The river St. Lawrence below Quebec is a mighty arm of the sea,
stretching in from the Atlantic, through a vast valley enclosed by the
primeval forest. The northern shore shows the domination of
ruggedness, for here begins the mountain wall of the Laurentides,
stretching far away northeastward down the river towards Labrador. The
southern shore is less forbidding, having wide fertile slopes rising
to a background of wooded hills. Along the river bank is a sparsely
scattered strip of humanity, which is likened to a rosary, having the
primitive farmhouses for beads, and at every few miles a tall,
cross-crowned church spire. Set in between the river banks, just below
Quebec, is the broad and fertile Isle of Orleans, but beyond this the
St. Lawrence is six miles wide, and steadily broadens, attaining
twenty-four miles width at Tadousac, the mouth of the Saguenay, and
thirty-five width at Metis, one hundred and fifty miles below Quebec.
The Isle of Orleans is twenty miles long and very fertile, largely
supplying the markets of Quebec. To the northward Mount Sainte Anne,
the guardian of the famous shrine, rises twenty-seven hundred feet.
Jacques Cartier so liked the grapes grown on the island that he called
it the Isle of Bacchus, but the king, Francis I., would not have it
so, and named it after his son, the Duke of Orleans. Here were
massacred the Hurons by the Iroquois, who captured from them the great
cross of Argentenay, carrying it off to their stronghold, on Onondaga
Lake, New York, in 1661. On the northern shore of the island is the
old stone church of St. Laurent and farther along that of St. Pierre,
the meadows hereabout providing good shooting. The faithful at St.
Laurent were said to have been long the envied possessors of a piece
of the arm-bone of the Apostle Paul, a most precious relic, which was
clandestinely seized and taken over to St. Pierre Church. This made a
great commotion, and some of the young men of St. Laurent made an
expedition at night, entered the church, recaptured the relic, and
brought it back with some other articles, restoring it to the original
shrine. A controversy between the villagers followed, growing so
fierce that an outbreak was threatened, and the Archbishop at Quebec
had to intervene to keep the peace. He ordered each church to restore
the other its relics, which was done with solemn ceremony, processions
marching along the road between the villages, and making the exchange
midway, a large black cross since marking the spot.
The great promontory of the Laurentides, Cape Tourmente, stretches to
the river, with the dark mass of ancient mountains spreading beyond in
magnificent array, the cliffs rising high above the water, firs
clinging to their sides and crowning their worn and rounded summits.
On top of Tourmente the Seminarians have erected a huge cross, seen
from afar, with a little chapel alongside. The old Canadian traveller,
Charlevoix, said Cape Tourmente was probably so-called "because he
that gave it this name suffered here by a gust of wind."
"At length they spy huge Tourmente, sullen-browed,
Bathe his bald forehead in a passing cloud;
The Titan of the lofty capes that gleam
In long succession down the mighty stream."
Here are Grosse Isle, the quarantine station for the river, and the
Isle aux Coudres--Hazel Tree Island,--behind which a break in the
Laurentides makes a pleasant nook, the Bay of St. Paul, having little
villages named after the saints all about. Below, the mountain range
rises into the great Mount Eboulements, twenty-five hundred feet high,
its sides scarred by landslides brought down by various earthquakes,
which were once so frequent that the Indians called the region
Cuscatlan, meaning "the land that swings like a hammock." The name of
this mountain means the "falling, shaking, crumbling mountain," but
it is nevertheless now noted as the haughtiest headland of the
Laurentides. This whole region has been a great sufferer from volcanic
disturbances, the chief being in 1663, when the historian says "the
St. Lawrence ran white as milk as far down as Tadousac; ranges of
hills were thrown down into the river or were swallowed up in the
plains; earthquakes shattered the houses and shook the trees until the
Indians said that the forests were drunk; vast fissures opened in the
ground and the courses of streams were changed. Meteors, fiery-winged
serpents and ghostly spectres were seen in the air; roarings and
mysterious voices sounded on every side, and the confessionals of all
the churches were crowded with penitents awaiting the end of the
world." Below this frowning mountain, the little Murray River flows
in, making a deep bay and sandy beaches, and far back, under the
shadows of the bordering hills, are the parish church and the French
village of St. Agnes up the river. This place is Murray Bay, a
favorite watering-place, known as Malbaie among the French, the hotels
and wide one-story cottages of this Canadian Newport being scattered
in the ravine and on the hill-slopes. When Champlain first entered
this bay in 1608 he named it Malle Baie, explaining that this was
because of "the tide that runs there marvellously." It is said that an
attempt was once made to settle Murray Bay with Scotch emigrants, but
the families who were sent out soon succumbed to the overwhelming
influence of the surroundings, and their descendants, while having
unmistakable Scottish names, have adopted the French language and
customs. Over on the southern bank, thirty miles away, for the river
is now very wide, is another favorite resort, Riviere du Loup, with
the adjacent village of Kamouraska, the great church of St. Louis and
a large convent being prominent in the latter.
Riviere du Loup is the best developed of the watering-places of the
Lower St. Lawrence. The shore is gentle, and in sharp contrast with
the rugged northern bank. The village spreads on a broad plateau,
formed by the inflowing stream, there being hotels and boarding-houses
scattered about, a tall-spired church back of the town, and a long
wharf stretching out in front. To the eastward the sloping shore
extends far away to Cacouna, eight miles below, another favorite
resort also sentinelled by its church. The Riviere du Loup (Wolf
River) naming this place flows out of the distant southern mountains
to the St. Lawrence, and is said to have been so called from the
droves of seals,--called by the French "loups-marines"--formerly
frequenting the shoals off its mouth. Just back of the village the
stream plunges down a waterfall eighty feet high. Cacouna is the most
fashionable resort of the southern shore, and a place of comparatively
recent growth, its semicircular bay with a good beach and the cool
summer airs being the attractions. In front and connected by a low
isthmus is a large peninsula of rounded granite rock, shaped much like
a turtle-back and rising four hundred feet. From this came the Indian
name, Cacouna, or the turtle.