Part 4

They owed their long immunity to the fact that several people of position were implicated. Some, against their will, too terrified to break from them. One man, on the scaffold, confessed that a young man unwarily brought into their meshes had begged leave to be permitted to break off from them on his taking oath never to betray them. A seeming acquiescence was yielded, and an appointment made to take a row on the river to negotiate where no one could overhear their conversation. As soon as out of sight and sound the man confessed he had silenced him effectually by a knock on the head and a pitch into the river.

Leaving the little church on the Esplanade, on reaching St. Ann, and turning to the left, at the top of Ursule hill, you find a double brown house, with peculiar pointed turret windows. Here I lived when about eight years old, but most distinctly do I remember its surroundings. Come in and sit with me in the end parlor window and I will point out to you Colonel (afterwards General) Macdonald, in his brave uniform, the picture of dignity, coming down, the steps of the building formerly occupied by Dr. Boswell; also the house where Dr. Lemieux now lives, some officers (Guards, I think) had their quarters, and pretty lively quarters they were. Most of these gentlemen were rich, young, full of fun, and quite regardless of consequences. One of their eccentricities was to insist on a favorite horse being brought in by the front door and harnessed in one of the large rooms off the entrance. I used to watch these proceedings with great glee. No doubt they paid richly for their whistle when settling day came with their landlord. But they could well afford to pay for their pranks.

Opposite this house, the door facing Ann street is still the solid residence, the home some years since of the much-lamented Judge Alleyne; in the early days I speak of, the house of Mr. Le Mesurier, a merchant then, but previously an officer in ——, and carrying a reminder of the same in an empty sleeve, a noble mark of valor.

To be a good carver was then an absolute necessity, for all carving was done at table, and Mr. Le Mesurier piqued himself on always discharging this duty himself, which he did most skillfully by means of a peculiarly constructed knife and fork. Once seated at a side-table (I had been invited to tea with some of the younger members of the family), I watched him do so with great admiration. I do not recall precisely who else were there; but one figure is specially impressed on my memory, that of Mrs. Kerr (mother of the late Judge Kerr), a very stately lady in pink silk and high white plumes.

Mrs. Le Mesurier, although at the head of fashionable society, was one of the old-time good housekeepers. I think I see her now with her keys in hand, giving directions to some domestic. She had a large family—all popular; but the two special favorites were, I think, Miss Harriet, who is married to General Elliot, and Henry Le Mesurier, whose former lovely residence on the St. Lewis road still exists. He had a peculiarly winning charm of manner, inherited, as I saw in a very short interview I had with him, by his son George.

I will now take you up the Esplanade and stop at a cut-stone house on the corner of St. Lewis road, once used as the residence of the Lieut.-Governor. It was conveniently situated, and there was great indignation expressed when the project was mooted of buying Spencer Wood, for, though in most respects suitable, many said it was too far, for those whose position entitled them to vice-regal entertainments would find horse hire a heavy tax. For, my friends, in those early days the almighty dollar was not worshipped as now; in fact, very few of those moving in the highest society were rich—good family, culture and education were the tests, and no amount of money would have introduced a vulgar person into the charmed circle; in fact, permission to subscribe to the Quebec assemblies was a matter of almost as great moment as admittance to old London Almacks. An instance of which may be found in this over-true tale told me by an aged aunt who knew all the circumstances. Briefly, it was this: A rich tradesman lived on Mountain Hill, who had a pretty wife, who, not content with every needful luxury for her happiness, must needs sigh for, to her, the unattainable (that was _entrée_ to the castle). On one occasion a military gentleman of high position who owed this tradesman some money said he regretted the circumstance, and that if he would give him time he would do anything possible for him in return. "Well," said Mr. Blank, "if you could do something for my wife, I should not only consider the bill paid, but be grateful too." "What is asked?" said the colonel. "Just this: you see, sir, my wife is young, and has taken it into her foolish little head she must get to one of the castle balls. Could you get her in?" "Nothing easier, my dear sir; on my arm she can come in unquestioned." So grand preparations were made by the lady, and at the appointed time she went to the castle, triumphant, on her cavalier’s arm, advanced to the door where the cards of admission were received, when the official in waiting said, "Enter, colonel, but Mrs. —— is not known here, where is her invitation?" Mortified to death, it was said that Mrs. Blank, unwilling to face the occupants of the ladies’ dressing-room, turned and fled precipitately in her slippers and without her outward wraps, rushed home, and that chagrin and cold brought on a severe illness that resulted in consumption. On her death-bed, unable to forgive the wound to her pride, she made her daughter promise that, eschewing all thoughts of love, she would promise her to marry only a man of such position she would be able to look down on those who had snubbed her mother. Being young, rich and pretty, this young girl accepted an aged man of very high rank, refusing one of the finest young men in Quebec, of whom she was fond, and commenced a life of unhappiness with a gentleman who in his dotage made her live almost a recluse in the country, and dress up and go through the drill as if he were commanding still.

