Picturesque Quebec by James MacPherson Le Moine (page 2)

overlying goods before they went or sent to Europe for a reinforcement.

“The following books were advertised as ‘missing:’–Langhorn’s Plutarch, 1st vol., Thomson’s Works, 4th vol., Gordon’s ‘Universal Accountant,’ 1st vol.; and Gray’s Hudibras, 2nd vol. For each one of them there is offered a reward of _two dollars_! Reading was expensive recreation in those times.

“The reader, perhaps, has seen, or, it may be, possesses one of those old libraries, of which the general public occasionally have a glimpse at auction rooms, composed of standard authors, and beautifully and solidly bound, which had adorned the studies of the fathers of our country. They contain all that was best in the French and English literature of the last century–history, poetry, divinity, _belles lettres_, science and art. From these may be gathered what were the tastes, the culture and the thought of the Canadians of the last century.

“Music and painting were cultivated–the former being, as now, a necessary part of female education. Of a festival given by the young ladies of a place called _La Côte_, near Quebec, in 1764, it is promised in the programme that “the orchestra and symphony will be composed of instruments of all kinds.” It may interest some ladies to know that among the dances at the same entertainment are mentioned ‘l’Harlequinade,’ ‘La Chinoise,’ and ‘La Matelote Hollandaise’–some relation, perhaps, to the ‘Sailor’s Hornpipe.’

“The settlement in Canada of the United Empire Loyalists, after the peace of September, 1783, by which the independence of the revolted colonies was recognized, must have had a considerable influence on Canadian society, and more than atoned for sufferings inflicted on the colony during the progress of the war. Repeated efforts had been made by the Americans to engage the affections of the Canadians. Among those whom Congress had appointed commissioners to treat with the Canadian people on this subject was the renowned Dr. Benjamin Franklin, whose visit to this country was not the most successful portion of his career. Although in some instances there was a manifestation of disaffection to the British Government, the great bulk of the population remained unmistakably loyal. In the Quebec _Gazette_ of October 23rd, 1783, is found the Act of Parliament passed in favour of the Loyalists, in which the 25th day of March, 1784, is fixed as the limit of the period during which claims for relief or compensation for the loss of property should be received. How many availed themselves of the provisions of this act it is not easy to say, but the whole number of persons dispossessed of their estates and forced to seek another home in consequence of their continued allegiance, is set down at from 25,000 to 30,000. Of these, the great majority took up their abodes in the Canadas, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, while a few went to the West Indies, and others returned to England. The biographies of some of these Loyalist settlers in British North America would be full of interest and instruction. But records of family movements and vicissitudes are very rarely kept–most rarely in those cases in which adventures are most frequent and the course of events most changeful. I have, however, seen accounts of the early settlements in the Eastern Townships, P. Q., and in different portions of Ontario, which were full of the romance of faith, of courage, and of perseverance.”

THE ST. LOUIS HOTEL

A sketch of this fashionable thoroughfare–St. Louis street–the headquarters of the judiciary, barristers, politicians, etc., would be incomplete without a mention of the chief trysting-place of travellers and tourists for the last thirty years–the leading hostelry of Quebec. St. Louis Hotel is made up of two or more private dwellings joined together. That on the corner of Haldimand and St. Louis streets formerly was owned as a residence by the late Edward Burroughs, Esq., P. S. C. Next to it stood, in 1837, Schluep’s Hotel–the Globe Hotel–kept by a German, and where the military swells in 1837-8-9 and our jolly curlers used to have _recherché_ dinners or their frugal “beef and greens” and fixings. In 1848, Mr. Burroughs’ house was rented to one Robert Bambrick, who subsequently opened a second-class hotel at the corner of Ste. Anne and Garden streets, on the spot on which the Queen’s printer, the late Mr. George Desbarats, built a stately office for the printing of the _Canada Gazette_–subsequently sold on the removal of the Government to Ottawa –now the Russell House. The _Globe_ Hotel belonged to the late B. C. A. Gugy, Esq. It was purchased by the late Messrs Lelièvre & Angers, barristers, connected with two or three adjacent tenements, and rented, about 1852, to Messrs. Azro and Willis Russell (represented now by the Russell Hotel Company) for the St. Louis Hotel. Connected by a door through the wall with the Music Hall, it is a notable landmark in St. Louis street and an object of considerable interest to city cabmen as well, during the season of tourists. Its dining saloon, on the second flow, has witnessed many bountiful repasts, to celebrate social, military, political or literary events, none better remembered than that of the 17th of November, 1880, when the _élite_ of Quebec crowded in unusual numbers– about one hundred and eighty citizens, English and French–to do honour, by a public banquet, to the laureate of the French Academy, M. Louis Honoré Fréchette, [30] to celebrate his receiving in August last, in Paris, from the _Académie Française_, the unprecedented distinction, for a colonist, of the _Grand Prix Monthyon_ (2,000 livres) for the excellence of his poetry.

Subjoined will be found the names of some of those present, also, extracts from a few of the addresses delivered. We regret much that want of space precludes us from adding more of the eloquent speeches delivered, because they throw light for English readers on the high degree of culture French literature has attained at Quebec. All, we are sure, will rejoice with us that, for the cause of letters, M. Fréchette was timely rescued from the quagmire of political warfare and hustings promises.

_THE FRÉCHETTE DINNER, NOVEMBER 17, 1880._

“Mr. L. H. Fréchette, the laureate of the French Academy, was last night the recipient of marks of honor and esteem, in the shape of a magnificent banquet given him at the St. Louis Hotel, by the citizens of Quebec and vicinity. The tables were laid in the large dining hall of the St. Louis Hotel, which was handsomely decorated for the occasion. The walls were partially covered with French and English flags, and wreaths of evergreen surrounded all the windows. Behind the Chairman, on a bracket, was an excellent bust of the Canadian poet, having on either side paintings of scenes in Mr. Fréchette’s drama, ‘Papineau,’ by Mr. E. W. Sewell, Levis.

“Over 125 gentlemen sat down to the banquet, amongs-whom we noticed– The Honorable Judge Henri T. Taschereau, M. Lefaivre, Consul of France, Count de Premio-Real, Consul-General of Spain, the Baron Bols, Consul-General of Belgium, Major Wasson, Consul of the United States, M. Thors, Hon. W. Laurier, Hon. I. Thibaudeau, Hon. C. A. P. Pelletier, C.M.G. Hon. D. A. Ross, M.P.P., Achille Larue, N.P., Charles Langelier, M.P.P., Hon. H. G. Joly, M.P.P., Hon. F. Langelier, M.P.P., Hon. Arthur Turcotte, Speaker of the Assembly, Dr. Rinfret, M.P.P, P. B. Casgrain, N.P., James Dunbar, Esq., Q.C., Nazaire Turcotte, Dr. Colin Sewell, Oscar Dunn, C. Antil, B. Bédard, G. T. Davie, G. Paré, Henri Delagrave, W. E. Brunet, E. W Sewell, F. X. Lemieux, Faucher de St. Maurice, F. M. Dechêne, G. E. T. Rinfret, O. L. Richardson, Louis Bilodeau, Oscar Lanctôt, N. Levasseur, George Stewart, jr., Edward Thomas, D. Chambers, F. G. Gautier, Paul de Cazes, R. J. Bradley, D. J. Montambault, T. Godfroy Papineau, N.P., Montreal, De La Broquerie Taché, C. Massiah, James M. LeMoine, President Literary and Historical Society, W. J. Wyatt, Alphonse Pouliot, Dr. L. LaRue, Colonel Rhodes, Dr. Pourtier, C. Duquet, V. Bélanger, Charles Langlois, W. C. Languedoc, Alfred White, Peter McEwan, George Henry Powell, A. P. Beaulieu, Alfred Lemieux, Elie Lachance, Richard L. Suffur, Lieut.-Col. Turnbull, H. M. Price, R. St. B. Young, G. R. White, Captain Gzowski, J. U. Laird, Chariot, Fitzpatrick, E. Swindell, E. J. Hale, Cecil Fraser, Aug. Stuart, C. V. M. Temple, Timolaus Beaulieu, C. S. Beaulieu, N. Laforce, George Bouchard, L. N. Carrier, J. B. Michaud, Dr. Lamontagne. Dr. Collet, Arthur Lavigne, P. Boutin, M.P.P., F. Fortier, G. Bresse, J. S. C. Wurtele, M.P.P., P. E. Godbout, Paul Dumas, Lieutenant Drury, Captain Wilson, H. G. Sheppard, J. B. Charleson, Dr. Hubert LaRue, H. J. J. B. Chouinard, Président de l’Institut Canadien, H. J. Beemer, J. L. Renaud, E. W. Méthot, E. C. E. Gauthier, O. Leger, J. E. Pouliot, D. R. Barry, L. P. Lemay, Jacques Auger, Ernest Pacaud, J. Allaire, M.P., T. G. Tremblay, M.P., J. J. Gahan, Joseph Blondeau, Thomas Potvin, J. B. Z. Dubeau, Frs. Bertrand, J. C. Hamel, Emile Jacot, John Buchanan, Antoine Carrier, William Breakey.

“The Chair was occupied by Hon. Judge H. T. Taschereau, having on his right the guest of the evening, L. H. Fréchette, the Count Premio- Real, Hon. C. A. P. Pelletier, Mr. Wasson, Hon. F. Langelier, M. Thors of Paris, &c., and on his left the Consul-General for France, Hon. Mr. Laurier, Mr. Bols, Hon. D. Ross, &c.

“The banquet was given in the well-known excellent style of the Russell Hotel Company, which never leaves anything to be desired. After full justice had been done the good things provided for the occasion, silence was obtained, when the following resolution, presented to Mr. Fréchette by the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, was read by the Secretary, Mr. Delagrave:–

“At a monthly general meeting of the Literary and Historical Society, held on the 13th October last:

“It was proposed by Commander Ashe, R.N., seconded by R. McLeod, Esq.,

“That the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec has witnessed with the highest satisfaction the literary honours conferred in August last, by the _Académie Française_, on Monsieur Louis Honoré Fréchette, for the poetical excellence of his two poems, ‘Les Fleurs Boréales’ and ‘Les Oiseaux de Neige.’

“That the Academical crown, encircling the brow of a Canadian poet, ought to be as much prised by Canada as it must be dear to its gifted son, the Laureate of the French Academy.

“That such a signal distinction conferred by the highest literary tribunal, whilst it exhibits in such a favourable light the intellectual vigour of the Province of Quebec, cannot be otherwise than a subject of legitimate pride to the Dominion of Canada.

“That the President and Secretary of this Society be charged with the pleasant duty of conveying to Monsieur L. H. Fréchette the expression of the sentiments of admiration with which it views his literary success.

(Signed,) J. M. LEMOINE, President ALEX. ROBERTSON, Secretary

_Quebec_, 13th October, 1880.

“The usual loyal toasts–the Queen and Governor-General–were given by the Chairman, and enthusiastically honoured.

“The Chairman then proposed “France,” the toast being received with the usual honours and responded to by M. Lefaivre, the Consul-General for France.

“M. Lefaivre made an interesting speech, alluding to the past and present of France, to the communication between the France of the Old World and the _Nouvelle France_ of this Western hemisphere, dwelling upon the honours achieved by the guest of the evening in Paris, and contending that literature was the soul of a nation.

“The Chairman, Hon. Mr. Justice H. Taschereau, then rose to propose the toast of the evening, being received with loud and prolonged cheering. He said,–

“GENTLEMEN,–I have now the honour to propose the toast of the evening–the health of our distinguished fellow-countryman, our guest, Louis Honoré Fréchette, the poet of Canada, crowned by the Academy of France. You have heard, gentlemen, the loud hurrah of all Canada in honour of one of her children, and here, perhaps, I might cease speaking. Nothing that I might say could increase the glad strength of the general voice of the country, when the news arrived here that the grand arena of literature, the French Academy, an institution whose life is counted by centuries, and which is without equal in the world, that great interpreter and infallible judge of the difficulties, the beauties and the genius of the French language, had given one of its annual prizes, and perhaps the finest of all–the prize of poetry–to one of our countrymen. I could never fittingly express or depict the sentiments of pride and joy felt by all lovers of literature in this country–I may add of all good Canadians–when the news came from beyond the ocean, from that sacred France, mother of civilization; from fairy Paris, capital of the Muses, that Mr. Fréchette had been crowned! But, as Chairman of this happy reunion, at the risk of but faintly re-echoing the general sentiment, I must at least try to express my feelings in proposing this toast. The emotions which I feel are of a dual nature, that of friendship and of patriotism, and, as friendship is nearer to the heart, so I gave that feeling the first place. The speaker here referred to his collegiate days in the Seminary of Quebec, where he met Mr. Fréchette, and in preparing himself for the battle of life, had won the friendship of the Canadian poet. He alluded to Mr. Fréchette’s first efforts in verse, and had judged his early attempts, and in referring to his (the Judge’s) own literary works at the time, the speaker said that the line of Boileau might be applied to him,

“‘Pour lui, Phoebus est sourd et Pégase est rétif.’

