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[Illustration: Hearths beside which were rocked the cradles of those who
made the history of Canada.]
FAMOUS FIRESIDES
OF
FRENCH CANADA
BY
MARY WILSON ALLOWAY.
ILLUSTRATED.
MONTREAL:
PRINTED BY JOHN LOVELL & SON
1899
Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year
one thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine, by MARY WILSON
ALLOWAY, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture and
Statistics at Ottawa.
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
LORD STRATHCONA AND MOUNT ROYAL, G.C.M.G., LL.D., &c.,
CHANCELLOR OF McGILL UNIVERSITY, MONTREAL,
AND
HIGH COMMISSIONER FOR CANADA IN LONDON,
THIS VOLUME
IS
BY SPECIAL PERMISSION
_Respectfully Dedicated_
BY
THE AUTHOR.
The principal authorities consulted in the preparation of this work were
Le Moyne, Kingsford, Rattray, Garneau, Parkman, Hawkins and Bouchette.
Acknowledgments are also due to the kind interest evinced and
encouragement given by the Hon. Judge Baby, President of the Numismatic
and Antiquarian Society of Montreal.
CONTENTS.
Chateau de Ramezay 19
Heroes of the Past 30
Chapel of Notre-Dame-de-la-Victoire 51
Le Seminaire 56
Cathedrals and Cloisters 58
Massacre of Lachine 82
Chateau de Vaudreuil 95
Battle of the Plains 103
Canada under English Rule 125
American Invasion 144
The Continental Army in Canada 155
Fur Kings 192
Interesting Sites 199
Famous Names 203
Echoes from the Past 212
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
Fireplace _Frontispiece._
Chateau Kitchen 24
Chateau de Ramezay 26
Montgomery Salon 28
Chapel of Notre Dame de la Victoire 52
Le Seminaire 56
Home of La Salle 84
St. Amable St. 98
Fort Chambly 146
Chateau Fortier 156
Franklin Vaults 170
PREFACE.
In offering this little volume to the kind consideration of Canadian and
American readers, it is the earnest wish of the Author that it may
commend itself to the interest of both, as the early histories of Canada
and the United States are so closely connected that they may be
considered identical.
We have tried to recall the days when, by these firesides, we re rocked
the cradles of those who helped to make Canadian history, and to render
more familiar the names and deeds of the great men, French, English and
American, upon whose valour and wisdom such mighty issues depended.
The recital is, we trust, wholly impartial and without prejudice.
It is to be hoped that the union of sentiment which the close of this
century sees between the two great Anglo-Saxon peoples may cast a veil
of forgetfulness over the strife of the one preceding it; and be a
herald of that reign of peace, when "nation shall no more rise against
nation, and wars shall cease."
[Illustration: Signature]
MARY WILSON ALLOWAY
MONTREAL, May 24, 1899.
INTRODUCTION.
About twelve years after the first Spanish caravel had touched the
shores of North America, we find the French putting forth efforts to
share in some of the results of the discovery. In the year 1504 some
Basque, Breton and Norman fisher-folk had already commenced fishing
along the bleak shores of Newfoundland and the contiguous banks for the
cod in which this region is still so prolific.
The Spanish claim to the discovery of America is disputed by several
aspirants to that honour. Among these are the ancient mariners of
Northern Europe, the Norsemen of the Scandinavian Peninsula. They assert
that their Vikings touched American shores three centuries before
Isabella of Castille drove the Moors from their palaces among the orange
groves of _Espana_. Eric the Red, and other sea-kings, made voyages to
Iceland and Greenland in the eleventh and following centuries; and it
is highly probable that these Norsemen, with their hardihood and
enterprise, touched on some part of the mainland. One Danish writer
claims that this occurred as far back as the year 985, about eighty
years after the death of the Danes' mortal enemy, the great Saxon King
Alfred.
Even the Welsh, from the isolation of their mountain fastnesses, declare
that a Cambrian expedition, in the year 1170, under Prince Modoc, landed
in America. In proof of this, there is said to exist in Mexico a colony
bearing indisputable traces of the tongue of these ancient Celts.
The term Canada first appears as the officially recognized name of the
region in the instructions given by Francis I to its original colonists
in the year 1538.
There are various theories as to the etymology of the word, its having
by different authorities been attributed to Indian, French and Spanish
origins.
In an old copy of a Montreal paper, bearing date of Dec. 24, 1834, it is
asserted that Canada or _Kannata_ is an Indian word, meaning a village,
and was mistaken by the early visitors for the name of the whole
country.
The Philadelphia _Courier_, of July, 1836, gives the following not
improbable etymology of the name of the province:--Canada is compounded
of two aboriginal words, _Can_, which signifies the mouth, and _Ada_ the
country, meaning the mouth of the country. A writer of the same period,
when there seems to have been considerable discussion on the subject,
says:--The word is undoubtedly of Spanish origin, coming from a common
Spanish word, _Canada_, signifying a space or opening between mountains
or high banks--a district in Mexico of similar physical features,
bearing the same name.
"That there were Spanish pilots or navigators among the first
discoverers of the St. Lawrence may be readily supposed, and what more
natural than that those who first visited the gulf should call the
interior of the country _El Canada_ from the typographical appearance of
the opening to it, the custom of illiterate navigators naming places
from events and natural appearances being well established."
