Part 17

“As we approached Quebec, snow lay to the depth of six feet; from the heights of Abraham, the eye rested upon what seemed an immense lake of milk; all smaller irregularities of ground, fences, boundaries, and copse woods, had disappeared; the tops of villages, and scattered farm-houses, with here and there dark lines of pine-wood, and occasionally the mast of some ice-locked schooner, marking the bed of the Charles river, were the only objects peering about it. A range of mountains, sweeping round from west to north, until it meets the St. Lawrence, bounds the horizon; no herald of spring had yet approached this dreary outpost of civilization; we had observed a few blue thrushes in the neighbourhood of Albany, but none had yet reached Canada; two only of the feathered tribe brave the winter of this inclement region—the cosmopolite crow, and the snow-bird, a small white bird, reported to feed upon snow, because it is not very clear what else it can find.

“It would be acting unfairly to Quebec, to describe it as I found it on my arrival, choked with ice and snow, which one day flooded the streets with a profusion of dirty kennels, and the next cased them with a sheet of glass. Cloth or carpet boots, galoshes, with spikes to their heels, iron pointed walking sticks, are the defensive weapons perpetually in employ on these occasions. The direction of the streets too, which are most of them built up a precipice, greatly facilitates any inclination one may entertain for tumbling or neck-breaking.

“The Falls of Montmorency are formed by a little river of that name, near its junction with the St. Lawrence, about five miles north of Quebec. They have a peculiar interest in winter, from the immense cone of ice formed at their foot, which was unimpaired when I visited them, in the second week of April. After winding up a short but steep ascent, the road crosses a wooden bridge, beneath which the Montmorency rushes betwixt its dark grey rocks, and precipitates itself in a broken torrent down a wooded glen on the right. It is not until you have wound round the edge of this glen, which is done by quitting the road at the bridge-foot, that you obtain a view of the Falls; nor was their effect lessened by this approach. A partial thaw, succeeded by a frost, had spread a silvery brightness over the waste of snow. Every twig and branch of the surrounding pine-trees, every waving shrub and briar, was encased in crystal, and glittering to the sun-beams like the diamond forest of some northern elf-land. You are now on the edge of a precipice, to which the Fall itself, a perpendicular of 220 feet, seems diminutive; it is not until you descend, and approach its foot, that the whole majesty of the scene becomes apparent. The breadth of the torrent is about fifty feet; the waters, from their prodigious descent, seem snowy-white with foam, and enveloped in a light drapery of gauzy mist. The cone appears about a hundred feet in height, mathematically regular in shape, with its base extending nearly all across the stream; its sides are not so steep, but that ladies have ascended to the top of it; the interior is hollow. I regret to add that a mill is constructing on this river, which will, by diverting the stream, destroy this imperial sport of nature; or, at least, reduce it to the degradation of submitting to be played off at the miller’s discretion, like a Versailles fountain.

“Towards the end of April, the townspeople begin, according to a law of the province, to break up the ice and snow from before their doors; and by the first week in May the streets are tolerably clear. The intermediate state, as may be supposed, is a perfect chaos, through which the stumbling pedestrian, like the arch-fiend of old—

‘Pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps.’

Meanwhile, the landscape begins to exchange its snowy mantle for a russet brown. A few wild-fowl and woodcocks, with some small birds, cautiously make their appearance; the sheltered bottoms of the pine-woods throw out the earliest flowers; the St. Lawrence and Charles rivers become gradually disburthened of ice, and enlivened by the gliding sail; still, however, the foot of spring seems lingering; the mists, exhaled by the warmth of the sun, frequently encounter the keen north-west, and are again precipitated in heavy snow showers; snow still blocks up the roads, and fills the dells and ditches, sheltered from the influence of the sun, thus preserving the gloomy aspect of winter through the month of May.

“The town, or rather city, of Quebec, is built on the northern extremity of a narrow strip of high land, which follows the course of the St. Lawrence, for several miles, to its confluence with the Charles. The basis of this height is a dark slate rock, of which most of the buildings in the town are constructed. Cape Diamond terminates the promontory, with a bold precipice towards the St. Lawrence, to which it is nearly perpendicular, at the height of 320 feet. It derives its name from the crystals of quartz found in it, which are so abundant, that, after a shower, the ground glitters with them. The lower town is built round the foot of these heights, without the fortifications, which, with the upper town, occupy their crest in bleak preeminence: the former, snug and dirty, is the abode of thriving commerce, and of most of the lower classes employed about the navy; the latter, cold and lofty, is the seat of government, and principal residence of the military; and claims, in consequence, that kind of superiority which some heads have been said to assert over the inglorious belly. To speak the truth, neither has much to boast on the score either of beauty or convenience.

