow further the beautiful but heartless Cleopatra through her deadly schemes of conquest, or in her flight after the Intendant. Sixteen years after the departure of the Court beauty, on a dark, stormy winter morning, the 31st December, 1775, a loud note of alarm awoke at dawn from their slumbers the demure denizens of St. Louis street. It was the captain of the guard, Captain Malcolm Fraser, [26] formerly of Fraser’s Highlanders (78th), but now of the 84th Royal Emigrants, Col. Allan McLean—who, on going his rounds between 4 and 5 in the morning, had passed the guard at St. Louis gate, and had noticed flashes like lightning on the heights without the works. Convinced it was for an attack, he sent notice to all the guards, and ran down St. Louis street, calling “Turn out” as loud and as often as he could. The alarm soon caught the quick ear of the General (Guy Carleton) and the picquet at the Récollets Convent was instantly turned out. Captain Fraser’s alarm was timely. Before eight o’clock on that memorable December morning, Benedict Arnold had been wounded, routed at the Sault au Matelot barricade, and 427 of his daring men taken prisoners of war, whilst the Commander-in-Chief, Brigadier-General Richard Montgomery and thirteen followers were lying dead in their snowy shrouds at Près-de-Ville. The rest had taken flight.
The saddest sight ever witnessed in St. Louis street was that which heralded to its awe-struck denizens the issue of the momentous conflict on the adjoining heights in Sept. 1759.
In the paper read by the writer before the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, on the 3rd of December, 1879, the mournful appearance of the French hero, Montcalm, is thus described:—
“The morning of the 13th September, 1759, has dawned; an astounding rumour fills the air; the citizens of Quebec repeat with bated breath: Wolfe’s army is at the gates of the city.
“Hark! What means this deafening roar of artillery—this hissing of shot and shell—these rolling, murderous volleys of musketry in the direction of the heights of Abraham?
“Hark! to these loud cheers—British cheers mixed with the discordant yells of those savage warriors, Fraser’s Highlanders! The fate of a continent has just been decided. The genius of William Pitt has triumphed, though victory was bought at a dear price.
“Here comes from St. Louis gate [27] on his way to the Château, pale, but dauntless—on a black charger—supported by two grenadiers, one on each side of his horse, a General officer wearing the uniform which won at Fontenoy, won at Laufeldt, as well as at the Monongahela [28] and at Carillon. [29] A bloody trail crimsons the Grande Allée, St. Louis street, on that gloomy September day. My friends, ’tis the life-blood of a hero. Drop in reverential silence, on the moistened earth, a sympathetic tear; France’s chivalrous leader, the victor of many battle-fields, has returned from his last campaign.
“Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu! Le Marquis est tué,” is repeated by female voices as the death-stricken but intrepid general glides past, to which he courteously replies, trying to quiet their fears, ‘that he was not seriously hurt, and not to distress themselves on his account.’ ‘Ce n’est rien! ce n’est rien! ne vous affligez pas pour moi, mes bonnes amies.’
“You have all heard the account of the death-bed scene—of his tender solicitude for the good name of France—of his dying injunctions to de Ramesay, the King’s lieutenant in charge of the Quebec Garrison, and to the Colonel of the Roussillon Regiment. ‘Gentlemen, to your keeping I commend the honour of France. Endeavour to secure the retreat of my army to-night beyond Cape Rouge. As for myself, I shall pass the night with God, and prepare for death.’
“At nine o’clock in the evening of that 14th of September, 1759, a funeral cortege, issuing from the castle, winds its way through the dark and obstructed streets to the little church of the Ursulines. With the heavy tread of the coffin-bearers keeps time the measured footsteps of the military escort. De Ramesay and the other officers of the garrison following to their resting-place the lifeless remains of their illustrious commander-in-chief. No martial pomp was displayed around that humble bier, but the hero who had afforded at his dying hour the sublime spectacle of a Christian yielding up his soul to God in the most admirable sentiments of faith and resignation, was not laid in unconsecrated ground. No burial rite could be more solemn than that hurried evening service performed by torchlight under the dilapidated roof of a sacred asylum, where the soil had been first laid bare by one of the rude engines of war—a bombshell. The grave tones of the priests murmuring the Libera me, Domine were responded to by the sighs and tears of consecrated virgins, henceforth the guardians of the precious deposit, which, but for inevitable fate, would have been reserved to honour some proud mausoleum. With gloomy forebodings and bitter thoughts de Ramesay and his companions in arms withdrew in silence.
“A few citizens had gathered in, and among the rest one led by the hand his little daughter, who, looking into the grave, saw and remembered, more than three fourths of a century later, the rough wooden box, which was all the ruined city could afford to enclose the remains of her defender.
“The skull of the Marquis of Montcalm, exhumed in the presence of the Rev. Abbé Maguire, almoner, in 1833, many here present, I am sure, have seen in a casket, reverently exposed in the room of the present almoner of the Ursuline Convent.”