A SIGHT-SEEING TOUR
One beautiful June morning, Miss Anstruther, the governess for the
Dudley children, decided that she would like to take her pupils on a
sight-seeing tour about the city of Montreal, so that their study of
local history might become something more than dry facts and dates to
be memorized.
When they boarded the "around the mountain" car, they were delighted
to find Oisette Mary sitting beside her mother in one of the front
seats. Her hair was braided extra tight and her cheeks shone with soap;
otherwise she was her placid little self.
The Dudley children were in high spirits and they raced through the car
to get seats near their chum. "We are to study with our eyes and ears
to-day and not from books. Can't you come along with us?"
Finally Madame Tremblent was appealed to. She was on her way for a
morning's shopping and she always went to The Bon Marche, kept by The
Dupuis Freres, where all the clerks were French, and all the signs read
in that language; she was armed with a long list of necessities for her
growing family, and as Oisette was sadly in need of a hat she had been
commanded to escort her parent thither.
When they reached the Mount Royal station, where every one must
transfer east or west, Miss Anstruther, gathering from the look of
appeal in the little French girl's eyes that she really would like to
join the sight-seers, said to the mother, in her soft French accent,
"If Madame would trust her little girl to me, I would select the hat
at Goodwears Departmental, as we have a message there to change some
boots for George; and I recently purchased these sailor hats the
children are now wearing in their millinery department. She could wear
the new hat home and I would have the heavy one sent out on the noon
delivery." Oisette was wearing a purple felt hat adorned with a green
bow and the day was warm.
Now, Madame Tremblent had herself longed to shop just once in the
English part of the city, but the thought of going alone, lest she
should not find persons who talked French, had prevented her from doing
so. It came to her that if she let Oisette go just once in such good
company, why, in a week or so the child could be her mother's guide
and she would see for herself all the wonderful things she had heard
her neighbors discuss as they walked home from mass each Sunday. So
she drew from her petticoat pocket a huge wallet and thrusting a bill
in Miss Anstruther's hand burst into a volley of French directed to
her offspring to be attentive, to take care and not to be too late in
returning home. Just then the tram for the east end appeared around the
curve, and Madame was gone before the surprised governess could make
any reply. The children tried to say it all over again--"Soyez exact
chez moi," "Prenez garde and bon jour."
"Prenez garde means safety first," explained Miss Anstruther, "so I beg
you all to keep with me, for Madame's advice was good, and here comes
our car for the west end."
Even the milliner took an interest in little Oisette. "It is so unusual
to see the two nationalities shopping together," she said. It did not
take long to find a white sailor hat with a gold and white ribbon
around the crown, a facsimile of the one Queenie was wearing; and the
other errands being done, they set out for the Château de Ramezay
in a cab. Their way lead down a steep hill, past The Windsor Hotel
and Dominion Square. In this square Oisette found another statue to
admire. This one was the bronze figure of a horse rampant and a figure
of a Canadian soldier was holding the animal by its bridle. This statue
is known as The Strathcona Horse and was erected in memory of the
brave Canadian boys who fell in the South African war. The regiment
was called The Strathcona Horse after Lord Strathcona, a very wealthy
Scotch Canadian who financed it in 1898.
"Did he race his horses?" asked the little French girl, for horse
racing was something she understood. This question made every one in
the car laugh, and Oisette was glad when the car turned into "Rue Notre
Dame" for here she was more at home and able to tell her little friends
more about the narrow streets that lead down to the river; how it was
possible in olden days to barricade each end of a narrow thoroughfare
from the Indians; finally they passed her beloved Notre Dame church,
and about a half mile further on they came to the Château de Ramezay.
Here they alighted and entered a quaint old gateway, flanked on each
side by pyramids of ancient cannon and cannon balls. The door, with its
curious knocker, stood open, and, entering, they found themselves in a
low ceiled hall.
The history of this building is contemporary with that of the city for
the last two centuries and so identified with past historical events
that it has been preserved from vandalism of modern improvement and is
a genuine relic of the old Régime in New France. Though only a story
and a half high, the Norman turrets on either corner of the building
add to its dignity, and the plaster walls (plastered over thick stone
walls) have a rich yellow color, reminding one of an ancient vellum
missal mellowed for centuries in a monkish cell.