“Among the principal buildings, the government-house, or Castle of St. Louis, may take precedence, being a thin blue building, which seems quivering, like a theatrical side-scene, on the verge of the precipice, towards the St. Lawrence; its front resembles that of a respectable gentleman’s house in England; the interior contains comfortable family apartments. For occasions of public festivity there is another building, on the opposite side of the court-yard, much resembling a decayed gaol. The furniture is inherited and paid for by each successive governor. The grand entrance to the chateau is flanked on one side by this grim mouldering pile, and on the other by the stables, with their appropriate dunghills. There is a small garden on the bank of the river, commanding, as does the chateau itself, an interesting view of the opposite shores of the St. Lawrence. These rise boldly precipitous, clothed with pine and cedar groves, and studded with white villages and detached farms; beyond which the eye reposes on successive chains of wooded mountains, fading blue in the distant horizon; meanwhile, the river below is spreading broadly towards the north, until it meets and divides round the Isle of Orleans.

“In front of the chateau is an open space of ground, with great capabilities of being converted into a handsome square; but at this season, a formidable barrier of bog-land is all that it presents to the bewildered pedestrian, who endeavours vainly to steer for the castle gate. On one side of it stands the protestant cathedral church, an unfinished building, much more than large enough for the congregation usually assembled in it. In style and arrangement it resembles a London parochial church, and has nothing about it reproachable with earthly beauty. There is a good organ, but mute for want of an organist; and as there is no choir, the heavy flatness of the service amply secures the English church from all danger of being crowded with the overflowings of its neighbour, the catholic cathedral, in which are still displayed, with no inconsiderable degree of splendour, the enticing ceremonies of the Roman worship. I was present at the service on Easter Sunday; a train of not less than fifty stoled priests and choristers surrounded the tapered altar; the bishop officiated in _plenis pontificalibus_, nor lacked the mitre, ‘precious and aurophrygiate;’ while the pealing organ, incense rolling from silver censers, and kneeling crowds thronging the triple aisles, presented a spectacle on which few are rigid enough, either in belief or unbelief, to look with absolute indifference. A lofty pile of gingerbread cakes, ornamented with tinsel, was carried to the bishop to receive his blessing, and a sprinkling of holy water, after which they were distributed among the people, who received them with most devout eagerness. These cakes I understood to be the pious offering of some devotee, more rich than wise, who certainly adopted a somewhat ludicrous expedient—

‘To bribe the rage of ill-requited heaven,’

with gingerbread.

“In catholic countries there are few public buildings, either for use or ornament, but are in some way connected with religion, and most frequently with charity. There are several charitable catholic institutions in Quebec: the principal of these is the Hôtel-Dieu, founded in 1637 by the Duchess d’Aiguillon, (sister to Cardinal Richelieu,) for the poor sick. The establishment consists of a superior and thirty-six nuns. The General Hospital is a similar institution, consisting of a superior and forty-three nuns, founded by St. Vallier, bishop of Quebec, in 1693, for “Poor Sick Mendicants.” It stands about a mile from the town, in a pleasant meadow, watered by the Charles. The style of building is simple, and well suited to the purposes of the establishment, consisting only of “such plain roofs as piety could raise.” The present superior is a lady of Irish extraction, her age apparently bordering on thirty. In this conventual seclusion, (devoted to what might well seem to the mind of a delicate female the most disgusting duties of humanity) she exhibits that easy elegance, and softened cheerfulness of manner, so often affected and rarely attained by the many votaries who dress their looks and carriage in “the glass of fashion.” She conducted us, with the greatest politeness, through every part of the building, which, as well as the “Hôtel Dieu,” in point of order, neatness, and arrangement, seems singularly adapted to the comfort and recovery of the unfortunate beings to whose reception they are consecrated. Their funds I understood to be small, and managed with strict economy. They receive a small sum annually from government, in addition to the revenue arising from their domain lands. There is no distinction in the admission of catholic or protestant; the hand of charity has spread a couch for each in his infirmities. Both houses have a small pharmacopœia in charge of a sister instructed in medicine. The several duties of tending the sick by night, cooking, &c. are distributed by rotation. Employment is thus equally secured to all, and the first evil of cankering thought effectually prevented. Good humour and contented cheerfulness seem to be no strangers to these “veiled votaresses;” seem! nay, perhaps are; for, without ascribing any miraculous effect to the devotion of a cloister, it is no unreasonable supposition, that in an establishment of this kind, the duties and occupations of which prevent seclusion “from stagnating into apathy, or thought from fretting itself into peevishness,” a greater degree of tranquillity, (and this is happiness,) may possibly be obtained, than commonly falls to the lot of those who drudge through the ordinary callings, or weary themselves with the common enjoyments of society. Grave men have doubted whether the purposes of these institutions might not be better answered by our common hospital establishments; and have even indulged themselves in a sneer at the idea of young men being attended in sickness by nuns! On the question, generally, it may be observed, that few (who have any knowledge of the system of common hospitals) can be at a loss to appreciate the difference betwixt the tender solicitude with which charity smooths, for conscience’ sake, the bed of suffering, and the heartless grudging attendance which hospital nurses usually inflict upon their victims. If the action of the mind produce a sensible effect on the frame, particularly in sickness, this is no immaterial circumstance in a medical point of view. Even when the hour of human aid is past, it is, perhaps, still something that the last earthly object should be a face of sympathy, and the last duties of humanity be paid with a semblance of affection. For those who dedicate themselves to this ministry, some apology may be urged to such as admit motives as, at least, an extenuating circumstance in the consideration of error. The moral critics, perhaps, who are foremost to condemn their practice as superstitious, revolt less from the superstition, than from the self-sacrifice it requires. Let the lash of satire fall mercilessly on mere bigots, wherever they are found: but against the spirit, which, abjuring the pleasures, devotes itself to the most painful duties of life, what argument can be directed which may not be left for its refutation to the prayers and blessings of the poor? The most objectionable part of the institution seems to be the committing of insane persons, of both sexes, to the charge of females: the answer is, that there is no other asylum for them; the blame therefore attaches to the police of the country; for it is evident, that women are very inadequate to the charge of such patients as require coercive treatment, particularly men.”