“At that time, Mr. Fréchette had not reached the heights of Helicon, nor attained the regions wherein the ‘Boreal Flowers’ are gathered and the ‘Snow Birds’ fly, but the little flowers he gathered in more modest fields had around them the perfume of genuine poetry, and the emerald, ruby and topaz of art already shone in the dainty plumage of his summer birds. Mr. Fréchette published in a small journal in manuscript, called _L’Echo_, of which Judge Taschereau was then editor in the Seminary, the first efforts of his muse. This souvenir of the past is now very precious to me, said the speaker, because it enables me to state that I was the first editor of our poet’s works. Judge Taschereau further alluded to the time when, with Mr. Fréchette, he studied law, that dry study, and though the poet was thus devoted to the goddess Themis, he nevertheless found time to worship at the shrine of song. How could the poet do otherwise? His fame had already gone abroad. The journals of the country were already publishing his sonnets, odes and songs. His acrostics were sought after to grace the albums of fair ladies. Even the volunteers of Canada asked him for war-songs, which are happily more frequently heard in drawing-rooms than in camps. The young student did not possess himself. He was already the property of the country, and the Institutes of Justinian were put aside for the more pleasing task of framing idyllic pictures of poetic genius. In fact, Crémazie was almost forgotten, and the name of Fréchette was on every tongue. Mr. Taschereau tried to reclaim the poet to his legal duties, and give him the place of Mr. Faucher de St. Maurice in his office. Mr. Fréchette accepted the sinecure, but no sooner had he done so than Mr. Faucher returned, anxious, no doubt, for good and congenial company. Judge of my happiness, with Fréchette and Faucher in my office, and I their humble patron. I thought I would succeed in converting my friends, but in this I failed, for they led me on their own paths until I myself began to versify, and, instead of reading Pothier, read ‘proofs’ of verses. As it is, Mr. Fréchette did become a lawyer; but Mr. Faucher abandoned the pursuit–he retired from my office, lost forever to Themis, but safe to the cause of literature. The departure of my young friends saved me. I could never expect to win the applause of the French Academy, and thus, as I am enabled to preside at this banquet, I may be permitted to offer our guest a bouquet of friendship’s flowers, gathered during twenty-five years, and I feel that its perfume will be agreeable to my distinguished friend. The life of Mr. Fréchette is written in the poetry and literature of this country. He has marched steadily onward from the day on which he wrote his _Loisirs_, until the grand moment when he stood the crowned victor in the Academy of France. We have known our guest as a lawyer, journalist and member of Parliament, and have always admired his wonderful faculties, ever ready as he was to promote the welfare of his friends. His large heart contributed to pave the way to success, for, undoubted though his talents are, his winning manners won for him an ever-growing popularity, and we may affirm that, if he had traducers, he had, on the other hand, a host of friends. Traducers always follow the wake of a literary man, and they resemble the creeping things which we suffer in our gardens, because their existence can lead to no effectual harm. I may have occupied your time at too great length in treating of Mr. Fréchette as a friend. Allow me now, however, for a few moments, to speak of his success from a patriotic point of view. As French-Canadians, we are proud of our Laureate, and happy to see him in our midst this evening. In crowning our distinguished poet, the French Academy has given a splendid recognition to Canadian literature in the great Republic of Letters. Our Laureate is a French-Canadian, but our fellow-citizens of British origin have joined with us in this manifestation of our joy, and through their press, as at such gatherings as this, they have spontaneously recognized his talent, thus showing their spirit of justice and their enlightened patriotism. Party politics have ceased their discordant cries to join unanimously in honoring our Laureate, and this is a spectacle of consolation to the country. No commentary is required on this expression of our joy. It is, in itself, the most eloquent of proofs that the citizens of Quebec, as well as those of Montreal, in giving this festival to Mr. Fréchette, have invited all Canadians, in the largest acceptation of the word, to do him honour. In concluding, as I know you are anxious to hear him address you this evening, permit me to make a comparison. One of the most distinguished of modern poets, Alfred de Musset, said in a moment of despair:–

“J’ai perdu ma force, et ma vie,
Et mes amis, et ma gaîté:
J’ai perdu jusqu’à la fierté
Qui faisait croire à mon génie.”

“‘I have lost my strength and my life, my friends and my gayety, almost my very pride, which made me believe in my genius.’ We may say to Mr. Fréchette, as an offset to this cry of despair from one of his elder poetic brethren: ‘Courage! You have strength and life! More friends than ever! An enthusiasm of gayety which is fathomless! March on and sing! We are proud of you, and we believe in your genius, crowned, as it is, by the highest literary tribunal in the world–that of the Forty Immortals!’ (Cheers.)

“The utmost enthusiasm pervaded those present, and when the poet laureate rose to reply, he was greeted with loud applause, which continued for several minutes. Mr. Fréchette said:–

“MR. CHAIRMAN AND GENTLEMEN,–For some time past I have abstained from public speaking, and there are those amongst my best friends who tell me that I have done well. To-day Montreal [31] and Quebec seem to have conspired against me, to oblige me to make two speeches on the same subject. This, though flattering to me, is hardly fair. If, having pleaded in one sense, I were asked to take the opposite ground, it might appear that such would not embarrass a lawyer, and one who has also been a politician, but in my present position I am called upon to treat the same question twice, and absolutely in the same sense. How can I discover something new to advance. Naturally, I felt embarrassed at the outset, but, at any risk, my duty is to respond to your flattering call, and thus to best avenge myself upon this conspiracy of my friends. It will not be surprising if I affirm that the occasion of this reunion has for me a character of especial solemnity. Seated at this festive board, I see the representatives of different nations, who, in private capacities also, have won general respect. I see, also, my fellow-citizens of Quebec and of Levis, my native town–the schoolmates of my earliest days–_confrères_ in professional life and in the walks of literature–comrades of past political struggles–friends, ever indulgent and generous–political leaders of whom I have always been proud, and gentlemen of various origins, divergent opinions and different religious beliefs, all tendering me their warmest congratulations upon the success I have achieved in the literary world. No words of mine are adequate to express my feelings, not can I sufficiently thank you all for this spontaneous and sympathetic demonstration in honour of one who regrets that he is not more worthy of your favour. I can only accept your evidences of friendship with cordial emotion, thank you from the depth of my heart and bear with me from this hall a proud memory which will unite with the remembrances of my youth, all of which are so intimately identified with the hospitable people of Quebec, and, in so declaring, I am but assuring you that this remembrance will ever attend upon me. The past vouches for this; for when my tent of exile shook in the winds from off the great Western lakes, or slept on the bowery shores of Louisianian streams; when my traveller’s skiff was rocked on the waters of the Southern gulfs, or was reflected on the blue waves of the Loire; when I had before me the wild majesty of Niagara, the immensity of the ocean, or when, filled with admiration, I paused to gaze upon the stupendous monuments of the Old World, my thoughts ever instinctively flew back to the good old city of Champlain, unparalleled in the world for the picturesque splendor of its site, and the poetry which no less issues from the very stones of its fortress, than it lingers upon every page of its history. Yes! Old Quebec! In all places I have cherished with devotion every memory of you, for within your walls my heart first opened to the noble teaching of intellect! It is your lofty embrasures–your flag, bravely floating in the skies–your abrupt rock, your stretches of ramparts, your brilliant steeples, reflecting their beauty on the bosom of the St. Lawrence, mingled with the sails of your cosmopolitan navies; which, for the first time, awoke the poetic enthusiasm in my breast. Long ago I first saw these scenes from the window of an humble cottage of Levis, half-hidden in a screen of foliage; and in my youngest days, ere I knew the method or formation of a verse, I felt the fluttering against the cage of my heart of that golden bird, whose sonorous voice is styled Poetry. In fact, gentlemen, I was carried towards a literary career from the very outset, and in this connection you will permit me to relate a little anecdote. You will pardon me if I appear egotistical, but your cordial reception warrants me in looking for your indulgence. I had learned to read in a book full of reveries and sentiment, entitled ‘Letters or the poet Gilbert to his sister.’ Of course I understood but little of it, yet it made a deep impression on my imagination. One day my father, an honest man and good citizen, if there were ever any such, but who had nothing in common with the Muses, asked my brother and I what professions we would adopt when we grew big. ‘For me,’ replied my happy-hearted brother Edmond, ‘I will be a carter,’ and ‘I will be a poet,’ I immediately added. I still remember my father’s smile of affectionate pity when he heard these unexpected declarations from the hopes of his declining years. “My poor children,” said he, with a resigned air, “these two occupations will never lead you to wealth and fortune.” Later I understood the wise reflection of my father, but no one carves out his own destiny and he must submit to fate. I have vainly tried other careers but finally was obliged to return to this dream of my infancy. As the poet says,

“Drive away the natural, and it returns at full speed.”

Yes, dear old City of Quebec, so old and so glorious, so beautiful in your _ensemble_ and so characteristic in your details, so cordial and so hospitable, in presence of your noblest children assembled here to welcome me, within your old walls, let me give this testimony, that if I have had the happiness of causing the Canadian name to be heard in the immortal shrine of French literature it is to you I owe it, and to you is my gratitude offered. For I must tell you, gentlemen, that I loved Quebec too much, at the distance, not to hasten across the river, when the bird felt that his wings were strong enough to fly. At that time the greatest of the poets of Quebec, Octave Crémazie, sang the glories of our ancestors and the brave deeds of old France. His energetic and inspired voice excited youthful emulation. A group of budding writers surrounded him, but each one felt timid and hesitated to tune his notes amongst the loud echoes of his vigorous patriotism. Alas! the star fled from our skies, another generation of enthusiastic poets and writers disputed the honour of seizing the lyre, so heavy for their fingers, which had been left on the rock of Quebec, by the author of the Flag of Carillon. O! my old comrades, do you think as frequently as do I, of those old days, when with hearts full of poetic illusions, we united our talents, our hopes and I might add our poverty, to establish that spiritual association in which the beautiful was idolized, seekers as we were after the ideal, dealers in mental _bijouterie_, despised at first by some, but which succeeded more than once in directing the attention of literary France to our shores? Do you, at times, remember our joyful meetings, our interminable readings, our long hours of continued study and waking reveries in common–do you yet remember the bewildering evenings in which the glass of Henri Murger mingled its sonorous tinklings, bright and merry, to the love-song of our flowery youth? We were all rivals, but

“Our hearts, as our lute, vibrated as one,”

and God knows that this rivalry never severed the bonds of affection which united us, and so was founded what has since been styled the Mutual Admiration Society. Mutual Admiration Society! If we were to consider the number of books, dress-coats, gloves and other articles of more intimate character that were exchanged between us, it might more safely have been called the Society for Mutual Support. At all events, from the spectacle before me this evening I gather that this Society of Mutual Admiration, if admiration it must be termed, has taken a singular development since I had the honour of assisting so frequently at its meetings, and there is nothing surprising in this, since one of the most distinguished of the founders of this society, Mr. Faucher de St. Maurice, informed me the other day that the society in question was about to annex the French Academy. (Laughter.) But to be serious, allow me to recount another anecdote. There was a time, gentlemen, when our Mutual Admiration was far from being so ambitious as to dream of having a _succursale_ under the rotunda of the French Institute. But if our productions were meagre, our revenues were still more so, and famine often reigned in the chests of the confraternity. However we had our own days of abundance when there was corn in Egypt. The first Quebecer who understood that poetry, unlike perpetual motion, could not feed itself, was a brewer, whose memory is now legendary and who was known by the harmonious name of McCallum. Arthur Casgrain, who in a couple of years afterwards we sorrowfully bore to the cemetery, had thought of composing an Epic on the Grand Trunk. This was called “La grande Tronciade!” Well in one of the twelve parts of this production, so very original, there were three remarkable lines.

“Buvons, buvons, amis, de ce bon maccallome, Venant directement du brasseur qu’il dénome! C’est ça qui vous retape et vous refait un homme?”