His death finally rescued her from such a life, but by that time her nervous system had become so thoroughly unhinged, her mind gave way, and the last I knew of her was her being sent to the lunatic asylum, having no child or relative to care for her. A sad comment on an ill-placed mother’s ambition.

At the opposite corner of said stone house was a pretty little residence occupied at one time and owned by the late Major Temple, adjoining which was his father-in-law’s residence, the late Hon. Chief Justice Jonathan Sewell. Both these houses still stand, but in vain I look for the pretty lace curtains, and the two parrots on their stands, calling to you through the bright flowers in the window of the late Major Temple’s residence. As an old Quebecer I am ashamed to say that pretty house has been the one blot on the whole of Quebec’s loveliest street. It has been turned into a petty candy shop, a couple of bottles of sweets, two or three sugar-sticks and halfpenny cakes, and a notice, "Registry Office for Servants," replaces the view of the parrots and flowers. Were I rich I should purchase the property myself, and for old times let some one occupy it who would keep up somewhat its former appearance. Such a thing would not have occurred in Montreal. The Montrealers have too much ambition for their city to let it deteriorate, and consequently property becomes more valuable every day. Why, to think Americans should have been permitted to carry off bodily the house where Montgomery’s body was laid and are making a fortune out of it, having set it up as an Indian curiosity shop in some part of the States. Why not have done it here?

Strolling on through the beautiful St. Louis Gate, past the new armory, certainly a credit to the old city, and past rows of handsome new houses, we come to a solid looking building with a golden lion sign. When I looked at it, I wondered if it was chosen to beguile the innocent into the impression that they were at the old chien d’or. It does not need that it has memories enough of its own, for here lived the late A. Joseph, Esq., and his amiable wife, one of the most charming of hostesses, and who gave us any number of pleasant parties, but almost every house on that street (then, as now, quite a fashionable one) is associated with pleasant recollections. The one just inside the toll gate on the left was then occupied by Capt. Charles Campbell, a retired officer of Her Majesty’s 99th, I think, father of our old friend, A. C., joint Prothonotary of Quebec.

Mr. Le Moine, in his able work, "The Explorations of Eastern Latitudes," by Jonathan Old Buck, F. G. S. Q., so graphically depicted the Plains of Abraham and its surroundings, I can but touch on old personal memories, which as they please me in writing, for I live but in the past, may serve to amuse you, my readers, in an idle hour. I will now stop at Spencer Wood, and visit the pretty home of our favorite author.

The house at present occupied by Judge Bosse, Quebec, was fitted up in 1860 for Lord Monck, Spencer Wood having been burnt down on 12th March, 1860. Spencer Wood residence having been rebuilt and fitted up in accordance with the requirements of a permanently selected vice-regal residence, was successively occupied by the following parties:

Sir Edmund Head, 1860; Lord Monck, 1861; Sir N. F. Belleau, Lieut.-Governor, 1867; Hon. R. E. Caron, Lieut.-Governor, afterwards Sir R. E. Caron, 1870; Hon. Luc Letellier, 1878; Hon. Theodore Robitaille, 1879; Hon. Mr. Masson, 1884; Hon. Auguste Réal Angers, 1889, who married in April, 1890, Emelie Le Moine, daughter of the late Alex. Le Moine, who now resides there, Oct. 15th, 1890.

*SPENCER GRANGE, RESIDENCE OF JAMES MACPHERSON LE MOINE, F.R.L.C.*

You drive through a pretty road, heavily lined with trees, but through the foliage discern a neat cottage at the left, frequently occupied by the pastors of St. Michael’s church. On the right, facing the grass plots and bedded in trees stands a very pretty residence, quite spacious inside, and containing every comfort and elegance, presided over by a charming hostess and her daughters. Mrs. L., the most amiable of ladies, spares no fatigue in showing you all that can interest, and there is a great deal to see at the Grange. The parlor windows look on a lawn skirted with various trees, where many a wild bird makes its nest, and looking outwards, and listening to their varied notes, you could fancy yourself in a deep wood. From a pretty dining-room you pass through a passage lined with marble busts of the ancient heroes of Greece and Rome, into the grapery, where the heavy clusters of grapes look too lovely to be plucked. An aviary adjoins this, and at times the soft cooing of doves mingles with the other caged inmates and the notes of the wild birds in the adjacent shrubbery. All is so quiet here, you might fancy yourself miles from civilization. It is a fitting home for a literary man, and bears everywhere an impress of elegance and refinement. Mr. Le Moine has some very curious heads of rare animals and numerous trophies of the chase and rare birds sent by admiring friends. The odor of the new-mown hay and the varied scent of the flowers complete the charm of this pretty home. Amongst other curiosities, Mr. Le Moine has the original key of one of the city gates, which has been presented to him. It is a very ponderous looking affair.