Hennepin, an etymological _savant_, declares that the name arose from
the Spaniards, who were the first discoverers of Canada, exclaiming, on
their failure to find the precious metals, "_El Capa da nada_," or Cape
Nothing. There seems to be some support of this alleged presence of the
Spanish among the early navigators of the St. Lawrence, by the finding
in the river, near Three Rivers, in the year 1835, an ancient cannon of
peculiar make, which was supposed to be of Spanish construction.
The origins of the names of Montreal and Quebec are equally open to
discussion. Many stoutly assert that Montreal is the French for Mount
Royal, or Royal Mount; others, that by the introduction of one letter,
the name is legitimately Spanish--_Monte-real_. _Monte_, designating any
wooded elevation, and that _real_ is the only word in that language for
royal.
The word Quebec is attributed to Indian and French sources. It is said
that it is an Algonquin word, meaning a strait, the river at this point
being not more than a mile wide; but although Champlain coincided in
this view, its root has never been discovered in any Indian tongue. Its
abrupt enunciation has not to the ear the sound of an Indian word, and
it could scarcely have come from the Algonquin language, which is
singularly soft and sweet, and may be considered the Italian of North
American dialects.
Those who claim for it a French origin, say that the Normans, rowing up
the river with Cartier at his first discovery, as they rounded the
wooded shores of the Isle of Orleans, and came in sight of the bare rock
rising three hundred feet from its base, exclaimed "_Quel bec!_" or,
What a promontory! The word bears intrinsically strong evidence of
Norman origin.
Cape Diamond received its name from the fact that in the "dark colored
slate of which it is composed are found perfectly limpid quartz crystals
in veins, along with crystallized carbonate of lime, which, sparkling
like diamonds among the crags, suggested the appellation."
Famous Firesides
--OF--
French Canada
THE CHATEAU DE RAMEZAY.
A few yards from the busy municipal centre of the city of Montreal,
behind an antique iron railing, is a quaint, old building known as the
Chateau de Ramezay. Its history is contemporary with that of the city
for the last two centuries, and so identified with past stirring events
that it has been saved from the vandalism of modern improvement, and is
to be preserved as a relic of the old _Regime_ in New France. It is a
long one-storied structure, originally red-tiled, with graceful, sloping
roof, double rows of peaked, dormer windows, huge chimneys and the
unpolished architecture of the period.
Among the many historical buildings of America, none have been the scene
of more thrilling events, a long line of interesting associations being
connected with the now quiet old Chateau, looking in its peaceful old
age as out of keeping with its modern surroundings as would an ancient
vellum missal, mellowed for centuries in a monkish cell, appear among
some of the ephemeral literature of to-day.
A brilliant line of viceroys have here held rule, and within its walls
things momentous in the country's annals have been enacted. During its
checkered experience no less than three distinct _Regimes_ have followed
each other, French, British and American. In an old document still to be
found among the archives of the Seminary of St. Sulpice, it is recorded
that the land on which it stands was ceded to the Governor of Montreal
in the year 1660, just eighteen years after Maisonneuve, its founder,
planted the silken Fleur-de-Lys of France on the shores of the savage
Redman, and one hundred years before the tri-cross of England floated
for the first time from the ramparts.
Somewhere about the year 1700 a portion of this land was acquired by
Claude de Ramezay, Sieur de la Gesse, Bois Fleurent and Monnoir, in
France, and Governor of Three Rivers, and this house built.
De Ramezay was of an old Franco-Scottish family, being descended by
_Thimothy_, his father, from one Sir John Ramsay, a Scotchman, who, with
others of his compatriots, went over to France in the 16th century. He
may have joined an army raised for the French wars, or may have formed
part of a bridal train similar to the gay retinue of the fair Princess
Mary, who went from the dark fells and misty lochs of the land of the
Royal Stuarts to be the loveliest queen who ever sat on the throne of
_la belle France_. De Ramezay was the father of thirteen children, by
his wife, Mademoiselle Denys de la Ronde, a sister of Mesdames Thomas
Tarieu de La Naudiere de La Perade, d'Ailleboust d'Argenteuil, Chartier
de Lotbiniere and Aubert de la Chenage, the same family out of whom came
the celebrated de Jumonville, so well known in connection with the
unfortunate circumstances of Fort Necessity. The original of the
marriage contract is still preserved in the records of the Montreal
Court House; with its long list of autographs of Governor, Intendant,
and high officials, civil and military, scions of the nobility of the
country, appended thereto. The annals of the family tell us that some of
them died in infancy, several met violent and untimely deaths, two of
the sisters took conventual vows in the cloisters of Quebec, two
married, having descendants now living in France and Canada, and two
remained unmarried.
De Ramezay came over as a captain in the army with the Viceroy de Tracy,
and was remarkable for his highly refined education, having been a pupil
of the celebrated Fenelon, who was said to have been the pattern of
virtue in the midst of a corrupt court, and who was entrusted by Louis
the Fourteenth with the education of his grandsons, the Dukes of
Burgundy, Anjou and Berri. Had the first named, who was heir-presumptive
to the throne, lived to practice the princely virtues, the seeds of
which his preceptor had sown in his heart, some of the most bloody pages
in French history might never have been written.