The effect was magical. The heart of the brewer was touched. A long waggon on which we could read the eloquent words “pale ale and porter” stopped next day before our door. For twenty minutes a man with burthened step climbed the Jacob’s ladder which led to the poet’s attic, and one hundred and forty-four bottles of inviting appearance ranged themselves around the chamber. I cannot picture the joy of the happy recipient. In his enthusiasm he offered me a community in his good fortune–of course under a pledge of inviolable secrecy. But as I felt the imperious necessity of communicating my emotions I was as wanting in discretion as he had been, and that evening all the Bohemians, students and literary friends even to the remotest degree followed in the wake of McCallum’s bottles, and invaded the attic chamber of poor Arthur (your good-natured cousin, Mr. President.) There we had French, English, Latin and Greek speeches in prose and in verse. Arsène Michaud has even prepared a story for the occasion. In brief, the hecatomb was made; the libation was Olympic, the twelve dozen disappeared and on the morrow poor Casgrain showed me with a sad face the Homeric remains of his one day’s wealth, and in a lamentable tone of despair he exclaimed: “I will have to write another poem.” Gentlemen, that was the first time in Canada that poetry made a return to its author, and in tasting these delicate viands which the hospitable city of Quebec now offers to one of those early Bohemians in recognition of his literary success, I could not fail to recollect with emotion this amusing circumstance now enveloped, with other scenes of youth, sometimes glad–sometimes sorrowful, in the shadowy robe of past recollections. Another story just suggests itself to my mind. Lusignan and I occupied the attic of an old house in Palace street. Our room was heated by a stove-pipe, which reached from the lower apartments. One day I had published in _Le Canadien_–_Tempora Mutantur_–a little poem in which was the following line:

“Shivering in my attic poor.”

The next day a surprise awaited us. A dumb stove had replaced the mere stove-pipe, and while holding our sides from laughter we heard this speech: “Gentlemen, we are very indulgent, considering your noisy meetings–we are not very particular when rent-day arrives–and if you _so shivered_ in your room, it would have been better to have said so privately, than to have complained of it in the newspapers.” (Laughter.) Poor Mrs. Tessier, our landlady–she was not well acquainted with figures of speech, but she has been the Providence of many of the destitute, and more than one who hears me now can say as I do, that no better or more obliging heart ever beat in a more pitiful bosom towards purseless youth. And who knows, it is perhaps due to this sympathetic feeling of its population towards literary men and writers that this city of Quebec has seen such an array of talent within her bosom, such a succession of Pleiades of distinguished litterateurs, who have glorified her name and that of their country. For the last fifty years, men eminent in all branches of literature have made a gorgeous and resplendent aureole around the city of Quebec. In the generation immediately preceding us, we see Petitclerc, Parent, Soulard, Chauveau, Garneau, L’Ecuyer, Ferland, Barthe and Réal Angers, these grand pioneers of intellect, who in history, poetry, drama and romance, made such a wide opening for the generation which followed them. Then we have l’Abbé Laverdière, l’Abbé Casgrain, LeMoine, Fiset, Taché, Plamondon, LaRue, and the first among all Octave Crémazie, who coming at different times bravely and constantly continued the labours of their predecessors, until we reach the brilliant phalanx of contemporary writers, Lemay, Fabre, l’Abbé Begin, Routhier, Oscar Dunn, Faucher de St. Maurice, Buies, Marmette and Legendre, all charged with the glorious task of preserving for Quebec her legitimate title of the Athens of Canada. And how could it be otherwise? Is not Quebec the cradle of our nationality–the spot whereon is engraved the most illustrious pages of our history–heroic annals, touching souvenirs, all combining with the marvels of nature to speak here the soul of the historian and of the poet. What a flourishing field for the historian and poet is not the tale of that handful of Breton heroes, who, three centuries ago, planted on the rock of Quebec the flag of Christianity and civilization! What innumerable sources of inspiration can we not find in our majestic river, our gigantic lakes, our grand cascades, our lofty mountains, our impenetrable forests and in all that grand and wild nature, which will ever be the characteristic feature of our dear Canada. Oh! our history, gentlemen! Oh, the picturesque beauties of our country! Two marvellous veins–two mines of precious material open at our feet. The European writers are ever striving to discover something fresh. Having exhausted all kinds of themes, they are now stooping to the dust to find an originality which seems to fly from them. Well, this freshness, this originality, so courted and so rare now-a-days, may be found within our grasp,–it is there in our historical archives–in our patriarchal customs–in the many characters of a people young and thirsting for independence–a robust and healthy poetry, floats on our breezes–breathes in our popular songs–sings in the echoes of our wild forests, and opens graceful and proud her white wings to the winds of the free aspirations of the new world. To us this virgin field belongs, gentlemen! Take from Europe her form and experience, but leave to her, her old Muses. Let us be true to ourselves! Be Canadians and the future is ours. “That which strikes us most in your poems” said a member of the French Academy to me, “is that the modern style, the Parisian style of your verses is united to something strange, so particular and singular–it seems an exotic, disengaged from the entire.” This perfume of originality which this writer discovered in my writings was then unknown to myself. What was it? It was the secret of their nationality,–the certificate of their origin, their Canadian stamp! And it is important for us, gentlemen, never to allow this character to disappear. Let our young writers stamp it broadly on their pages and then advance to their task, they need no longer fear the thorns on the way. The path is wide open and millions of readers await their efforts. To the work then; France offers us her hand, and now that we have renewed the bonds between us and our illustrious and well-beloved mother country–bonds broken by the vicissitudes which occur in the life of peoples, we shall be enabled once more to prove the great truth enunciated by Bulwer Lytton in “_Richelieu_,” that

“The pen is mightier than the sword.”

The Chairman called upon Hon. Wilfred Laurier to propose the next toast.

Hon. Mr. Laurier, on being called on to propose the toast of the Academy of France, was loudly cheered on rising, and the enthusiasm became the greater as he advanced, showing the many claims the great French tribunal of letters had upon the attention of the learned word. He spoke of the old ties which bound France and Canada, and alluded to the argument of Doucet, the French Academician, in favour of the admission of Fréchette to the French _concours_, viz., that when France was in the throes of agony, the voice of French Canada spoke out its loud attachment to the cause of the ancient mother country. In such action was the forgotten daughter restored to its sorrowing mother. The hon. gentleman then in language of forcible eloquence referred to the pleasure shown by English-Canadians at the success of Mr. Fréchette, and concluded a highly intellectual and eloquent speech, amidst the reiterated cheers of the whole assemblage.

The Chairman then proposed the toast of English and French literature.

Mr. George Stewart, jr., who on rising was greeted with cheers, said:–

MR. CHAIRMAN AND GENTLEMEN:–I must thank you for the very enthusiastic manner in which you have just drank to this toast, and for the cordiality with which you have been good enough to receive my name. Before asking you to consider with me the subject which has just been so happily proposed from the chair, I would ask your permission to say how gratified I am at being present, this evening, to assist you in paying homage to one whom we all delight to honour, and at whose feet it is our special privilege to sit. (Cheers.) It is all of seventeen years since Mr. Fréchette gave to the public, in a little book, the best fruits of his youthful muse, but those early efforts of his mind gave abundant promise of future excellence and hope,–a promise which has since been admirably and delightfully fulfilled. I cannot tell you how proud we all feel,–we who speak the English tongue, alike with you who utter the liquid and mellow language of Béranger and De Musset,–that the “Forty Immortals” of Mother France, recognized in Mr. Fréchette,–what all of us knew before,–that he was a tender and graceful poet, and that his work is as pure and sweet as anything to be found in the lyric poetry of our time. (Cheers.) Mr. Fréchette had not to go abroad to find that out, but it is pleasing to us all to find our opinions confirmed and ratified by the highest authority in France. I again thank you, gentlemen, for the privilege which you have afforded me of saying these few words regarding our laurel-crowned poet and guest. (Applause.) With regard to the subject which has brought me to my feet, what am I to say? I might dilate upon the beauties of Chaucer’s _Canterbury Tales_, or Edmund Spenser’s immortal _Faerie Queene_, or Shakespeare’s tender women, the _Juliet_ we love, the Rosalind who is ever in our hearts, the Beatrice, the Imogen, gentle Ophelia, or kindly but ill-starred Desdemona, or the great heroes of tragedy, Lear, Macbeth, Hamlet or Othello, or I might ask you to hear a word about Ben Jonson, “rare Ben,” or poor Philip Massinger who died a stranger, of the Puritan Milton, the great Catholic Dryden, or Swift, or Bunyan, Defoe, Addison, Pope and Burke and grim Sam Johnson who made the dictionary and wrote Rasselas, the Prince of Abyssinia, but there is not time for us to go into the subject as minutely as that. At a dinner of this kind, which is so rich in every delicacy which the most sensitive palate could desire, and which boasts wines as delicate and as fragrant in bouquet as one of Mr. Fréchette’s sonnets–(Cheers)–and I might add also as one of my friend LeMay’s hopefullest lyrics– (Cheers), it would be ungenerous of me to keep you very long. I will content myself therefore with a remark or two regarding the peculiar features which seem to inspire our literature, at the present time, and by our literature I mean English literature in its broadest sense and amplest significance. Perhaps at no period of letters, in the whole history of literature from the days of Chaucer and Raleigh, from the renaissance, through the classic period, to more modern times, to our own day in fact, has the cultured world seen such a brilliant array of brilliant men and women, who write the English prose which delights our fire-sides, and enriches our minds at the present time. The world has never presented to mankind before, in all its years of usefulness, such a galaxy of great essayists and novelists as we have enjoyed and enjoy now, within a period of fifty or sixty years, and which properly belong to our own age. The era is rich in stalwart minds, in magnificent thinkers, in splendid souls. Carlyle, Emerson, Wilson, Morley, Froude, Holmes, Harrison, Darwin, Huxley, Spencer, Mill, Buckle, Lewes. In fiction the list is too long for mention, but, in passing, I may note George Eliot–a woman who writes as if her soul had wings, William Black who paints almost as deftly as Walter Scott, Thomas Hardy, Anthony Trollope, Thackeray, Dickens, Reade, William Howells, who has not forgotten to write of the grandeur of the Saguenay, and William Kirby whose _Chien d’Or_ will serve to keep a memory green in many a Quebecer’s heart. I need hardly name more. The list could, I am well aware, be extended indefinitely, and as each of you doubtless has your favourite novelist, I need not waste your time by the simple enumeration of men and women who have from time to time, beguiled away the hours with their stories of the heart, or of purpose, or of endeavour. We get _blasé_ now and then perhaps through the reading of so many moderns, but the cure for that lies within easy range. We can take a peep at those old fellows in old- fashioned bindings, who used to delight our grandfathers in the “brave days of old,” when Richardson told the story of “Pamela,” and “Clarissa Harlowe,” when Fielding wrote “Tom Jones,” and Smollett narrated the history of “Humphrey Clinker,” and the career of “Tristram Shandy” found a truthful historian in that mad parson Lawrence Sterne. We might even read those ancient authors, ancient in style at least, for a change, and still be reading English literature in its truest and widest sense. But it is less with the fiction- writers that we have to deal, than with the thinkers who have given to _belles-lettres_ in this age, its robustness and vigour. In political economy, in scientific thought, in history, in moral philosophy and in polite learning, and in criticism, I think our day has produced the greatest teachers, as well as the largest number of them since the English tongue had a literature of its own. (Applause.) This is true at least in prose writing. I know that in poetry we are surpassed in grandeur and majesty by the bards of other periods of our mental activity, I know that we have not produced a Milton yet, nor a Dryden, nor a Pope–I leave Shakespeare and Chaucer out of the question, nor a Spenser. We have very many more than our share of really tuneful singers and fine poets like Tennyson and Longfellow, Morris and Swinburne, the Arnolds and Lowell–all of them sweet and in every way charming, none of them grand and magnificent like the sons of song of the great days of poesy. We have singers and singers, minor poets and minor poets, all engaged in weaving for our delight very many pretty fancies; graceful story-tellers in verse, if you will, but our chief strength lies in prose, sober, scholarly and healthful prose. Our fame will rest on that branch of the service. (Applause.) Turning to Canada, I might say that our mental outfit is by no means beggarly. In fiction we have produced, and I confine myself particularly to those who have written in English, Judge Haliburton, James DeMille, Wm. Kirby, John Lesperance. (Applause.) In poetry, Heavysege, John Reade, Roberts, Charles Sangster, Wm. Murdoch, Chandler, Howe; in history, Beamish Murdoch, Todd, Morgan, Hannay, Mr. LeMoine–(Applause)–whom I see present here to night; Dr. Miles, Mr. Harper, the efficient Rector of our High School, and others of more or less repute. In Science, Dr. Dawson and Sir Wm. Logan; in logic, Wm. Lyall; in rhetoric, James DeMille. In political and essay writing we have a good list, the most prominent names being Goldwin Smith, whom we may fairly claim, Bourinot, Haliburton, Todd, Howe, Elder, Ellis, Griffin, Anglin, Dymond, McDougall, White. (Cheers.) And here I would just say to you–for I have spoken longer than I intended–over-taxed your patience I fear very much–that we must, if we would ever become great in helping to form current thought and the intellectual movement of the day, renounce all sectionalism in letters, and go in for the great goal which all may aspire to who wish. When the French Academy hailed our friend Fréchette as a brother poet, the act was not done because he was a Canadian, but because he was a poet, writing and speaking the French tongue. (Applause.) There is no such thing really as Canadian literature or American literature. It is all English literature, and we should all strive to add to the glory of that literature. We can do it, in our way, as well as Moore and Lover and Lever and Carleton and McGee did, when they added the splendid work of their genius to build up the renown and prestige of the parent stock. (Applause.) As Scott and Burns, Dunbar and Hector McNeill, and Tannahill and James Hogg and bluff “Kit North;” all of Scotland, did to make the English literature massive and spirited and grand. (Applause.) As Hawthorne and Longfellow, Holmes and Bryant, Cooper and Irving, and Motley did, and as our own John Reade (cheers) and Charles Roberts, a new poet whose star has just arisen, and Bourinot– (cheers)–and the rest of them are doing now. We must forget the small localism which can do us no good, and join the great brotherhood of letters which writes the world over, in the English tongue. France, Germany and Russia, Italy and Spain teem with the grand work of their children. We who speak and write in the English language must not be unmindful of our several duties. We must work for the attainment of the great end, the development of English literature, of which we are as truly a part as the authors of the United States, of Scotland, of Ireland and of England. English literature does not mean simply a literature written solely by Englishmen. It takes its name from the fact that it draws its nourishment from all writers who write in English, and Scotchmen, Irishmen, Americans, and colonists, as well as citizens of England are invited to add to its greatness and permanency. I thank you Mr. Chairman and you gentlemen for your kindness and forbearance in listening to me so long, and so patiently. (Loud continued cheering.)