The Ursuline Convent, founded by Madame de la Peltrie, in 1639, for the education of female children, stands within the city. It has, both in its interior decoration, and the dress of its inhabitants, a greater appearance of wealth than the “General Hospital,” and “Hôtel Dieu.” Among the ornaments of the chapel, we were particularly directed to the skull and bones of a missionary, who had been murdered by the savages for attempting their conversion; it is perhaps doubtful, considering the general indifference of the Indians on matters of religious controversy, whether this was the real and sole offence by which he won the crown of martyrdom. These nuns have generally about 200 little girls under their care; but I was sorry to observe their education bought with their health—not one of them but had a pallid, sickly appearance, arising probably from much confinement, during a long winter, in an atmosphere highly heated with stoves, joined to the salt unwholesome diet, generally used by the Canadians.

The Seminary is a collegiate institution, for the gratuitous instruction of the catholic youth of Canada. The number of scholars is commonly about 200. The expenses of professors, teaching, &c. are defrayed by the revenue arising from the seignorial domains belonging to the establishment. The course of studies here qualifies for ordination. There is a small museum, or “cabinet de physique,” which seems in a growing condition; it contains, besides natural curiosities, electrical apparatus, telescopes, and other instruments of science. The library is somewhat too theological; there is a small hall attached to it, in which I perceived our Common Prayer Books, Testaments, &c. in company with many divines, as well catholic as protestant, Bayle, and a few travellers and philosophers, but the greater part theologians. The old palace, besides the chambers for the Council, and House of Assembly, contains a good public library; the nature of the collection may be defined generally as the reverse of that of the seminary library. There is a good assortment of historical works, of a standard quality, and of travels; but no classics, probably because none of the inhabitants affect to read them. A library is also on the eve of being established by the officers of the staff and garrison; but the society of Quebec is generally on too limited a scale, and too exclusively military or commercial, to foster any considerable spirit of literature or science. An attempt was made, during Sir G. Prevost’s administration, to establish a society on the plan of the Royal Institution, but it fell to the ground for want of a sufficiency of efficient members, eleven being the supposed necessary quantum to begin with; nor is this seeming scarcity surprising, when we consider that the short Canadian summer is appropriated to business, and that during the tedious winter, the men are never tired of dinners, nor the ladies of dancing.

There are some peculiar and interesting features in the neighbourhood of Quebec. The lofty banks of the St. Lawrence, from Cape Diamond to Cape Rouge, are composed of clay-slate, generally of a dark colour, sometimes of a dull red, whence the name of “Cape Rouge.” The bed of the river is of the same crumbling stone; and being triturated by time and the elements, gives its sands a close resemblance, both in colour and consistency, to smith’s filings. Bare, however, as they are of soil, these perpendicular cliffs are everywhere clothed with a luxuriant verdure of shrubs and trees, whose roots, wreathing themselves round barren rocks, seem to woo from the charity of the heavens the nutriment denied them by a niggard parent.