De Ramezay, for many years being Governor of Montreal, held official
court in the Council chamber to the right of the entrance hall of the
Chateau, which is now a museum of rare and valuable relics of Canada's
past.
The Salon was the scene of many a gay rout, as Madame de Ramezay,
imitating the brilliant social and political life as it was in France in
the time of _Le Grand Monarque_, transplanted to the wilds of America
some reflection of court ceremonial and display as they culminated in
that long and brilliant reign. From the dormer windows above, high-bred
French ladies looked at the sun rising over the forest-clothed shores of
the river, on which now stands the architectural grandeur of the modern
city. How strange to the swarthy-faced dwellers in the wigwam must the
old-time gaieties have appeared, as the lights from the silver
_candelabres_ shone far out in the night, when the old Chateau was _en
fete_ and aglow with music, dancing and laughter.
What a contrast to the burden-bearing squaws were the dainty French
women in stiff brocade and jewels, high heels, paint, patches and
tresses _a la Pompadour_, tripping through the stately measures of the
minuet to the sound of lute or harpsichord!
"O, fair young land of _La Nouvelle France_,
With thy halo of olden time romance,
Back like a half-forgotten dream
Come the bygone days of the old _Regime_."
The servants and retainers, imitating their lords, held high revel in
the vaulted kitchens; while dishes and confections, savoury and
delicious, came from the curious fireplace and ovens recently discovered
in the vaults. These ancient kitchen offices, built to resist a siege,
are exceedingly interesting in the light of our culinary arrangements of
to-day. They were so constructed that if the buildings above, with their
massive masonry, were destroyed, they would afford safe and comfortable
refuge. The roof is arched, and, like the walls, is several feet thick,
of solid stone, lighted by heavily barred windows, with strong iron
shutters. In clearing out the walled-up and long-forgotten ovens, there
were found bits of broken crockery, pipe-stems and the ashes of fires,
gone out many, many long years ago. As indicated by an early map of the
city, the position of the original well was located; in which, when it
is cleaned out, it is intended to hang an old oaken bucket and drinking
cups as nearly as possible as they originally were.
[Illustration: Ancient kitchen and fireplace of the Chateau de Ramezay.
COPYRIGHT.]
Some time after the death of de Ramezay, which occurred in the city of
Quebec in 1724, these noble halls fell into the possession of the
fur-traders of Canada, and many a time these underground cellars were
stored with the rich skins of the mink, silver fox, marten, sable and
ermine for the markets of Europe and for royalty itself. They were
brought in by the hunters and trappers over the boundless domains of the
fur companies, and by the Indian tribes friendly to the peltrie trade.
As these hardy, bronzed men sat around the hearth, while the juicy
haunch of venison roasted on the spit by the blazing logs, relating
blood-curdling tales and hairbreadth escapes, they were a necessary
phase of times long passed away, but which will always have a
picturesqueness especially their own.
Instead of the white man's influencing the savage towards civilized
customs, it was often found, as one writer has said, that hundreds of
white men were barbarized on this continent for each single savage that
was civilized. Many of the former identified themselves by marriage and
mode of life with the Indians, developed their traits of hardihood and
acquired their knowledge of woodcraft and skill in navigating the
streams. In pursuit of the fur-bearing animals in their native haunts,
they shot the raging rapids, ventured out upon the broad expanse of the
treacherous lakes, and endured without complaint the severity of winter
and the exposure of forest life in summer.
[Illustration: CHATEAU DE RAMEZAY.]
Their ranks were continually increased by those who were impatient of
the slow method of obtaining a livelihood from the tillage of the soil,
when the husbandman was frequently driven from the plough by the sudden
attack of Indian foes, or interrupted in his hasty and anxious
harvesting by their war-whoop, or perhaps was compelled to leave his
farm to take up arms, if the occasion arose, so that in many instances
the homesteads were left to the old men, women and children. The
excitement of the chase and the wild freedom of the plains had a
fascination that many could not resist, so much so that the king had to
promulgate an edict, to stop, under heavy penalties, this roving life of
his Canadian subjects, as their nomadic tendencies interfered with the
successful settlement of the colony.
To the lover of the quaint architecture of other centuries, there is an
indescribable charm in these time-worn walls, which are still as
substantial as if the snows and rains of two centuries had not beaten
against them. The interior is equally interesting in this regard, as the
walls dividing the chambers and corridors, though covered with modern
plaster and stucco, are found to consist of several feet of solid stone
masonry, while the ornamental ceiling covers beams of timber, twenty
inches by eighteen, which is strong, well jointed and placed as close as
flooring. Above this is heavy stone work over twelve inches thick, so
that the sloping roof was the only part pregnable in an assault with the
munitions of war then in use. Upon removing a portion of the modern
wainscotting in the main reception room, there was discovered an ancient
fireplace, made of roughly hewn blocks of granite. A crescent-shaped
portion of the hearthstone is capable of removal, for what purpose it is
not known. With old andirons and huge logs, it looks to-day exactly as
it must have done when Montgomery and his suite, in revolutionary
uniform, received delegations in this chamber, and when Brigadier
General Wooster, who succeeded him, wrote and sent despatches by courier
from the French Chateau to the Colonial mansion at Mount Vernon.