Mr. Lemay, in replying for French literature, said–It is particularly agreeable to be called on to speak on this occasion because it affords me the opportunity to render to our host an evidence of the admiration and friendship which I bear towards him this evening. It is now over twenty years since we were together at College, and the same tastes which pleased us then govern us now. The same destiny which led us towards the bar guided us also on the paths of literature. The speaker here improvised a magnificent address to the genius of French-Canadian letters. He alluded to the first pages of Canadian history written in the blood of martyrs, thus giving to the Canadian people a literature of heroes. The speaker then traced the changeful epochs from the days of the soldiers of the sword to the warriors of the pen, and he drew forth loud applause as he alluded to the brave polemists who traced their literary endeavors in the brave work of defending their country and redeeming its liberties. In quoting Sir Geo. Cartier’s well known line, “O Canada, my country and my love,” (“O Canada, mon pays, mes amours,”) the eloquent orator elicited the warm and hearty applause of the assemblage. From the troublous days of 1837 to the present moment, Mr. Lemay reviewed the various efforts at literary renown of the French Canadian people, and concluded one of the finest speeches of the evening amidst the tumultuous applause of his sympathising auditors.

The next toast was that of the Literary and Historical Society and of the _Institut Canadien_ of Quebec.

Mr. J. M. LeMoine, in replying to the first part of the toast said:–

GENTLEMEN,–In the name of the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, I thank you cordially for the health just proposed–As the President of a society numbering close on 400 members, who though diverse in creed and language, are united for one common object–the promotion of culture and science and the encouragement of historical studies,–I cannot help feeling I stand here somehow in the character of a representative man. In tendering a welcome to Mr. Fréchette, our honoured guest, I can add but little to the sentiments conveyed in the resolution adopted at our last meeting and which you have heard read. In presence of so many distinguished persons, several of whom have made their mark, at the Bar–or on the Bench–the forum–in literature–in the bank parlor or in the counting house,–with so many fluent speakers here present and prepared to applaud, with all the graces of oratory and fervour of patriotism,–the distinction conferred on French Canada, by the highest literary tribunal in France–convinced myself of the honour which Mr. Fréchette’s laurels must confer on this ancient and picturesque Province of Quebec, with its glorious though yet unrevealed destinies, I feel proud as a Canadian in standing here, the bearer even of a solitary rosebud for the fragrant _bouquet_, which a grateful country offers this night to its gifted child. Alas! had not the relentless hand [32] of death–had not a self-imposed fate, darker even than death, removed from our midst, another “mind pregnant with celestial fire,” Canada this night might possibly have counted two laurel-crowned poets–Louis Honoré Fréchette and Octave Crémazie. For I am not one of those who refuse to recognize Canadian talent; on the contrary, I feel myself moved to rejoice in our wealth of intellect. I am reminded to be brief; around me there is a surging stream of eloquence ready to burst through its floodgates. I must give way. With your permission, I shall therefore merely ask a question. What propitious turn of fortune? which of the benign fairies who watched over his natal hour has Mr. Fréchette to thank for his present success? How came it to pass that, though he was born a poet, he should have to undergo an ordeal like another great poet (whom posterity may specially claim as an historian) the author of the “Lays of Ancient Rome,” of emancipating himself from his earthy–at one time not burdensome–thraldom before soaring on the wings of poesy to that lofty region, where his classic diction and lyric power attracted the attention of those worthy but fastidious gentlemen, yclept “The Forty Immortals of the French Academy.” I have mentioned a very illustrious name in the Republic of Letters,–a name as dear to Britain as that of our Laureate ought to be to Canada–that of Macaulay–historian, essayist, poet. You all know how his parliamentary defeat as candidate for Edinburgh in 1847, rescued him forever from the “dismal swamp” of politics, providing his wondrous mind, with leisure to expand and mature, in the green fields of literature. If New France has not yet produced such a gorgeous genius as he, of whom all those who speak Chatham’s tongue are so justly proud, it has however out of its sparse population of one million, put forth a representative whom Old France with its thirty- eight millions has deemed a fit subject to honour in an unmistakable way. Shall I tell you how, figuratively, if you should prefer, ended for Fréchette the “day of tumult”?

That _Ignis Fatuus_, ambition, has allured, as you are aware, more than one youthful fowler to an uncertain swampy hunting ground, called “politics.” Mr. Fréchette was one of the unfortunate. This game preserve, I pronounce “uncertain” because owing to several inexplicable eventualities sportsmen innumerable, therefrom return empty handed, whilst others, Mr. Chairman, make up, we know, pretty good bags. The Son of Apollo, whilst thus hunting one gruesome, windy morning, fortunately for us, sank in a boggy, yielding quicksand. Luckily he extricated himself in time, and on reaching the margin of the swamp, there stood an old pet of his tethered as if waiting for its loved rider, a vigorous Norman or Percheron steed. Our friend bestrode him, cantered off, and never drew rein until he stood, panting perhaps, but a winner in the race, on the top of a mount, distant and of access arduous, called Parnassus.

In conclusion, Mr. LeMoine quoted the memorable lines from Macaulay, written the night when his parliamentary defeat at Edinburgh, in 1847, restored him to letters:–

The day of tumult, strife, defeat, was o’er, Worn out with toil, and noise, and scorn, and spleen, I slumbered and in slumber saw once more A room in an old mansion, long unseen.

That room, methought, was curtained from the light; Yet through the curtains shone the moon’s cold ray Full on a cradle, where, in linen white, Sleeping life’s first sleep, an infant lay.

* * * * *

And lo! the fairy queens who rule our birth Drew nigh to speak the new-born baby’s doom: With noiseless step, which left no trace on earth, From gloom they came, and vanished into gloom.

Not deigning on the boy a glance to cast Swept careless by the gorgeous Queen of Gain. More scornful still, the Queen of Fashion passed, With mincing gait and sneer of cold disdain.

The Queen of Power tossed high her jewelled head And o’er her shoulder threw a wrathful frown. The Queen of Pleasure on the pillow shed Scarce one stray rose-leaf from her fragrant crown.

Still fay in long procession followed fay; And still the little couch remained unblest: But, when those wayward sprites had passed away, Came One, the last, the mightiest, and the best.

Oh! glorious lady, with the eyes of light, And laurels clustering round thy lofty brow, Who by the cradle’s side didst watch that night, Warbling a sweet strange music, who wast thou?

“Yes, darling; let them go,” so ran the strain: “Yes; let them go, gain, fashion, pleasure, power, And all the busy elves to whose domain Belongs the nether sphere, the fleeting hour.

“Without one envious sigh, one anxious scheme, The nether sphere, the fleeting hour assign. Mine is the world of thought, the world of dream, Mine all the past, and all the future mine.

* * * * *

“Of the fair brotherhood who share my grace, I, from thy natal day, pronounce thee free; And, if for some I keep a nobler place, I keep for none a happier than for thee.

* * * * *

“No; when on restless night dawns cheerless morrow, When weary soul and wasting body pine, Thine am I still in danger, sickness, sorrow, In conflict, obloquy, want, exile, thine;

“Thine where on mountain waves the snowbirds scream, Where more than Thule’s winter barbs the breeze, Where scarce, through lowering clouds, one sickly gleam Lights the drear May-day of Antarctic seas;

* * * * *

“Amidst the din of all things fell and vile, Hate’s yell, and envy’s hiss, and folly’s bray, Remember me!”

_FORT ST. LOUIS, CHÂTEAU ST. LOUIS, HALDIMAND CASTLE._

_CHÂTEAU ST. LOUIS._

In Professor Kalm’s saunter round Quebec, his description of the public edifices, in 1749, is worthy of note:

“The Palace (Château Saint Louis) says he, is situated on the west or steepest side of the mountain, just, above the lower city. It is not properly a palace, but a large building of stone, two stories high, extending north and south. On the west side of it is a court-yard, surrounded partly with a wall, and partly with houses. On the east side, or towards the river, is a gallery as long as the whole building, and about two fathoms broad, paved with smooth flags, and included on the outside by iron rails, from whence the city and the river exhibit a charming prospect. This gallery serves as a very agreeable walk after dinner, and those who come to speak with the Governor-General wait here till he is at leisure. The palace is the lodging of the Governor-General of Canada, and a number of soldiers mount the guard before it, both at the gate and in the court-yard; and when the Governor, or the Bishop comes in or goes out, they must all appear in arms and beat the drum. The Governor-General has his own chapel where he hears prayers; however, he often goes to Mass at the church of the _Récollets_, which is very near the palace.”

Such it seemed, in 1749, to the learned Swedish naturalist and philosopher Peter Kalm. How many rainbow tints, poetry and romance can lend to the same object, we may learn from the brilliant Niagara novelist, William Kirby! In his splendid historical novel “Le Chien d’Or,” whilst venturing on the boldest flights of imagination, he thus epitomises some striking historical features of the state residence of the French Viceroys of Canada.

“The great hall of the Castle of St. Louis was palatial in its dimensions and adornment. The panels of wainscoting upon the walls were hung with paintings of historic interest–portraits of the Kings, Governors, Intendants and Ministers of State, who had been instrumental in the colonization of New France.

“Over the Governor’s seat hung a gorgeous escutcheon of the Royal arms, draped with a cluster of white flags, sprinkled with golden lilies–the emblems of French sovereignty in the colony; among the portraits on the walls, beside those of the late (Louis XIV.,) and present King (Louis XV)–which hung on each side of the throne–might be seen the features of Richelieu, who first organized the rude settlements on the St. Lawrence in a body politic–a reflex of feudal France; and of Colbert, who made available its natural wealth and resources, by peopling it with the best scions of the Mother Land–the noblesse and peasantry of Normandy, Brittany and Aquitaine. There, too, might be seen the keen, bold features of Cartier, the first discoverer, and of Champlain, the first explorer of the new land, and the founder of Quebec. The gallant, restless Louis Buade de Frontenac was pictured there, side by side with his fair countess, called, by reason of her surpassing loveliness, “The Divine.” Vaudreuil, too, who spent a long life of devotion to his country, and Beauharnois, who nourished its young strength until it was able to resist, not only the powerful confederacy of the Five Nations, but the still more powerful league of New England and the other English Colonies. There, also, were seen the sharp intellectual face of Laval, its first bishop, who organized the church and education in the colony; and of Talon, wisest of Intendants, who devoted himself to the improvement of agriculture, the increase of trade, and the well being of all the King’s subjects in New France. And one more portrait was there, worthy to rank among the statesmen and rulers of New France–the pale, calm, intellectual features of Mère Marie de l’Incarnation–the first superior of the Ursulines of Quebec, who in obedience to heavenly visions, as she believed, left France to found schools for the children of the new colonists, and who taught her own womanly graces to her own sex, who were destined to become the future mothers of New France.” (Page 109.)