About two miles above Quebec, a break in the magnificent line of cliffs forms the little recess, called Wolfe’s Cove; a steep pathway leads up the heights to the Plains of Abraham; traces of field-works are still visible on the turf, and the stone is pointed out on which the hero expired. The cove is at present appropriated to the reception of lumber, which comes down the river from the States and Upper Province, in rafts, which frequently cover the surface of half an acre; when the wind is favourable they spread ten or twelve square sails, at other times they are polled down; the men who navigate them build small wooden houses on them, and thus, transported with their families, poultry, and frequently cattle, form a complete floating village. A great proportion of the timber is brought from Lake Champlain, and the trade is almost wholly in the hands of the Americans.

A second crescent-like recess, about a mile from Wolfe’s Cove, conceals the little village of Sillori. Nothing can be more romantic than the seclusion of this charming spot. The river road to it turns round the foot of gigantic cliffs, which seem interposed betwixt it and the world’s turmoil. The heights which encircle it are deeply wooded to their summits, and retire sufficiently from the river to leave a pleasant meadow and hop-ground round the village, consisting of about half-a-dozen neat white houses, one of which is an inn. On the river’s edge stands the ruin of an old religious house, built by French missionaries, for the purpose of preaching to the Huron tribes, who then inhabited this neighbourhood. There is now no trace of these missionaries, or of their labours, except in the little village of Loretto, which contains the only surviving relics of the once powerful Huron nation; so efficaciously have disease and gunpowder seconded the converting zeal of Europeans. Besides the road which winds under the cliffs, Sillori has two leading to Quebec through the woods. These woods cover the greater part of the country betwixt the St. Foi road and the river, offering all the luxury of shade and sylvan loveliness to the few disposed to accept it. I say the few, for the fashionables of Quebec commonly prefer making a kind of Rotten-row of the Plains of Abraham, round which they parade with the periodical uniformity of blind horses in a mill.

Lake Charles is generally talked of as one of the pleasantest spots round Quebec, and instances have been known of parties of pleasure reaching it. It is about three miles in length, and perhaps one at its greatest breadth. Towards the middle of it, two rocky points shoot out so as to form, properly speaking, two lakes, connected by a narrow channel. A scattered hamlet, taking its name from the lake, is seen with its meadows and tufted orchards, along the right bank of the outward basin. Wooded heights rise on the opposite shore, and surround the whole of the interior lake, descending everywhere to the water’s edge; the whole forming a scene of lovely loneliness, scarcely intruded on by the canoe of the silent angler. There is more in the whole landscape to feel than to talk about, so that it is little wonderful that an excursion to Lake Charles should be more frequently talked about than made.

The Huron village of Loretto stands on the left bank of the Charles, about four miles below the lake, (eight from Quebec). The river, immediately on passing the bridge, below the village, rushes down its broken bed of granite, with a descent of about seventy feet, and buries itself in the windings of the deeply-shadowed glen below. A part of the fall is diverted to turn a mill, which seems fearfully suspended above the foaming torrent. The village covers a plot of ground very much in the manner of an English barrack, and altogether the reverse of the straggling Canadian method; it is, in fact, the method of their ancestors. I found the children amusing themselves with little bows and arrows. The houses had generally an air of poverty and slovenliness; that, however, of their principal chief, whom I visited, was neat and comfortable. One of their old men gave me a long account of the manner in which the Jesuits had contrived to trick them out of their seignorial rights, and possession of the grant of land made them by the king of France, which consisted originally of four leagues by one in breadth, from Sillori north. Two leagues of this, which were taken from them by the French government, upon promise of an equivalent, they give up, he said, as lost; but as the property of the Jesuits is at present in the hands of commissioners appointed by our government, they were in hopes of recovering the remainder, which it never could be proved that their ancestor either gave, sold, lent, or in any way alienated.

END OF VOL. I.

TRANSCRIBER NOTES

Spelling maintained as written except where obvious errors or omissions. Multiple spellings of words and names were adopted consistent with Volume II as follows: General Wolf to Wolfe; General Van Ranssellaer or Van Renssellaer to Van Rensselaer; Montmorenci to Montmorency; St. Laurence (river) to St. Lawrence (river); St. John for river and town in New Brunswick; St. John's for Newfoundland and Quebec early settlement on the Richelieu River; Abram to Abraham; and moccassins or mocassins to moccasins.

Punctuation maintained except where obvious omissions or printer errors occurred.

Engravings have been enhanced and some engravings have been relocated to coincide with the text.

[The end of "Canadian Scenery Vol. I of II", by N. P. Willis (Nathaniel Parker).]