[Illustration: Salon in which Montgomery held official receptions, 1775.
COPYRIGHT.]
The rooms of state in those days were, it is said, all in what is at
present the back of the house, the rear of the building being the front,
facing the river, down to which ran the gardens.
It may be that the moonlight cast on these panes the shadow of the noble
Sir Jeffrey Amherst, in his red coat, as looking out over the river he
may have seen the smoke of the fire lighted by de Levis, where he burnt
his colours rather than let them fall into the hands of the English.
[Illustration]
HEROES OF THE PAST.
On the river bank below the Chateau, tradition says, was the spot
trodden by Jacques Cartier, who gave the river its name. Born at the
time when all Europe was still excited over the tales of Columbus'
adventures, he left the white cliffs and grey docks of St. Malo, where
he had learned the sailor's craft, to search for the western route to
the Indies.
A little higher up, less than a century later, Champlain, to push on
actively his operations in the fur-trade, built his fort, the name which
he then gave the spot, "_Place Royale_," being recently restored to it.
In his wanderings for the further pursuance of this object, he
discovered Lakes Ontario, Huron and Champlain.
Being betrothed to a twelve year old maiden, Helene Bouille, the
daughter of a Huguenot, he named the island opposite the city, which
lies like a green gem among the crystal waters, Helene, in affectionate
remembrance of her who, at the end of eight years, was to join him in
his adventurous life.
The winding length of quiet, old St. Paul street, then an Indian trail,
following the course of the river through the oak forest, must often
have known the presence of this picturesque warrior in his
weather-beaten garments of the doublet and long hose then in vogue.
"Over the doublet he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a back
piece, while his thighs were protected by cuisses of steel and his head
by a plumed casque. Across his shoulders hung the strap of his
_baudolier_ or ammunition box, at his side was his sword, and in his
hand his arquebuse. Such was the equipment of this ancient Indian
fighter, whose exploits date eleven years before the Puritans landed,"
among the grey granite hills of New England.
He was an armourer of Dieppe, who, though "a great captain, a successful
discoverer and a noted geographer, was more than all a God-fearing,
Christian gentleman." He was more concerned to gain victories by the
cross than by the sword, saying:--"The salvation of a soul is of more
value than the conquest of an empire."
The year 1620 was a red letter day in the history of the Colony, when,
from a little vessel moored at the foot of the cliff, he led on shore at
Quebec his young bride, who with her three maids had come to the western
wilderness, the first gentlewoman to land on Canadian shores. He
conducted her to where is now the corner of Notre Dame and Sous-le-Fort
streets, to the rude "_habitation_" he had prepared for her reception,
which was poorly furnished and unhomelike in comparison to the one which
she had left over the sea. But history tells of no word of complaint nor
disappointment coming from the gentle lips; but, as the youthful
_chateleine_ sat by her hearth, it shed a light among the huts of the
settlers and dusky lodges of the natives, as her example of patience and
duty performed by the first refined, civilized fireside in the land
does to the thousands who have succeeded her. After almost three
hundred years, the "charms of her person, her elegance and kindliness of
manner" are still remembered. The chronicler tells us that the
"Governor's lady wore in her daily rambles, amongst the wigwams, an
article of feminine attire, not unusual in those days, a small mirror at
her girdle." It appealed irresistibly to the simple natures around her,
that "a beauteous being should love them so much as to carry their
images reflected close to her heart."
"The graceful figure of the first lady of Canada, gliding noiselessly
along by the murmuring waters of the St. Lawrence, showering everywhere
smiles and kindness, a help-mate to her noble lord, and a pattern of
purity and refinement, was indeed a vision of female loveliness" which
time cannot obliterate nor forgetfulness dim. The domestic life of the
colony dates from about the time of her arrival, the first regular
register of marriage being entered in the following year; two months
after the first nuptial ceremony was performed in New England. The
first christening took place in the same year, 1621, the ordinance being
administered to the infant son of Abraham Martin, _dit L'Ecossais_,
pilot of the river St. Lawrence. This old pilot, named in the journal of
the Jesuits as _Maitre_ Abraham, has bequeathed his name to the famous
Plains, on which was decided the destiny of New France.
It was indeed a sorry day for the settlement when the inhabitants, on
the 16th of August, 1624, saw the white sails of Champlain's vessel
disappear behind what is now Point Levis, carrying back, alas! forever,
to the shores of her beloved France, Madame de Champlain, sighing for
the mystic life of the cloister, tired out by the incessant alarms and
the Indian ferocities spread around the Fort during the frequent
absences of her husband and her favourite brother, Eustache Bouille. The
daintily-nurtured French lady must have found the quiet of the old-world
convent a very haven of peace and rest. She died at Mieux, an Ursuline
Nun, in the order which subsequently was to be so closely identified
with the religious history of her wilderness home.
But monastic retreat had no attractions for the founder of Fort St.