It were difficult to group on a smaller and brighter canvass, so many of the glorious figures of our storied past.

In the days of de Montmagny and later, the _Jesuits’ Journal_ retraces gay scenes at the Château in connection with the festivals of the patron saints, of St. Joseph, whose anniversary occurred on the 19th March, and of St. John the Baptist, whose _fête_ happened on the 24th June.

For a long time the old Château, was the meeting place of the Superior Council.

“On any Monday morning one would have found the Superior Council in session in the antechamber of the Governor’s apartment, at the Château St. Louis. The members sat at a round table, at the head was the Governor, with the Bishop on his right and the Intendant on his left. The councillors sat in the order of their appointment, and the attorney-general also had his place at the board. As La Hontan says, they were not in judicial robes, but in their ordinary dress and all but the Bishop wore swords. The want of the cap and the gown greatly disturbed the Intendant Meules, and he begs the Minister to consider how important it is that the councillors, in order to inspire respect, should appear in public in long black robes, which on occasions of ceremony they should exchange for robes of red. He thinks that the principal persons of the colony should thus be induced to train up their children to so enviable a dignity; “and” he concludes, “as none of the councillors can afford to buy red robes, I hope that the King will vouchsafe to send out nine such; as for the black robes, they can furnish those themselves.”

“The King did not respond, and the nine robes never arrived. The official dignity of the Council was sometimes exposed to trials against which even red gowns might have proven an insufficient protection. The same Intendant urges that the tribunal ought to be provided immediately with a house _of its own_.”

“It is not decent,” he says, “that it should sit in the Governor’s antechamber any longer. His guards and valets make such a noise, that we cannot hear each other speak. I have continually to tell them to keep quiet, which causes them to make a thousand jokes at the councillors as they pass in and out. As the Governor and the council were often on ill terms, the official head of the colony could not always be trusted to keep his attendants on their good behaviour.” (Parkman’s _Old Regime_, p. 273.)

At other times, startling incidents threw a pall over the old pile. Thus in August 1666, we are told of the melancholy end of a famous Indian warrior: “Tracy invited the Flemish Bastard and a Mohawk chief named Agariata to his table, when allusion was made to the murder of Chasy. On this the Mohawk, stretching out his arm, exclaimed in a Braggart tone, “This is the hand that split the head of that young man.” The indignation of the company may be imagined. Tracy told his insolent guest that he should never kill anybody else; and he was led out and hanged in presence of the Bastard. [33]

Varied in language and nationality were the guests of the Château in days of yore: thus in 1693, the proud old Governor Frontenac had at one and the same time Baron Saint Castin’s Indian father-in-law, Madocawando, from Acadia, and “a gentleman of Boston, John Nelson, captured by Villebon, the nephew and heir of Sir Thomas Temple, in whose right he claimed the proprietorship of Acadia, under an old grant of Oliver Cromwell.” (Parkman’s _Frontenac_, p. 357.)

_FORT ST. LOUIS_

Ere one of the last vestiges of the _ancien régime_, Haldimand Castle, disappears, a few details culled from reliable sources may not be unacceptable, especially as by fire, repairs and the vicissitudes of time, the changes are so great, as to render difficult the delineation of what it originally formed part of in the past.

Grave misconceptions exist as to what constituted the stately residence of our former Governors. Many imagine that the famous _Château St. Louis_, was but one structure, whilst in reality, it was composed at one time of three, viz:–Fort St. Louis, Château St. Louis and Haldimand Castle, the present Normal School. The writer has succeeded in collecting together nine views of the Fort and Château St. Louis since the days of Champlain down to modern times. Champlain’s “brass bell” is conspicuous in more than one of the designs.

According to Father DuCreux, the first fort erected by Champlain on the crest of the promontory, _arx aedificata in promontarii cuspidine_, was not placed on the site of Dufferin Terrace, but at the south-east point of the area, which is now occupied by the Grand Battery, north-east of the present Parliament building and looking down on Sault-au-Matelot street. Champlain subsequently removed it to a still more elevated site; its bastions, towers and ramparts surrounded the space on which the former Governor’s residence, soldier’s barracks, magazine, &c., were constructed.

“The fortress, says Bouchette, (Fort) of St. Louis covered about four acres of ground, and formed nearly a parallelogram; on the western side two strong bastions on each angle were connected by a curtain, in the centre of which was a sallyport: the other faces presented works of nearly a similar description, but of less dimensions.” [34]

We may add that Fort St. Louis, shown on the plan of Quebec of 1660, published by Abbé Faillon, and more plainly exhibited on Jeffery’s map of Quebec, published in London in 1760, disappears after the conquest. No mention is made of it in 1775, and still less in 1784, as a fortress.

Champlain, in his deposition, [35] sworn to, on the 9th Nov. 1629, in London, before the Right Worshipful Sir Henry Martin, Knight, Judge of the High Court of Admiralty, describes minutely, the armament and belongings of Fort St. Louis, on the 9th August 1629, when he surrendered it to the Kirkes: cannon such as they were, and ammunition he seems to have had in abundance, without forgetting what he styles “the murderers with their double boxes or charges,” a not excessively deadly kind of _mitrailleuse_ or Gatling gun, we should imagine; the Fort also contained a smith’s forge, carpenter’s tools, machinery for a windmill, and a handmill to grind corn, a brass bell–probably to sound the tocsin, or alarm, at the approach of the marauding savages of Stadacona, the array of muskets–(thirteen complete)–is not formidable. Who was the maker of his pistol-proof coats-of-mail?

_NEW CHÂTEAU ST. LOUIS._

“Such dusky grandeur clothed the height Where the huge castle holds its state, And all the steep slope down
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, Piled deep and massy, close and high
Mine own romantic town.”
(Scott’s _Marmion_.)

“Few circumstances of discussion and enquiry, says Hawkins, are more interesting than the history and fate of ancient buildings, especially if we direct our attention to the fortunes and vicissitudes of those who were connected with them. The temper, genius and pursuits of an historical era are frequently delineated in the features of remarkable edifices, nor can any one contemplate them without expressing curiosity, concerning those who first formed the plan, and afterwards created and tenanted the structure. These observations apply particularly to the subject of this chapter.

The history of the ancient Castle of St. Louis, or Fort of Quebec, for above two centuries the seat of Government in the Province (of Quebec), affords subjects of great and stirring interest during its several periods. The hall of the old Fort during the weakness of the colony was often a scene of terror and despair at the inroads of the persevering and ferocious Iroquois, who, having passed or overthrown all the French outposts, more than once threatened the fort itself and massacred some friendly Indians within sight of its walls. Here, too, in intervals of peace, were laid those benevolent plans for the religious instruction and conversion of the savages which at one time distinguished the policy of the ancient governors. At a later era, when, under the protection of the French kings, the province had acquired the rudiments of military strength and power, the Castle of St. Louis was remarkable as having been the site whence the French governors exercised an immense sovereignty, extending from the Gulf of St. Lawrence, along the shores of that noble river, its magnificent lakes, 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 chain of forts which protected the settlements throughout this vast extent of country, keeping the English colonies in constant alarm, and securing the fidelity of the Indian nations. During this period the council-chamber of the castle was the scene of many a midnight vigil [36]–many a long deliberation and deep-laid project to free the continent from the intrusion of the ancient rival of France and assert the supremacy of the Gallic lily. At another era, subsequent to the surrender of Quebec to the British armies, and until the recognition of the independence of the United States, the extent of empire of the government of which the Castle of Quebec was the principal seat, comprehended the whole American continent north of Mexico. It is astonishing to reflect for a moment, to how small, and, as to size, comparatively insignificant an island in the Atlantic ocean this gigantic territory was once subject. Here also was rendered to the representative of the French king, with all its ancient forms, the fealty and homage of the noblesse and military retainers, who held possessions in the province under the crown. A feudal ceremony, suited to early times, which imposed a real and substantial obligation on those who performed it, not to be violated without forfeiture and dishonour. The king of Great Britain having succeeded to the rights of the French crown, this ceremony is still retained.

“Fealty and homage is rendered at this day (1834) by the seigniors to the Governor, as the representative of the sovereign, in the following form: His Excellency being in full dress and seated in a state chair, surrounded by his staff, and attended by the Attorney-General, the seignior, in an evening dress and wearing a sword, is introduced into his presence by the Inspector General of the Royal Domain and Clerk of the Land Roll, and having delivered up his sword, and kneeling upon one knee before the Governor, places his right hand between his and repeats the ancient oath of fidelity; after which a solemn act is drawn up in a register kept for that purpose, which is signed by the Governor and the seignior, and countersigned by the proper officers.” –(Hawkin’s _Picture of Quebec_.)

The historian, Ferland, _Notes sur les Registres de Notre Dame de Quebec_, relates one of the earliest instances (1634) of the manner the _foi et hommage_ was rendered. It is that of Jean Guion (Dion?) vassal of Robert Giffard, seignior of Beauport: “Guion presents himself in the presence of a notary, at the principal door of the manor-house of Beauport; having knocked, one Boulle, farmer of Giffard, opened the door and in reply to Guion’s question, if the seignior was at home, replied that he was not, but that he, Boulle, was empowered to receive acknowledgments and homage for the vassals in his name. After the which reply, the said Guion, being at the principal door, placed himself on his knees, on the ground, with bare head and without sword or spurs, and said three times these words: ‘Monsieur de Beauport, Monsieur de Beauport, Monsieur de Beauport, I bring you the faith and homage which I am bound to bring you on account of my _fief_ Du Buisson, which I hold as a man of faith of your seigniory of Beauport, declaring that I offer to pay my seigniorial and feudal dues in their season, and demanding of you to accept me in faith and homage as aforesaid.'” (Parkman’s _Old Regime_, p 246.)

“Of these buildings (says Bouchette), the Castle of St. Louis being the most prominent object on the summit of the rock–will obtain the first notice.

“It is a handsome stone building seated near the edge of a precipice, * * and supported towards the steep by a solid work of masonry, rising nearly half the height of the edifice, and surmounted by a spacious gallery, * * * The whole pile is 162 feet long by 45 feet broad, and three stories high * * * Each extremity is terminated by a small wing, giving to the whole an easy and regular character.

“It was built shortly after the city was fortified with solid works, * * *–for a long series of years it was neglected, so much as to be suffered to go to decay, and ceasing to be the residence of the Commander-in-Chief, was used only for the offices of Government until the year 1808, when a resolution passed the Provincial Parliament for repairing and beautifying it; the sum of £1,000 was at the same time voted, and the work forthwith commenced.

“The money applied was inadequate to defray the expenses–upon the grand scale the improvements were commenced, but an additional grant was made to cover the whole charge, * * *

“Sir James Craig took possession of it, etc.

“The part properly called the Château occupies one side of the square or court-yard; on the opposite side stands an extensive building (Haldimand Castle) divided among the offices of Government, both civil and military, that are under the immediate control of the Governor, it contains also a handsome suite of apartments where the balls and other public entertainments of the court are always given. During the dilapidated state of the Château, this building was occupied by the family of the Governors. Both the exterior and the interior are in a very plain style, it forms part of the curtain that ran between the two exterior bastions of the old fortress of St. Louis, adjoining it are several other buildings of smaller size, appropriated to similar uses, a guard house, stables, and extensive riding house, of these works only a few vestiges remain, except the eastern wall, which is kept in solid repair. The new guard house and stables, both fronting the parade, have a very neat exterior, the first forms the arc of a circle and has a colonnade before it, the stables are attached to the riding house, which is spacious, and in every way well adapted to its intended purpose, it is also used for drilling the city militia”– (Bouchette’s _Topography of Lower Canada_, 1815, p. 431-4.)

The brilliant biographer of “Frontenac” and author of the, “Old Regime,” thus sums up from the official correspondence of the French Governors and Intendants the foundation, reconstructions and alterations in the Fort and Château.

