Project Gutenberg's Famous Firesides of French Canada, by Mary Wilson Alloway
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Title: Famous Firesides of French Canada
Author: Mary Wilson Alloway
Release Date: December 14, 2009 [EBook #30674]
Language: English
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[Illustration: Hearths beside which were rocked the cradles of those who
made the history of Canada.]
FAMOUS FIRESIDES
OF
FRENCH CANADA
BY
MARY WILSON ALLOWAY.
ILLUSTRATED.
MONTREAL:
PRINTED BY JOHN LOVELL & SON
1899
Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year
one thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine, by MARY WILSON
ALLOWAY, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture and
Statistics at Ottawa.
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
LORD STRATHCONA AND MOUNT ROYAL, G.C.M.G., LL.D., &c.,
CHANCELLOR OF McGILL UNIVERSITY, MONTREAL,
AND
HIGH COMMISSIONER FOR CANADA IN LONDON,
THIS VOLUME
IS
BY SPECIAL PERMISSION
_Respectfully Dedicated_
BY
THE AUTHOR.
The principal authorities consulted in the preparation of this work were
Le Moyne, Kingsford, Rattray, Garneau, Parkman, Hawkins and Bouchette.
Acknowledgments are also due to the kind interest evinced and
encouragement given by the Hon. Judge Baby, President of the Numismatic
and Antiquarian Society of Montreal.
CONTENTS.
Château de Ramezay 19
Heroes of the Past 30
Chapel of Notre-Dame-de-la-Victoire 51
Le Séminaire 56
Cathedrals and Cloisters 58
Massacre of Lachine 82
Château de Vaudreuil 95
Battle of the Plains 103
Canada under English Rule 125
American Invasion 144
The Continental Army in Canada 155
Fur Kings 192
Interesting Sites 199
Famous Names 203
Echoes from the Past 212
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
Fireplace _Frontispiece._
Château Kitchen 24
Château de Ramezay 26
Montgomery Salon 28
Chapel of Notre Dame de la Victoire 52
Le Séminaire 56
Home of La Salle 84
St. Amable St. 98
Fort Chambly 146
Château Fortier 156
Franklin Vaults 170
PREFACE.
In offering this little volume to the kind consideration of Canadian and
American readers, it is the earnest wish of the Author that it may
commend itself to the interest of both, as the early histories of Canada
and the United States are so closely connected that they may be
considered identical.
We have tried to recall the days when, by these firesides, we re rocked
the cradles of those who helped to make Canadian history, and to render
more familiar the names and deeds of the great men, French, English and
American, upon whose valour and wisdom such mighty issues depended.
The recital is, we trust, wholly impartial and without prejudice.
It is to be hoped that the union of sentiment which the close of this
century sees between the two great Anglo-Saxon peoples may cast a veil
of forgetfulness over the strife of the one preceding it; and be a
herald of that reign of peace, when "nation shall no more rise against
nation, and wars shall cease."
[Illustration: Signature]
MARY WILSON ALLOWAY
MONTREAL, May 24, 1899.
INTRODUCTION.
About twelve years after the first Spanish caravel had touched the
shores of North America, we find the French putting forth efforts to
share in some of the results of the discovery. In the year 1504 some
Basque, Breton and Norman fisher-folk had already commenced fishing
along the bleak shores of Newfoundland and the contiguous banks for the
cod in which this region is still so prolific.
The Spanish claim to the discovery of America is disputed by several
aspirants to that honour. Among these are the ancient mariners of
Northern Europe, the Norsemen of the Scandinavian Peninsula. They assert
that their Vikings touched American shores three centuries before
Isabella of Castille drove the Moors from their palaces among the orange
groves of _Espana_. Eric the Red, and other sea-kings, made voyages to
Iceland and Greenland in the eleventh and following centuries; and it
is highly probable that these Norsemen, with their hardihood and
enterprise, touched on some part of the mainland. One Danish writer
claims that this occurred as far back as the year 985, about eighty
years after the death of the Danes' mortal enemy, the great Saxon King
Alfred.
Even the Welsh, from the isolation of their mountain fastnesses, declare
that a Cambrian expedition, in the year 1170, under Prince Modoc, landed
in America. In proof of this, there is said to exist in Mexico a colony
bearing indisputable traces of the tongue of these ancient Celts.
The term Canada first appears as the officially recognized name of the
region in the instructions given by Francis I to its original colonists
in the year 1538.
There are various theories as to the etymology of the word, its having
by different authorities been attributed to Indian, French and Spanish
origins.
In an old copy of a Montreal paper, bearing date of Dec. 24, 1834, it is
asserted that Canada or _Kannata_ is an Indian word, meaning a village,
and was mistaken by the early visitors for the name of the whole
country.
The Philadelphia _Courier_, of July, 1836, gives the following not
improbable etymology of the name of the province:--Canada is compounded
of two aboriginal words, _Can_, which signifies the mouth, and _Ada_ the
country, meaning the mouth of the country. A writer of the same period,
when there seems to have been considerable discussion on the subject,
says:--The word is undoubtedly of Spanish origin, coming from a common
Spanish word, _Canada_, signifying a space or opening between mountains
or high banks--a district in Mexico of similar physical features,
bearing the same name.
"That there were Spanish pilots or navigators among the first
discoverers of the St. Lawrence may be readily supposed, and what more
natural than that those who first visited the gulf should call the
interior of the country _El Canada_ from the typographical appearance of
the opening to it, the custom of illiterate navigators naming places
from events and natural appearances being well established."
Hennepin, an etymological _savant_, declares that the name arose from
the Spaniards, who were the first discoverers of Canada, exclaiming, on
their failure to find the precious metals, "_El Capa da nada_," or Cape
Nothing. There seems to be some support of this alleged presence of the
Spanish among the early navigators of the St. Lawrence, by the finding
in the river, near Three Rivers, in the year 1835, an ancient cannon of
peculiar make, which was supposed to be of Spanish construction.
The origins of the names of Montreal and Quebec are equally open to
discussion. Many stoutly assert that Montreal is the French for Mount
Royal, or Royal Mount; others, that by the introduction of one letter,
the name is legitimately Spanish--_Monte-real_. _Monte_, designating any
wooded elevation, and that _real_ is the only word in that language for
royal.
The word Quebec is attributed to Indian and French sources. It is said
that it is an Algonquin word, meaning a strait, the river at this point
being not more than a mile wide; but although Champlain coincided in
this view, its root has never been discovered in any Indian tongue. Its
abrupt enunciation has not to the ear the sound of an Indian word, and
it could scarcely have come from the Algonquin language, which is
singularly soft and sweet, and may be considered the Italian of North
American dialects.
Those who claim for it a French origin, say that the Normans, rowing up
the river with Cartier at his first discovery, as they rounded the
wooded shores of the Isle of Orleans, and came in sight of the bare rock
rising three hundred feet from its base, exclaimed "_Quel bec!_" or,
What a promontory! The word bears intrinsically strong evidence of
Norman origin.
Cape Diamond received its name from the fact that in the "dark colored
slate of which it is composed are found perfectly limpid quartz crystals
in veins, along with crystallized carbonate of lime, which, sparkling
like diamonds among the crags, suggested the appellation."
Famous Firesides
--OF--
French Canada
THE CHATEAU DE RAMEZAY.
A few yards from the busy municipal centre of the city of Montreal,
behind an antique iron railing, is a quaint, old building known as the
Château de Ramezay. Its history is contemporary with that of the city
for the last two centuries, and so identified with past stirring events
that it has been saved from the vandalism of modern improvement, and is
to be preserved as a relic of the old _Régime_ in New France. It is a
long one-storied structure, originally red-tiled, with graceful, sloping
roof, double rows of peaked, dormer windows, huge chimneys and the
unpolished architecture of the period.
Among the many historical buildings of America, none have been the scene
of more thrilling events, a long line of interesting associations being
connected with the now quiet old Château, looking in its peaceful old
age as out of keeping with its modern surroundings as would an ancient
vellum missal, mellowed for centuries in a monkish cell, appear among
some of the ephemeral literature of to-day.
A brilliant line of viceroys have here held rule, and within its walls
things momentous in the country's annals have been enacted. During its
checkered experience no less than three distinct _Régimes_ have followed
each other, French, British and American. In an old document still to be
found among the archives of the Seminary of St. Sulpice, it is recorded
that the land on which it stands was ceded to the Governor of Montreal
in the year 1660, just eighteen years after Maisonneuve, its founder,
planted the silken Fleur-de-Lys of France on the shores of the savage
Redman, and one hundred years before the tri-cross of England floated
for the first time from the ramparts.
Somewhere about the year 1700 a portion of this land was acquired by
Claude de Ramezay, Sieur de la Gesse, Bois Fleurent and Monnoir, in
France, and Governor of Three Rivers, and this house built.
De Ramezay was of an old Franco-Scottish family, being descended by
_Thimothy_, his father, from one Sir John Ramsay, a Scotchman, who, with
others of his compatriots, went over to France in the 16th century. He
may have joined an army raised for the French wars, or may have formed
part of a bridal train similar to the gay retinue of the fair Princess
Mary, who went from the dark fells and misty lochs of the land of the
Royal Stuarts to be the loveliest queen who ever sat on the throne of
_la belle France_. De Ramezay was the father of thirteen children, by
his wife, Mademoiselle Denys de la Ronde, a sister of Mesdames Thomas
Tarieu de La Naudière de La Pérade, d'Ailleboust d'Argenteuil, Chartier
de Lotbinière and Aubert de la Chenage, the same family out of whom came
the celebrated de Jumonville, so well known in connection with the
unfortunate circumstances of Fort Necessity. The original of the
marriage contract is still preserved in the records of the Montreal
Court House; with its long list of autographs of Governor, Intendant,
and high officials, civil and military, scions of the nobility of the
country, appended thereto. The annals of the family tell us that some of
them died in infancy, several met violent and untimely deaths, two of
the sisters took conventual vows in the cloisters of Quebec, two
married, having descendants now living in France and Canada, and two
remained unmarried.
De Ramezay came over as a captain in the army with the Viceroy de Tracy,
and was remarkable for his highly refined education, having been a pupil
of the celebrated Fénélon, who was said to have been the pattern of
virtue in the midst of a corrupt court, and who was entrusted by Louis
the Fourteenth with the education of his grandsons, the Dukes of
Burgundy, Anjou and Berri. Had the first named, who was heir-presumptive
to the throne, lived to practice the princely virtues, the seeds of
which his preceptor had sown in his heart, some of the most bloody pages
in French history might never have been written.
De Ramezay, for many years being Governor of Montreal, held official
court in the Council chamber to the right of the entrance hall of the
Château, which is now a museum of rare and valuable relics of Canada's
past.
The Salon was the scene of many a gay rout, as Madame de Ramezay,
imitating the brilliant social and political life as it was in France in
the time of _Le Grand Monarque_, transplanted to the wilds of America
some reflection of court ceremonial and display as they culminated in
that long and brilliant reign. From the dormer windows above, high-bred
French ladies looked at the sun rising over the forest-clothed shores of
the river, on which now stands the architectural grandeur of the modern
city. How strange to the swarthy-faced dwellers in the wigwam must the
old-time gaieties have appeared, as the lights from the silver
_candelabres_ shone far out in the night, when the old Château was _en
fête_ and aglow with music, dancing and laughter.
What a contrast to the burden-bearing squaws were the dainty French
women in stiff brocade and jewels, high heels, paint, patches and
tresses _à la Pompadour_, tripping through the stately measures of the
minuet to the sound of lute or harpsichord!
"O, fair young land of _La Nouvelle France_,
With thy halo of olden time romance,
Back like a half-forgotten dream
Come the bygone days of the old _Régime_."
The servants and retainers, imitating their lords, held high revel in
the vaulted kitchens; while dishes and confections, savoury and
delicious, came from the curious fireplace and ovens recently discovered
in the vaults. These ancient kitchen offices, built to resist a siege,
are exceedingly interesting in the light of our culinary arrangements of
to-day. They were so constructed that if the buildings above, with their
massive masonry, were destroyed, they would afford safe and comfortable
refuge. The roof is arched, and, like the walls, is several feet thick,
of solid stone, lighted by heavily barred windows, with strong iron
shutters. In clearing out the walled-up and long-forgotten ovens, there
were found bits of broken crockery, pipe-stems and the ashes of fires,
gone out many, many long years ago. As indicated by an early map of the
city, the position of the original well was located; in which, when it
is cleaned out, it is intended to hang an old oaken bucket and drinking
cups as nearly as possible as they originally were.
[Illustration: Ancient kitchen and fireplace of the Château de Ramezay.
COPYRIGHT.]
Some time after the death of de Ramezay, which occurred in the city of
Quebec in 1724, these noble halls fell into the possession of the
fur-traders of Canada, and many a time these underground cellars were
stored with the rich skins of the mink, silver fox, marten, sable and
ermine for the markets of Europe and for royalty itself. They were
brought in by the hunters and trappers over the boundless domains of the
fur companies, and by the Indian tribes friendly to the peltrie trade.
As these hardy, bronzed men sat around the hearth, while the juicy
haunch of venison roasted on the spit by the blazing logs, relating
blood-curdling tales and hairbreadth escapes, they were a necessary
phase of times long passed away, but which will always have a
picturesqueness especially their own.
Instead of the white man's influencing the savage towards civilized
customs, it was often found, as one writer has said, that hundreds of
white men were barbarized on this continent for each single savage that
was civilized. Many of the former identified themselves by marriage and
mode of life with the Indians, developed their traits of hardihood and
acquired their knowledge of woodcraft and skill in navigating the
streams. In pursuit of the fur-bearing animals in their native haunts,
they shot the raging rapids, ventured out upon the broad expanse of the
treacherous lakes, and endured without complaint the severity of winter
and the exposure of forest life in summer.
[Illustration: CHATEAU DE RAMEZAY.]
Their ranks were continually increased by those who were impatient of
the slow method of obtaining a livelihood from the tillage of the soil,
when the husbandman was frequently driven from the plough by the sudden
attack of Indian foes, or interrupted in his hasty and anxious
harvesting by their war-whoop, or perhaps was compelled to leave his
farm to take up arms, if the occasion arose, so that in many instances
the homesteads were left to the old men, women and children. The
excitement of the chase and the wild freedom of the plains had a
fascination that many could not resist, so much so that the king had to
promulgate an edict, to stop, under heavy penalties, this roving life of
his Canadian subjects, as their nomadic tendencies interfered with the
successful settlement of the colony.
To the lover of the quaint architecture of other centuries, there is an
indescribable charm in these time-worn walls, which are still as
substantial as if the snows and rains of two centuries had not beaten
against them. The interior is equally interesting in this regard, as the
walls dividing the chambers and corridors, though covered with modern
plaster and stucco, are found to consist of several feet of solid stone
masonry, while the ornamental ceiling covers beams of timber, twenty
inches by eighteen, which is strong, well jointed and placed as close as
flooring. Above this is heavy stone work over twelve inches thick, so
that the sloping roof was the only part pregnable in an assault with the
munitions of war then in use. Upon removing a portion of the modern
wainscotting in the main reception room, there was discovered an ancient
fireplace, made of roughly hewn blocks of granite. A crescent-shaped
portion of the hearthstone is capable of removal, for what purpose it is
not known. With old andirons and huge logs, it looks to-day exactly as
it must have done when Montgomery and his suite, in revolutionary
uniform, received delegations in this chamber, and when Brigadier
General Wooster, who succeeded him, wrote and sent despatches by courier
from the French Château to the Colonial mansion at Mount Vernon.
[Illustration: Salon in which Montgomery held official receptions, 1775.
COPYRIGHT.]
The rooms of state in those days were, it is said, all in what is at
present the back of the house, the rear of the building being the front,
facing the river, down to which ran the gardens.
It may be that the moonlight cast on these panes the shadow of the noble
Sir Jeffrey Amherst, in his red coat, as looking out over the river he
may have seen the smoke of the fire lighted by de Lévis, where he burnt
his colours rather than let them fall into the hands of the English.
[Illustration]
HEROES OF THE PAST.
On the river bank below the Château, tradition says, was the spot
trodden by Jacques Cartier, who gave the river its name. Born at the
time when all Europe was still excited over the tales of Columbus'
adventures, he left the white cliffs and grey docks of St. Malo, where
he had learned the sailor's craft, to search for the western route to
the Indies.
A little higher up, less than a century later, Champlain, to push on
actively his operations in the fur-trade, built his fort, the name which
he then gave the spot, "_Place Royale_," being recently restored to it.
In his wanderings for the further pursuance of this object, he
discovered Lakes Ontario, Huron and Champlain.
Being betrothed to a twelve year old maiden, Hélène Bouillé, the
daughter of a Huguenot, he named the island opposite the city, which
lies like a green gem among the crystal waters, Hélène, in affectionate
remembrance of her who, at the end of eight years, was to join him in
his adventurous life.
The winding length of quiet, old St. Paul street, then an Indian trail,
following the course of the river through the oak forest, must often
have known the presence of this picturesque warrior in his
weather-beaten garments of the doublet and long hose then in vogue.
"Over the doublet he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a back
piece, while his thighs were protected by cuisses of steel and his head
by a plumed casque. Across his shoulders hung the strap of his
_baudolier_ or ammunition box, at his side was his sword, and in his
hand his arquebuse. Such was the equipment of this ancient Indian
fighter, whose exploits date eleven years before the Puritans landed,"
among the grey granite hills of New England.
He was an armourer of Dieppe, who, though "a great captain, a successful
discoverer and a noted geographer, was more than all a God-fearing,
Christian gentleman." He was more concerned to gain victories by the
cross than by the sword, saying:--"The salvation of a soul is of more
value than the conquest of an empire."
The year 1620 was a red letter day in the history of the Colony, when,
from a little vessel moored at the foot of the cliff, he led on shore at
Quebec his young bride, who with her three maids had come to the western
wilderness, the first gentlewoman to land on Canadian shores. He
conducted her to where is now the corner of Notre Dame and Sous-le-Fort
streets, to the rude "_habitation_" he had prepared for her reception,
which was poorly furnished and unhomelike in comparison to the one which
she had left over the sea. But history tells of no word of complaint nor
disappointment coming from the gentle lips; but, as the youthful
_châteleine_ sat by her hearth, it shed a light among the huts of the
settlers and dusky lodges of the natives, as her example of patience and
duty performed by the first refined, civilized fireside in the land
does to the thousands who have succeeded her. After almost three
hundred years, the "charms of her person, her elegance and kindliness of
manner" are still remembered. The chronicler tells us that the
"Governor's lady wore in her daily rambles, amongst the wigwams, an
article of feminine attire, not unusual in those days, a small mirror at
her girdle." It appealed irresistibly to the simple natures around her,
that "a beauteous being should love them so much as to carry their
images reflected close to her heart."
"The graceful figure of the first lady of Canada, gliding noiselessly
along by the murmuring waters of the St. Lawrence, showering everywhere
smiles and kindness, a help-mate to her noble lord, and a pattern of
purity and refinement, was indeed a vision of female loveliness" which
time cannot obliterate nor forgetfulness dim. The domestic life of the
colony dates from about the time of her arrival, the first regular
register of marriage being entered in the following year; two months
after the first nuptial ceremony was performed in New England. The
first christening took place in the same year, 1621, the ordinance being
administered to the infant son of Abraham Martin, _dit L'Ecossais_,
pilot of the river St. Lawrence. This old pilot, named in the journal of
the Jesuits as _Maître_ Abraham, has bequeathed his name to the famous
Plains, on which was decided the destiny of New France.