Louis. Parkman says: "Champlain, though in Paris is restless. He is
enamoured of the New World, whose rugged charms have seized his fancy
and his heart. His restless thoughts revert to the fog-wrapped coasts,
the piney odours of the forests, the noise of waters and the sharp and
piercing sunlight so dear to his remembrance."
Among these he was destined to lay down his well worn armour at the
command of death, the only enemy before whom he ever retreated; for on
Christmas Day, 1635, in a chamber in the Fort at Quebec, "breathless and
cold lay the hardy frame which war, the wilderness and the sea had
buffeted so long in vain. The chevalier, crusader, romance-loving
explorer and practical navigator lay still in death," leaving the memory
of a courage that was matchless and a patience that was sublime.
For over two hundred and sixty years, no monument stood to celebrate
this true patriot's name, but now his statue stands in his city, near to
where he laid the foundations and built the Chateau St. Louis. Most
unfortunately his last resting place is unknown, notwithstanding the
laborious and learned efforts of the many distinguished antiquarians of
Quebec.
The Fort which Champlain built in 1620, and in which he died, was for
over two centuries the seat of government, and the name recalls the
thrilling events which clothed it with an atmosphere of great and
stirring interest during its several periods. The hall of the Fort
during the weakness of the colony was often, it is said, a scene of
terror and despair from the inroads of the ferocious savages, who,
having passed and overthrown all the French outposts, threatened the
Fort itself, and massacred some friendly Indians within sight of its
walls.
"In the palmy days of French sovereignty it was the centre of power over
the immense domain extending from the Gulf of St. Lawrence along the
shores of the noble river and down the course of the Mississippi to its
outlet below New Orleans.
The banner which first streamed from the battlements of Quebec was
displayed from a line of forts which protected the settlements
throughout this vast extent of country. The Council Chamber of the
Castle was the scene of many a midnight vigil, many a long deliberation
and deep-laid project, to free the continent from the intrusion of the
ancient rivals of France and assert her supremacy. Here also was
rendered, with all its ancient forms, the fealty and homage of the
_noblesse_ and military retainers, who held possessions under the Crown,
a feudal service suited to those early times, and which is still
performed by the peers at the coronation of our kings in Westminster
Abbey."
[Illustration: Frontenac]
Among the many dramatic scenes of which it was the theatre, no
occurrence was more remarkable than an event which happened in the year
1690, when "Castle St. Louis had assumed an appearance worthy of the
Governor-General, who then made it the seat of the Royal Government, the
dignified Count de Frontenac, a nobleman of great talents, long service
and extreme pride, and who is considered one of the most illustrious of
the early French rulers." The story is, that Sir William Phipps, an
English admiral, arriving with his fleet in the harbour, and believing
the city to be in a defenceless condition, thought he might capture it
by surprise. An officer was sent ashore with a flag of truce. He was met
half way by a French major and his men, who, placing a bandage over the
intruder's eyes, conducted him by a circuitous route to the Castle,
having recourse on the way to various stratagems, such as making small
bodies of soldiers cross and re-cross his path, to give him the
impression of the presence of a strong force. On arriving at the Castle,
his surprise we are told was extreme on finding himself in the presence
of the Governor-General, the Intendant and the Bishop, with a large
staff of French officers, uniformed in full regimentals, drawn up in the
centre of the great hall ready to receive him.
The British officer immediately handed to Frontenac a written demand for
an unconditional surrender, in the name of the new Sovereigns, William
and Mary, whom Protestant England had crowned instead of the dethroned
and Catholic James. Taking his watch from his pocket and placing it on a
table near by, he peremptorily demanded a positive answer in an hour's
time at the furthest. This action was like the spark in the tinder, and
completely roused the anger and indignation of his hearers, who had
scarcely been able to restrain their excitement during the reading of
the summons, which the Englishman had delivered in an imperious voice,
and which an interpreter had translated word for word to the outraged
audience.
A murmur of repressed resentment ran through the assembly, when one of
the officers, without waiting for his superior to reply, exclaimed
impetuously:--that the messenger ought to be treated as the envoy of a
corsair, or common marauder, since Phipps was in arms against his
legitimate Sovereign. Frontenac, although keenly hurt in his most
vulnerable point,--his pride--by the lack of ceremony displayed in the
conduct of the Englishman, replied in a calm voice, but in impassioned
words, saying loftily:--"You will have no occasion to wait so long for
my answer,--here it is:--I do not recognize King William, but I know
that the Prince of Orange is an usurper, who has violated the most
sacred ties of blood and religion in dethroning the King, his
father-in-law; and I acknowledge no other legitimate Sovereign than
James the Second. Do your best, and I will do mine."
The messenger thereupon demanded that the reply be given him in writing,
which the Governor haughtily refused, saying:--
"I am going to answer your master at the cannon's mouth; he shall be
taught that this is not the manner in which a person of my rank ought to
be summoned."
Charlevoix seems to have very much admired the lordly bearing of
Frontenac on this occasion, which was so trying to his self-control,
but, with an impartiality creditable to a Frenchman, he justly
chronicles his equal admiration for the coolness and presence of mind
with which the Englishman signalized himself in carrying out his
mission, under insults and humiliations scarcely to be looked for from
those who should have known better the respect due to a flag of truce.