“This structure,” says Francis Parkman, “destined to be famous in Canadian history, was originally built by Samuel de Champlain. The cellar still remains under the wooden platform of the present Durham (now Dufferin) Terrace. Behind the château was the area of the fort, now an open square. In the most famous epoch of its history, the time of Frontenac, the château was old and dilapidated, and the fort was in sad condition.” “The walls are all down,” writes Frontenac in 1681, “there are neither gates nor guard-houses, the whole place is open.” On this the new Intendant Meules was ordered to report what repairs were needed. Meanwhile la Barre had come to replace Frontenac, whose complaints he repeats. He says that the wall is in ruins for a distance of a hundred and eighty _toises_. “The workmen ask 6,000 francs to repair it. I could get it done in France for 2,000. The cost frightens me. I have done nothing.”–(_La Barre au Ministre_, 1682). Meules, however, received orders to do what was necessary, and, two years later, he reports that he had rebuilt the wall, repaired the fort, and erected a building, intended at first for the council, within the area. This building stood near the entrance of the present St. Louis street, and was enclosed by an extension of the fort wall.

Denonville next appears on the scene, with his usual disposition to fault-finding. “The so-called château,” he says (1685), “is built of wood, and is dry as a match. There is a place where with a bundle of straw it could be set on fire at any time,… some of the gates will not close, there is no watchtower, and no place to shoot from.”– (_Denonville au Ministre_, 20 _Août_, 1685).

When Frontenac resumed the Government, he was much disturbed at the condition of the château, and begged for slate to cover the roof, as the rain was coming in everywhere. At the same time the Intendant Champigny reports it to be rotten and ruinous. This was in the year made famous by the English attack, and the dramatic scene in the hall of the old building when Frontenac defied the envoy of Admiral Phipps, whose fleet lay in the river below. In the next summer, 1691, Frontenac again asks for slate to cover the roof, and for 15,000 or 20,000 francs to repair his mansion.

In the next year the king promised to send him 12,000 francs, in instalments. Frontenac acknowledges the favour, and says that he will erect a new building, and try in the meantime not to be buried under the old one, as he expects to be every time the wind blows hard.– (_Frontenac au Ministre_, 15 _Septembre_, 1692). A misunderstanding with the Intendant, who had control of the money, interrupted the work. Frontenac writes the next year that he had been “obliged to send for carpenters during the night, to prop up the château, lest he should be crushed under the ruins.” The wall of the fort was, however, strengthened, and partly rebuilt to the height of sixteen feet, at a cost of 13,629 francs. It was a time of war, and a fresh attack was expected from the English.–(_Frontenac et Champigny au Ministre_, 4 _Nov_, 1693). In the year 1854, the workmen employed in demolishing a part of this wall, adjoining the garden of the château, found a copper plate bearing an inscription in Latin as follows–

D. O. M.
Anno reparatae salutis Millesimo sexcentesimo nonagesimo tertio Regnante Augustissimo Invictissimo ac Christianissimo Galliae Rege
Rege Ludovico Magno XIIII Excellentissimus ac Illustrissimus Dnûs Dnux Ludovicus de Buade
Comes de Frontenac, totius Novae Franciae Semel et iterum Provex,
Ab ipsomet, triennio ante rebellibus Novae Angliae incolis, hanc civitatem Quebecensem, Obsidentibus, pulsis, fusis ac penitus Devictis,
Et iterum hocce supradicto anno obsidionem Minitantibus
Hanc arcem cum adjectis munimentis In totius patriae tutelam populi salutem Nec non in perfidae, tum Deo, tum suo Regi Legitimo, gentis iterandum confusionem Sumptibus regies oedificari
Curavit,
Ac primarium hunc lapidem Posuit,

JOANNES SOULLARD, Sculpsit

(_Translation_)

“In the year of Redemption, 1693, under the reign of the Most August, Most Invincible, and Most Christian King of France, Louis the Great, fourteenth of that name, the Most Excellent Louis de Buade, Count of Frontenac, Governor for the second time of all New France, seeing that the rebellious inhabitants of New England, who three years ago were repulsed, routed, and completely vanquished by him, when they besieged this town of Quebec, are threatening to renew the siege this very year, has caused to be built, at the expense of the King, this Citadel, with the fortifications adjoining thereto, for the defence of the country, for the security of the people, and for confounding again that nation perfidious alike towards its God and its lawful King, and he (_Frontenac_) has placed here this first stone.”

A year later, the rebuilding of the château was begun in earnest. Frontenac says that nothing but a miracle has saved him from being buried under its ruins, that he has pulled everything down, and begun again from the foundation, but that the money has given out.– (_Frontenac au Ministre_, 4 _Nov._, 1694) Accordingly, he and the Intendant sold six licenses for the fur trade, but at a rate unusually low, for they brought only 4,400 francs.

The King hearing of this sent 6,000 more. Frontenac is profuse in thanks, and at the same time begs for another 6,000 francs, “to complete a work which is the ornament and beauty of the city” (1696). The Minister sent 8,000 more, which was soon gone; and Frontenac drew on the royal treasurer for 5,047 in addition. The Intendant complains of his extravagance, and says that he will have nothing but perfection; and that besides the château, he has insisted on building two guard-houses, with mansard roofs, at the two sides of the gate. “I must do as he says,” adds the Intendant, “or there will be a quarrel.” (_Champigny au Ministre_, 13 _Oct._, 1697). In a letter written two days after, Frontenac speaks with great complacency of his château, and asks for another 6,000 francs to finish it. As the case was urgent he sold six more licenses at 1,000 francs each, but he died too soon to see the completion of his favorite work (1698). The new château was not finished before 1700, and even then it had no cistern. In a pen sketch of Quebec, on a manuscript map of 1699, preserved in the Dépôt de Cartes de la Marine, the new château is distinctly represented. In front is a gallery or balcony resting on a wall and buttresses at the edge of the cliff. Above the gallery is a range of high windows, along the face of the building, and over these a range of small windows and a mansard roof. In the middle is a porch opening on the gallery, and on the left extends a battery, on the ground now occupied by a garden along the brink of the cliff. A water-colour sketch of the château taken in 1804, from the land side, by William Morrison, Jr., is in my possession. [37] The building appears to have been completely remodelled in the interval. It is two stories in height, the mansard roof is gone, and a row of attic windows surmount the second story. In 1809 it was again remodelled at a cost of ten thousand pounds sterling, a third story was added, and the building, resting on the buttresses which still remain under the balustrade of Durham (Dufferin) Terrace, had an imposing effect when seen from the river. It was destroyed by fire in 1834.–(Parkman’s _Old Regime_.)

HALDIMAND CASTLE

After sketching Fort St. Louis, begun in 1624,–a refuge against the Iroquois, and whose bastions rendered useless disappeared shortly after the conquest, as well as giving the history of the Château St. Louis proper, destroyed by fire 23rd January, 1834, it behoves us to close the narrative with a short account of the origin of the wing or new building still extant, and used since 1871 as the Normal School. This structure generally, though improperly styled the _Old Château_, dates back to the last century. On the 5th May, 1784, the corner stone was laid with suitable ceremonies, by the Governor-General, Sir Frederick Haldimand; the Château St. Louis had been found inadequate in size for the various purposes required, viz.: a Vice-regal residence, a Council room for the Legislative, the Executive and Judiciary Councils, &c.

The Province was rapidly expanding, as well as the Viceroy’s levees, official balls, public receptions, &c.; suites of rooms and stately chambers, became indispensible.

The following incident occurred during its construction:–On the 17th September, 1784, the workmen at the Château in levelling the yard, dug up a large stone with a Maltese cross engraved on it, bearing the date “1647.” One of Wolfe’s veterans, Mr. James Thompson, Overseer of Public Works, got the masons to lay the stone in the cheek of the gate of the new building. A wood-cut of the stone, gilt at the expense of Mr. Ernest Gagnon, City Councillor in 1872, appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_ of the 24th June, 1880. Let us hope when the site shall be transferred, that the Hon. Premier will have a niche reserved for this historic relic as was so appropriately done by Sir H L Langevin, for the “Chien d’Or” tablet when the new city Post Office was built in 1871-3.

Haldimand Castle soon became a building of note. On the 19th January, 1787, the anniversary of the Queen’s Birthday–Charlotte of Mecklenburg, consort of George III., the first grand reception was held there. In the following summer, the future monarch of Great Britain, William IV., the sailor prince, aged 22 years, visited his father’s loyal Canadian lieges. Prince William Henry had then landed, on 14th August, in the Lower Town from H. M. frigate “Pegasus.” Traditions repeat that the young Duke of Clarence enjoyed himself amazingly among the _beau monde_ of Quebec, having eyes for more than the scenic beauties of the “Ancient Capital,” not unlike other worthy Princes who came after him.

“He took an early opportunity of visiting the Ursulines, and by his polite and affable manner quite won the hearts of those worthy ladies.”–(_Histoire des Ursulines_, vol. III, p. 183.)

Sorel, in honour of his visit, changed its name into Fort William Henry. Among other festivities at Quebec, Lord Dorchester, Governor-General, the successor to Sir Frederick Haldimand, on the 21st August, 1787, treated H. R. Highness to a grand pyrotechnic display. “Prince William Henry and his company, being seated on an exalted platform, erected by the Overseer of Public Works, James Thompson, over a powder magazine joining the end of the new building (Haldimand Castle), while the fireworks were displayed on an eminence fronting it below the _old_ Citadel.”–(_Thompson’s Diary._)

_THE QUEBEC AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY._

In the stately reception room of the Castle was founded, in 1789, the _Quebec Agricultural Society_.

“On the 6th April, the rank and fashion, nobility and clergy of all denominations, as well as commoners, crowded at the _Château St. Louis_, to enter their names as subscribers to the Quebec Agricultural Society, warmly patronized by his Excellency Lord Dorchester, Hon. Hugh Finlay, Deputy Postmaster-General, was chosen Secretary.

The _Quebec Gazette_ of the 23rd April, 1789, will supply the names, the list is suggestive on more points than one.

Rev. Philip Tosey, Military M. Pierre Florence, Rivière Chaplain. Ouelle
T. Monk, Atty-Genl. T. Arthur Coffin G. B. Taschereau, Esq. Capt. Chas. St. Ours. Peter Stewart, Esq. Aug. Glapion, Sup. Jésuites. Malcolm Fraser, Esq. A. Hubert, Curé de Québec. William Lindsay, Esq. Juchereau Duchesnay, Esq. J. B. Deschêneaux, Esq. L. de Salaberry, Esq. John Lees, Esq. P. Panet, P.C. John Renaud, Esq. M. Grave, Supérieur, Séminaire John Young, Esq. John Craigie, Esq. Mathew Lymburner, Esq. Berthelot D’Artigny, Esq. John Blackwood, Esq. Perrault l’Aine, Esq. M. L. Germain, fils. George Allsopp, Esq. A. Panet, Esq. Robert Lester, Esq. P. L. Panet, Esq. Alex. Davidson, Esq. A. Gaspé, Esq., St. Jean Port The Chief Justice (W. Smith). Joly. Hon. Hugh Finlay. M. Ob. Aylwin. Hon. Thos. Dunn. The Canadian Bishop. Hon. Edw. Harrison. M. Bailly, Coadjutor. Hon. John Collins. T. Mervin Nooth, Dr. Hon. Adam Mabane. Henry Motz, Dr. Hon. J. G. C. DeLéry. Jenkins Williams. Hon. Geo. Pownall. Isaac Ogden, Judge of Admiralty. Hon. Henry Caldwell. Messire Panet, Curé of Rivière Hon. William Grant. Ouelle. Hon. Francois Baby. Sir Thomas Mills. Hon. Saml. Holland. François Dambourges, Esq. Hon. Geo. Davidson. Capt. Fraser, 34th Regt. Hon. Chas. De Lanaudière. Kenelm Chandler, Esq. Hon. LeCompte Dupré. J. T. Cugnet, Esq. Major Mathews. J. F. Cugnet, Esq. Capt. Rotson.

_THE LOYAL LEAGUE._

Could that patriotic feeling which, ten years later, in 1799, enlisted Quebecers of all creeds to support Great Britain, then at war with regicide France, have been inspired by the sturdy old chieftain, who hailed from the Castle,–General Robert Prescott? It was indeed a novel idea, that loyal league, which exhibited both R. C and Anglican Bishops, each putting their hands in their pockets to help Protestant England to rout the armies of the “eldest son of the Church,” represented by the First Consul; so general and so intense was the horror inspired by revolutionary and regicide France.