In an old document still to be found in the archives of the St.
Sulpician Order, it is recorded that the land on which this château
stands was ceded to the Governor of Montreal in the year 1660, about
eighteen years after Maisonneuve planted the silken Fleur-de-Lys of
France on these shores. Somewhere about 1700 a part of this land was
acquired by Claude de Ramezay, when he came from France as a captain in
the army with the Viceroy de Tracy, and was for many years Governor of
Montreal and held official court in the Council Chamber to the right of
the entrance hall.
It was into this room that Miss Anstruther first ushered her party,
another long low room now used as a museum of rare and very valuable
relics of Canada's past. Everything is labeled by the Antiquarian
Society which has this building in its keeping. There were buckles
once the property of some gay French chevalier--there were bones of a
young Indian maiden discovered when builders on the mountainside were
excavating for a modern dwelling early in this century, even her wampum
belt was there, and from it those versed in Indian lore were able to
tell her age, her tribe and the fact that she had become Christianized.
Miss Anstruther instructed Queenie to read in French all the labels
aloud and let Oisette translate for them; in this way they got on
famously. On the left of the entrance is a salon where there is an old
harpsichord, some very interesting old oil portraits of early French
governors, and some curious candelabras and other furnishings of an
early period. This salon was where Madame de Ramezay entertained her
friends from France. How strange must these gayeties have seemed to the
dweller of the wigwam as the lights from the château shone out into
the night! Once, long, long ago, there was a garden in the rear of the
château which reached to the very water's edge; so the sound of the
dancing and the laughter must have carried out on the stream. Nowadays
this land behind the château is filled with warehouses, and the view of
the river gone for all time.
What a contrast to the burden-bearing squaws must have been the
gay French women in their powder and patches and hair dressed a la
Pompadour as they danced a minuet in their stiff brocades and sparkling
jewels, to the sound of a harpsichord.
"Oh, fair young land of La Nouvelle France,
With the halo of olden time romance,
Back like a half forgotten dream
Comes the bygone days of the Old Régime."
Some visitor wrote those words in the visitors' book where every one is
asked to inscribe his name.
After the children had absorbed the most important contents of these
two rooms they were ushered down a long flight of stairs, ladder-like
in their steepness, into the vaults of the château.
These vaults were once the kitchens and laundry of the great château,
the fireplaces were so huge the children walked right into them.
They were shown old spinning wheels, old churns, a curious wooden
bread-making machine and a mammoth brick oven, where twenty loaves of
bread could be baked with one firing. So one gathers that not all who
lived in this château were gay idlers after all.
The most interesting vault was one leading out of these kitchens, as it
was inky black owing to its having iron shutters, closed over closely
barred windows. This, it is said, was where the family, the guests and
all the servants had sometimes to hide from the Indians. When news
came that some hostile tribe was entering the city all the women and
children would be sent "en bas" (below).
After the English had taken Canada from the French, this same château
was occupied by Sir Jeffry Amherst in his British uniform, and it is
possible that from his garden he looked out over the river toward St.
Helen's Island and watched the smoke and flame arise from the fire
when General de Levis burned his colors rather than let them fall into
English hands.
Then again, in 1775, the Chateau de Ramezay was the headquarters of
the Continental army of America, and Commissioners met in the council
chamber to try and untangle affairs after Montgomery's siege of Quebec
had failed.
Benjamin Franklin was one of this commission, and down in the old
vaults he set up the first printing-press that Canada ever had, and he
issued manifestoes to the people.
"So, you see," said Miss Anstruther, as they finally left this famous
spot, "that one building has housed first the French, then the English,
and for a time some famous Americans, and nowadays tourists from
all nations come to see its contents. It is the grandest relic of an
illustrious past, and now, when you take up your history books and find
the names of some of these men and women, they will seem more like
people to you."
They had a long trolley ride into the west end of the city again, for
they wished to reach the Grey Nunnery on the stroke of twelve, noon,
for at this hour visitors are admitted to the Chapel.