The commander of the fleet, finding the place ready for resistance,
concluded that the lateness of the season rendered it unwise to commence
a regular siege against a city whose natural and artificial defences
made it a formidable fortress, and which, when garrisoned by troops of
such temper and mettle, it appeared impossible to reduce. It must also
be considered that Phipps had been delayed by contrary winds and pilots
ignorant of the river navigation, which combination of untoward
circumstances conspired to compel him to relinquish his design, which
under more favouring conditions he might have carried out with success,
and conquered the place before it could have been known in Montreal that
it was even in danger.
"Without doubt Frontenac was the most conspicuous figure which the
annals of the early colonization of Canada affords. He was the
descendant of several generations of distinguished men who were famous
as courtiers and soldiers." He was of Basque origin and proud of his
noble ancestry. He was born in 1620, and was distinguished by becoming
the god-child of the King, the royal sponsor bestowing his own name on
the unconscious babe, who was in after years to be a sturdy defender of
France's dominions over the ocean. He became a soldier at the age of
fifteen, and even in early youth and manhood saw active service and gave
promise of gallantry and bravery.
In October, 1648, he married the lovely young Anne de la Grange-Trianon,
a "maiden of imperious temper, lively wit and marvellous grace." She was
a beauty of the court and chosen friend of Mademoiselle de Montpensier,
the granddaughter of King Henry the Fourth. A celebrated painting of the
_Comtesse de Frontenac_, in the character of Minerva, smiles on the
walls of one of the galleries at Versailles.
The marriage took place without the consent of the bride's relatives,
and soon proved an ill-starred one, the young wife's fickle affection
turning into a strong repulsion for her husband, whom she intrigued to
have sent out of the country.
Her influence at court, and some jealousy on the part of the King
combined to bring about this end, and Frontenac was appointed Governor
and Lieutenant-General of _La Nouvelle France_.
Parkman says:--"A man of courts and camps, born and bred in the focus of
a most gorgeous civilization, he was banished to the ends of the earth,
among savage hordes and half-reclaimed forests, to exchange the
splendour of St. Germain and the dawning glories of Versailles for a
stern, grey rock, haunted by sombre priests, rugged merchants, traders,
blanketed Indians and wild bushrangers." When he sailed up the river and
the stern grandeur of the scene opened up before him, he felt as he
afterwards wrote:--
"I never saw anything more superb than the position of this town. It
could not be better situated for the future capital of an empire."
But the dainty and luxurious _Comtesse_ had no taste for pioneer life,
and no thought of leaving her silken-draped _boudoir_ for a home in a
rude fort on a rock; she therefore accepted the offer of a domicile with
her kindred spirit, Mademoiselle d'Outrelaise. The "_Divines_," as they
were called, established a _Salon_, which, among the many similar
coteries of the time, was remarkable for its wit and gaiety. It set the
fashion to French society, and was affected by all the leading spirits
of the Court and Capital.
Although an occasional _billet_ came from the recreant spouse to her
husband in the Castle St. Louis, no home life nor welcoming domestic
fireside threw a charm over his exile. The glamour with which affection
can glorify even the rudest surroundings was denied him in his long life
of seventy-six years.
To avoid the confusion to which the terms Fort St. Louis and Castle St.
Louis might lead, it must be understood that they in a measure were the
same, as the one enclosed the other.
In the year 1834, two hundred and fourteen years after the foundation of
this Chateau, a banquet was prepared for the reception of those invited
to partake of the official hospitality of the Governor; when suddenly
the tocsin sounded,--the dreaded alarm of fire. Soon the streets were
thronged with citizens, with anxious enquiries passing from lip to lip,
and ere long the cry was uttered: "To the Castle, to the Castle!"
The entire population of merchants and artisans, soldiers from the
garrison, priests from the monasteries, and citizens, rich and poor,
joined hands with the firemen to save the mediaeval fortress from
destruction, and its treasured contents from the flames. Old silver was
snatched from the banquet table by some who had expected to sit around
the board as guests.
At the head of the principal staircase, where it had stood for fifty
years or more, was a bust of Wolfe, with the inscription upon it:--
"Let no vain tear upon this bust be shed,
A common tribute to the common dead,
But let the good, the generous, the brave,
With God-like envy sigh for such a grave."
Fortunately, in the confusion of the disaster it was not overlooked, but
was carried to a place of safety. While every heart present could not
but be moved with the deepest feelings of regret at the loss of its
hoary walls, yet the beholder was forced to admire the magnificent
spectacular effect of the conflagration which crowned the battlements
and reflected over crag and river, as the old fort, which had stubbornly
resisted all its enemies during five sieges, fell before the devouring
element.
Its stones were permeated with the military and religious history of the
"old rock city," for, in the fifteen years of its occupancy by
Champlain, it was as much a mission as a fort. The historian says:--"A
stranger visiting the Fort of Quebec would have been astonished at its
air of conventual decorum. Black-robed Jesuits and scarfed officers
mingled at Champlain's table. There was little conversation, but in its
place histories and the lives of the saints were read aloud, as in a
monastic refectory. Prayers, masses and confessions followed each other,
and the bell of the adjacent chapel rang morning, noon and night. Quebec
became a shrine. Godless soldiers whipped themselves to penitence, women
of the world outdid each other in the fury of their contrition, and
Indians gathered thither for the gifts of kind words and the polite
blandishments bestowed upon them."