*SOCIETY IN 1854.*

We will take a stroll back, citywards, coming down the Esplanade, about the year 1850. We notice, as we near the Esplanade, the sound of the band in full force. The Esplanade benches are crowded with ladies. From the windows of many houses, spectators look on the gay scene; while lord and lady, cavalier and belle, pass to and fro to enjoy the military music and a chat with their acquaintances. The militia, in some measure, replace the regular army, but with a difference: the latter were, as a general rule, men of wealth, culture, travel, and leisure with little else to do but make themselves, agreeable to the ladies, which they did so successfully as to arouse the ire of the civilians. Even from the few houses that face the Esplanade alone, one, at least, and, as in the family of Sheriff Sewell (now occupied by Mr. Hunt), no less than three, if not four, were carried off by English officers; and from houses nearly adjoining went Miss Panet, Miss Healy, two Misses Motz, the handsome Miss Joly, Miss Bradshaw, Miss Maxham; and a few doors around the corner, on St. Anne street, Miss Ashworth.

Amongst the noted belles living on the Esplanade were the handsome Burrage ladies and the Misses Mackenzie, whose father met his death in a very sad manner. There was a house situated on the St. Louis road called the "H—— House," where (there being very large rooms to let for picnic use) were often held evening entertainments. On one occasion the bachelors gave us a ball there. It was a lovely moonlight night, but very cold, and, wherever there was little snow, glare ice. Mr. Mackenzie and his daughters drove out in safety to the door; but, on alighting, he slipped and broke his leg. Being a man beyond middle age, he never quite recovered. The shock was, I think, the prime cause of his death.

C. E. Levy, Esq., occupied the house, former corner of St. Anne and the Esplanade. The first house opposite, on St. Anne street, was then the residence of Captain, afterwards Admiral Boxer, and the propinquity was so favorable, he induced the handsome daughter of Captain B—— to change her father’s home for his. His widow now owns one of Quebec’s most beautiful and costly residences on the St. Louis road. The house now occupied by Sir William Meredith was, when I was a child, the house of Judge, after Sir William Stuart. His daughter, most kindly I remember, sent me a doll, dressed in crimson satin, velvet and train, to represent Her Majesty. Its gorgeousness is still before me. The corner house above that was at one time occupied by Mrs. White, whose two handsome daughters married the brothers G—— and another took captive a favorite army doctor. One, her pretty young niece, if I mistake not, Miss McG——, afterwards Mrs. B——, lived with her here.

Some years later one sees the erect, handsome old gentleman, Town-Major Knight, taking his daily stroll always arm-in-arm with one of his sons, as hale and hearty a year or two before his death as he was almost twenty years before. One of his daughters still resides in Quebec, the wife of our old but always young friend, Henry A——.

It gives me so much pleasure to recall these old days, to people the streets of my old birthplace with dead and gone friends, who come up so vividly before my mental vision, I could sit for hours and bring them up before you; but to strangers this would be wearisome, so I’ll only glance at one or two more, and then, with a few hasty memories of some of our most eminent Quebec gentlemen, turn from the past to the present. I cannot close without speaking of two gentlemen who occupied such a prominent place in gay society, Messrs. Angers and Lelièvre, lawyers, partners and near neighbors. We always looked to them for a succession of most agreeable entertainments. If I am not mistaken, at the time they lived on Haldimand hill, and before they purchased the St. Louis hotel, it was divided into two houses,—one occupied by that gay old gentleman, Mr. Burroughs and his family, one of whose handsome daughters, Cecil, not long deceased, married the Hon. Mr. Garneau; the other still lives, I think, in Paris (Mrs. Kimber). His son John, a very quiet looking gentleman, most unexpectedly carried off our great society belle at that time, the lovely Leda L., from numerous competitors, mother of Madame Masson, wife of the late Governor Masson. But if I go on to speak of all the pretty girls of which we could boast at that time, I should go on for ever, so I will present to you a slight sketch of some of our most prominent men. Of Hon. George Okill Stuart, Sir James Stuart, and Hon. Henry Black so much has been written that I will only mention their names, and give you a slight sketch of Mr. Faribault, a most genial gentleman, of particularly courteous manners, very literary, of good old French family, and universally respected. He lived in the old house on whose site is built that now occupied by his only child and daughter, who married Quebec’s famous artist, Mr. Hamel. Mr. Hamel had a most particular gift for catching likenesses, demonstrated when quite a boy. He died unfortunately quite young, leaving a son and daughter, who with their mother reside in her father’s old home.