Though in the past, as at present, attempts were occasionally made to stir up discord amongst our citizens, there appears more than once, traces of enlarged patriotism and loyalty to the mother country, animating all classes. This seems conspicuous in the public invitation by men of both nationalities, inserted in a public journal, for 1799, to form a national fund in order to help England with the war waged against France; this invitation not only bears the signatures of leading English citizens, but also those of several Quebecers of French extraction, rejoicing in old and historic names such as the following.”–(_Quebec, Past and Present_, page 244.)

Hon. William Osgood, C. Justice. John Young. Hon. Francois Baby. Louis Dunière. Hon. Hugh Finlay. J. Sewell.
Hon. J. A. Panet. John Craigie. Hon. Thos. Dunn. Wm. Grant.
Hon. Ant. Juchereau Duchesnay Rob. Lester. Hon. George Pownall. Jas. Sheppard, Sheriff.

Mr. Panet, one of the signers, was Speaker of our Commons for twenty- two years later on. The city journals contain the names and amounts subscribed, as follows:–

J. Quebec ……………………………. £300 0 0 Wm. Osgood …………………………… 300 0 0 George Pownall ……………………….. 100 guineas Henry Caldwell ……………………….. £300 0 0 George W. Taylor, .. per annum during war… 5 0 0 A. J. Baby, …………. ” ” …….. 5 0 0 Geo. Heriot, ………… ” ” …….. 50 0 0 Chs. De Léry, ……….. ” ” …….. 12 0 0 John Blackwood, ……… ” ” …….. 10 0 0 Wm. Burns, ………….. ” ” …….. 20 0 0 Le Séminaire de Quebec, . ” ” …….. 50 0 0 J. A. Panet, ………… ” ” …….. 30 0 0 John Wurtele, ……….. ” ” …….. 4 0 0 Wm. Grant, ………….. ” ” …….. 32 4 5 Wm. Bouthillier, …….. ” ” …….. 3 10 0 Juchereau Duchesnay, …. ” ” …….. 20 0 0 James Grossman, ……… ” ” …….. 10 0 0 Henry Brown, ………… ” ” …….. 0 10 0 Thos. Dunn, …………. ” ” …….. 66 0 0 Peter Boatson, ………. ” ” …….. 23 6 8 Antoine Nadeau, ……… ” ” …….. 0 6 0 Robert Lester, ………. ” ” …….. 30 0 0 Le Coadjutor de Quebec, . ” ” …….. 25 0 0 Thos. Scott, ………… ” ” …….. 20 0 0 Chs. Stewart, ……….. ” ” …….. 11 2 2 Samuel Holland, ……… ” ” …….. 20 0 0 Jenkin Williams, …….. ” ” …….. 55 11 1 Francois Baby, ………. ” ” …….. 40 0 0 G. Elz. Taschereau, ….. ” ” …….. 10 0 0 M. Taschereau, Curé de St. Croix, ” …….. 5 0 0 Thos. Taschereau, ……. ” ” …….. 5 0 0 Monro & Bell, ……….. ” ” …….. 100 0 0 J. Stewart, …………. ” ” …….. 11 13 4 Louis Dumon, ………… ” ” …….. 23 6 8 Rev. Frs. de Montmollin, ” ” …….. 10 0 0 Xavier de Lanaudière, … ” ” …….. 23 6 8 Peter Stewart, ………. ” ” …….. 11 2 2 Messire Raimbault, Ange-Gardien, ” …….. 4 13 5 Messire Villase, Ste. Marie, ” …….. 4 13 4 Messire Bernard Panet, Rivière Ouelle, ….. 5 0 0 Messire Jacques Panet, Islet, ” ……. 25 0 0

See _Quebec Gazette_, 4th July, 1799. See _Quebec Gazette_, 29th August, 1799.

_AN ANTIQUE STONE._

“Praetorian here, Praetorian there, I mind the bigging o’t”– (_The Antiquary_)

[Illustration: THE OLD CHÂTEAU STONE]

Some years back a spicy little controversy was waged among our Quebec antiquarians as to the origin and real date of the stone in the wall adjoining the _Old Château_, the two last figures of the inscription being indistinct.

Was it 1646, 1647 or 1694? After deep research, profound cogitation and much ink used in the public prints, 1647, the present date, prevailed, and Mr. Ernest Gagnon, then a City Councillor, had this precious relic restored and gilt at his cost.

The date 1647 also agrees with the Jesuits _Relation_, which states that, in 1647, under Governor de Montmagny, one of the bastions was lined with stone; additional light was thrown on this controversy, by the inspection of a deed of agreement, bearing date at Fort St. Louis, 19th October, 1646, exhumed from the Court House vaults, and signed by the stonemasons who undertook to _revetir de murailles un bastion qui est au bas de l’allee du Mont Caluaire, descendant au Fort St. Louis_, for which work they were to receive from _Monsieur Bourdon_, engineer and surveyor, 2,000 _livres_ and a puncheon of wine.

This musty, dry-as-dust, old document gives rise to several enquiries. One not the least curious, is the luxurious mode of life, which the puncheon of wine supposes among stonemasons at such a remote period of Quebec history as 1646. Finally, it was decided that this stone and cross were intended to commemorate the year in which the Fort St. Louis Bastion, begun in 1646, was finished, viz., 1647.

This historic stone, which has nothing in common with the

“Stone of Blarney
On the banks of Killarney,”

cropped up again more than a century later, in the days when Sergeant Jas. Thompson, one of Wolfe’s veterans, was overseer of public works at Quebec–(he died in 1830, aged 98.) We read in his unpublished diary. “The cross in the wall, September 17th, 1784. The miners at the Château, in levelling the yard, dug up a large stone, from which I have described the annexed figure (identical with the present), I could wish it was discovered soon enough to lay conspicuously in the wall of the new building, (Haldimand Castle), in order to convey to posterity the antiquity of the Château St. Louis. However, I got the masons to lay the stone in the cheek of the gate of new building.” Extract from _James Thompson’s Diary_, 1759-1830.

Col. J. Hale, grandfather to our esteemed fellow townsman, E. J. Hale, Esq., and one of Wolfe’s companions-at-arms, used to tell how he had succeeded in having this stone saved from the _débris_ of the Château walls, and restored a short time before the Duke of Clarence, the sailor prince (William IV), visited Quebec in 1787.

Occasionally, the Castle opened its portals to rather unexpected but, nor the less welcome, visitors. On the 13th March, 1789, His Excellency Lord Dorchester had the satisfaction of entertaining a stalwart woodsman and expert hunter, Major Fitzgerald of the 54th Regiment, then stationed at St. John, New Brunswick, the son of a dear old friend, Lady Emilia Mary, daughter of the Duke of Richmond. This chivalrous Irishman was no less than the dauntless Lord Edward Fitzgerald, fifth son of the Duke of Leinster, the true but misguided patriot, who closed his promising career in such a melancholy manner in prison, during the Irish rebellion in 1798. Lord Edward had walked up on snowshoes through the trackless forest, from New Brunswick to Quebec, a distance of 175 miles, in twenty-six days, accompanied by a brother officer, Mr. Brisbane, a servant and two “woodsmen.” This feat of endurance is pleasantly described by himself.

Tom Moore, in his biography of this generous, warmhearted son of Erin, among other dutiful epistles addressed by Lord Edward to his mother, has preserved the following, of which we shall give a few extracts:–

QUEBEC, March 14, 1789.

DEAREST MOTHER,–I got here yesterday after a very long and, what some people would think, a very tedious and fatiguing journey; but to me it was, at most, only a little fatiguing, and to make up for that, it was delightful and quite new. We were thirty days on our march, twenty-six of which we were in the woods, and never saw a soul but our own party.

You must know we came through a part of the country that had always been reckoned impassable. In short, instead of going a long way about, we determined to try and get straight through the woods, and see what kind of country it was. I believe I mentioned my party in a letter to Ogilvie (his step-father) before I left St. Anne’s or Fredericton: it was an officer of the regiment, Tonny, and two woodsmen. The officer and I used to draw part of our baggage day about, and the other day steer (by compass), which we did so well, that we made the point we intended within ten miles. We were only wrong in computing our distances and making them a little too great, which obliged us to follow a new course, and make a river, which led us round to Quebec, instead of going straight to it. * * * I expect my leave by the first despatches. * * * I shall not be able to leave this part of the world till May, as I cannot get my leave before that. How I do long to see you. Your old love, Lord Dorchester, is very civil to me. I must, though, tell you a little more of the journey. After making the river, we fell in with some savages, and travelled with them to Quebec; they were very kind to us, and said we were “all one brother,” “all one indian.” They fed us the whole time we were with them. You would have laughed to have seen me carrying an old squaw’s pack, which was so heavy I could hardly waddle under it. However, I was well paid whenever we stopped, for she always gave me the best bits and most soup, and took as much care of me as if I had been her own son; in short, I was quite _l’enfant chéri_. We were quite sorry to part: the old lady and gentleman both kissed me very heartily. I gave the old lady one of Sophia’s silver spoons, which pleased her very much. When we got here, you may guess what figures we were. We had not shaved nor washed during the journey; our blanket-coats and trousers all worn out and pieced, in short, we went to two or three houses and they would not let us in. There was one old lady, exactly the _hôtesse_ in Gil Blas, _elle me prit la mesure du pied jusqu’à la tête_, and told me there was one room, without a stove or bed, next a billiard room, which I might have if I pleased, and when I her told we were gentlemen, she very quietly said, “I dare say you are,” and off she went. However, at last we got lodgings in an ale house, and you may guess ate well and slept well, and went next day well dressed, with one of Lord Dorchester’s aide-de-camps to triumph over the old lady; in short, exactly the story in Gil Blas.

We are quite curiosities here after our journey, some think we were mad to undertake it, some think we were lost; some will have it we were starved; there were a thousand lies, but we are safe and well, enjoying rest and good eating, most completely. One ought really to take these fillips now and then, they make one enjoy life a great deal more.

The hours here are a little inconvenient to us as yet; whenever we wake at night we want to eat, the same as in the woods, and as soon as we eat we want to sleep. In our journey we were always up two hours before day, to load and get ready to march, we used to stop between three and four, and it generally took us from that till night to shovel out the snow, cut wood, cook and get ready for night, so that immediately after our suppers we were asleep, and whenever any one awakes in the night, he puts some wood on the fire, and eats a bit before he lies down again; but for my part, I was not much troubled with waking in the night.

“I really do think there is no luxury equal to that of lying before a good fire on a good spruce bed, after a good supper, and a hard moose chase in a fine clear frosty moonlit starry night. But to enter into the spirit of this, you must understand what a moose chase is: the man himself runs the moose down by pursuing the track. Your success in killing depends on the number of people you have to pursue and relieve one another in going first (which is the fatiguing part of snow- shoeing), and on the depth and hardness of the snow, for when the snow is hard and has a crust, the moose cannot get on, as it cuts his legs, and then he stops to make battle. But when the snow is soft, though it be above his belly, he will go on three, four or five days, for then the man cannot get on so fast, as the snow is heavy and he only gets his game by perseverance–an Indian never gives him up.” Then follows a most graphic description of a hunt–closing with the death of the noble quarry.

“Pray,” continues Lord Edward, “write to uncle Richmond, I would write if there was time, but I have only time to fill up this.”

Tom Moore adds, that the plan of Lord Edward’s route through the woods was forwarded from Quebec to the Duke of Richmond, by Mr. Hamilton Moore, in a letter dated Quebec, May 22nd, 1789, this letter closes with the following:–“Lord Edward has met with the esteem and admiration of all here.”

In a subsequent epistle to Mr. Ogilvie, his step-father, dated “Quebec, 12th April, 1789,” Lord Edward mentions the death of the Lieut.-Governor of Quebec (Major Patrick Bellew). “It is a place of £1,600 a year, and I think would do well for Charles. The day before he died I was in treaty for his Lieut.-Colonelcy in the 44th Regiment.”

Later, on 4th May, 1789, he writes from Montreal, and speaks gratefully of the open-handed hospitality extended to him, and of the kind lady friends he met at Quebec. (Page 67.)

Alas! generous youth, what foul fiend, three year later, inspired you, with Tom Paine as your adviser, to herd at Paris with the regicide crew, and howl the “_Carmagnole_” and “_Çà Ira_,” with the hideous monsters who revelled in blood under the holy name of liberty?

Again, one follows the patriotic Irish nobleman, in 1793, plighting his faith to a lovely and noble bride, Pamela Sims, the youthful daughter of the Duke of Orleans, by Madame de Genlis.

A few short years and the ghastly phantom of death, in a dismal prison, in the dearly loved land of his birth, spreads a pall over what might have been to his unfortunate country, a career full of honour. Alas! brave, noble Edward! Poor, pretty little Pamela, alas!