It was indeed a sorry day for the settlement when the inhabitants, on
the 16th of August, 1624, saw the white sails of Champlain's vessel
disappear behind what is now Point Levis, carrying back, alas! forever,
to the shores of her beloved France, Madame de Champlain, sighing for
the mystic life of the cloister, tired out by the incessant alarms and
the Indian ferocities spread around the Fort during the frequent
absences of her husband and her favourite brother, Eustache Bouillé. The
daintily-nurtured French lady must have found the quiet of the old-world
convent a very haven of peace and rest. She died at Mieux, an Ursuline
Nun, in the order which subsequently was to be so closely identified
with the religious history of her wilderness home.
But monastic retreat had no attractions for the founder of Fort St.
Louis. Parkman says: "Champlain, though in Paris is restless. He is
enamoured of the New World, whose rugged charms have seized his fancy
and his heart. His restless thoughts revert to the fog-wrapped coasts,
the piney odours of the forests, the noise of waters and the sharp and
piercing sunlight so dear to his remembrance."
Among these he was destined to lay down his well worn armour at the
command of death, the only enemy before whom he ever retreated; for on
Christmas Day, 1635, in a chamber in the Fort at Quebec, "breathless and
cold lay the hardy frame which war, the wilderness and the sea had
buffeted so long in vain. The chevalier, crusader, romance-loving
explorer and practical navigator lay still in death," leaving the memory
of a courage that was matchless and a patience that was sublime.
For over two hundred and sixty years, no monument stood to celebrate
this true patriot's name, but now his statue stands in his city, near to
where he laid the foundations and built the Château St. Louis. Most
unfortunately his last resting place is unknown, notwithstanding the
laborious and learned efforts of the many distinguished antiquarians of
Quebec.
The Fort which Champlain built in 1620, and in which he died, was for
over two centuries the seat of government, and the name recalls the
thrilling events which clothed it with an atmosphere of great and
stirring interest during its several periods. The hall of the Fort
during the weakness of the colony was often, it is said, a scene of
terror and despair from the inroads of the ferocious savages, who,
having passed and overthrown all the French outposts, threatened the
Fort itself, and massacred some friendly Indians within sight of its
walls.
"In the palmy days of French sovereignty it was the centre of power over
the immense domain extending from the Gulf of St. Lawrence along the
shores of the noble river and down the course of the Mississippi to its
outlet below New Orleans.
The banner which first streamed from the battlements of Quebec was
displayed from a line of forts which protected the settlements
throughout this vast extent of country. The Council Chamber of the
Castle was the scene of many a midnight vigil, many a long deliberation
and deep-laid project, to free the continent from the intrusion of the
ancient rivals of France and assert her supremacy. Here also was
rendered, with all its ancient forms, the fealty and homage of the
_noblesse_ and military retainers, who held possessions under the Crown,
a feudal service suited to those early times, and which is still
performed by the peers at the coronation of our kings in Westminster
Abbey."
[Illustration: Frontenac]
Among the many dramatic scenes of which it was the theatre, no
occurrence was more remarkable than an event which happened in the year
1690, when "Castle St. Louis had assumed an appearance worthy of the
Governor-General, who then made it the seat of the Royal Government, the
dignified Count de Frontenac, a nobleman of great talents, long service
and extreme pride, and who is considered one of the most illustrious of
the early French rulers." The story is, that Sir William Phipps, an
English admiral, arriving with his fleet in the harbour, and believing
the city to be in a defenceless condition, thought he might capture it
by surprise. An officer was sent ashore with a flag of truce. He was met
half way by a French major and his men, who, placing a bandage over the
intruder's eyes, conducted him by a circuitous route to the Castle,
having recourse on the way to various stratagems, such as making small
bodies of soldiers cross and re-cross his path, to give him the
impression of the presence of a strong force. On arriving at the Castle,
his surprise we are told was extreme on finding himself in the presence
of the Governor-General, the Intendant and the Bishop, with a large
staff of French officers, uniformed in full regimentals, drawn up in the
centre of the great hall ready to receive him.
The British officer immediately handed to Frontenac a written demand for
an unconditional surrender, in the name of the new Sovereigns, William
and Mary, whom Protestant England had crowned instead of the dethroned
and Catholic James. Taking his watch from his pocket and placing it on a
table near by, he peremptorily demanded a positive answer in an hour's
time at the furthest. This action was like the spark in the tinder, and
completely roused the anger and indignation of his hearers, who had
scarcely been able to restrain their excitement during the reading of
the summons, which the Englishman had delivered in an imperious voice,
and which an interpreter had translated word for word to the outraged
audience.
A murmur of repressed resentment ran through the assembly, when one of
the officers, without waiting for his superior to reply, exclaimed
impetuously:--that the messenger ought to be treated as the envoy of a
corsair, or common marauder, since Phipps was in arms against his
legitimate Sovereign. Frontenac, although keenly hurt in his most
vulnerable point,--his pride--by the lack of ceremony displayed in the
conduct of the Englishman, replied in a calm voice, but in impassioned
words, saying loftily:--"You will have no occasion to wait so long for
my answer,--here it is:--I do not recognize King William, but I know
that the Prince of Orange is an usurper, who has violated the most
sacred ties of blood and religion in dethroning the King, his
father-in-law; and I acknowledge no other legitimate Sovereign than
James the Second. Do your best, and I will do mine."
The messenger thereupon demanded that the reply be given him in writing,
which the Governor haughtily refused, saying:--
"I am going to answer your master at the cannon's mouth; he shall be
taught that this is not the manner in which a person of my rank ought to
be summoned."
Charlevoix seems to have very much admired the lordly bearing of
Frontenac on this occasion, which was so trying to his self-control,
but, with an impartiality creditable to a Frenchman, he justly
chronicles his equal admiration for the coolness and presence of mind
with which the Englishman signalized himself in carrying out his
mission, under insults and humiliations scarcely to be looked for from
those who should have known better the respect due to a flag of truce.
The commander of the fleet, finding the place ready for resistance,
concluded that the lateness of the season rendered it unwise to commence
a regular siege against a city whose natural and artificial defences
made it a formidable fortress, and which, when garrisoned by troops of
such temper and mettle, it appeared impossible to reduce. It must also
be considered that Phipps had been delayed by contrary winds and pilots
ignorant of the river navigation, which combination of untoward
circumstances conspired to compel him to relinquish his design, which
under more favouring conditions he might have carried out with success,
and conquered the place before it could have been known in Montreal that
it was even in danger.
"Without doubt Frontenac was the most conspicuous figure which the
annals of the early colonization of Canada affords. He was the
descendant of several generations of distinguished men who were famous
as courtiers and soldiers." He was of Basque origin and proud of his
noble ancestry. He was born in 1620, and was distinguished by becoming
the god-child of the King, the royal sponsor bestowing his own name on
the unconscious babe, who was in after years to be a sturdy defender of
France's dominions over the ocean. He became a soldier at the age of
fifteen, and even in early youth and manhood saw active service and gave
promise of gallantry and bravery.
In October, 1648, he married the lovely young Anne de la Grange-Trianon,
a "maiden of imperious temper, lively wit and marvellous grace." She was
a beauty of the court and chosen friend of Mademoiselle de Montpensier,
the granddaughter of King Henry the Fourth. A celebrated painting of the
_Comtesse de Frontenac_, in the character of Minerva, smiles on the
walls of one of the galleries at Versailles.
The marriage took place without the consent of the bride's relatives,
and soon proved an ill-starred one, the young wife's fickle affection
turning into a strong repulsion for her husband, whom she intrigued to
have sent out of the country.
Her influence at court, and some jealousy on the part of the King
combined to bring about this end, and Frontenac was appointed Governor
and Lieutenant-General of _La Nouvelle France_.
Parkman says:--"A man of courts and camps, born and bred in the focus of
a most gorgeous civilization, he was banished to the ends of the earth,
among savage hordes and half-reclaimed forests, to exchange the
splendour of St. Germain and the dawning glories of Versailles for a
stern, grey rock, haunted by sombre priests, rugged merchants, traders,
blanketed Indians and wild bushrangers." When he sailed up the river and
the stern grandeur of the scene opened up before him, he felt as he
afterwards wrote:--
"I never saw anything more superb than the position of this town. It
could not be better situated for the future capital of an empire."
But the dainty and luxurious _Comtesse_ had no taste for pioneer life,
and no thought of leaving her silken-draped _boudoir_ for a home in a
rude fort on a rock; she therefore accepted the offer of a domicile with
her kindred spirit, Mademoiselle d'Outrelaise. The "_Divines_," as they
were called, established a _Salon_, which, among the many similar
coteries of the time, was remarkable for its wit and gaiety. It set the
fashion to French society, and was affected by all the leading spirits
of the Court and Capital.
Although an occasional _billet_ came from the recreant spouse to her
husband in the Castle St. Louis, no home life nor welcoming domestic
fireside threw a charm over his exile. The glamour with which affection
can glorify even the rudest surroundings was denied him in his long life
of seventy-six years.
To avoid the confusion to which the terms Fort St. Louis and Castle St.
Louis might lead, it must be understood that they in a measure were the
same, as the one enclosed the other.
In the year 1834, two hundred and fourteen years after the foundation of
this Château, a banquet was prepared for the reception of those invited
to partake of the official hospitality of the Governor; when suddenly
the tocsin sounded,--the dreaded alarm of fire. Soon the streets were
thronged with citizens, with anxious enquiries passing from lip to lip,
and ere long the cry was uttered: "To the Castle, to the Castle!"
The entire population of merchants and artisans, soldiers from the
garrison, priests from the monasteries, and citizens, rich and poor,
joined hands with the firemen to save the mediæval fortress from
destruction, and its treasured contents from the flames. Old silver was
snatched from the banquet table by some who had expected to sit around
the board as guests.
At the head of the principal staircase, where it had stood for fifty
years or more, was a bust of Wolfe, with the inscription upon it:--
"Let no vain tear upon this bust be shed,
A common tribute to the common dead,
But let the good, the generous, the brave,
With God-like envy sigh for such a grave."
Fortunately, in the confusion of the disaster it was not overlooked, but
was carried to a place of safety. While every heart present could not
but be moved with the deepest feelings of regret at the loss of its
hoary walls, yet the beholder was forced to admire the magnificent
spectacular effect of the conflagration which crowned the battlements
and reflected over crag and river, as the old fort, which had stubbornly
resisted all its enemies during five sieges, fell before the devouring
element.
Its stones were permeated with the military and religious history of the
"old rock city," for, in the fifteen years of its occupancy by
Champlain, it was as much a mission as a fort. The historian says:--"A
stranger visiting the Fort of Quebec would have been astonished at its
air of conventual decorum. Black-robed Jesuits and scarfed officers
mingled at Champlain's table. There was little conversation, but in its
place histories and the lives of the saints were read aloud, as in a
monastic refectory. Prayers, masses and confessions followed each other,
and the bell of the adjacent chapel rang morning, noon and night. Quebec
became a shrine. Godless soldiers whipped themselves to penitence, women
of the world outdid each other in the fury of their contrition, and
Indians gathered thither for the gifts of kind words and the polite
blandishments bestowed upon them."
The site where the old Château St. Louis once stood, with its halo of
romance and renown, is now partially covered by the great Quebec
hostelry, the Château Frontenac, which in its erection and appointments
has not destroyed, but rather perpetuated, the traditions of the
"Sentinel City of the St. Lawrence."
"Château Frontenac has been planned with the strong sense of the fitness
of things, being a veritable old-time Château, whose curves and cupolas,
turrets and towers, even whose tones of gray stone and dulled brick
harmonize with the sober quaint architecture of our dear old Fortress
City, and looks like a small bit of Mediæval Europe perched upon a
rock."
Under the promenade of Durham Terrace is still the cellar of the old
Château; and standing upon it, the patriot, whether English or French,
cannot but thrill as he looks on the same scene upon which the heroes of
the past so often gazed, and from which they flung defiance to their
foes.
On almost the same spot upon which Champlain had landed at Montreal, and
about seven years after his death, a small band of consecrated men and
women, singing a hymn, drew up their tempest-worn pinnace, and raised
their standard in the name of King Louis, while Maisonneuve, the ascetic
knight, planted a crucifix, and dedicated the land to God.
The city as it stands on this spot is a fulfilment of his vow then made,
when he declared, as he pitched his tent and lighted his camp-fire, that
here he would found a city though every tree on the island were an
Iroquois. On an altar of bark, decorated with wild flowers and lighted
by fireflies, the first mass was celebrated, and the birthnight of
Montreal registered.
From the little seed thus planted in this rude altar, a mighty harvest
has arisen in cathedral, monastery, church and convent, representing
untold wealth and influence. The early French explorer, with a "sword in
his hand and a crucifix on his breast," was more desirous of
Christianizing than of conquering the native tribes. So completely has
this creed become identified with the country's character and history,
that the province of Quebec is emphatically a Catholic community. So
faithfully have its tenets been handed down by generations of devout
followers of this faith, that even the streets and squares bear the
names of saints and martyrs, such as St. Francis Xavier, St. Peter, St.
John, St. Joseph, St. Mary, and in fact the entire calendar is
represented, especially in the east end of the town. St. Paul, which was
probably the first street laid out, is called after the city's founder
himself,--Paul Chomedy de Maisonneuve.
NOTRE-DAME-DE-LA-VICTOIRE.
A few rods to the west of the Château, through a vaulted archway leading
from the street, in the shadow of the peaceful convent buildings is a
little chapel called _Notre-Dame-de-la-Victoire_. The swallows
twittering under its broken eaves are now the only sign of life; and its
rotting timbers and threshold, forgotten by the world, give no
suggestion of the martial incident to which it owes its existence. While
the American Colonies were still English, the British Ensign floated
over Boston town, and good Queen Anne was prayed for in Puritan pulpits,
an expedition was fitted out under Sir Hovenden Walker to drive the
French out of Canada. In the previous year, 1710, the Legislature of New
York had taken steps to lay before the Queen the alarming progress of
Gallic domination in America, saying:--
"It is well known that the French can go by water from Quebec to
Montreal; from thence they can do the like through the rivers and lakes,
at the risk of all your Majesty's plantations on this Continent, as far
as Carolina."
In the command of Walker were several companies of regulars draughted
from the great Duke of Marlborough's Army. While he was leading it from
victory to victory for the glory of his King, his wife, the famous Sarah
Jennings, was making a conquest at home of the affections of the
simple-minded and susceptible Queen. It is remarkable that the coronet
of this ambitious woman should now rest on the brow of an American girl,
and that a daughter of New York should reign at Blenheim Castle. At that
period France possessed the two great valleys of North America, the
Mississippi and the St. Lawrence; to capture the latter was the aim of
the expedition.
[Illustration: CHAPEL OF NOTRE-DAME-DE-LA-VICTOIRE.
COPYRIGHT.]
As the hostile fleet sailed up the St. Lawrence, a storm of great
severity burst upon the invaders. Eight of the transports were recked on
the reefs, and in the dawn of the midsummer morning the bodies of a
thousand red-coated soldiers were strewn on the sands of
_Isle-aux-OEufs_. It has been said that an old sea-dog, Jean Paradis,
refused to act as pilot, and in a fog allowed them to run straight on to
death; and also that among those who perished was one of the court
beauties who had eloped with Sir Hovenden.
The disabled vessels retreated before the artillery of the elements, and
left Bourbon's Lilied Blue to wave for half a century longer over Fort
St. Louis. This bloodless victory for the French was attributed by them
to the intervention of the Virgin, in gratitude for which this chapel
was vowed and built, as was also another on the market place, Lower
Town, Quebec. The miraculous feature of the defeated invasion was
considered certain from the fact that a recluse in the convent near the
chapel, and who was remarkable for her piety, had embroidered a prayer
to the Virgin on the flag which the Baron de Longueuil had borne from
Montreal in command of a detachment of troops.
Some of the original interior fittings of the chapel still exist, but
the bell which chimed its first call to vespers, when the great city was
a quiet, frontier hamlet, has long been silent. It is to be regretted
that from its historical character it has not been preserved from decay,
but looks as time-worn and mouldering as does the rusty cannon in the
hall of the Château, which was one of the guns of the ill-fated fleet,
and over which the river had flowed for almost two hundred years. Seven
of England's sovereigns had lived, reigned and died, and in France the
Royal house had fallen in the deluge of blood that flowed around the
guillotine. Quebec had changed flags--the Tri-color had been unfurled
over the _Hôtel-de-Ville_ at Paris, and the Stars and Stripes over the
new-born nation.
The thrones of Europe had tottered at the word of the Corsican boy,--he
had played with crowns as with golden baubles, and had gone from the
imperial purple to the mist-shrouded rocks of St. Helena. Eugenie, the
Beautiful, had ruled the world by her grace, and fled from the throne
of the haughty Louis to a loveless exile--while the old gun, with its
charge rusting in its mouth, lay in silence under the passing keels of a
million craft.
[Illustration]
LE SÉMINAIRE.
Still more ancient is a venerable postern in the blackened wall of the
Seminary of St. Sulpice, near by, which is now the oldest building in
the city, being erected some fifty years before the Château. It leads by
a narrow lane to the gardens of the Monastery, which bloom quiet and
still here in the heart of the throbbing life of a city of to-day.
Generations of saintly men, under vows, have trodden in the shade of its
walks, trying with the rigours of monastic life to crush out the
memories of love and home left behind among the sun-kissed vineyards of
France. For two hundred years and more no woman's footstep had fallen
here among the flowers, until recently the wife of a Governor-General
was admitted on a special occasion. On the cobble-stones of the
courtyard, pilgrims, penitents, priests and soldiers have trodden, the
echoes of their footsteps passing away in centuries of years. Above the
walls, blackened by time and pierced by windows with the small panes of
a fashion gone by, the bells of the clock ring out the stroke of
midnight over one-third of a million souls, as it did the hours of
morning when the great-great-grandfathers of the present generation ran
to school over the grass-grown pavements of young Ville-Marie.
[Illustration: SEMINARY OF ST. SULPICE]
"The inimitable old roof-curves still cover the walls, and the
Fleur-de-Lys still cap the pinnacles" as in the days when Richelieu, the
prince of prelates, sought to plant the feudalism and Christianity of
old France on the shores of the new. They still rise against the blue of
Canadian skies unmolested, while in France, in the early years of the
century, popular frenzy dragged this symbol of royalty from the spires
of the churches and convents of Paris.
[Illustration]
CATHEDRALS AND CLOISTERS.
The Order of the Gentlemen of St. Sulpice is supposed to be very rich,
the amount of the immense revenues never being made public. They were
the feudal lords of the Island of Montreal in the earlier chapters of
its history. Through their zealous efforts and the generosity of their
parishioners was opened in the year eighteen hundred and twenty-nine the
grand church adjoining, that of _Notre Dame_, built on the site of the
original parish church. Viewing it from the extensive _plaza_ in front,
its imposing proportions fill the beholder with the same awe as when
looking at some lofty mountain peak, but its symmetry is so exquisite
that its size cannot at first be appreciated.
In imitation of its prototype, _Notre Dame de Paris_, twin towers rise
in stateliness to a height of two hundred and twenty-seven feet, and are
visible for a distance of thirty miles. The façade is impressive, the
style a modification of different schools adapted to carry out the
design intended. Three colossal statues of the Virgin, St. Joseph and
St. John the Baptist are placed over the arcades. The sublime structure
belongs to a branch of the Gothic, in the pointed arch type of
architecture which was brought home from the Crusades,--a style which
has come down from the time-honoured architecture of the old world, when
religious thought that now finds expression in books was written and
symbolized in stone.