Charles Gethings, son of Captain James Gethings, an Irish officer of the old 100th Regiment, was born in Bona Vista, Newfoundland, and came to this country with his father. His first residence was that occupied formerly by Hon. George Primrose. Captain Gethings was stricken with paralysis while mounting guard at Hope Gate, and died at the fourth house on the right hand going up towards the Fabrique. His son Charles, after being employed a short time in the Commissariat, then with Gillespie, Moffatt & Co., Montreal, subsequently in the City Bank of Quebec, spent many years as manager of the Quebec Bank, Quebec, receiving to the day of his death a liberal pension from the Quebec Bank. A kind father, a scrupulously upright man, the family all honor his memory. He sleeps in St. Matthew’s churchyard vault.

*NEW YEAR’S DAY, 1840—IN QUEBEC.*

Old Time, with customary speed, Has passed us on his flying steed, And once again a New Year’s day Now greets us smiling bright and gay.

My young friends, I live so little in the present, so much in the past, I hardly know the customs of modern society, but I am not so totally out of the world as not to be conscious that old-time hospitalities on that day are quite relegated to the past, and happily the cake and wine given once so freely are no longer fashionable, for I think now with amaze of our ancient customs, and wonder how, having partaken of the lavish hospitality of these old days, any of our beaux could have got home without the aid of Dickens’ traditional wheelbarrow. As it may amuse you I will just give you a picture of New Year’s day as kept about forty years ago. Well, I cannot state what precise year, but one New Year’s day the courtyard of the English Cathedral was a mass of glare ice, just like a skating rink, and no lady could go to service at the English cathedral without the assistance of a well-shod beau to help her to keep her equilibrium, and after service return with me to the home of one of our city belles. You will find the mother of the family in full dress, seated in a comfortable arm chair, a bright fire burning in the grate, magazine in hand, to while away the hour when the ready attendant will usher in the first visitor. A couple of young ladies beside her, in full dress, pink, blue or gray satin or silk décolleté, a heavy gold chain or valuable watch visible attached to a handsome gold watch hook on the side of the dress, a bouquet holder in one hand, and embroidered handkerchief and white kid gloves and numerous bracelets, they sit with all the indifference it is possible to simulate, till the announcement of Mr. A, soon followed by B, C, D, and E, till the room is so crowded only the compliments of the season can be exchanged before with a bow one gentleman gives place to another, and so numerous are the visitors in some favored houses, perhaps even eighty in a day, one of the family surreptitiously takes the names for future recognizance, and woe be to the unfortunate swain whom forgetfulness or too much occupation may have prevented from paying his respects; he will surely be left out of the list of invites for the next ball. And yet, poor unfortunate, he cannot leave the house without taking from the hand of the fair lady of the house a glass of wine, and that offer he was expected to accept perhaps at twenty or thirty houses. A year or two later it was considered bon ton to offer nothing in the parlor, but an obsequious waiter tendered ale, wines and other delicacies, catching the departing visitor in a parlor near the hall door. This was something better. A gentleman could refuse a waiter’s demand—not so easily a lady’s. Still later, about fifteen years ago, I well remember the Rev. Mr. Hébert, of Kamouraska, asking as a personal favor and a mark of respect to himself that none of his parishioners should offer temptation to the weak in the form of stimulant to New Year’s visitors, and he very lucidly expressed himself in these terms: "You say some of you are advised by your physician to take wine, well, that is all right, and put your liquor beside your pills, and as you do not think it necessary to give physic to all your friends because the doctor orders it for you, neither do I think the tonic that may do you good necessary to sow broadcast to those to whom it may prove a bitter poison." This was particularly hard on a character in the village we had dubbed Monseigneur because he served a former Bishop, and being wealthy he piqued himself on bringing something new for New Year, and his last purchase had been a valuable liquor stand. He was heart-broken. Being a very pious man he was deeply chagrined to think he could not display his new purchase, till he was once more elevated to the summit of happiness by the suggestion that raspberry vinegar, lime juice and lemon syrup would look equally well in his fine caraffe.

*A POINT OF HONOR.*