The Castle had its sunshine and its shadows. Many still survive to tell of an impressive, and gloomy pageant. On the 4th September, 1819, previous to their transfer to the chancel of the Anglican Cathedral, were exposed in state in the Château, the mortal remains of the late Governor-General, His Grace Charles Gordon Lennox, Duke of Richmond, Lennox and Aubigny, who, on the 28th August, 1819, had died of hydrophobia.

The revolving wheel of time ushers in, with his successor, other actors, and other scenes. One likes to recall the presence there of a graceful and noble Chatelaine, his daughter, Lady Sarah Lennox, the devoted wife of the administrator of the Government of Lower Canada, Sir Peregrine Maitland, “a tall, grave officer, says Dr. Scadding, always in military undress, his countenance ever wearing a mingled expression of sadness and benevolence, like that which one may observe on the face of the predecessor of Louis Philippe, Charles the Tenth,” whose current portraits recall, not badly, the whole head and figure of this early Governor of Upper Canada.

“In an outline representation which we (Dr. Scadding) accidentally possessed, of a panorama of the battle of Waterloo, on exhibition in London, the 1st Foot Guards were conspicuously to be seen, led on by ‘Major General Sir Peregrine Maitland.'” [38]

With persons of wider knowledge, Sir Peregrine was invested With further associations. Besides being the royal representative in these parts, he was the son-in-law of Charles Gordon Lennox, fourth Duke of Richmond, a name that stirred chivalrous feelings in early Canadians of both Provinces; for the Duke had come to Canada as Governor-in- Chief, with a grand reputation acquired as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and great benefits were expected, and probably would have been realized, from his administration, had it been of long continuance. But he had been suddenly removed by an excruciating death. Whilst on a tour of inspection in the Upper Province, he had been fatally attacked by hydrophobia, occasioned by the bite of a pet fox. The injury had been received at Sorel; its terrible effects were fatally experienced at a place near the Ottawa river called Richmond.

Some of the prestige of the deceased Duke continued to adhere to Sir Peregrine Maitland, for he had married the Duke’s daughter, a graceful and elegant woman, who was always at his side here (York, now Toronto), and at Stanford Cottage across the lake. She bore a name not unfamiliar in the domestic annals of George III., who once, it is said, was enamored of a beautiful Lady Sarah Lennox, grandmother, as we suppose, or some other near relative of the Lady Sarah Lennox here before us. However, conversationists whispered about (in confidence) something supposed to be unknown to the general public, that the match between Sir Peregrine and Lady Sarah had been effected in spite of the Duke. The report was that there had been an elopement, and it was naturally supposed that the party of the sterner sex bad been the most active agent in the affair. To say the truth, however, in this instance it was the lady who precipitated matters. The affair occurred at Paris, soon after the Waterloo campaign. The Duke’s final determination against Sir Peregrine’s proposals having been announced, the daughter suddenly withdrew from the father’s roof, and fled to the lodgings of Sir Peregrine, who instantly retired to other quarters. The upshot of the whole thing, at once romantic and unromantic, included a marriage and a reconciliation, and eventually a Lieutenant- Governorship for the son-in-law, under the Governorship-in-Chief of the father, both despatched together to undertake the discharge of vice-regal functions in a distant colony. At the time of his marriage with Lady Sarah Lennox, Sir Peregrine had been for some ten years a widower. [39] After the death of the Duke of Richmond, Sir Peregrine became administrator, for a time of the general government of British North America.

One of the Duke of Richmond’s sons was lost in the ill-fated steamer _President_ in 1840. In December, 1824, Sir Peregrine revisited Quebec with Sir Francis Burton, Lieutenant-Governor, in the _Swiftsure_, steamer escorting some very distinguished tourists. A periodical notices the arrivals at the old Château as follows:–

“Sir Peregrine is accompanied by Lord Arthur Lennox, Mr. Maitland, Colonels Foster, Lightfoot, Coffin and Talbot, with the Hon. E. G. Stanley (from 1851 to 1869 Earl of Derby), grandson of Earl Derby, M. P. for Stockbridge; John E. Denison, Esq., (subsequently Speaker of the House of Commons), M. P. for Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and James S. Wortley, Esq. (afterwards Lord Wharncliffe), M. P. for Bossiney in Cornwall. The three latter gentlemen are upon a tour in this country from England, and we are happy to learn, that they have expressed themselves as being highly gratified with all they have hitherto seen in Canada.”–(_Canadian Review_, 1824.)

Quebecers will be pleased to learn that the name of Sir Peregrine Maitland is pleasantly preserved by means of Maitland Scholarships in a grammar school for natives at Madras, and by a Maitland Prize in the University of Cambridge. Sir Peregrine, as patron of education, opened an era of progress which his successors Lords Elgin, Dufferin and Lorne have continued in a most munificent manner.

A curious glimpse of high life at Quebec, in the good old days of Lord Dalhousie, is furnished in a letter addressed to _Delta_, of Blackwood’s Magazine, by John Galt, the novelist, the respected father of our gifted statesman, Sir Alexander Tilloch Galt. [40]

The talented author of the “_Annals of the Parish_,” after expatiating on the dangers he had that day incurred in crossing over from Levis to Quebec in a canoe, among the ice-floes, thus alludes to the winter amusements:–

QUEBEC, 22nd February, 1827.

MY DEAR SIR,–I am under very great obligations to you. A copy of the “Laird” having come to the castle from the New York publishers, Lady Dalhousie lent it to me. * * * I am much pleased with Quebec. It is at present filled with Highland regiments, in which I have many acquaintances and the hospitality of the other inhabitants is also unbounded, for the winter suspends all business, and pleasure is conducted as if it were business. The amateurs have a theatre, and I wrote a piece for them, in which a Londoner, a Glasgow merchant, an Irish girl, a Yankee family and a Highlander were introduced. It was adapted entirely to the place, and in quiz of a very agreeable custom –of everybody calling on strangers. Dr. Dunlop performed the Highlander beyond anything I ever saw on the regular stage. The whole went off with more laughter than anything I have ever seen, for the jokes being local and personal (supplied by upwards of thirty contributors), every one told with the utmost effect.”

“This farce, says Delta, composed at Quebec by J. Galt, and performed there before the Earl of Dalhousie (then Governor-General), was named “The Visitors, or a Trip to Quebec,” and was meant as a good humoured satire on some of the particular usages of the place. An American family figured as the visitors, and the piece opened with a scene in an hôtel, when a waiter brings in a tea-tray loaded with cards of callers, and the explanation of the initials having had reference to people, many of whom were present at the performance, tended much to make the thing pass off with great éclat. It seems that a custom prevails there to a punctilious extent, of all the inhabitants of a certain grade calling upon strangers and leaving their cards.

“This flash of harmless lightning, however, assumed somewhat of a malignant glare when seen from the United States. The drift of the performance was, it seems, hideously misrepresented by some of the newspapers, and it was said that Mr. Galt had ungratefully ridiculed the Americans, notwithstanding the distinction and hospitality with which they had received him. It thus came to pass that he promised, when next in New York, to write another farce, in which liberty as great should be taken with his own countrymen. “An Aunt in Virginia” was the product of this promise, and with the alterations mentioned and a change of scene from New York to London, it was published under the name of “Scotch and Yankees.””

A volume would not suffice to detail the brilliant receptions, gay routs, _levees_, state balls given at the Castle during Lord Dorchester’s administration–the lively discussions–the formal protests originating out of points of precedence, burning _questions de jupons_ between the touchy magnates of the old and those of the new _regime_. Whether la Baronne de St. Laurent would be admitted there or not? Whether a de Longueuil’s or a de Lanaudière’s place was on the right of Lady Maria, the charming consort of His Excellency Lord Dorchester–a daughter of the great English Earl of Effingham? Whether dancing ought to cease when their Lordships the Bishops entered, and made their bow to the representative of royalty? Unfortunately Quebec had then no Court Journal, so that following generations will have but faint ideas of all the witchery, the stunning head-dresses, the _décolletées_, high-waisted robes of their stately grandmothers, whirled round in the giddy waltz by whiskered, épauletted cavaliers, or else courtesying in the demure _menuet de la cour_.

In August, 1796, when Isaac Weld, Jr., visited Quebec, he describes the old part of the château as chiefly taken up with the public offices, all the apartments in it, says he, “are small and ill-contrived; but in the new part (Haldimand Castle) which stands in front of the other, facing the square (the ring), they are spacious and tolerably well furnished, but none of them can be called elegant. This part is inhabited by the Governor’s family. * * * * Every evening during summer, when the weather is fine, one of the regiments of the garrison parades in the open place before the château, and the band plays for an hour or two, at which time the place becomes the resort of numbers of the most genteel people of the town, and has a very gay appearance.” (_Weld’s Travels through the States of North America in_ 1795-6-7, vol. 1, p. 351)

In 1807, when the deadly duel between England and Imperial France was at its height, Great Britain sent New France as her Viceroy, a military Governor, equally remarkable for the sternness of his rule and for his love of display, hence the name of “Little King Craig,” awarded to Sir James Craig. To meet his requirements the House of Assembly voted in 1808, a sum of £7,000 to repair the Château St. Louis. Sir James took up his quarters in the interim, in Castle Haldimand. The Château St. Louis received an additional story and was much enlarged. In 1812 an additional sum of £7,980 19s 4d was voted to cover the deficit in the repairs. Little King Craig inhabited Château St. Louis during the winters of 1809-10-11, occupying Spencer Wood during the summer months. The _Château_ stables were subsequently converted into a riding school, afterwards into a theatre, where the exhibition of Harrison’s Diorama caused the awful tragedy of 12th June, 1846. [41] The Earl of Durham, in 1838, struck with the commanding position of this site, had the charred ruins of the old Château removed and erected a lofty platform which soon was called after him “Durham Terrace.”

In 1851-2-3-4, Haldimand Castle was repaired at a cost of $13,718.42. In 1854, Hon. Jean Chabot, member for Quebec and Commissioner of Public Works, had Durham Terrace much enlarged; the adjoining walls were repaired at an expense of $4,209.92. More expenditure was incurred in 1857. When the Laval Normal School was installed there, Bishop Langevin, then Principal, had the wing erected where the chapel stands. The vaulted room used as a kitchen for the Laval Normal School, was an old powder magazine; it is the most ancient portion of the building. The present Castle was, by Order in Council of 14th February, 1871, transferred by the Dominion authorities to the Government of the Province of Quebec, together with Durham Terrace, the Sewell Mansion, facing the Esplanade (Lieutenant- Governor’s office), also, the site and buildings of the Parliament House, on Mountain Hill.

The extension of this lofty and beautiful Terrace, suggested to the City Council by the City Engineer in his report of 1872, necessarily formed a leading feature in the splendid scheme of city improvements, originated by the Earl of Dufferin, with the assistance of Mr. Lynn, an eminent Irish engineer, and of our City Engineer, le Chevalier Baillairge. An appeal was made by a true and powerful friend to Quebec (Lord Dufferin) to our gracious Sovereign, who contributed munificently from her private purse, for the erection of the new gate, called after her late father, the Duke of Kent–Kent Gate, in remembrance of his long sojourn (1791-4) in this city. Large sums were also granted by the Dominion, it is thought, chiefly through the powerful influence of Lord Dufferin, seconded by Sir H. L. Langevin; an appeal was also made for help to the City Council and not in vain; it responded by a vote of $7,500.

The front wall was built at the expense of the Dominion Government, and occupies part of the site of the old battery, erected on that portion of the château garden granted to Major Samuel Holland in 1766.

The length of Dufferin Terrace is 1420 feet, and it is 182 feet above the level of the St. Lawrence. It forms part of the city fortifications. The site can be resumed by the Commander of the Forces (the Governor-General) whenever he may deem it expedient for objects within the scope of his military authority.

Durham Terrace, increased to four times its size, now forms a link in the Dufferin plans of city embellishment, of which the corner stone was laid by the Earl of Dufferin on the 18th October, 1878, and was authentically recognized as “Dufferin Terrace” in April and May, 1879, in the official records of the City Council; several iron plates were inserted in the flooring with the inscription, “_Dufferin Terrace, H. Hatch, contractor, C. Baillairge, engineer._” But a famous name of the past, which many loved to connect with this spot–that of Louis de Buade, Count de Frontenac, was not forgotten. The Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, on the 18th April, 1879, presented to the City Council a petition, asking among other things, that one of the handsome kiosks on the Terrace