At last the conductor rang his bell, stopped the car and called
out--"Guy--Gee--Guy"--you see, "Guy" is the name of the street on
which this convent has a visitors' entrance. The French pronunciation
sounds like "Gee," and as the conductor gives both French and English
names when he calls the streets it made the children all laugh to
hear "Guy--Gee--Guy--Grey Nunnery for you, Madame." This convent, so
called from the dress of its community, was founded in 1692, when
Louis Fourteenth granted power to establish general hospitals and other
institutions for the relief of the sick and aged poor in different
parts of the country. In a cemetery under the chapel lie buried the
bones of some of the sisters who long ago came from France to found
this order in a barren land--they have the heart of the first Mother
Superior preserved in alcohol, but this is shown only to a devout few.
A fire destroyed their first building, but the present convent has
stood as it is about seventy years and over the main entrance is the
inscription--"Mon père et ma mère m'ont abandonne, mais le seigneur
m'a recivelli." The governess read this aloud to her charges and then
translated it into "My father and my mother may forsake me but the
Saviour will receive me."
This building of massive gray limestone occupies a whole block and
houses one thousand souls. There are tiny babes whose parents have
deserted them, there are older boys and girls, orphans, there are sick
and aged old men and women, there are one hundred nuns and ninety
novices to do all the work. All these lives are regulated by the sound
of a convent bell.
Exactly on the stroke of twelve noon, the chapel doors open and
visitors are admitted. As soon as they are seated the nuns file in two
by two, and recite the stations of the Cross in a low monotone. Often
some nun with a very beautiful voice sings an anthem. When the service
is over a diminutive sister remains behind as a guide to take visitors
over the building; one who speaks French or English equally well.
It is all very clean, from the great kitchens with vats of pea soup
boiling and the laundries filled with steam in the basement, to the
very top of the building where there are play rooms for the tiny tots.
Here some of the older children line up and sing for the visitors and
are quite ready to receive coins or candies. There is one room where
blind people are taught to read and to do bead work, it is interesting
to watch them select the right shade of bead by simply feeling the end
of the box which holds them.
In another room there are nimble fingers making wax flowers, weaving
lace and doing embroidery.
The drug store was redolent with drugs and a young nun was busy filling
prescriptions; she laughed very hard when Queenie exclaimed: "Why, I
smell Gregory's mixture!" In a tiny room there was a dental chair,
in which was seated a young orphan, and a nun was busy filling this
child's teeth. Nobody was idle, even the very old men and women helped
with the scrubbing of the floors and woodwork.
It was just one o'clock when they came out again at the Guy Street
entrance, and Miss Anstruther said it was high time they had luncheon.
So they went to La Corona Café on that same street, and there, in a
delightful out of door garden, they sat at a small table with the
lovely blue sky above them and flowers all about them, and a very
attentive waiter. It is quite like a Parisian café. During their meal
they chatted together about what they had seen, and asked eagerly about
what was to follow.
"It is a puzzle to decide," said Miss Anstruther, "whether we had best
go up on Mount Royal where from that elevation I could point out to you
many historic spots of interest, including St. Helen's Island named
after Champlain's wife, who was a French Helen somebody--and Victoria
Bridge built when the late King Edward was a boy of eighteen and he
came out here on a tour, and stopped to drive the last rivet in this
bridge, and the location of Dollard's Lane, named from a brave young
Frenchman who fought the Iroquois--or shall we go out to Lachine by
trolley in time to take the boat over the rapids, that will bring us
into the docks by supper time and out home a half hour later.
"I vote for whichever will have the most about Indians," said George,
"we can see the Victoria Bridge when we travel any day." At this moment
a party of French politicians entered the enclosure and Oisette's eyes
dilated with amazement, "Mon père!" she exclaimed. Sure enough, it
was Monsieur Tremblent, and he, too, was amazed to behold his little
girl in a new white sailor hat. Miss Anstruther explained how Oisette
happened to be with them, so he took a great interest in their plans,
and after consulting with his party found he could put a motor car at
Miss Anstruther's disposal; in this they could cover more ground in the
city and be taken out to Lachine, then the party could see the rapids
and the car could be brought back to its owner at five o'clock, when he
would be returning from the political meeting.