From a vestibule at the foot of the western tower, an ascent of two
hundred and seventy-nine steps offers a most enchanting view of
mountain, river, street and harbour, with such a wilderness of dome,
steeple and belfry, that the exclamation involuntarily arises--this is
truly a city of churches!
On the descent, a pause on a platform gives the opportunity of admiring
"_Le Gros Bourdon_," or great bell, and one of the largest in the world.
It weighs twenty-four thousand, seven hundred and eighty pounds, and is
six feet high. Its mouth measures eight feet, seven inches in diameter.
The tone is magnificent in depth and fullness. On occasions such as the
death of high ecclesiastics or other solemn events, its tolling is
indescribable in its slow, sonorous vibrations. In the eastern tower
hang ten smaller bells of beautiful quality, and so harmonized that
choice and varied compositions can be performed by the eighteen ringers
required in their manipulation. On high festivals, when all ring out
with brazen tongues, caught up and re-echoed from spire to spire in what
Victor Hugo describes as:--"Mingling and blending in the air like a rich
embroidery of all sorts of melodious sounds"--America can furnish no
greater oratorio.
Its interior, which is profusely embellished and enriched, the spacious,
two-storied galleries, in a twilight of mysterious gloom, and an altar
upon which so much wealth has been consecrated, combine to make it a
temple worthy of any time or race.
"Whatever may be the external differences, we always find in the
Christian Cathedral, no matter how modified, the Roman Basilica. It
rises forever from the ground in harmony with the same laws. There are
invariably two naves intersecting each other in the form of a cross, the
upper end being rounded into a chancel or choir. There are always side
aisles for processions or for chapels, and a sort of lateral gallery
into which the principal nave opens by means of the spaces between the
columns.
"The number of chapels, steeples, doors and spires may be modified
indefinitely, according to the century, the people and the art. Statues,
stained glass, rose-windows, arabesques, denticulations, capitals and
bas-reliefs are employed according as they are desired. Hence the
immense variety in the exterior of structures, within which there dwells
such unity and order."
The nave here is two hundred and twenty feet long, almost eighty in
height, and one hundred and twenty in width, including the side aisles.
The walls, which are five feet thick, have fourteen side windows forty
feet high, which light softly the galleries and grand aisle. So
admirable is the arrangement, that fifteen thousand people can find
accommodation and hear perfectly in all parts of the building. On high
festivals, such as Christmas or Easter, when the great organ, said to be
the finest in America, under the fingers of a master, with full choir
and orchestra, rolls out the music of the masses, the senses are
enthralled by the magnificence of the harmony. The various altars and
mural decorations are beautiful with painting, gilding and carving. In
the subdued light, which filters through the stained windows, are found
many things of especial sanctity to the faithful. On a column rests an
exquisite little statuette of the Virgin, which was a gift from Pope
Pius the Ninth, the finely chased and wrought crucifix and the riband
attached to it having been worn around the neck of the High Pontiff
himself. Directly opposite to it is a statue of St. Peter, a copy of
that at Rome. Fifty days indulgence are granted to those who piously
kiss this image. Under one altar rest the bones of St. Felix, which were
taken from the Catacombs at Rome, and on another is a picture of the
Madonna, said to be a copy of one painted by St. Luke. On all the
shrines are candlesticks, votive offerings and many other articles of
great age, value and veneration.
The main altar is exceedingly rich in artistic ornamentation,
representing in its design the religious history of the world, and is
the only one of the kind in existence. Although the foundation stones of
this great pile were laid seventy years ago, this grand anthem in stone
has not yet reached its "amen," many additions to it being yet in
contemplation.
Like many others of earth masterpieces in architecture, it is at once
the monument to and the mausoleum of its builder, whose body, according
to his dying request, although a Protestant, lies in the vaults beneath
his greatest life-work.
Through some halls and corridors back of the grand altar is the chapel
of "Our Lady of the Sacred Heart," which is one of the most beautiful
sanctuaries in the city, and remarkable for the harmony of its lines and
proportions. It is in the form of a cross, ninety feet in length,
eighty-five feet in the transept with an altitude of fifty-five feet.
The splendour of its ornamentation, carving, sculpture, elegant
galleries, panels in mosaic, original paintings by Canadian artists, and
a beautiful reproduction of Raphael's celebrated frieze of "The Dispute
of the Blessed Sacrament," unite to constitute this piece of
ecclesiastical architecture a _chef d'oeuvre_.
An iconoclast might marvel at the absorption in prayer of some of the
devotees, among accessories bewildering to eyes accustomed to the
plainer surroundings of other forms of ritual, but the worship of those
in attendance seems sincere and complete.
Following the footsteps of Cartier to where, near the foot of Mount
Royal, he found the Indian village of Hochelaga, is now to be seen the
St. James' Cathedral, which is a reduced copy of St. Peter's at Rome,
the great centre from which radiates the Catholicism of Christendom. It
is somewhat less than half the dimensions of its model, with certain
modifications necessary in the differences of climate. The work was
entrusted to M. Victor Bourgeau, who, to gain the information necessary
to carry out successfully a repetition of the great master, Michael
Angelo's conception, spent some time in the Eternal City studying the
various details. But the real architect, it may be said, who made the
plans and supervised and directed the building of the sacred monument,
was Rev. Father Michaud, of the St. Viateur Order. To raise the funds
necessary for the initial work, every member of the immense diocese was
taxed; and even now, after a lapse of thirty years, it is still
unfinished, so great has been the expense involved. The handsome façade
is elaborately columned in cut-stone, for which only blocks of the most
perfect kind were used.
Like the colossal dome at Rome, this one towers above every other
structure in the city, with the height of the cross included, being
forty feet higher than the lofty towers of _Notre Dame_. It is seventy
feet in diameter, and two hundred and ten feet above the pavement. It is
after the work of Brunelleschi, whose exquisite art and genius flung the
airy grace of his incomparable domes against Florentine and Roman skies.
There is none of the "dim, religious light" in the interior decoration
of white and gold, the subtle colouring of the symbolic frescoing and
the brilliance of the gold and brazen altar furnishing. At a service
celebrated especially for the Papal Zuaves, the picturesque red and grey
of their uniform, the priests in gorgeous canonicals of scarlet, stiff
with gold, the acolytes in white surplices and the venerable archbishop
in cardinal and purple, with a chorus from Handel ringing through the
vaulted roof, a full conception of the Papal form of worship can be
obtained; while a squaw in blanket and moccasins kneeling on the floor
beside a fluted pillar seems the living symbol of the heathendom the
early fathers came to convert.
In Canada the Jesuits have always been prominent in its history,
signalizing themselves by extraordinary devotion and self-sacrifice, and
were among the earliest explorers of the Continent, the first sound of
civilization over many of the lakes and rivers being the chant of the
capuchined friar. Fathers Breboeuf and Lalemant, burnt by the Indians;
Garreau, butchered; Chabanel, drowned by an apostate Huron, and others
hideously tortured, testified with their blood to their devotion. From
the Atlantic to the prairies, from the bleak shores of the Hudson Bay to
the sunny beaches of Louisiana, they suffered, bled and died.
It is said the Jesuits have a genius for selecting sites, and certainly
the situation of their especial church and adjoining colleges bears out
the statement. Like the other churches of this most Catholic city, it is
not complete, the towers having yet to be continued into spires. It is
much frequented for the fine music and admired for its beautiful
interior. It is in the Florentine Renaissance style, which is the one
usually favoured by this Order. The frescoes are unusually pleasing,
being in soft tones of monochrome, the work of eminent Roman artists,
and are reproductions of the modern German School of Biblical scenes and
from the history of the Jesuits. There are in addition some fine
paintings by the Gagliardi brothers at Rome and others.
In the Eastern part of the city, commonly called the French quarter, so
purely French are the people, with temperaments as gay and volatile as
in _Le Beau Paris_ itself, is a gem of architecture in the church of
"Our Lady of Lourdes." This chapel, reared as a visible expression of
the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, is of the Byzantine and
Renaissance type, a style frequently to be seen reflected from the
lagoons of Venice.
"The choir and transepts terminate in a circular domed apsis, and a
large central dome rises at the intersection of the latter. The statue
over the altar, and which immediately strikes the eye, is symbolic of
the doctrine illustrated. The Virgin is represented in the attitude
usually shown in the Spanish School of Painters, with hands crossed upon
the breast, standing on a cloud with the words: 'A woman clothed with
the sun and the moon under her feet.'" A singularly beautiful light,
thrown down from an unseen source, casts a kind of heavenly radiance
around the figure with fine effect.
"Some of the painting is exceedingly good. The decoration of the church,
in gold and colours, arabesque and fifteenth century ornament, is very
beautiful and harmonious. This building is interesting as being the only
one of the kind in America."
By descending a narrow stairway, which winds beneath the floor, is found
a shrine fitted up in imitation of the grotto near Lourdes, in France,
in which it is said the Virgin appeared to a young girl, Bernadette
Souberous, at which time a miracle-working fountain is said to have
gushed out of the rock, and still continues its wonderful cures. A
goblet of the water stands on the altar, and is said to have powers of
healing. This underground shrine, lighted only by dim, coloured lamps,
gives a sensation of peculiar weirdness after the light and beauty of
the structure above.
[Illustration]
Perhaps there is no church of French Canada of deeper interest than
"_Notre Dame de Bonsecours_." On its site stood the first place of
worship built, for which Maisonneuve himself assisted to cut and draw
the timbers, some of which are still in existence. The name
_Bonsecours_, signifying succour, was given on account of a narrow
escape of the infant colony from the Iroquois. The present building,
erected in 1771 on the old foundations, was, until a few years ago,
remarkable for its graceful tin roof and finely-pointed spire. The rear
having since been altered in a manner entirely out of keeping with the
original, which time had "painted that sober hue which makes the
antiquity of churches their greatest beauty," much of the charm which
made it unique has been destroyed. If it is true that it was an act of
piety on the part of a devoted priest, it is another proof that zeal at
times outruns correct taste.
The statue of heroic size on the new portion of the edifice, with arms
uplifted as if in blessing, was the gift of a noble of Brittany. It was
brought over in the Seventeenth Century, and for two hundred years has
been the patron saint of sailors, who ascribe to it miraculous powers.
Its ancient pews, the crutches on the walls, and pictures which are
among the first works of art brought to the country, suggest the varied
scenes which have taken place around the old sanctuary since its doors
were first opened for worship.
The ascent of a hundred steps reveals the daintiest and most aerial of
chapels above the roof of the church. Tiny coloured windows, designed in
lilies and pierced hearts, a microscopic organ, brought from France, no
one knows when, and a few rows of seats are the furnishing. The altar,
instead of the usual appearance, is a miniature house. Its history is as
follows:--"One of the most remarkable events in the history of the
Church was the sudden disappearance of the house which had been
inhabited by the Holy Family at Nazareth in Galilee. This took place in
1291. As this sacred relic was about to be exposed to the danger of
being destroyed by the Saracen infidels, it was miraculously raised
from its foundations and transported by angels to Dalmatia, where, early
in the morning, some peasants discovered on a small hill, a house
without foundations, half converted into a shrine, and with a steeple
like a chapel.
The next day their venerable bishop informed them that Our Lady had
appeared to him and said that this house had been carried by angels from
Nazareth, and was the same in which she had lived; that the altar had
been erected by the apostles, and the statue sculptured in cedar wood
had been made by St. Luke. Three years afterwards it again disappeared,
its luminous journey being witnessed by some Italian shepherds.
Its present position is about a mile from the Adriatic, at Loretto, just
as the angels placed it six hundred years ago. Millions of pilgrims
visit it from all parts of the world."
For the aerial chapel of _Bonsecours_, a fac-simile has been obtained.
To render it more sacred it was placed for a period within the holy
house, it touched its walls, and was blessed with holy water in the
vessel from which our Lord drank. Such is the alleged history of this
shrine, and the peculiar sanctity attached to it.
The extensive convent buildings of the Grey Nuns and other sisterhoods
are as numerous as the churches. As the _matin_ bell falls on the ear in
the early morning hours, calling to prayers those who have chosen the
austerities and serenities of convent life, it recalls to memory the
noble band of ladies of the old aristocracy who left châteaux hoary with
the traditions of a chivalrous ancestry, and dear with the memories of
home, in the company of rough seamen to brave the untried perils of the
ocean, a hostile country, homesickness and death, to carry spiritual and
bodily healing to the savages. Their followers keep the same vigils now
among the sins and sorrows of the bustling city. They glide through the
streets with downcast eyes, in sombre robes, wimple and linen coif, bent
on missions of church service and errands of mercy, tending the sick
and suffering, and striving to win back human wrecks to a better life.
The various sisterhoods differ in degrees of austerity, the Grey Nuns
being one of the least exacting. Their Foundling Hospital, it is said,
had its origin in a most touching circumstance. One of the original
members of the Order, Madame d'Youville, on leaving the convent gates in
the middle of winter, found frozen in the ice of a little stream that
then flowed near what is called Foundling street, an infant with a
poignard in its heart. Since then tens of thousands of these small
outcasts have found sanctuary and tender care within the cloister walls.
The daughter of Ethan Allan, the founder of Vermont, died a member of
this Order.
The Carmelites are the most rigid in their requirements of service. They
are small numerically and live behind high walls, and renounce forever
the sight of the outside world, never leaving their cloister, and being
practically dead to home and friends, sleeping, it is said, in their own
coffins.
Instances have been known of a sister's assuming vows of special
severity, as in the case of Jean Le Ber, of the _Congregation de Notre
Dame_, a daughter of a merchant in the town, who voluntarily lived in
solitary confinement from the year 1695 to 1714--nineteen years of
self-immolation, when her couch was a pallet of straw, and her prayers
and fastings unceasing. She denied herself everything that to us would
make life desirable or even endurable--sacrificed the dearest ties of
kindred, and pursued with intense fervour the self-imposed rigours of
her vocation. Yet, it was not that in her nature she had no love for
beauty nor craving for pleasure, for in the sacristy of the Cathedral,
carefully preserved in a receptacle in which are kept the vestments of
the clergy, are robes ornamented by her needle that are simply marvels
of colour, design and exquisite finish. The modern robes, though
gorgeous in richly-piled velvet from the looms of Lyons, heavy with gold
work and embroidered with angels and figures so exquisitely wrought as
to look as if painted on ivory, yet do not compare with that done by
the fingers that were worn by asceticism within the walls of her cell.
In the spare form, clad in thread-bare garments, there must have been
crushed down a gorgeously artistic nature which found visible expression
in the beautifully adorned _chasubles_ of the priests and altar cloths,
which are solid masses of delicate silken work on a ground of fine
silver threads, the colours and lustre of which seem unimpaired by time.
Six generations of priests have performed the sacrifice of the mass in
these marvellously beautiful robes, the incense from the swaying censors
of two hundred years have floated around them in waves of perfume. The
taste and skill with which high-born ladies of that time wrought
tapestries to hang on their castle walls were consecrated by her to
religion, in devoting to the Church, work which was fit to adorn the
royal drapings of a Zenobia.
Without the magnificence which distinguishes the cathedrals, some of the
rural shrines are full of interest. The church of _Ste. Anne's_, an old
building near the western end of the island, and one of the oldest
sacerdotal edifices in America, has around it a halo of romance and
piety since the fur-trading days, being the last church visited by the
_voyageurs_ and their last glimpse of civilization before facing the
dangers of the pathless wilderness of the West. At its altar these
rough, half-wild men knelt to pray and put themselves under the
protection of their titular _Sainte Anne_.
The Trappists, though rarely seen outside the walls of their retreat,
look precisely as did mediæval monks of centuries ago, with whose
appearance we are familiar in pictures of Peter the Hermit and other
zealots, who with their fiery eloquence sent the Armies of Christendom
to fight for the Holy Sepulchre. They dress in a coarse brown gown and
cowl, with a girdle of rope, and are under vows of perpetual silence.
They live on frugal meals of vegetables and fruit twice a day, have the
head tonsured, and feet bare in sandals. The continued fasts, severe
flagellations, labours and meditations of those anchorites make the
regulations governing this order exceedingly strict, and recall the
times when kings and emperors, in the same monkish garb, walked barefoot
to knock humbly in penance at monastery gates.
Perhaps the most unique shrine in the province is that of Mount Rigaud,
on the banks of the Ottawa, not far from the spot where Dollard and his
band of Christian knights lay down their lives. The mountain is regarded
with much superstition by the ignorant, on account of its peculiar and
unaccountable natural phenomena, whose origin has puzzled the most
learned scientists to account for. The wooded mountain is crowned by
what is called "The Field of Stones," or "The Devil's Garden," from a
deposit of almost spherical boulders, of so far unmeasured depth, which
cover its surface. Encircled by trees and verdure, this strange
formation of several acres in extent is composed mainly of rock
different from the mass of the mountain, which belongs to the same
family as the igneous mountains of the neighbouring region. What were
the causes and conditions which carried this strange material to the top
of this elevation will, when they are explained, be of intense interest.
It is said that the only other deposit similar, though smaller in
extent, is in Switzerland. Perhaps some ancient glacier, through eons of
time, gradually melted here, and slowly deposited the drift it had borne
from regions far away.
A bold spur of the hill has been converted into a shrine, adorned with
images, while on the bare rough sides of the lichen-covered rocks have
been inscribed in large white letters the words "Penitence--Penitence."
At regular intervals on the stony road approaching it are what are
called the "Stations of the Cross." They are fourteen in number, being
little chapels made from the uncut stones of the "Devil's Garden." The
floors of these, on which the penitents kneel before pictures of the
"Passion," are covered with sand and coarse gravel.
The conquest of Canada in 1759 by the English differed from that of
Britain by the Norman French in 1066, in that here the vanquished were
allowed to retain their language, customs and full religious liberties,
so that, after a lapse of one hundred and fifty years, the Papal service
is solemnized with all the pomp and ceremonial of the Vatican, and in
the courts, the Quebec Legislature and in Society is heard the euphonic
French speech, and, outside of Rome, Canada is considered the chief
bulwark of Papacy.
[Illustration]
THE MASSACRE OF LACHINE.
The conquest and settlement of all new regions are necessarily more or
less written in blood, and the natural characteristics of the North
American Indian have caused much of the early history of Canada to be
traced in deeds of horror and agony lighted by the torture fire, with
sufferings the most exquisite of which the human mind can conceive. When
these were inflicted on individuals, it was sufficiently heartrending,
but when a whole community fell a victim to their ferocity, as was the
case in what is called "The Massacre of Lachine," the details are too
horrible for even the imagination to dwell upon. Standing on the river
bank, or "shooting" the rapids in the steamer, with the green shores as
far as the eye can reach dotted with villages and villas, the wonderful
bridges spanning the stream, and beyond, the great city with its domes
and spires, it can scarcely be realized that for two days and two
nights the spot was a scene of the most revolting carnage. It was an
evening in the summer of 1689. In spite of a storm of wind and rain
which broke over the young settlement, the fields of grain and meadows
looked cheerful and thrifty. In each cabin home the father had returned
from the day's toil in the harvest field and was sitting by the
fireside, where the kettle sang contentedly. The mother sat spinning or
knitting, and perhaps singing a lullaby, as she rocked the cradle,
little recking that ere the morning dawned the hamlet would lie in
ashes, and the tomahawk of the Indian be buried in her babies' hearts;
but such was the case, for after forty-eight hours of fiendish cruelty,
death and desolation reigned for miles along the shores. Where the blue
smoke had curled up among the trees were only the smoking ruins of
hearths and homes, surrounded with sights and suggestions of different
forms of death, which even the chronicler, two hundred years after, is
fain to pass by in shuddering silence.