The site where the old Chateau St. Louis once stood, with its halo of
romance and renown, is now partially covered by the great Quebec
hostelry, the Chateau Frontenac, which in its erection and appointments
has not destroyed, but rather perpetuated, the traditions of the
"Sentinel City of the St. Lawrence."
"Chateau Frontenac has been planned with the strong sense of the fitness
of things, being a veritable old-time Chateau, whose curves and cupolas,
turrets and towers, even whose tones of gray stone and dulled brick
harmonize with the sober quaint architecture of our dear old Fortress
City, and looks like a small bit of Mediaeval Europe perched upon a
rock."
Under the promenade of Durham Terrace is still the cellar of the old
Chateau; and standing upon it, the patriot, whether English or French,
cannot but thrill as he looks on the same scene upon which the heroes of
the past so often gazed, and from which they flung defiance to their
foes.
On almost the same spot upon which Champlain had landed at Montreal, and
about seven years after his death, a small band of consecrated men and
women, singing a hymn, drew up their tempest-worn pinnace, and raised
their standard in the name of King Louis, while Maisonneuve, the ascetic
knight, planted a crucifix, and dedicated the land to God.
The city as it stands on this spot is a fulfilment of his vow then made,
when he declared, as he pitched his tent and lighted his camp-fire, that
here he would found a city though every tree on the island were an
Iroquois. On an altar of bark, decorated with wild flowers and lighted
by fireflies, the first mass was celebrated, and the birthnight of
Montreal registered.
From the little seed thus planted in this rude altar, a mighty harvest
has arisen in cathedral, monastery, church and convent, representing
untold wealth and influence. The early French explorer, with a "sword in
his hand and a crucifix on his breast," was more desirous of
Christianizing than of conquering the native tribes. So completely has
this creed become identified with the country's character and history,
that the province of Quebec is emphatically a Catholic community. So
faithfully have its tenets been handed down by generations of devout
followers of this faith, that even the streets and squares bear the
names of saints and martyrs, such as St. Francis Xavier, St. Peter, St.
John, St. Joseph, St. Mary, and in fact the entire calendar is
represented, especially in the east end of the town. St. Paul, which was
probably the first street laid out, is called after the city's founder
himself,--Paul Chomedy de Maisonneuve.
NOTRE-DAME-DE-LA-VICTOIRE.
A few rods to the west of the Chateau, through a vaulted archway leading
from the street, in the shadow of the peaceful convent buildings is a
little chapel called _Notre-Dame-de-la-Victoire_. The swallows
twittering under its broken eaves are now the only sign of life; and its
rotting timbers and threshold, forgotten by the world, give no
suggestion of the martial incident to which it owes its existence. While
the American Colonies were still English, the British Ensign floated
over Boston town, and good Queen Anne was prayed for in Puritan pulpits,
an expedition was fitted out under Sir Hovenden Walker to drive the
French out of Canada. In the previous year, 1710, the Legislature of New
York had taken steps to lay before the Queen the alarming progress of
Gallic domination in America, saying:--
"It is well known that the French can go by water from Quebec to
Montreal; from thence they can do the like through the rivers and lakes,
at the risk of all your Majesty's plantations on this Continent, as far
as Carolina."
In the command of Walker were several companies of regulars draughted
from the great Duke of Marlborough's Army. While he was leading it from
victory to victory for the glory of his King, his wife, the famous Sarah
Jennings, was making a conquest at home of the affections of the
simple-minded and susceptible Queen. It is remarkable that the coronet
of this ambitious woman should now rest on the brow of an American girl,
and that a daughter of New York should reign at Blenheim Castle. At that
period France possessed the two great valleys of North America, the
Mississippi and the St. Lawrence; to capture the latter was the aim of
the expedition.
[Illustration: CHAPEL OF NOTRE-DAME-DE-LA-VICTOIRE.
COPYRIGHT.]
As the hostile fleet sailed up the St. Lawrence, a storm of great
severity burst upon the invaders. Eight of the transports were recked on
the reefs, and in the dawn of the midsummer morning the bodies of a
thousand red-coated soldiers were strewn on the sands of
_Isle-aux-OEufs_. It has been said that an old sea-dog, Jean Paradis,
refused to act as pilot, and in a fog allowed them to run straight on to
death; and also that among those who perished was one of the court
beauties who had eloped with Sir Hovenden.
The disabled vessels retreated before the artillery of the elements, and
left Bourbon's Lilied Blue to wave for half a century longer over Fort
St. Louis. This bloodless victory for the French was attributed by them
to the intervention of the Virgin, in gratitude for which this chapel
was vowed and built, as was also another on the market place, Lower
Town, Quebec. The miraculous feature of the defeated invasion was
considered certain from the fact that a recluse in the convent near the
chapel, and who was remarkable for her piety, had embroidered a prayer
to the Virgin on the flag which the Baron de Longueuil had borne from
Montreal in command of a detachment of troops.