Their plans were soon made, and their first stop was to be on
Sherbrooke Street just west of Guy Street, where behind huge gray
stone walls, is situated the grand seminary of the Sulpician Order.
Entering these grounds, they could see the huge building which houses
four hundred or more students, all preparing for the priesthood, but
one reason of their visit was to see the two stone towers in the
grounds which were built in very early times and remain standing in an
excellent state of preservation. One of these old towers was used as a
chapel for the Indian mission and the other as a school. A tablet on
the chapel tower bears the inscription "Here rest the mortal remains
of a Huron Indian baptized by the Reverend Père de Brebeuf. He was, by
his piety and by his probity, the example of the Christians, and the
admiration of the unbelievers; he died aged one hundred years the 21st
of April, 1690."
Miss Anstruther reminded George that he had but recently read in
Parkman's history about this same Rev. Père de Brebeuf, who was
tortured to death by the Iroquois with every cruelty devisable.
The school held in the other tower had, at one time, a famous native
teacher; she was called "the school mistress of the mountains," and
died in 1695, when but twenty-eight years old. Above the door of the
western wing of the great seminary is the legend in Latin "Hie evangel;
bantur Indi," "Here the Indians were evangelized."
Next they rode along Sherbrooke Street, past a beautiful art gallery
and some fine residences to the McGill University grounds, which lie
at the foot of the mountain slope. This college was founded in 1821
and named from its founder the Honorable James McGill. Then, just a
little further on, is the Royal Victoria college for women, donated by
Lord Strathcone, and a beautiful statue of Queen Victoria ornaments the
entrance steps--this statue was designed by the Princess Louise, one of
Queen Victoria's own children. Miss Anstruther said she hoped some day
her little students would become McGill graduates.
As motors are not allowed on Mount Royal, it was decided that they
would go out to Lachine by the lower road, in this way they passed
very many interesting places. Near the _Place d'Armes_ stood the house
of Sieur du Luth, from whom the city of Duluth was named, and west of
St. Lambert hill was a tiny house once the home of Cadillac, who left
the then little French village to proceed westward and found the now
beautiful city of Detroit.
In the years which came after, such men as Washington Irving, General
Montgomery, Benjamin Franklin, Benedict Arnold, John Jacob Astor all
lived for some time in Montreal, and all had something to do with the
making of its history. In many places the Antiquarian Society has
marked the various sites where these famous men made their homes.
On this lower road to Lachine, and within hearing of the sound of the
rapids, stands a very old windmill, said to have been built in 1666
when La Salle came to Montreal,--there are also crumbling remains of a
fortified château nearby and there is a well-founded legend that the
old chimney attached thereto was built by Samuel de Champlain himself
in his trading post of logs. The snowflakes of three hundred winters
have fallen into that great fireplace since those stones and mortar
were laid.
The Lachine Rapids were first run by a steamer in the summer of 1840 by
the side-wheeler _Ontario_--afterward this boat's name was changed to
_The Lord Sydenham_--and for very many years an Indian pilot took the
wheel and steered the course over treacherous rock and reef. From very
early times these rapids had been navigated by Indians in their frail
canoes, and they knew where the water was deep enough for a large boat
to go.
George Dudley was keen to see the village of Lachine itself and seemed
quite worried because everybody was alive and well, as he had but
recently read in his history of the Massacre of Lachine, but he had
forgotten that it happened in 1689. It was in the summer of that year
that the Iroquois descended upon this little hamlet on a very dark
night and surrounded every house at midnight, and then with terrible
yells and war-whoops destroyed every house and killed every living
being.
It was nearly five o'clock when the little party left their borrowed
automobile and boarded the steamer to shoot the rapids--they got right
in the bow of the boat and Oisette stood on a chair where she could see
the flying spray.
Altogether, it had been a wonderful event in her life, for French
Canadian children, as a rule, do not have a whole day's outing, and
when at last she was home again and tried to tell her mother about it,
the good woman crossed herself to think of the dangers her little girl
had come through.