The crumbling remains of a fortified seigniorial château, within sight
of the Rapids of Lachine, a tradition asserts, was in the year 1668 the
home of La Salle, who was one of the most excellent men of his day.
Leaving his fair demesne, which the Sulpicians had conferred upon him,
and the home which to-day is slowly falling to decay among the
apple-orchards along the river side, he too followed his thirst for
adventure into untrodden fields.
There is a well-founded legend that the old chimney attached thereto was
built by Champlain in his trading post of logs. It is of solid masonry,
and is sixty years older than the walls which surround it. The wide
fireplace has a surface of fifty square feet, and is the most
interesting piece of architecture in all Canada. The snowflakes of
almost three hundred winters have fallen into its cavernous depths since
these stones and mortar were laid. When Champlain stood by its hearth,
as its first blaze, lighted by tinder and flint, roared up to the
sky--William Shakespeare was still writing his sublime lines, Queen
Elizabeth had lain but twelve years in her marble tomb, and the Château
de Ramezay was not to be built for a hundred years to come. Often in the
two years during which it had for La Salle the sacredness of the home
fireside, its light must have fallen on his handsome young face, and
flowing curls, as he laid out plans for his palisaded village, and
dreamt of the golden lands towards the setting sun. He was a true
patriot, and literally gave his life for the advancement of his country,
being murdered in the Lower Mississippi by one of his own men while
endeavouring to extend its territory.
[Illustration: HOME OF LA SALLE.
COPYRIGHT.]
Posterity is not true to the memory of these great pioneers, for the
elements beat upon the roofless timbers, the north wind sweeps the
hearth that is mouldering under the rains and sunshine of the skies they
loved. In another generation all that can be said will be--here once
stood the historic stones of the ancient fireside of the heroes who won
the wilderness for those who have allowed this monument of their
fortitude and self-sacrifice to crumble into dust.
[Illustration: La Salle]
La Salle had heard from some stray bands of Seneca Indians, who had
visited his post at Lachine, of a great river that flowed from their
hunting grounds to the sea. Imagining it would open his way to find the
route to the golden Ind, he sold his grant at Lachine, and in company
with two priests from the Seminary at Montreal, and some Senecas as
guides, started on July 6th, 1669. With visions of finding for France a
clime of warmer suns and more rich in silver and gold than Canada, he
pushed on. The priests on their return brought back nothing of any
value except the first map procured of the upper lake region.
One of the most enthusiastic fellow travelers of La Salle was a
Franciscan, Father Hennepin. They crossed the ocean from France
together, and probably beguiled many an hour of the long voyage in
relating their dreams of finding the treasures hidden in the land to
which the prow of the vessel pointed.
Hennepin also penetrated to the Mississippi, reaching in his wanderings
a beautiful fall foaming between its green bluffs which he named St.
Anthony, on which spot now stands the "Flour City," Minneapolis, in the
county of Hennepin, Minnesota. He probably heard of the other falls,
five miles away, which we know as Minnehaha, and around which the
sweetest of American poets has woven the witchery of Indian legend in
the wooing of "Hiawatha." It seems almost incredible that where are now
the largest flour mills in the world, turning out daily about 40,000
barrels, there was, scarcely fifty years ago, only the cedar strewn
wigwam and smoke of the camp fire, the tread of moccasined feet and the
dip of the paddles by the bark canoe.
Near by _Place d'Armes_ Square may be seen a grey stone house on which
is written "Here lived Sieur DuLuth." He was a leading spirit among the
young men of the town, who gathered around his fireside to listen to his
thrilling tales of adventure, and of his early life when he was a
_gendarme_ in the King's Guard. Coming to Canada in the year 1668, he
explored among the Sioux tribes of the Western plains. He was one of the
first Frenchmen to approach the sources of the Mississippi. The city of
Duluth in Minnesota received its name from him. A tablet on a modern
building in the same locality informs the passer-by that _Cadillac_, who
founded the City of Detroit about the same time as the Château de
Ramezay was built, spent the last years of his wandering life on this
spot.
The town of Varennes, down the river, is called from the owner of a
Seigniory in the forest, le Chevalier Gauthier de la Vérandrye, a
soldier and a trader, who was the first to explore the great Canadian
North-West, and to discover the "Rockies." He was an undaunted and
fearless traveler, establishing post after post, as far as the wild
banks of the Saskatchewan and even further north, which, in giving to
France, he ultimately gave to Canada.
"Honour to those who fought the trees,
And won the land for us."
The traditions connected with the Château de Ramezay are scarcely more
interesting than those surrounding many spots in the vicinity.
Incorporated in this prosaic, business part of the city are many an old
gable or window, which were once part of some mediæval chapel or home of
these early times. On the other side of Notre Dame street, where now
stands the classic and beautiful pile called the City Hall, were to be
seen in those days the church and "_Habitation_," as it was called, of
the Jesuit Fathers, within whose walls lived many learned sons of
Loyola, Charlevoix among others. They were burnt down in 1803, at the
same time as the Château de Vaudreuil was destroyed, by one of the
disastrous fires which have so frequently swept the cities of Montreal
and Quebec, and in which many quaint historical structures disappeared.
About a mile to the west is still standing the family residence of
Daniel Hyacinthe, Marie Liénard de Beaujeu, the hero of the Monongahela,
at which battle George Washington was an officer.
[Illustration: De Beaujeu]
It was a lamentable event, the indiscriminate slaughter of three
thousand men through the stupidity and incredible obstancy of General
Braddock, who, like Dieskau at a subsequent time, despising the counsel
of those familiar with Indian methods of warfare, determinedly followed
his own plans.
Washington in this engagement held the rank of Adjutant-General of
Virginia. "His business was to inform the French that they were building
forts on English soil, and that they would do well to depart peaceably."
Beaujeu was sent at the head of a force composed of French soldiers and
Indian allies to answer the Briton with the powerful argument of force
of arms.
As Braddock reached the ford over the river which was to put him on the
same side as the fort, Colonel Thomas Gage crossed in advance, without
opposition. Beaujeu had intended to contest the passage, but his Indians
being refractory, his march was delayed. Gage with the advance was
pushing on when his engineer saw a man, apparently an officer, wave his
cap to his followers, who were unseen in the woods. From every vantage
ground of knoll and bole, and on three sides of the column, the
concealed muskets were levelled upon the English, who returned the fire.
As Beaujeu fell, Dumas, who succeeded him, thought that the steady front
of the red-skins was going to carry the day, until he saw his Canadians
fly, followed by the Indians, after Gage had wheeled his cannon on the
woods. A little time, however, changed all this. The Indians rallied and
poured their bullets into the massed and very soon confused British
troops. Braddock, when he spurred forward, found everybody demoralized
except the Virginians, who were firing from the tree trunks, as the
enemy did. The British General was shocked at such an unmilitary habit,
and ordered them back into line. No one under such orders could find
cover, and every puff from a concealed Indian was followed by a
soldier's fall. No exertion of Braddock, nor of Washington, nor of
anyone prevailed. The General had four horses shot under him and
Washington had two. Still the hillsides and the depths of the wood were
spotted by puffs of smoke, and the slaughter-pen was in a
turmoil--scarce one Englishman in three escaped bullets. The commander
then gave the sign to retreat, and was endeavouring to restore order
when a ball struck him from his horse. The British Army had become
bewildered fugitives, and a guard could hardly be kept for the wounded
General, as he was borne along on a horse as a litter.
The sinking Braddock at last died and was buried in the road, that the
tramp of the surging mass of men might obliterate his grave. His remains
are said to have been discovered in 1823 by some workmen engaged in
constructing the National road, at a spot pointed out by an old man who
had been in the ranks in 1755. He claimed to have seen Braddock buried,
and to have fired the bullet that killed him. It was impossible to
identify the remains almost seventy years after their interment, but
with them were found bits of military trappings, so his tale may have
been correct. In the year 1841, near to the spot, was discovered a large
quantity of shot and shell left by the retreating army.
Adjoining the grounds of the Château de Ramezay was the mansion of
General Ralph Burton, who fought close to Wolfe in the siege of Quebec,
to whom his dying words were spoken, and who carried out his last
command, which decided the day. As Wolfe lay half unconscious, the riot
of the battle growing dull on his failing senses, they were roused by
the cry, "They run!" He opened his glazed eyes and asked, "Who run?" and
the reply was, "The French!" With a supreme effort he turned to Burton,
and ordered him, saying, "Command Webb to march down to the St. Charles
and cut off the retreat at the bridge"; and then amid the crash and
carnage of war, he murmured, "Now I thank God, and die contented," and
instantly expired.
[Illustration]
THE CHATEAU DE VAUDREUIL.
A short distance to the south-west is the spot on which stood the
Château and famous gardens of the Marquis de Vaudreuil, the last French
Governor of Canada. Imagination can forget the miles of docks and
warehouses, the electricity and commerce with which we are entering the
twentieth century, and fancy it sees again the old vice-regal palace, a
miniature in Canadian forests of the gay court at the Tuilleries, with
its bewitchment of lace, silk and velvet, powdered wigs and the
exaggerated politeness and exquisite bows of _la grande dame_ and _le
chevalier_ of the time.
Let us step back to the winter of 1758 and '59. The mountain is
snow-capped and the St. Lawrence is frozen several feet thick, making
good roads for the shaggy Canadian pony and _cariole_, or heavy
_traineau_ with wooden runners. In the early winter's evening, lights
gleam through the small windows of the earthen citadel which guards the
_Porte St. Martin_, and the clash of arms or halberds, and the pacing of
the sentries' footsteps, are heard at every closed gate of the little
walled town. Patches of warm light from candle and hearth checker the
snow which lies glistening on the sidewalks, for there are no street
lamps on the St. Paul, St. Mary or Notre Dame streets of these old days.
Under the night sky, the storehouses look like gloomy prisons, but
cheerful groups talk and laugh, as the beaux and belles bend their steps
along the narrow streets to the Governor's salon. As the guests of the
Marquis de Vaudreuil assemble, the brilliance of their costumes is
heightened in effect by the gorgeous livery of the attendants and the
blue and white of the soldiers' regimentals. Groups around the
spindle-legged card tables exchange _bon-mots_ and play, while others
dance and promenade on the polished floors until the morning light
breaks over the river.
[Illustration]
The gaiety and frivolity, feasting and gossip are in strange contrast to
the grey gown of the Jesuit priest hurrying from the monastery opposite,
to shrive some sinner, or to administer "Extreme Unction" to some dying
saint. Within the convent walls pious sisters, followers of Mademoiselle
Mance and Madame d'Youville, tend the sick and unfortunate, whom the
tide of life has cast upon this far away shore. From the taverns on the
corners and on the river front comes the sound of mirth and merriment,
as with the cup of good Gascon wine are passed around tales of the high
seas or of times gone by in the old-world towns of Brittany.
On the altars of the chapels lights burn dimly in a silence unbroken,
save by the murmuring of prayers and telling of beads by suppliants
driven hither by sin, sorrow or homesickness.
[Illustration: RUE ST. AMABLE.
COPYRIGHT.]
A narrow little street, named St. Amable, running west from the
Governor's mansion, has been subjected to so little change since those
days of long ago that the passer-by on its two feet of sidewalk sees it
just as it was when its vaulted warehouses held the cargoes of the
weather-beaten sailing craft that anchored at the shore below. Where now
the French _habitant_ sits chattering with his _confrères_ and smoking
his pipe filled with home-grown _tabac_ were once the shady walks and
stiff parterres of the ancient garden. Here, under the summer moons,
were doubtless stolen meetings as sweet, vows as insincere, and
intrigues as foolish as those in the exquisite bowers of _Le Petit
Trianon_ at Versailles. On its paths have fallen the martial tread of
"de Lévis, de Beaujeu, and many a brave soldier and dainty courtier,
official guests at the Governor's Château." Among them was one who
eclipsed all others in sad interest, the courtly young commander, Louis
Joseph Saint Veran de Montcalm. Any spot associated with this ill-fated
general is of immortal memory. After his skillful manoeuvering at the
battle of Carillon, his march to Montreal was a triumph. At the close of
this engagement, as, accompanied by de Lévis and his staff, he rode
along the ranks, thanking his troops, who idolized him, in the name of
their king, for their glorious display of French valour in a field where
thirty-six hundred men had for six hours withstood fifteen thousand, he
was in every particular a worthy and capable general. He spoke of his
own share in the glory of the day with simplicity and modesty, writing
the next day to Vaudreuil:--
"The only credit I can claim as accruing to me is the glory of
commanding troops so valorous."
On one occasion, the capture of Oswego, which is described as the most
brilliant military exploit then known in Canadian history, he with his
own hand snatched the colours from a British officer and sent the trophy
to Quebec, to adorn the walls of the Cathedral of that city; as many a
time before had been done for old-world Minsters by knights on the
battlefields of Europe, whose empty armour now hangs in the baronial
halls of England.
Montcalm had been summoned to Montreal to confer with the Governor on
the further conduct of the war, and, as he marched forth to take command
of the Citadel of Quebec, all hearts centred on him, saying, "Save for
France her fair dominion in the West;" but the gallant soldier, in his
endeavour to do so, met his tragic and untimely end.
[Illustration: Louis Joseph Marquis de Montcalm]
Entrenched behind the ramparts of Quebec, he prepared for the great
struggle which was to decide the fortunes of the then two foremost
powers of Europe. He and de Lévis, although a considerable distance from
each other, had seventeen thousand men under their command, with a
splendid line of fortifications running from Montmorenci to the St.
Charles, supplementing the granite defences of the Citadel. Montcalm
being in doubt for some time at what point to look for attack from the
enemy, sent orders along the whole line for his troops to be in perfect
readiness everywhere. He was several years older than Wolfe, and was an
old campaigner, having served his king with honour and distinction in
Germany, Italy and Bohemia.
[Illustration]
THE BATTLE OF THE PLAINS.
It was the evening of the 12th of Sept., 1759. The French troops were on
the alert,--the British ready. The evening was calm and fine and the
occasion full of solemnity as Wolfe embarked in a boat to visit some of
his posts. As the oars dipped softly in the stream, and the quiet dusk
of the autumn twilight hid the grim signs of war and brought out the
peaceful beauty of the scene, he thought of the morrow--that where
"Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,"
would be rent by the roar of cannon, the flash of bloody steel and the
cries of the wounded and dying.
Feeling perhaps a shrinking from the great crisis which the dawn would
bring, he repeated to the officers and midshipmen within hearing a
number of the verses from the most finished poem in the English
language, Grey's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," and which had
appeared a short time before. Probably the lines on which he lingered
longest were:--
"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour;
The paths of glory lead but to the grave."
The last line was, alas! prophetic in his own case, and he may have had
some premonition of it, for turning to his listeners, who were to share
with him victory or defeat, he said with a wistful pathos in his young
voice, "I would prefer being the author of that poem to the glory of
beating the French to-morrow."
He did not dream that for what that morrow would bring, his name, with
that of the poet he loved, would be carven among those of England's
great men in Westminster Abbey--
"Where thro' the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise."
Landing in a ravine (Wolfe's Cove), which he had located by the use of a
glass--with the strategic venture at which all the world has since
wondered--in the dark hours of the same night, he, at the head of the
famous Fraser Highlanders, placed his force on the Plains of Abraham,
each man knowing it was victory or death, as there was no possibility of
retreat.
The intelligence of the landing of the British troops was first brought
to the Governor-General, the Marquis de Vaudreuil, and he had the task
of communicating the unwelcome news to Montcalm, who had hurried from
his quarters on the ramparts to ascertain what was the meaning of the
firing above the town.
On learning the situation, he bitterly exclaimed:--
"They have at least got to the weak side of this miserable garrison,
and, therefore, we must endeavour to crush them by our numbers before 12
o'clock."
Montcalm, with more courage than discretion, without waiting for de
Lévis, who was twenty-eight miles away,--the victim of an inexorable
destiny, unsupported led forth his men, and saw, not without surprise,
the whole British Army ranged in battle array. Without giving his men
time to recover breath after the fatigue of their laborious and hurried
march, he went into action, trusting to the well-tested courage of his
troops.
[Illustration: Jam: Wolfe]
Wolfe led the charge at the head of the Louisburg Grenadiers, and when
the Highlanders, throwing away their muskets, rushed on with their broad
swords like a tempest of steel, the hapless blue coats, though lacking
in neither prowess nor patriotism, fled in all directions. The two young
leaders fell almost simultaneously.
When Wolfe received his death wound, he was in a conspicuous spot near
the Redoubt, and was thence borne to the rear. He had calmly prepared
for this contingency. He had made his will, of which he appointed Sir
Guy Carleton the executor, and for whom he had early formed a close
friendship, generally speaking of him as "My friend Carleton," and to
whom he bequeathed his books and papers. His plate he willed to
Saunders, and to another friend he entrusted the miniature of his
betrothed with the charge of returning it to her in the event of his
fall. That was probably the most trying moment of those hours so fraught
with tragedy--a moment like those on the eve of Waterloo, when there
were
"Partings that crush the life from out young hearts."
It was not in his martial cloak nor in his country's flag that he was
carried dead off the field, but in the tartan "plaidie" of an old
Highland man, named McLeod, which was tenderly wrapped around him, wet
with tears from eyes to which tears had long been strangers.
As he fell, his principal care was for the effect it would have upon his
troops, who, down to the humblest in his command, had caught his spirit,
and who felt that "they must fulfil the trust reposed in them, or die in
the ranks."
Leaning against the shoulder of the officer who caught him when falling,
he implored him to support him, saying, "Do not let my brave soldiers
see me drop, the day is ours, keep it!" A death attended with
circumstances more pathetic or incidents more picturesque the annals of
war do not record.
"The capture of Quebec was an achievement of so formidable a character,
so distinguished by chivalrous enterprise, and so fraught with singular
adventure, that the interest attending it still remains undimmed and its
glorious recollections unfaded."
The virtues and heroism of the youthful leader of the campaign and the
bravery of his troops, whose toast was "The British flag on every fort,
post and garrison in America," are themes of just pride to the lover of
his country. "Young in years but mature in experience, Wolfe possessed
all the liberal virtues in addition to an enthusiastic knowledge of the
military art with a sublimity of genius, always the distinguishing mark
of minds above the ordinary level of mankind. His celebrated letter to
Mr. Pitt is still considered unsurpassed in military composition."
As Montcalm was carried off the field he enquired if his wound was
mortal; on being answered in the affirmative, with a mental anguish
keener than the intense physical pain he was suffering, he said, "So
much the better, I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec." Few
scenes are more full of sadness than his march from his last
battle-field, as supported by two grenadiers, and passing through the
St. Louis Gate on his black charger, he courteously greeted the weeping
women who lined his path, telling them not to weep for him; but it
could not be but a day of tears for the daughters of Quebec as groans of
mortal agony came to their ears through the smoke and dust of retreat.
A few hours afterward, on being visited by M. de Ramezay, who commanded
the garrison, with the title of Lieutenant _du Roy_, and another
officer, Montcalm addressed them saying, "Gentlemen, I commend to your
keeping the honour of France,--for myself, I shall pass the night with
God, and prepare myself for death."