Some of the original interior fittings of the chapel still exist, but
the bell which chimed its first call to vespers, when the great city was
a quiet, frontier hamlet, has long been silent. It is to be regretted
that from its historical character it has not been preserved from decay,
but looks as time-worn and mouldering as does the rusty cannon in the
hall of the Chateau, which was one of the guns of the ill-fated fleet,
and over which the river had flowed for almost two hundred years. Seven
of England's sovereigns had lived, reigned and died, and in France the
Royal house had fallen in the deluge of blood that flowed around the
guillotine. Quebec had changed flags--the Tri-color had been unfurled
over the _Hotel-de-Ville_ at Paris, and the Stars and Stripes over the
new-born nation.
The thrones of Europe had tottered at the word of the Corsican boy,--he
had played with crowns as with golden baubles, and had gone from the
imperial purple to the mist-shrouded rocks of St. Helena. Eugenie, the
Beautiful, had ruled the world by her grace, and fled from the throne
of the haughty Louis to a loveless exile--while the old gun, with its
charge rusting in its mouth, lay in silence under the passing keels of a
million craft.
[Illustration]
LE SEMINAIRE.
Still more ancient is a venerable postern in the blackened wall of the
Seminary of St. Sulpice, near by, which is now the oldest building in
the city, being erected some fifty years before the Chateau. It leads by
a narrow lane to the gardens of the Monastery, which bloom quiet and
still here in the heart of the throbbing life of a city of to-day.
Generations of saintly men, under vows, have trodden in the shade of its
walks, trying with the rigours of monastic life to crush out the
memories of love and home left behind among the sun-kissed vineyards of
France. For two hundred years and more no woman's footstep had fallen
here among the flowers, until recently the wife of a Governor-General
was admitted on a special occasion. On the cobble-stones of the
courtyard, pilgrims, penitents, priests and soldiers have trodden, the
echoes of their footsteps passing away in centuries of years. Above the
walls, blackened by time and pierced by windows with the small panes of
a fashion gone by, the bells of the clock ring out the stroke of
midnight over one-third of a million souls, as it did the hours of
morning when the great-great-grandfathers of the present generation ran
to school over the grass-grown pavements of young Ville-Marie.
[Illustration: SEMINARY OF ST. SULPICE]
"The inimitable old roof-curves still cover the walls, and the
Fleur-de-Lys still cap the pinnacles" as in the days when Richelieu, the
prince of prelates, sought to plant the feudalism and Christianity of
old France on the shores of the new. They still rise against the blue of
Canadian skies unmolested, while in France, in the early years of the
century, popular frenzy dragged this symbol of royalty from the spires
of the churches and convents of Paris.
[Illustration]
CATHEDRALS AND CLOISTERS.
The Order of the Gentlemen of St. Sulpice is supposed to be very rich,
the amount of the immense revenues never being made public. They were
the feudal lords of the Island of Montreal in the earlier chapters of
its history. Through their zealous efforts and the generosity of their
parishioners was opened in the year eighteen hundred and twenty-nine the
grand church adjoining, that of _Notre Dame_, built on the site of the
original parish church. Viewing it from the extensive _plaza_ in front,
its imposing proportions fill the beholder with the same awe as when
looking at some lofty mountain peak, but its symmetry is so exquisite
that its size cannot at first be appreciated.
In imitation of its prototype, _Notre Dame de Paris_, twin towers rise
in stateliness to a height of two hundred and twenty-seven feet, and are
visible for a distance of thirty miles. The facade is impressive, the
style a modification of different schools adapted to carry out the
design intended. Three colossal statues of the Virgin, St. Joseph and
St. John the Baptist are placed over the arcades. The sublime structure
belongs to a branch of the Gothic, in the pointed arch type of
architecture which was brought home from the Crusades,--a style which
has come down from the time-honoured architecture of the old world, when
religious thought that now finds expression in books was written and
symbolized in stone.
From a vestibule at the foot of the western tower, an ascent of two
hundred and seventy-nine steps offers a most enchanting view of
mountain, river, street and harbour, with such a wilderness of dome,
steeple and belfry, that the exclamation involuntarily arises--this is
truly a city of churches!
On the descent, a pause on a platform gives the opportunity of admiring
"_Le Gros Bourdon_," or great bell, and one of the largest in the world.
It weighs twenty-four thousand, seven hundred and eighty pounds, and is
six feet high. Its mouth measures eight feet, seven inches in diameter.
The tone is magnificent in depth and fullness. On occasions such as the
death of high ecclesiastics or other solemn events, its tolling is
indescribable in its slow, sonorous vibrations. In the eastern tower
hang ten smaller bells of beautiful quality, and so harmonized that
choice and varied compositions can be performed by the eighteen ringers
required in their manipulation. On high festivals, when all ring out
with brazen tongues, caught up and re-echoed from spire to spire in what
Victor Hugo describes as:--"Mingling and blending in the air like a rich
embroidery of all sorts of melodious sounds"--America can furnish no
greater oratorio.
Its interior, which is profusely embellished and enriched, the spacious,
two-storied galleries, in a twilight of mysterious gloom, and an altar
upon which so much wealth has been consecrated, combine to make it a
temple worthy of any time or race.