On M. de Ramezay's pressing to receive commands respecting the defence
of Quebec, he exclaimed with emotion:--"I will neither give orders nor
interfere further. I have business that must be attended to of greater
moment than your ruined garrison and this wretched country. My time is
very short, so pray leave me; I wish you all comfort, and to be happily
extricated from your present difficulties."
Before expiring, he paid a noble tribute to his late foes, when he
said:--
"Since it was my misfortune to be discomfited and mortally wounded, it
is a great consolation to me to be vanquished by so brave and generous
an enemy. If I could survive this wound, I would engage to beat three
times the number of such forces as I commanded this morning with a third
of such troops as were opposed to me."
Almost his last conscious act was to write a letter praying the English
victors to show clemency to the French prisoners.
It is said that a fissure ploughed by a cannon ball within the walls of
the Ursuline Convent furnished him a fitting soldier's grave.
One of the sisterhood, an eye-witness of the event, described the burial
in the following touching and graphic words:--
"At length it was September, with its lustrous skies and pleasant
harvest scenes. The city was destroyed, but it was not taken. Would not
the early autumn, so quickly followed by winter, force the enemy to
withdraw their fleet? For several days the troops which had been so
long idle were moving in various directions above and below Quebec, but
they were watched and every point guarded, but no one dreamed of the
daring project the intrepid Wolfe was meditating. The silence of the
night told no tale of the stealthy march of five thousand soldiers. The
echoes of the high cliff only brought to the listening boatmen the
necessary password. No rock of the shelving precipice gave way under the
cat-like tread of the Highlanders accustomed to the crags of their
native hills, but the morning light glittered on serried rows of British
bayonets, and in an hour the battle of the Plains changed the destinies
of New France. The remnant of the French army, after turning many times
on their pursuers, completely disappeared. Their tents were still
standing on the Plains of Beauport, but their batteries were silent and
trenches empty--their guns still pointed, but were mute.
"At nine o'clock in the evening a funeral _cortège_ issuing from the
castle, wound its way through the dark and obstructed streets to the
little church of the Ursulines. The measured foot steps of the military
escort kept time with the heavy tread of the bearers, as the officers of
the garrison followed the lifeless remains of their illustrious
commander-in-chief to their last resting place. No martial pomp was
displayed around that humble bier and rough wooden box, which were all
the ruined city could afford the body of her defender; but no burial
rite could be more solemn than that hurried evening service performed by
torchlight under the war-scarred roof of the Convent, as with tears and
sighs were chanted the words 'Libera me Domine.'"
Some years ago an Englishman, Lord Aylmer, caused to be placed within
the convent enclosure a tablet with the words carved in marble:--
Honneur
à
Montcalm.
Le Destin en lui dérobant
La Victoire,
L'a récompensé par
Une Mort Glorieuse.
Or, Honor to Montcalm. Fate denied him victory, but rewarded him with a
glorious death. Byron expresses a similar sentiment when he said:--
"They never fail who die in a good cause."
On the spot where Wolfe fell has been raised a simple shaft on which is
written:--
"Here Wolfe died victorious,
Sept. 13th, 1759,
In the thirty-fourth year of his age."
The stone which formed his death couch is preserved in its original
position, but sunk beneath the ground to protect it from the ravages of
the relic hunter. The column is supported on a pedestal of rocks formed
of boulders from the scene of the battle, conspicuous among which may be
seen the actual rock upon which Wolfe was supported when he breathed his
last. The stones of the monument are strongly cemented together,
embedded in the solid foundation of rock, and will be as enduring as the
fame of him whose name it bears.
The well near by, from which the water was brought to allay his thirst,
was filled up and obliterated some years ago, much to the regret of
those who venerated the immortal incident connected with it, and which
placed it among the historic shrines of the world.
[Illustration: Chas Saunders]
Associated with Wolfe, and a sharer in the glory of the capture of
Quebec, was Charles Saunders, commander of the squadron. By bombarding
the town, he kept the enemy in a state of constant and anxious alarm,
at the same time showing wonderful skill in cleverly protecting his
fleet from disaster; even when threatened by fire-ships sent to destroy
it, which were grappled by the British sailors and run aground.
Among those who rendered signal service to Admiral Saunders when he
neared Quebec was the famous navigator, Captain Cook. He was the pilot
who conducted the boats to the attack at Montmorency on July 31st, 1759,
and managed the disembarkment at the Heights of Abraham.
The great mariner, while engaged in his celebrated voyages of discovery,
was murdered by South Sea Islanders at Owhyhee on the 14th of Feby.,
1779. He had been sent by the British Government to find if the
discovery of the North-West passage, which seemed impossible by the
Atlantic, were feasible by the Pacific Ocean; for which purpose he had
to round the southern part of the entire American Continent. He was on
the point of abandoning the project and returning home when he met his
terrible death, "leaving a name unsurpassed for gallantry by any
sea-faring man of his time."
In the month of October Saunders' fleet dropped silently down the river.
On one of the ships was the embalmed body of James Wolfe, returning to
the land he had served so well, but where alas! he would never hear the
acclamations with which his fellow countrymen, from the palace to the
cabin, would lay the laurel wreath upon his tomb,--the paths of glory
had truly led but to the grave!
Saunders on his return was appointed Lieutenant-General of Marine, and
on taking his seat as a member of the House of Commons received the
thanks of the Speaker. He became Knight Commander of the Bath, and on
his death was buried in Westminster Abbey near to the Monument of Wolfe.
Of the regiments to whom England owes the Conquest of Canada, the Scotch
claim the greatest share of glory. "Hardy sons of mountain and heather,
they were in fact the flower of the army, the boldest in attack, the
fiercest at close quarters, the last to retreat at command, and always
the bravest of the brave in the forefront of England's battles."
The kilted "laddies" from beyond the Grampians, in their "_braw_" plumed
bonnets, with their war-pipes lilting above the loudest din of war, have
met some of the fiercest onslaughts singing and stepping to the
blood-stirring strains of "Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled."
An eye-witness of their march out of Brussels on that beautiful June
morning in 1815, the dawn of Waterloo, says:
"One could not but admire their fine appearance, their steady military
demeanour, with their pipes playing before them, and the beams of the
rising sun shining on their glittering arms." Many of the young officers
were in the silk stockings and dancing pumps which they wore the night
before to the Duchess of Richmond's ball, when they laughed:--
"On with the dance, let joy be unconfined,
No sleep till morn when youth and beauty meet,
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."
With swords waving, the pibroch screaming and the "stirring memories of
a thousand years," they rushed into the stupendous conflict leading the
"_Forty-twa_" into the field, which the setting of the same sun saw
drenched through with blood, but marked by deeds which covered with
glory many a thatched ingle-nook on highland hills and in lowland
valleys.
After the Conquest of Canada, the Fraser Highlanders with the remains of
the 42nd were offered grants of land if they chose to remain as
settlers, a privilege which many of them accepted. Sixteen years
afterward, when a foreign invasion threatened Canada, they loyally left
the plough in the furrow and again sprang to arms, to protect their
altars and firesides.
Among the blue Laurentian hills of the lower St. Lawrence, around their
simple hearths, their descendants live the placid life of the Canadian
_habitant_. They bear the old historic names of their Gaelic
forefathers,--Fraser, Cameron, Blackburn, MacDonald, etc.--but in
nothing else could it be thought that in their veins runs the blood of
those who fought at Colloden and Bannockburn. They are as purely French
in their religion, language and customs, as those whose sires sailed
from Breton and Norman ports.
The Commandant of Quebec at the time of its fall was the son of Claude
de Ramezay, the builder of the Château of that name. After the
disastrous battle, Vaudreuil, Governor of Montreal, sent him urgent
charges to do his utmost to hold out until reinforcements, which were on
a forced march from Montreal and elsewhere, should arrive to his
succour; but, the besieged being in the greatest extreme of fright and
starvation, his force refused to fight. His conduct has been much
criticized, but one annalist asserts that he was "not the man to shrink
from danger or death had there been anything but foolhardiness in the
risk, as he belonged to the good old fighting stock of North
Britain,"--the race which produced a Wallace and a Bruce. He, however,
signed the articles of capitulation, as recommended by the Council of
War summoned, and the British marched in through the iron-spiked
gates,--when, had he held out only twenty-four hours longer, Canada
might have been saved for France, as the British could not for any
length of time have maintained their position on the Plains of Abraham.
Returning to France, where he was related to several families of the
Noblesse, who held that "war was the only worthy calling, and prized
honour more than life," he received so cool a reception at Court that
his proud spirit, being unable to brook the humiliation, he applied for
a passport allowing him to return to Canada, but subsequently he
abandoned the idea of returning to his native land. Had he carried out
his intention, he might have seen French, English and American flags
successively wave over the red roof of the Château of his boyhood.
To complete the conquest, Montreal was attacked at three different
points by Generals Amherst, Murray and Haldimand. Arriving within a few
hours of each other, they camped outside of the old walls of the town.
Vaudreuil and de Lévis tried to oppose them, but with Quebec lost, and
the only defences a rude citadel and weak walls built to resist Indian
attack and useless in civilized warfare, they were compelled to
surrender. A small stone cottage, until quite recently standing in a
private garden on the mountain side, was used as Amherst's headquarters,
and in which the articles of capitulation were signed between the
victorious and vanquished generals.
Among those who entered the town with Amherst was Israel Putnam, a man
who had been brought into Montreal a year before a prisoner by the
French. He had great physical strength and decision of character, and
was absolutely incapable of fear. On the breaking out of the
Revolutionary War, he entered with zeal into the cause of the colonists,
and lead them in the battle of Bunker Hill. True to his convictions, he
refused the large sums of money offered him by the British for his
services. By the American troops he was lovingly called "Old Put." On
his tombstone was inscribed:--"He dared to lead where any dared to
follow."
As the British entered the city by the old Recollet Monastery gate, the
French retired to _la Citadelle_, a strong wood block house at the other
end of the town. General Haldimand was the First Englishman to enter
within the walls, remains of which are still frequently dug up in
excavating. The oldest Ensign in Amherst's army received the French
colours, and it is said the keys of the city were given over by a woman,
but it is recorded with certainty that the fallen foes were treated with
the greatest consideration and respect, not even the Indian allies being
permitted to commit a single act of violence. "Amherst commanded the
principal division, including the 'Black Watch,' or gallant 42nd, which
has been renowned in military story wherever the British flag has been
borne to victory for more than a hundred and forty years." At Waterloo,
Corunna, Alma and Lucknow, in Afghan defiles and Egyptian deserts, they
were always in the thickest of the fight.
It is said, Pitt, wanting a safe and sure officer to command them, chose
what he called a stubborn Colonel, who had shown his mettle in Germany,
and made him Major-General Amherst.
[Illustration]
CANADA UNDER ENGLISH RULE.
General James Murray, the son of Lord Elibank, was appointed the first
British Governor of Canada. Previous to the fall of Montreal, de Lévis,
refusing to consider the cause of France lost on the St. Lawrence,
valiantly resolved on an attack on General Murray at Quebec. The news of
his advance was conveyed to Murray by a "half-frozen _cannonier_, whom
the British troops carried up Mountain Hill in a sailor's
hammock."--April 26th, 1760. Hearing of this unfortunate circumstance,
which gave up to the enemy his intention of taking him unawares, de
Lévis hurriedly led his men under the walls of the city, where Murray,
promptly coming out to meet him, the battle of "Ste. Foye" took place,
when the French this time saw their efforts crowned with success, the
British having to find a shelter within the walls of the old Citadel.
The French leader was too weak to operate a regular siege, so remained
camped on the battle-field, awaiting the reinforcements expected.
[Illustration: De Lévis]
One bright sunny morning it was heralded on all sides that a fleet had
been signalled, and the joy of the French troops knew no bounds; but,
alas! for them it was found out but too soon that the ships were under
England's flag. Instead of de Lévis receiving the assistance he
required, it came to the already victorious Briton. It but remained,
therefore, for him to retire in haste to Montreal, where, being soon
followed up by the enemy and surrounded on all sides, he had to submit
to the dictates of fate, as already stated.
He affixed his name to the Articles of Capitulation, with, it is said,
the document placed against a tree at the head of St. Helen's Island.
De Lévis, although blamed for his unsoldierlike act in the destruction
of his regimental colours, was, nevertheless, a fine specimen of the
long line of chivalrous nobles, whose names and deeds emblazon French
chronicles of field and foray since the days when Charlemagne wore his
iron crown. Deeply chagrined at the refusal of the British to allow the
garrison to march out with the honours of war, although high-spirited to
a fault, he humbled himself to pray in writing for the reversal of the
order. It may have been in the salon of the Château that the
representatives of the two knights stood face to face as suppliant and
arbiter. Their fathers may have crossed swords at Crécy, when the
Plantagenet Prince bore off the feathered crest which was to be the
insignia of all future first-born sons of English kings, or they may
have tilted with lance and pennon on the Field of the Cloth of Gold; but
here de Lévis, with his petition sternly denied, was forced to retire in
anger, filled with humiliation at the failure of his intercession.
It may be imagined with what conflicting emotions he entered the
following words in his journal:--
"The British sent a detachment to _Place d'Armes_ with artillery,
whither our battalions marched one after another, to lay down their
arms, and the enemy took possession of the posts and watches of the
city." As they filed past the Château, which was on their line of march,
many a heavy heart beat beneath the blue coats, and when a few days
later they embarked with their chief for France, even valour need not
have been ashamed if tears dimmed the sight of the English colours
flying from their flag staffs, and the fair land fading from their sight
forever.
The Château de Vaudreuil was then dismantled of its treasures of fine
china and specimens of the arts revived in what is known as the
_Renaissance_, when everything that was exquisite in painting,
sculpture, working in metals, and art in all its forms had received such
an impetus from the Italian artists whom Louis the Fourteenth gathered
around his court, as well as from the influence of Madame de Pompadour,
whose taste, unhappily, far exceeded her morals. It was purchased by
Chartier de Lotbinière, and it is pleasant to chronicle that a few years
ago his direct descendant, M. de Léry Macdonald, while visiting France,
had the honour of meeting la Comtesse de Clairemont-Tonnerre, the last
living representative of the De Vaudreuil family, who graciously
presented to him the "_Croix St. Louis_," which had been bestowed upon
the first Vaudreuil who held an official position in Canada, which relic
is now to be seen in the Château de Ramezay.
The old fortifications of Ville Marie were planned by a de Léry; he, and
the military engineer who traced out his campaigns with Bonaparte, and
whom he called the "_Immortel Général_," were members of this family, in
the possession of which are priceless old tapestries, which were gifts
from royalty as rewards of diplomatic or personal services.
About a year after the evacuation of Quebec, Murray was sitting in the
chilliness of an October evening by the chimney meditating. As he gazed
at the glowing fire of maple logs, he may have fancied that he saw again
the face of his dead commander, and may have thought of that desperate
charge outside the gates--of the shouts of victory and cries of
defeat--where then the only sound to be heard was the wind rustling the
withered grass that had been dyed red in the blood of so many gallant
young hearts. The soldier's face may have softened as he thought of the
old hearthstone among the heather hills, where tales of the Border and
the traditions of his clan had fired his young soul for the glory of
conquest.
He was suddenly aroused from his dream by the announcement that two
warlike frigates were sailing below the cliffs. He hurried to the
bastion, which commanded the spot, to survey what might portend fresh
struggles and more bloodshed. But soon a standard was run up to the
masthead, unfolding to the breeze the flag of England. Immediately from
the ramparts, where so recently had proudly floated the flag of France,
an answering signal was shown, and, as the guns roared out a salute to
the British colours, it was also a farewell honour to the old _Régime_,
which has passed away forever from Canadian shores.
Of Murray, the first British Governor of Canada, it has been said that,
in the long roll of unblemished good service, in the record of his
honourable fidelity to his trust and duty, no passage of his life stands
out in brighter colours than this period, during which he turned a deaf
ear to intolerance and the spirit of persecution, and strove to show the
new subjects of the Crown how truly beneficent, just and good, with all
its errors, the rule of Great Britain had ever proved to be.
With the Treaty of Paris in 1763 King George III. abolished the French
laws, substituting for them the English Code in the newly won Dominion;
later on, however, by the "Quebec Act," they were restored to the
Canadians.
The members of the _Noblesse_, whose ties compelled their remaining in
Canada, sent to London to offer fealty to King George, and thus further
their personal interests.
When the Chevalier de Léry and his wife, the beautiful Louise de
Brouages, one of the most lovely women of her day, were presented at the
Court of St. James, the young Sovereign was so struck with her beauty
that he gallantly exclaimed:--
"If all Canadian ladies resemble her, we have indeed made a conquest."
A French writer of the time says:--
"How can we sufficiently deplore the loss of Canada, with all its
present value and with all its future hope--a possession of which all
the difficulties were already overcome, and of which the consequent
advantages were secure and within reach! That loss might have been
guarded against--yes, that land consecrated by the blood of a Montcalm,
a Jumonville, and so many brave Frenchmen who shared their dangers, and
were united with them in fate--that country honoured with the name of
New France--that country where we may yet trace her children enjoying
the manners and customs of their forefathers--that country might yet
have existed under its rightful princes, if the Cabinet of Versailles
had known the true position it held--had erected there a new throne and
had placed upon it a Prince of the Royal Family--it would have ruled
to-day over that vast region, and preserved the treasures vainly spent
in its defence."
After the conquest the Château de Ramezay was saved from being a mere
fur-trading post by becoming the city residence of the Baron de
Longueuil, a Canadian feudal lord, the towers, embattlements and chapel
of whose castle were visible on the south side of the river. The founder
of this house, which to-day holds the only hereditary feudal barony of
Canada, was Charles LeMoyne, who came to Canada in 1642 with
Maisonneuve. This man was the son of an innkeeper at Dieppe (France),
who it is alleged was descended from a younger branch of the old Norman
family of LeMoyne, the head of the house being the Marquis de Longueuil.
Fourteen years after his arrival in Canada, LeMoyne received the
Seigniory of Longueuil, he having in the meantime amassed a considerable
fortune in the fur trade.
The eldest son, who was named after his father, was born in 1656, and
in recognition of his services at a siege of Quebec, and against the
Iroquois, he was made a Baron of France in 1700 by Louis 14th. The old
deed of nobility is to this day in an almost perfect condition.
An original sketch of the Château de Longueuil, taken after a fire which
partially destroyed it in 1792, is still in possession of the family.
The Château, or in reality the Castle, was built by the first Baron in
1699, and for nearly a hundred years sheltered the family of LeMoyne.
It stood partly on the ground now occupied by the front of the present
parish church of Longueuil, and partly across the highway, at a corner
of the Chambly road. The north-west tower was located as late as 1835,
but was covered with earth by the excavation for the new church. The
Château, comprising the chapel, was 210 by 170 feet, and was constructed
in the strongest possible manner of stones which were gathered by the
river bank. The building was two storeys in height all around, and was
flanked by four towers with conical tops. There were high gables over
the building, and in the centre a court. On the river-side front it was
loop-holed for defence, and it was here that the retainers came in time
of trouble. On the west side was the chapel, which was large and
extensive.
After the fire it was never again occupied, and later on the stone work
went to help make the present roadway, as had been the fate of many an
Italian palace and temple of Greece. The family gave the land where the
present church stands, and they also built the first church, with vaults
below. This was done on condition that the family should all be buried
there, and so far this has been carried out. The barony was once very
extensive, taking in a territory of about one hundred and fifty square
miles, including St. Helen's Island, upon which may still be recognized
the ruins of the residence which stood on the eastern side of it, Capt.
Grant and his wife, Madame de Baronne de Longueuil, having lived there
for some time.
Fort Senneville, an interesting ruin, at the western end of Montreal
Island, and which was destroyed by Benedict Arnold at the invasion of
Canada, during the American Revolution, was erected by the Le Ber
family, which was closely allied to that of LeMoyne, and was enobled at
the same time as the latter. The fort was intended for a fortified
fur-trading post.
In 1880 the seventh Baron claimed royal recognition from the English
Crown of his title to the old French Barony, which Queen Victoria was
graciously pleased to recognize. The de Longueuil family was always
generously treated by royalty, and on the Richelieu river are several
Seigniories which have been granted to members of it. On the same side
of the river St. Lawrence, but a considerable distance inland, is the
pretty town of Iberville. It is named after LeMoyne d'Iberville, a
member of this family, who, with his seven brothers, took their several
names from their seigniories, and were all distinguished for daring and
ambition in all the perilous adventures of New France in their day.
[Illustration: Le Moyne D'Iberville]
In the Indian village of Caughnawaga, situated near the Lachine Rapids,
is the half-ruined Curial House, if it may be so called, of the early
historian, the Jesuit Charlevoix. Like all French travellers of that
period, he had his visions of reaching the Pacific coast, which,
although never realized, yet he was a celebrated explorer and an
accurate and painstaking writer. His "_Histoire Générale de la Nouvelle
France_" is a valuable and authentic history of the period it covers,
and is looked upon as one of the most reliable authorities to-day.
In this thrifty hamlet, clustering around the church, under whose
steeple worship the remnants of the once fierce and dreaded Iroquois,
are the last of their race. They are adroit in the use of the canoe, and
for many years have acted as pilots for the St. Lawrence steamers in the
perilous navigation of the Rapids. The squaws are skilful in the bead
work so dear to the savage heart, and form picturesque groups in
blankets and moccasins exposing their wares for sale in the railway
stations.
About ten years after the British occupation, the Château de Ramezay
fell again into government hands, being selected as the official
residence. One of those who frequently crossed its threshold at this
period was General Thomas Gage, second in command under Sir Jeffrey
Amherst.
He was the first British Governor of Montreal, and the last of
Massachusetts, and was remarkable for his doughty deeds during the
American Revolution. And then in these rooms, where so often had
sparkled French wit and wine, high-born English dames held sway, with
the grand manners and stately dances of Queen Charlotte's Drawing Rooms
at Windsor Castle. These doors were none too large for the extended
skirts and towering head-dresses, some of which had satin cushions large
enough to have had the family coat of arms painted on them, and yet had
room to spare. The ladies naturally followed the fashions set by the
Queen, who was exceedingly fond of display in dress, and had an oriental
love for gems. A description of one of her toilettes has come down to
us, which was almost barbaric in its profusion of ornaments. At the
first Drawing Room held after King George's recovery from a dangerous
illness, she "fairly glittered in a blaze of diamonds. Around her neck
was a double row of these gems, to which was suspended a medallion.
Across her shoulders were festooned three rows of costly pearls, and the
portrait of the King was hung upon the back of her skirt from five rows
of brilliants, producing a gorgeous effect. The tippet was of fine lace,
fastened with the letter G. in diamonds of immense size and value, and
in Her Majesty's hair was--'God save the King,' in letters formed of the
same costly gems."
[Illustration: THE MINUET--QUEEN OF SWORDS.]
Under her sovereignty the guttural Anglo-Saxon tongue was heard in the
homes and on the streets mingling with the mellifluent French, and the
liturgy of Westminster Abbey was solemnized side by side with the ritual
of St. Peter's in the hush of Sabbaths, after the din and clamour of war
had ceased, and quiet once more reigned in the grey old town.
As memorials of those days of strife, carnage and conquest, some
Canadian names have taken root in British soil. Gen. James Murray chose
the name of Beauport for his country seat, and that of the Earls of
Amherst, among the hop gardens and rose hedges of Kent, bears the name
of Montreal, Amherst having been created Baron of Montreal.
[Illustration]
AMERICAN INVASION.
In the year 1775, when the thirteen American Colonies had risen in arms
against the Motherland, it was to be expected that they would desire to
have the assistance of those north of the forty-ninth parallel. Being so
recently laid under British allegiance, it was supposed there would be
much sympathy for the young cause in the Canadian Colonies. But, whether
the treaty which had been made had been considered gracious in its
terms, or that the horrible memories of war had not had time to die
away, or from a combination of causes, the French-English provinces
refused to take up the Colonial grievances. To compel them to do this,
an expedition, consisting of Col. Ethan Allen and his "Green Mountain
Boys," was detached against Montreal. Arriving on the opposite bank of
the river, just below the town, with about one hundred and fifty men, he
crossed over from Longueuil and reached the eastern suburbs at about
ten o'clock p.m., when he proceeded to billet his men in private houses.
That was before the days of telephones, so it was some time before the
news reached the city and the gates were closed. The rash project of so
small a force attempting to beleaguer a walled town of fourteen thousand
inhabitants could have but one outcome, and it resulted in the capture
of Ethan Allen. He was brought in through the Quebec Gate, or _Porte St.
Martin_, sent to England and lodged in Pendennis Castle, where he could
hear the moan of the wide sea that separated him from the land he loved
and longed to fight for.
But the expedition was not abandoned on account of this repulse, for
soon General Montgomery appeared. Rattray describes Montgomery as a
brave officer of generous and exemplary character. He was an Irishman, a
lieutenant in the 17th Foot, but resigned his commission in the year
1772, owing, it is said, to some grievance connected with promotion;
when he settled and married in the State of New York. Crossing the
Canadian lines he captured Forts St. Jean and Chambly, the latter a
stone fortress on the site of a post built by Tracey's men, and thus he
became possessed of ammunition and other military stores of which he
stood in need. The French-Canadian _Noblesse_ were the first to offer to
defend the country against the invader, but Sir Guy Carleton,
Commander-in-Chief of the forces, being without sufficient troops to
successfully resist attack at this point, determined to retire to Quebec
and make a resolute stand within its walls. He therefore dismissed to
their homes the Canadians under arms, spiked the cannon and burned the
_bateaux_ he could not use. Three armed sloops were loaded with
provisions and baggage to be ready for emergency. He felt it was a point
of honour to remain at Montreal as long as possible, but it was of the
utmost importance to the cause that his person should not fall into the
hands of the enemy. He therefore remained until news arrived that the
Americans had landed on a small island in the river, a short distance
above the city, now called Nun's Island, and then hurried arrangements
were made for his departure. As he left the Château, passing out of the
main entrance and down the path that led to the river, he was followed
by groups of friends and citizens, whose sad countenances evinced their
forebodings of the future. The historian Bouchette, whose father was one
of those in attendance on the Commander, relates the incidents of the
perilous and momentous journey in the following words:--
[Illustration: FORT CHAMBLY,
Near Montreal, captured by the Continental Army, under Gen. Montgomery,
in 1775.]
"It was through the intrepidity of a party of Canadian boatmen that the
Governor of the country was enabled, after escaping the most critical
perils, to reach the Capital of the Province, where his arrival is well
known to have prevented the capitulation of Quebec and the surrender of
the country. In reverting to the history of the Revolutionary contest,
no event will be found more strikingly illustrative of the extraordinary
chances of war than the perilous, though fortunate, adventure of the
Commander-in-Chief of the army in Canada, whose descent by water from
Montreal to Quebec was effected with safety in the very teeth of
danger. The shores of the St. Lawrence for upwards of fifty miles below
the city were possessed by the enemy, who had constructed armed rafts
and floating batteries at the junction of the Sorel with the St.
Lawrence, to cut off communication with the Capital. Upon the successful
issue of so hazardous an attempt depended the preservation of Canada,
and the taking of General Carleton, which appeared nearly certain, would
have rendered its fate inevitable; but the happy arrival of the Governor
at Quebec at so critical a juncture, and the well-advised and active
steps which he immediately adopted, secured to Britain a footing in that
beautiful portion of America which circumstances threatened to forever
deny her. A clandestine escape from the surrounding enemy was the only
alternative left, and an experienced officer, distinguished for his
intrepidity and courage, was immediately sent for to concert measures
for the General's precipitate departure. Captain Bouchette, the officer
selected for this purpose, then in command of an armed vessel in the
harbour, and who was styled the 'wild pigeon' on account of the celerity
of his movements, zealously assumed the responsible duty assigned him,
suggesting at the same time the absolute necessity of the General's
disguise in the costume of a Canadian peasant fisherman. This was deemed
prudent as increasing the chances of escape, if, as seemed probable,
they should fall in with the enemy, whose gun-boats, chiefly captures,
were cruising in various parts of the river.
"It was a dark and damp night in November, a light skiff with muffled
paddles, manned by a few chosen men, provisioned with three biscuits
each, lay alongside the waiting vessel." Under cover of the night, the
disguised Governor embarked, attended by an orderly sergeant, and his
devoted Aide-de-Camp, Charles Terieu de la Pérade, Sieur de Lanaudière,
Seigneur de Ste. Anne, and a lineal descendant of de Ramezay. The skiff
silently pushed off, the Captain frequently communicating his orders in
a preconcerted manner by silently touching the shoulder or head of the
man next to him, who passed on the signal to the one nearest, and so on.
"Their perplexity increased as they approached the Berthier Islands,
from the knowledge that the enemy had taken up strong positions at this
point, especially in the islands which commanded the channel on the
south-west of Lake St. Peter, which compelled their adoption of the
other to the northward, although the alternative seemed equally fraught
with peril, as the American troops were encamped on the banks. The most
eminent danger they experienced was passing through the 'Narrows' at
Berthier, the shores of which were lined by American bivouacs, whose
blazing fires, reflecting far out on the surface of the waters, obliged
them to stoop, cease paddling and allow themselves to drift down with
the current, imitating the appearance of drifting timber frequently seen
in the St. Lawrence. So near did they approach, that the Sentinel's
exulting shout of 'All's well' occasionally broke upon the awful
stillness of the night. Their perilous situation was increased by the
constant barking of dogs that seemed to threaten them with discovery. It
evidently required the greatest prudence and good fortune to escape the
vigilance of an enemy thus stationed. The descent was, however, happily
made by impelling the skiff smoothly along the water, and paddling with
the hands for a distance of nine miles. After ascertaining that the
enemy had not yet occupied Three Rivers (a point half way to Quebec),
they repaired thither to recruit from their fatigue, when the whole
party narrowly escaped being made prisoners by a detachment of the
American Army which was then entering the town. Overcome by exhaustion,
the General leaned over a table in an inner room and fell asleep. The
clang of arms was presently heard in the outer passage, and soon
afterward American soldiers filled the adjoining apartment to that in
which the General himself was, but his disguise proved his preservation.
Captain Bouchette, with peculiar self-possession and affected
listlessness, walked up to the Governor, and with the greatest
familiarity beckoned him away, at the same time apprising him of the
threatened danger. Passing through the midst of the heedless guards, and
hastening to the beach, they moved oft precipitately in the skiff and
reached unmolested the foot of the Richelieu Rapids, where an armed brig
was fortunately found lying at anchor, which on their arrival
immediately set sail with a favouring breeze for Quebec.
Arrived at the Citadel, they proceeded to the Château St. Louis, where
the important services just rendered the country were generously
acknowledged."
[Illustration: Lanaudière]
It is remarkable that the man who shared so largely in the risk involved
in this dramatic scene should have been a Frenchman, Carleton's
Aide-de-camp. Between him and his Chief a warm attachment continued to
exist until the end of their lives, an uninterrupted correspondence
being kept up between this noble soldier, Charles Terieu de Lanaudière
and Lord Dorchester, after the latter with the title bestowed upon him
for his success on this occasion had retired from active service in the
colonies. De Lanaudière's career was a remarkable one. He began with the
rank of Lieutenant in the Régiment de la Sarre, and was wounded in the
battle of Ste. Foye. He was afterwards received with royal favour by
King George the Third, being present at the state dinner when His
Majesty with the dignity which he knew how to assume when the occasion
required, rang for the carriage of his sometime favourite, the
fastidious Beau Brummel, who had presumed on his august good nature by
undue familiarity.
[Illustration]
THE CONTINENTAL ARMY IN CANADA.
On the Sunday following Sir Guy Carleton's departure from Montreal, as
the people were proceeding to church, they were thrown into a state of
great alarm by the tidings of the landing of Montgomery's force on the
Island of Montreal itself, at the spot where now the great Victoria
Bridge springs from the shore, this densely-packed manufacturing
district being then swamps and meadows. There was no hope of attempting
defence under the circumstances, so both French and English, represented
by an important committee of the foremost inhabitants of the town,
headed by Col. Pierre Guy, entered into terms with Montgomery respecting
persons and property. At nine o'clock in the morning, Nov. 13, 1775, the
American troops marched in through the same gate by which Amherst had
entered sixteen years before. Just inside the walls was the most
sumptuous private dwelling in the city, called the Château Fortier. Its
walls were hung with beautiful tapestries wrought in historical scenes,
and its rooms were elegantly furnished and elaborately wainscotted. This
old house still stands among the tall, business blocks, strong yet as a
fortress, with high tin roof and deep windows and doors. It is now used
as a tavern, but even this does not spoil the charm of its unique
exterior, which still remains unchanged since the winter of 1775, when
Montgomery and his officers held their mess here, and the descendants of
the Puritans changed the character of the French château, as Oliver
Cromwell and his "Roundheads," a century before, altered that of the
English palace of Whitehall.
[Illustration: CHATEAU FORTIER.
Where Montgomery and his officers held their mess in the winter of 1775.
COPYRIGHT.]
Little or nothing is known of what happened in Montreal during the
autumn of 1775, when the Army of Congress held possession of the town.
There may, and doubtless were, some sympathizers in the city who
frequented the Château Fortier, but the loyalists avoided its vicinity
as much as policy permitted. The French and English ladies looked
askance at the American soldiers, and if a town, invested by an enemy,
indulged in any form of merriment, it is probable that no invitation was
ever addressed to General Montgomery or Brigadier-General Wooster. In
their rounds of the town it may have been that glimpses of home
gatherings in the firelight may have given to these men of war many a
twinge of homesickness for hearths across the border, where women who
had been clad in satin and brocade sat spinning homespun, and were
content to drink spring water from the hills, while the tea they had
loved to sip in their Colonial drawing-rooms was floating about the
Boston beaches. If the Boys in blue and buff encountered any of the
Montreal maidens in their walks by the river, or glanced at them as they
passed through the gates to wander in the maple woods around, the
English girls passed them haughtily with a cold disdain in their blue
eyes, and the French demoiselles flashed a fine scorn from the depths of
their dark orbs, which wounded as keenly as a thrust of steel.
Events followed each other so rapidly across the line that Montgomery,
tired of inaction, resolved to carry out before the year ended his
cherished plan of making an assault on Quebec, and proceeded to join
Arnold's men, who, half-famished and in rags, had arrived outside that
city's walls.
Arnold, who was born at Norwich, Connecticut, Jan. 14, 1741, was, it is
said, a very handsome man, but his character was a striking combination
of contradictory qualities, and his career marked by extremes. He was
the bearer of a letter from General Washington to the Canadians, in
which was written: "We have taken up arms in defence of our liberty, our
property, our wives and our children. The Grand American Congress has
sent an army into your province, not to plunder but to protect you. To
co-operate with this design I have detached Col. Arnold into your
country, with a part of the Army under my command. Come then, ye
generous citizens, range yourselves under the standard of general
liberty, against which all the force of artifice and tyranny will never
be able to prevail."
Arnold with his two regiments, numbering together about eleven hundred
men, had left Boston in the month of September, with the fixed intention
of penetrating the unbroken wilderness which lay between the two cities.
On the twenty-second of the month he embarked with his troops on the
Kennebec River, in two hundred _batteaux_, and notwithstanding "all the
natural impediments, the ascent of the rapid streams, interrupted by
frequent _portages_, through thick woods and swamps, in spite of
accidents, the desertion of one-third of their number, difficulties and
privations so great as on one occasion to compel them to kill their dogs
for sustenance;" after thirty-two days of the perils of this wilderness
march they came in sight of the first settlement near Quebec.
About a week later, when darkness had fallen along the river shores and
lights twinkled from the little dwellings of the lower town on the
opposite bank, they embarked in canoes for a silent passage across, and
arrived early in the morning at Wolfe's Cove, where, sixteen years
before, a similar landing had been effected, with the same purpose in
view of assaulting the garrison in the seemingly impregnable fortress.
For weeks the blockade was maintained, the American troops being
established in every house near the walls, more especially in the
vicinity of the Intendant's Palace, which once had been gorgeous with
the prodigal luxury and magnificence for which this old Château had been
notorious. The roughly-shod New England soldiers tramped through the
rooms and up the noble staircases on which ladies of fashion had glided
when the infamous Intendant Bigot had disgraced his King and office by
his profligacies. These men, establishing themselves in the cupola,
found it an excellent vantage point to fire upon and annoy the sentries
on guard.
On the 5th of December General Montgomery arrived with his troops from
Montreal and joined Arnold. "They sent a flag of truce to General
Carleton, who utterly disregarded it, declaring that he would not have
any communication with rebels unless they came to claim the King's
mercy."
General Montgomery, realizing that it was impossible to carry on a
regular siege, with neither the engineers nor artillery requisite for
the purpose, determined upon a night attack. This intention became known
to the garrison, and the most careful precautions were taken against
surprise. For several days those on duty and in responsible positions
observed the strictest vigilance, even sleeping in their clothes, with
their arms within reach, to be ready for the slightest alarm. The report
reached the garrison that Montgomery had said that he would dine within
the walls on Christmas Day, and he certainly seemed to consider himself
sure of victory.
Arnold's communications to Carleton has been treated with contempt, no
parley being entered into nor conditions considered. Montgomery tried
various expedients to have his messages received, but without success,
until an old woman was found willing to carry them in. On her errand
becoming known, she was arrested, imprisoned for a few hours and then
drummed out of the city, thus receiving the most disgraceful dismissal
possible in military discipline. The two letters of which she was the
bearer were directed, one to Carleton and the other to the citizens.
That to the Governor read:--
"I am at the head of troops accustomed to success, confident of the
righteousness of the cause they are engaged in and inured to danger."
To the people his words were:--
"My friends and fellow subjects, 'tis with the utmost compunction I find
myself reduced to measures which may overwhelm you with distress. The
city in flames at this severe season, a general attack on your wretched
works, defended by a more wretched garrison, the confusion, carnage and
plunder which must be the consequence of such an attack, fill me with
horror! Let me entreat you to use your endeavours to procure my
peaceable admission. I have not the reproach to make my own conscience
that I have not warned you of your danger."
Montgomery, waiting for a night of unusual darkness, during which he
hoped to place his ladders against the barriers unnoticed by the guards,
found the 31st of December suited to his purpose. On the last day of the
year, when in Boston, New York and other American towns, family
re-unions and festive gatherings were taking place, as far as the
disturbed state of the country permitted, in a blinding snow-storm,
poorly-clad, but resolute, these troops stood in line of battle, waiting
for the word of command through the dreary hours of that night, in which
every belfry in New England was chiming out the dawn of the New Year,
which was to be the greatest in the Republic's history--1776--the birth
year of the nation.
At four o'clock in the morning two rockets glared redly to the sky, and
were immediately responded to by answering signals, which were observed
from the ramparts. The solitary sentinel on St. John's Bastion reported
an armed body of men approaching. It was a feint to distract attention
from the point where Montgomery was to make the attack.
The tidings spread that the riflemen of New England were at the gates;
the peaceable denizens of the town were startled with the cry of "To
arms! To arms!" from officers hastening through the streets. The pickets
in the Recollet Convent hurriedly gathered--the church bells clanged out
the alarm for the troops to march at once to their posts, while drums
beat and muskets rattled.
"Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale--and whispering with white lips,
'The foe! They come, they come!'"
Lights glimmered from the frost-covered casements as fearful mothers
tried to still the cries of their children, frightened with the unusual
clamour. Hands were rung and tearful farewells taken of those whose duty
called them out, with no certainty of return, for
"Who could guess if ever more should meet those mutual eyes?"
Arnold's men rushed at the barricades in Sault-au-Matelot st., with the
words "Victory or Death" stuck in their hats, while Montgomery
approached by a path known as "Près-de-Ville." It was extremely narrow,
and obstructed with blocks of ice and snow-drifts. It was in the
neighbourhood of where now are the wharves of the Allan Line Steamship
Co.
In the narrowest part the Americans marched slowly and cautiously. They
passed the outer barrier without resistance and approached the inner,
commanded by Dambourges. All was apparently unwarned and silent, but it
was not deserted. Within was a masked battery of only a few
three-pounders, with a little band of Canadians, eight British Militia
and nine seamen to work the guns. The force advanced to within thirty
yards, with Montgomery in front. Beside a gun, which pointed directly
down their path, Sergeant Hugh McQuarters stood ready, the match in his
hand lighted to send the deadly missile at the advancing column.
A quick movement--a flash--a dull boom--and the fearless leader of the
assault fell dead, with twelve others, including his secretary and
aide-de-camp--Arnold, his lieutenant, being wounded, and thus ended the
fifth and last siege of Quebec.
It was well for Quebec that her gates that night were not thrown open to
the sack of troops, among which was Aaron Burr, who had accompanied
Arnold's command. These two men were possessed of less moral character
than any who were connected with the Revolutionary struggle. Arnold was
a strange mixture of bravery and treachery, generosity and rapacity,
courage and petty spite. This arch-traitor subsequently offered to sell
West Point to the British for $30,000, then took service among his
country's foes, and returned to pillage and ravage his former comrades.
Aaron Burr, though descended from generations of clergymen, among whom
was the saintly and learned Jonathan Edwards, was guilty of murder,
treason, and every other vice by which a man could become notorious, his
whole career leaving dishonour, blasting, misery and death, like the
trail of a venomous serpent, behind him.
Governor Carleton, being desirous of ascertaining the certainty of
Montgomery's fate, sent an aide-de-camp to enquire if any of the
American prisoners would identify the body. A field officer, who had
commanded in Arnold's Division, consented to perform the sad office. He
followed the aide-de-camp to the Près-de-Ville guard, and singled out
from among the other bodies his General's remains, by the side of which
lay his sword, at the same time pronouncing with the deepest emotion a
glowing eulogium of the worth and character of him who, frozen stiff
and cold, had been found half buried in his winding-sheet--a Canadian
snow-drift. Deeply impressed by the scene and circumstances, Sir Guy
Carleton ordered that his late enemy be interred in the foreign soil
with the glory of martial, burial honours. In the Château Museum may be
seen a sword which was picked up in the morning after Montgomery's
repulse. It is in a good state of preservation, much care evidently
having since been bestowed upon it.
[Illustration: SIR GUY CARLETON]
"Of these five sieges, in the years 1629, 1690, 1759, 1760 and 1775,
none were pushed with more spirit and apparent prospects of success than
this blockade of the city by the two armies sent by Congress in the
autumn of 1775, under the advice of the illustrious General George
Washington; and, had there been a governor less firm, less wise and less
conciliating than Sir Guy Carleton, the Star-Spangled Banner would now
be floating from Cape Diamond.
Fort after fort, town after town, Ticonderoga, Crown Point, Saint John,
Chambly, Montreal, Sorel and Three Rivers, had hoisted the white emblem
of surrender, but there still streamed to the breeze the banner of St.
George on the Citadel. With the black flag of rebellion over the suburbs
and the American riflemen of undisputed courage and determination
thundering at the gates, never had a brave little garrison to contend
against greater odds, nor leader to accept a more unequal contest, no
help from Britain being possible."
"When news reached Congress that the assault on Quebec had failed; that
Montgomery had been left dead on the snowy heights, and Arnold had been
borne from the field; that cold, hunger and small-pox were wasting the
army, and that discipline was forgotten, the expedient was resorted to
of appointing commissioners to go to Montreal to confer with Arnold, and
arrange a plan for the rectification of Canadian affairs."
They were received by General Arnold in the most polite manner,
conducted to the Château de Ramezay, the headquarters of the Continental
Army, where a "genteel" company of ladies and gentlemen had assembled to
welcome them, after which they supped with Arnold, probably in the
dining-room adjoining the _Sâlon_.
In a vaulted cellar next to the subterranean kitchens and dungeons,
Benjamin Franklin set up his printing press, the first in the city, and
with it issued manifestoes to the people, to try and induce them to join
in rebellion, and send delegates to the Congress at Philadelphia.
[Illustration: COPYRIGHT.
Vault in which Benjamin Franklin set up his printing press, 1775.]
The instructions given to Franklin and the other members of the
commission directed them to extend to the Canadians, "whom the Americans
regarded as brothers," the means of assuring their own independence.
They were also to demonstrate to the people of Canada the necessity of
adopting decisive and prompt measures for coming under the protection of
the American confederation.
Through the doors of the Château then entered Chase, Carroll, of
Carrolltown (who was expected to have influence with the French people,
and especially with the clergy), and others great in the young American
Commonwealth's struggle for freedom. From the antiquated ovens,
doubtless the brown bread and baked beans of New England succeeded the
roast beef of Old England, and the _entrées_, _fricassées_ and _pâtés_
of the French _cuisine_.
In the gloom of this chamber Franklin no doubt uttered some of his wise
sayings, gems of philosophy, which in his "Poor Richard's Almanac" had
for years been familiar in every chimney corner of New England.
[Illustration: Franklin]
In the _Montreal Gazette_, which is still in circulation, the present
voluminous and influential journalism of the Metropolis of the Dominion
had here its origin in the setting up of this old hand printing-press,
similar to if not the same which is now preserved in the Patent Office
at Washington. For it Franklin sometimes made his own type and ink,
engraved the wood cuts, and even carried in a wheelbarrow through the
streets of Philadelphia the white paper required for the printing of his
paper, the _Pennsylvania Gazette_. It is now called the _Saturday
Evening Post_, and has about it a certain quaintness and originality
suggestive of the great mind which gave such an impetus to the American
and Canadian press of over a century ago.
"For nearly one hundred and seventy years there has been hardly a week,
except only when a British army held Philadelphia, when this paper has
not been sent to press regularly."
His identification with the history of letters in the United States and
Canada was an epoch in the development of both. In the great army of
newsboys in America Franklin was the first; he was also the first editor
of a monthly magazine in the country, his having on its title page the
Prince of Wales' Feathers, with the motto: 'Ich Dien.'
"He has never been surpassed in the editorial faculty, at the same time
being apt as compositor, pressman, verse-maker, compiler and reporter;
but as adviser, satirist and humorist he was perhaps at his best. His
one and two line bits of comment and wisdom were models of pithiness,
and few writers have equalled him in masterly skill in argument. He is
spoken of by David Hume as the first great man of letters to whom
England was beholden to America."
In addition to these qualifications, he founded the Library of
Philadelphia, the American post-office system, made several valuable
inventions for the improvement of heating, was the first to call
practical attention to ventilation, and to attempt experiment with
electricity. "He founded the American Philosophical Society, and led to
the foundation of the High School system in the State of Pennsylvania,
assisted in opening its first hospital, and helped to defend the city
against an attack of Indians. He was a leading factor in securing the
union and independence of the Colonies, being the principal mover in the
repeal of the Stamp Act." He made valuable meteorological discoveries,
improved navigation, and was an earnest advocate of the abolition of
slavery; so that in sending Benjamin Franklin to Canada at this critical
juncture, she was compelled to hold to her political convictions against
one of the intellectual giants of the day. On discovering the patriotic
obstinacy of the Canadians, he wrote to Congress, saying:--
"We are afraid that it will not be in our power to render our country
any further service in this colony."
Perceiving the hopelessness of the situation, and that not even his
matchless logic could win sympathy in his project, he left Montreal on
May 11, and thus ended the efforts to coerce Canada into a struggle
which was to try so sorely the energy and fortitude of the thirteen
colonies--efforts which had cost them the life of one of their greatest
generals--Richard Montgomery.
Franklin, when leaving, had under his escort some ladies who were
returning to the United States. Of one of these he wrote to Congress,
saying:--
"We left Mrs. Walker and her husband at Albany. They took such liberties
in taunting us at our conduct in Canada that it came almost to a
quarrel. We parted civilly, but coldly. I think they both have an
excellent talent for making enemies, and I believe where they live they
will never be long without them!"
Charles Carroll, who was associated with Franklin in trying to obtain
the concurrence of the Canadians in revolt, was of a family which had
always stood at the head of the colonial aristocracy, and which had
owned the most ample estate in the country. His character was mild and
pleasing, his deportment correct and faultless. By his eloquence
everyone was charmed, and many were persuaded, but even his great and
subtle powers in argument were abortive here. Through his daughter,
Polly Carroll, he became associated afterwards with the most dignified
circles of the British aristocracy. In the year 1809 two of his
grand-daughters were celebrated beauties in the most exclusive social
circles of Washington and Baltimore. The eldest, during a tour with her
husband through Europe, formed a warm friendship with Sir Arthur
Wellesley, afterwards the great Duke of Wellington. On becoming a widow
and returning to London, he introduced her to his elder brother, the
Marquis of Wellesley, whose wife she subsequently became. Her younger
sister married Colonel Hervey, who acted as aide-de-camp to the hero of
Waterloo on that momentous occasion. This family, therefore, was closely
identified with that great struggle between the two nations who had
fought on Canadian soil a few years before Carroll set foot upon it.
During the first Presidential court, many distinguished Frenchmen came
to America; some in official capacities, others from curiosity, and many
were driven into forced or voluntary exile by the French Revolution.
Among these were M. de Talleyrand, the exiled Bishop of Autun, the Duke
de Liancourt, the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, Louis Philippe d'Orleans and
his two brothers, the Duke de Montpensier and the Count de Beaujolais.
Louis Philippe lodged in a single room over a barber's shop in
Philadelphia. On one occasion, when entertaining some friends at dinner,
he apologized with a courtly grace for seating one-half his guests on
the side of a bed, saying he had himself occupied less comfortable
places without the consolation of an agreeable company.
The exiled Prince fell in love with the beautiful Miss Bingham, the
reigning belle of the city. On her royal suitor's asking her fair hand
from her father, the American citizen declined the alliance with the
French Prince, saying to him:--"Should you ever be restored to your
hereditary position you will be too great a match for her; if not, she
is too great a match for you."
[Illustration: Rich Montgomery]
One year from the fall of Montgomery, the event was celebrated by
special religious services and social functions in Quebec, the city he
had never succeeded in entering. "At nine o'clock grand mass was
celebrated by the Bishop in the Cathedral. On this occasion those who
had shown sympathy with the Congress troops had to perform public
penance. The officers of the garrison and the militia, with the British
inhabitants, met at 10 o'clock, waited upon Carleton, and then
proceeded to the English Church. After the service a parade took place
when a _feu de joie_ was fired. Carleton himself gave a dinner to sixty
people, and a public _fête_ was given at seven o'clock, which ended with
a ball."
About fifty years later, at Montgomery Place, on the banks of the
Hudson, an aged face, with eyes dimmed with the tears of long years of
waiting, looked sadly at the vessel that was bringing back to her the
dust of her young soldier husband, which had so long lain in the gorge,
near the fatal bastion. Forty-three years before, he had buckled on his
sword to fight for what he considered a righteous cause, at the command
of his leader, Washington. Expecting a speedy return, he marched away as
she listened to the drum beats growing fainter and fainter in the
distance, and, after half a century had passed, he was still to her the
young soldier in his brave, blue coat, who had kissed her for that long
farewell. All that is left on Canadian soil to recall this gallant
though luckless soldier is the low-ceiled cottage where his body was
laid out, a small tablet on the precipice, which reads, "Here Montgomery
fell, 1775," and another of white marble, in the courtyard of the
military prison in the Citadel, recently erected by two patriotic
American girls in memory of the volunteers who fell with him.
One hundred New Year's Eves came and passed away, and, on Dec. 31st,
1875,
"There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Canada's Capital had gathered there
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men."
It was with no desire to re-kindle the rancours and strifes of that
distant period, but to properly celebrate an event of such importance,
and commemorate that night of blustering storm, gallant attack and sore
defeat a century before, that the Centennial Montgomery Ball was given.
Soldiers and citizens, in the costumes of 1775, some in the identical
dress worn by their ancestors in that memorable repulse; and the ladies
in toilettes of the same period, received their guests as they entered
the ball-room, the approaches to which were tastefully decorated. "Half
way between the dancing and receiving rooms was a grand, double
staircase, the sides of which were draped with the white and golden
lilies of France, our Dominion Ensign, and the Stars and Stripes of the
neighbouring Republic. On the other side of the broad steps were stacks
of arms and warlike implements. Facing the guests as they ascended the
stairs, among the huge banners which fell gracefully about the dark
musketry, and parted to right and left above the drums and trumpets,
there hung from the centre a red and black pennant--the American colours
of 1775. Immediately underneath was the escutcheon of the United States,
on which, heavily craped, was suspended the hero's sword--the weapon by
which, one hundred years before, the dead, but honoured and revered hero
had beckoned on his men, and which only left his hand when he like 'a
soldier fell.'
"Underneath the kindly tribute to the dead General were the solemn
prayerful initials of _Requiescat in Pace_.
"At the foot of the trophy were piled two sets of old flint-lock muskets
and accoutrements, and in the centre a brass cannon, which was captured
from the Americans in 1775, and which bore the 'Lone Star' and the
figure of an Indian--the Arms of the State of Massachusetts. This
military tableau vividly recalled the troublous times of long ago, and
spoke of the patience and pluck, the bravery and sturdy manhood of a
bygone century.
"On the stroke of the hour of midnight, the clear, clarion notes of a
trumpet thrilled all hearts present. A panel in the wainscotting of the
lower dancing-room flew open as if by magic, and out jumped a jaunty
little trumpeter with a slashed and decorated jacket and the busby of a
hussar. The blast he blew rang in tingling echoes far and wide, and a
second later the weird piping and drumming of an unfamiliar music were
heard in a remote part of the barracks.
"Nearer and nearer every moment came the sharp shrill notes of the fifes
and the quick detonation of the drum-stick taps. The rattle of the drums
came closer and closer, when two folding-doors opened, and through them
stalked in grim solemnity the 'Phantom Guard,' led by the intrepid
Sergeant Hugh McQuarters.
"Regardless of the festive decorations and the bright faces around them,
the 'Guard' passed through the assembly as if they were not. On through
salon and passage--past ball-room and conversation parlor--they glided
with measured step, and halting in front of the 'Montgomery Trophy,'
paid military honours to the memento of a hero's valiant, if
unsuccessful act. Upon their taking close order, the Bombardier, who
personated the dead Sergeant, and who actually wore the blood-stained
sword-belt of a man who was killed in the action commemorated, advanced
and delivered an address to the Commander of the Quebec Garrison, of
which the concluding words were:--
'We ask of you to pay us now one tribute,
By firing from these heights one last salute.'
"The grave, sonorous words of the martial request were hardly uttered,
ere through the darkness of the night the great cannon boomed,--a
soldier's welcome and a brave man's requiem,--which caused women's
hearts to throb and men's to beat exultingly." While the whole air
trembled with the sullen reverberations, which echoed from crag to crag,
the glare of rockets lit up the path of Près-de-Ville, as the signal
lights had done one hundred winters before.
At the suggestion of the American Consul, the old house on St. Louis
street, in which the body of Montgomery was laid out January 1st, 1776,
was decorated with the American flag, and brilliantly illuminated, in
honour of him who had so nobly tried to do what he considered his duty.
And thus the years of the century, as they rolled around, have in a
great measure smoothed away the animosities which marked those days that
tried men's souls, when the sons of those who had played around the same
old English hearths fought to the death for liberty or loyalty. That the
angry strifes are forgotten, leaving only the memory of the bravery
which distinguished the star actors in the great drama, needs no further
proof than can be found on a green hill near the Palisades, in the State
of New York, where one hundred and twenty years ago a warm young heart,
beating beneath the soldier's red coat, was stilled by American justice.
The granite shaft on the spot tells its sad and sombre story:--
Here died, October 2nd, 1780,
Major John André, of the British Army, who, entering
the American lines on a Secret Mission to
Benedict Arnold for the Surrender of
West Point, was taken prisoner,
tried and condemned
as a spy.
His death, though according to the stern code of
war, moved even his enemies to pity, and
both armies mourned the fate of
one so young and so brave.
In 1821 his remains were removed to
Westminster Abbey.
A hundred years after his execution this stone was
placed above the spot where he lay, by a citizen of
the States against which he fought; not to perpetuate
a record of strife, but in token of those
better feelings which have since united
two nations, one in race, in language
and religion, with
the earnest hope that
this friendly union
will never be
broken.
"He was more unfortunate than criminal,
An accomplished man and a gallant officer."
--George Washington.
An American visitor to Quebec was recently shown the cannon used in the
trophy, which the British Corporal proudly explained had been taken at
Bunker Hill.
"Ah! yes, friend," the stranger replied, "you have the cannon, but we
have the hill."
On the top of the monument, near Boston, which marks the spot on which
this battle took place, are two guns similar to this one, the
inscription on which corroborates the soldier's statement; it reads:--
"Sacred to Liberty."
This is one of the four cannon which constituted
the whole train of field
artillery possessed by
the British Colonies
of
North America,
at the commencement of the
War
on the 19th of April, 1775.
This cannon and its fellow belonged to
a number of citizens of
Boston.
The other two, the property of the Government
of Massachusetts, were taken by the enemy.
[Illustration]
With the failure of the American expedition, and the return of the
British troops to Montreal, the Château again became Government
headquarters and was called Government House.
When internal and international tranquillity were completely restored,
and the people were permitted to return to their ordinary avocations of
life, Sir Guy Carleton established himself at Quebec with his wife, the
Lady Maria, and their three children, one of whom had been born in
Canada. She had joined him at Montreal, being the bearer of the
decoration of the Order of the Bath, which she had received from the
hands of the King to present to her husband. Sir Guy Carleton or Lord
Dorchester was one of those men "who, during a long and varied public
life, lived so utterly irreproachably, that his memory remains unstained
by the charge of any semblance of a vice."
On the occasion of his last appearance in an official character he
arrived to make his final inspection of the troops. After general parade
the officers waited upon him to pay their last respects to one who had
been the bulwark of Canada through her greatest vicissitudes. The
leave-taking of their old General, whom they never expected to see
again, was marked by the deepest feelings of regard and regret. His
connection with Canadian history covered a period marked by events of a
nature the most critical, the results of which will colour the entire
future of the Dominion.
[Illustration]
Between the years eighteen thirty-seven and forty, when Canada was torn
by internal rebellion, the Earl of Elgin, who was then Governor-General,
drove in hot haste to the Château, where had sat the special council
during the suspension of the Constitution. After giving the Queen's
sanction to what was called by a certain party "The Rebel Indemnity
Bill," he rushed into one door and out of another, when this Peer of the
Realm, in all the dignity of coach and four, postillions and outriders,
was pelted with rotten eggs and other unpleasant missiles. Then, in the
dark of night, at the instance of some so-called politicians, the mob
moved on to the Parliament buildings, and, most unfortunately for
Montreal, deliberately set them on fire; which act resulted ultimately
in the removal of the seat of government to Ottawa and the decline of
the glory of the old Château.
[Illustration]
THE FUR KINGS.
[Illustration: Sir William Alexander]
It was to the French explorers whose names stand "conspicuous on the
pages of half-savage romance," and to their successors the Scotch
fur-kings, that we owe much of the geographical knowledge of the
northern part of the Continent. There is some uncertainty as to who was
the discoverer of the Mackenzie River, which carries its waters to the
ice-fields of Polar seas, but it bears the name of one claimant to the
distinction, Sir Alexander Mackenzie.
Of the other waterways of the region much valuable information was
obtained by Alexander Henry in his intercourse with the native tribes.
To Sir William Alexander was given the honour of being the first
Scotchman to cross the Rocky Mountains. Like his fellow countrymen, he
was distinguished by the same characteristics which made their fathers
in tartan and kilt foemen "worthy of any man's steel," and themselves
fit successors of the bearers of such honourable names as duLuth, Joliet
and de La Vérandrye. A few rods from the gate of the Château de Ramezay
is a tall warehouse which bears on its peaked gable the date 1793. It
was in this old building that the early business years of John Jacob
Astor, the New York millionaire, were spent. It was the property of the
North-West Fur Company, which was the centre of so much that was
romantic and captivating. This Company was an association of Scottish
and Canadian merchants, who, in the political changes which had taken
place, had supplanted those purely French. In energy and enterprise they
did not exceed their predecessors, but had more capital and influence at
their command.
In consequence of their more lavish measures, they were called the
"Lordly Nor' Westers." Full justice has been done them by the pen of
Washington Irving, who, in writing the tale of "Astoria," that
Northwestern "Utopia," so splendid in its conception, but so lamentable
in its failure, became familiar with their life in all its phases. He
says:--"To behold the North-West Company in all its grandeur it was
necessary to witness the annual gathering at Fort William. On these
occasions might be seen the change since the unceremonious time of the
old French traders, with their roystering _coureurs des bois_ and
_voyageurs_ gaily returning from their adventurous trading in the
pathless regions of the West. Then the aristocratic character of the
Briton, or rather the feudal spirit of the Highlander, shone out
magnificently. Every partner who had charge of an inferior post felt
like the chieftain of a Highland clan. To him a visit to the grand
conference at Fort William was a most important event, and he repaired
thither as to a meeting of Parliament. They were wrapped in rich furs,
their huge canoes being freighted with every luxury and convenience. The
partners at Montreal were the lords of these occasions, as they ascended
the river, like sovereigns making a progress. At Fort William an immense
wooden building was the council chamber and also the banqueting hall,
decorated with Indian arms and accoutrements, and with trophies of the
fur trade. The great and mighty councils alternated with feasts and
revels." These old days of primitive bartering are gone forever from the
St. Lawrence, but to-day as it flows in majesty to the ocean, carrying
with it one-third of the fresh water of the world, it is a great highway
for the commerce of the globe.
The University of McGill stands on what was once, in part, the ancient
village of Hochelaga, which was visited by Jacques Cartier, and was
later the domain belonging to old "Burnside Hall." Its cheerful fire
many a time shone out under the shadow of Mount Royal, when were
gathered around its board Simon McTavish, Duncan McGillivray, Sir John
Franklin and Joseph Frobisher. With them was frequently seen Thomas
Douglas, Earl of Selkirk, who formulated the scheme of populating the
prairies of the North-West with poverty-stricken and down-trodden
tenants from older lands, many of whom lie in the old grave-yard of the
Kildonan settlement on the Red River of the North, a few miles from the
City of Winnipeg. Their descendants with their Scotch thrift form the
backbone of that progressive province of such magnificent possibilities.
Their weary journeys overland, toilsome _portages_ and struggles with
want and isolation are now mere matters of history, for the overflow
population of the crowded centres of Europe are carried in a few days
from sea to sea with every possible convenience and even luxury. The
great Canadian transcontinental line has spanned the valleys and crossed
the mountains, literally opening up a highway for the thousands who from
the ends of the earth are yearly crowding into these vast fertile plains
and sub-arctic gold fields.
Franklin lies in an unknown grave among Northern snows, lost in his
attempt, at the age of sixty, to find the North Pole. He was last seen
moored to an iceberg in Baffin's Bay, apparently waiting for a
favourable opportunity to begin work in what is known as the Middle Sea.
The problem of his fate long baffled discovery, although many an earnest
searching party, in the Polar twilight, has sought him in that region of
ice and snow, in a silence broken only by the howl of the arctic blast,
the scream of sea-fowl or the thundering report of an ice-floe breaking
away from the mainland.
One party sent out by the Hudson Bay Co. in 1853 found traces of the
expedition in some bits of metal and a silver plate engraved with the
name Franklin. Another, fitted out partly by Lady Franklin, and partly
by public subscription, and commanded by McClintock, afterwards Sir
Leopold McClintock, learned from an Eskimo woman that she had heard of a
party of men, whom it was said "fell down and died as they walked." With
the exception of these faint traces, their fate is still wrapped in
obscurity.
[Illustration]
INTERESTING SITES.
Few visitors to the city, as the Palace cars of the Canadian Pacific
Railway carry them into the mammoth station on Dalhousie Square, realize
the historic associations which cling around this spot. In the
magnificently equipped dining-room of the Company's Hotel, as delicacies
from the most distant parts of the earth are laid before the traveller,
he should call to remembrance the lives of deprivation and uncomplaining
endurance which have made the ground now crowned by the beautiful
edifice full of the most tragic interest, and filled with memories which
will be immortal as long as courage and stout-heartedness are honoured.
Two hundred and fifty years ago the sound of hammer and saw here awoke
the echoes of the forest. Workmen who had learned their craft in old
French towns, when Colbert, the great statesman and financier, was
developing the architecture and industries, revenues and resources of
the kingdom, here reared a wind-mill, the first industrial building in
Montreal.
The winds of these autumns long ago turned the fans and ground the seed
of harvests toilsomely gathered from corn-fields, among whose furrows
many a time the arrow and tomahawk spilt the blood of reaper and sower.
The old mill with its pastoral associations of peaceful toil in time
passed away, and was succeeded by a structure dedicated to the art of
war, for on the same spot stood _la Citadelle_. This stronghold, though
primitive in its appointments, was important during the French
occupation and evacuation of New France, being the last fortification
held by French troops on Canadian soil.
This old earthen Citadel, a relic of mediæval defence, was, about
seventy years ago, removed, its material being used in the leveling and
enlargement of the Parade Ground, or, as it is called, the
"_Champ-de-Mars._" Its demolition might be regretted were it not that in
an age of progress even sentiment must give way before advance. The
grand Hotel Viger, although built to promote the comfort of the people
of the Dominion, has not destroyed the pathetic interest of the early
struggles and heroism which still clothes its site, and which heightens
the present appreciation of a civilization of which the old mill and
fort were the pioneers.
The hospitable hearth of James McGill, graced by his noble-minded
French-Canadian wife, has also long since disappeared; but through his
endowment, and the prince-like gifts of William Molson, Peter Redpath,
Lord Strathcona and Mount Royal, Sir Wm. Macdonald and many others, the
torch of education has been lighted here, which shall shine a beacon for
ages to come. Although but three-quarters of a century old, yet the
University of McGill compares favourably with older institutions, its
Mining Building being the most perfectly fitted up in the world. Its
sons take rank with the most cultured minds in Europe and America,
influencing to a most marked degree the educational thought of the day.
The year 1896 marked an epoch in its history, when a graduate of the
class of '68 was elected to the Presidency of the British Medical
Association, one of the most august and learned corporations in the
world. In calling a Canadian, Dr. T. G. Roddick, M.P., to this eminent
position, a signal honour was conferred, it being the first time the
office was held by a Colonial member. Thirty-five years ago, a
French-Canadian youth, slight in form, with broad brow and eyes full of
deep thoughtfulness, stood before the Faculty and friends as the
valedictorian of his class. That slender boy is to-day the great
Canadian Premier, Sir Wilfrid Laurier, the eloquent Statesman and the
honoured of Her Majesty the Queen.
[Illustration]
FAMOUS NAMES.
[Illustration: Brant]
Conspicuous among the portraits of soldiers, heroes and navigators which
adorn the walls of the different rooms of the Château, is one, a full
size painting of an old Highland Chief, a veritable Rhoderick Dhu, in
Scotch bonnet and dirk, who, with the call of his clan, and the pipes
playing the airs of his native glen, led the charge of Bunker Hill. He
was Sir John Small, who came to Canada with his regiment, the famous
"Black Watch," and served under Abercrombie in the battle of Carillon.
One of his descendants, visiting Boston early in the century, found on
the walls of a museum, and where it may still be seen, a painting of the
battle of Bunker Hill with General Small on his white horse, rallying
his men to the attack. It was to the credit of the successors of those
who fought that day, although only thirty or forty years had elapsed
since their forefathers had met in mortal combat, that the most gentle
courtesy and kindness were shown on both sides by their descendants.
A fine picture of a full-blooded Indian is that of Brant, the great
Mohawk Chief, an ally of the English and a cruel and ruthless foe; on
one occasion having, it is said, slain with his own hand, forty-four of
his enemies. Other portraits of Jacques Cartier, Champlain, Vaudreuil,
Montcalm, deLevis, Dorchester, deSalaberry and Murray are also there to
be seen and admired.
[Illustration: Sir John Small
British Leader in the Battle of Bunker Hill.]
Many of the streets of Montreal, such as Dorchester, Sherbrooke, Wolfe,
d'Youville, Jacques Cartier, Guy, Amherst, Murray, Vaudreuil, de
Lagauchetière, Olier, Mance, Longueuil, and others equally well named,
will carry down to future generations the memory of those who were
prominent in the making and moulding of Canada. It is strange that one
of the most insignificant streets in the city, a mere lane, of a single
block in length, should bear the name of Dollard, the hero of one of
the most illustrious deeds recorded in history, an event which has
rightly been called the Thermopylæ of Canada. The facts were as
follows:--In 1660 the Colony was on the eve of extinction by the
Iroquois, the whole of the tribes being on the war-path with the
intention of sweeping the French from the St. Lawrence. Dollard des
Ormeaux and sixteen young men of Montreal determined upon a deed which
should teach the savages a lesson. They bound themselves by an oath
neither to give nor take quarter. They made their wills and took the
sacrament in the Chapel of the _Hôtel-Dieu_, and then started up Lake
St. Louis. They were not accustomed to the management of the frail
canoes of bark, and day after day struggled to pass the currents of St.
Anne's, at the head of the island, where now the pleasure yacht spreads
its white sails to the breezes of summer, and on whose shores the
huntsmen and hounds gaily gallop when in the woods of autumn the leaves
turn crimson and gold under the mellow hunter's moon. At last, after a
week had been thus spent, they entered the Ottawa River, proceeding by
the shores until they descried the remains of a rough palisaded fort
surrounded by a small clearing. It was only a circle enclosed by trunks
of trees, but here they "made their fire and slung their kettles. Being
soon joined by some friendly Hurons and Algonquins they bivouacked
together. Morning, noon and night they prayed, and when at sunset the
long reaches of forest on the opposite shore basked peacefully in the
level rays, the rapids joined their hoarse music to the notes of their
evening hymn." As their young voices floated through the forest glades,
and they lay down to sleep under the stars of the sweet May skies, they
thought of the bells tinkling in the still air of their loved
_Ville-Marie_, where those they had come to die for sent up for them
_Aves_ around hearth and altar. In the words of a Canadian poet, it is
thus described:--
"Beside the dark Uttawa's stream, two hundred years ago,
A wondrous feat of arms was wrought, which all the world should know.
'Tis hard to read with tearless eyes this record of the past,
It stirs our blood, and fires our souls, as with a clarion blast.
What, though beside the foaming flood untombed their ashes lie,--
All earth becomes the monument of men who nobly die.
Daulac, the Captain of the Fort, in manhood's fiery prime
Hath sworn by some immortal deed to make his name sublime,
And sixteen soldiers of the Cross, his comrades true and tried,
Have pledged their faith for life or death, all kneeling side by side.
And this their oath, on flood or field, to challenge face to face
The ruthless hordes of Iroquois,--the scourges of their race.
No quarter to accept nor grant, and loyal to the grave.
To die like martyrs for the land they'd shed their blood to save.
And now these self-devoted youths from weeping friends have passed,
And on the Fort of _Ville-Marie_ each fondly looks his last.
Soft was the balmy air of spring in that fair month of May,
The wild flowers bloomed, the spring birds sang on many a budding spray,
When loud and high a thrilling cry dispelled the magic charm,
And scouts came hurrying from the woods to bid their comrades arm.
And bark canoes skimmed lightly down the torrent of the _Sault_,
Manned by three hundred dusky forms, the long-expected foe.
Eight days of varied horrors passed, what boots it now to tell
How the pale tenants of the fort heroically fell?
Hunger and thirst and sleeplessness, Death's ghastly aids, at length.
Marred and defaced their comely forms, and quelled their giant strength.
The end draws nigh,--they yearn to die--one glorious rally more
For the sake of _Ville-Marie_, and all will soon be o'er.
Sure of the martyr's golden crown, they shrink not from the Cross;
Life yielded for the land they love, they scorn to reckon loss.
The fort is fired, and through the flame, with slippery, splashing tread,
The Redmen stumble to the camp o'er ramparts of the dead.
Then with set teeth and nostrils wide, Daulac, the dauntless, stood,
And dealt his foes remorseless blows 'mid blinding smoke and blood,
Till hacked and hewn, he reeled to earth, with proud, unconquered glance,
Dead--but immortalized by death--Leonidas of France;
True to their oath, his comrade knights no quarter basely craved,--
So died the peerless twenty-two--so Canada was saved."
The historian says:--"It was the enthusiasm of honour, the enthusiasm of
adventure and the enthusiasm of faith. Daulac was the _Coeur-de-Lion_
among the forests and savages of the New World." The names and
occupations of the young men may still be read in the parish registers,
the faded writing illumined by the sanctity of martyrdom. The "Lays of
Rome" recount among her heroes none of greater valour than these by the
lonely rapids in the silence of the Canadian forest.
[Illustration]
ECHOES FROM THE PAST.
Near a modern window in the gallery leans an old spinning-wheel, which
was found in the vaults. By its hum in winter twilights, a hundred years
ago, soft lullabies were crooned, and fine linen spun for dainty brides,
over whose forgotten graves the blossoms of a century of summers have
fallen. In hoop and farthingale they tripped over the threshold of the
old church of _Notre Dame de Bonsecours_. They plighted their troth as
happily before the altar of the little chapel, as do their descendants
in the stately church of _Notre Dame_, with the grand organ pealing
through the dim arches and groined roof.
The old, old wheel is silent, and the fingers that once held distaff and
spindle have crumbled into dust, but the noble deeds and glorious names
of those days gone by are carven deep in the monument of a grateful
country's memory.
Over an archway in the picture gallery is an enormous oil painting,
dark with age, of the British Coat of Arms, which, it is whispered, was
brought over hurriedly from New York during the American Revolution.
The museum of the Château is daily receiving donations of interesting
relics, and has already a fine collection of coins, medals, old swords
and historical mementoes--some of the autograph letters of Arnold,
Champlain, Roberval, Vaudreuil, Amherst, Carleton, the de Ramezay family
and many others, being of great interest.
These early days have passed away forever. The whirr of the
spinning-wheel, or shout of the hunter, no longer sound along the banks
of the St. Lawrence. No canoe of the painted warrior now glides silently
by the shore; for Montreal with its three thousand inhabitants when
Vaudreuil beat his retreat, to its present population of 300,000, has
thrown its magnificent civilization around these spots hallowed by the
footprints of the great men whose feet have walked her ancient streets.
"She has grown in her strength like a Northern queen,
'Neath her crown of light and her robe of snow,
And she stands in her beauty fair between
The Royal Mount and the river below."
The two nationalities live harmoniously side by side in commercial and
social life, both retaining their racial and distinctive
characteristics. The old _chansons_ of Brittany are still heard from the
hay-carts and by the firesides, and up and down the rivers ring out the
same songs as when the "fleet of swift canoes came up all vocal with the
songs of _voyageurs_, whose cadence kept time among the dipping
paddles."
The Château de Ramezay has suffered many changes and modifications in
the various hands through which it has passed since its foundation
stones were laid, but the citizens of Montreal, revering its age and
associations, are restoring it as much as possible to its original state
and appearance; and the thousands who yearly pass through it testify to
the romance surrounding the walls of the old Château, _Ville Marie's_
grandest relic of an illustrious past--a past which belongs equally to
both French and British subjects, and which has developed a patriotism
well expressed in the words of the eloquent churchman, Bruchesi,
Archbishop of Montreal, who says:
"I know the countries so much boasted of where the myrtles bloom, where
the birds are lighter on the wing, and where gentler breezes blow. I
have passed quiet days on the beach at Sorrento, where the Mediterranean
rolls its blue waves to the foot of the orange tree. I have seen Genoa,
the superb and radiant Florence, and Venice, the Queen of the Adriatic.
More than once I have gazed upon the beauty of Naples glittering with
the fires of the setting sun. I have sailed upon the azure waves of the
Lake of Geneva. I have tasted the charm of our sweet France. My steps
have trodden the blessed soil of Rome, and I have trembled with
unspeakable gladness. But all these noble sights, all these undying
memories, all this sublime poetry, all these enchantments of nature did
not take the place in my heart of Canada, my Fatherland, which I have
never ceased to regard with enthusiasm and admiration.
What nation can boast of a purer or more glorious origin? May the future
of Canada be worthy of its noble past. May charity, true charity, reign
among all our citizens as among the children of the same mother. Let us
have none of those intestine divisions which enfeeble us,--none of those
unhappy jealousies capable of compromising the most sacred interests."
Our fathers' battle-cries are hushed,
The ancient feuds are gone;
Canadians now and brothers,
With God we're marching on.
With spears to ploughshares beaten,
The furrowed land is won.
Through bannered fields of waving corn
In peace we're marching on.
The North wind through the pine woods
Swells out our pæan song,
To the music of its harping
We bravely march along,
And join the trampling millions,
In chorus deep and strong.
To drum-beats of a nation's heart,
We proudly march along.
O, fair, blue skies, and mountain streams
Whose flashing sands run gold,
No standard but the Triple-Cross
Thy breezes shall unfold.
With roaring surge of circling seas
We shout our patriot song
For Home and Queen and Canada,
With God we're marching on.
On, marching on, while brave the colours float
From sea to sea, with cheer and song,
This watchword pass the ranks along,
Our Land is marching on!
[Illustration]
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Mary Wilson Alloway
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