Picturesque Quebec : a sequel to Quebec past and present Part 45

"I had not yet uttered a word, but my curiosity getting the better of my fear, I demanded an explanation of this mysterious tombstone. My father beckoned me towards a shady old maple; we both sat on the turf, and he then told me as follows:--You have, no doubt, my son, heard of a French Intendant, of the name of Bigot, who had charge of the public funds in Canada somewhere about the year 1757; you have also read how he squandered these moneys and how his Christian Majesty had him sent to the Bastille when he returned to France, and had his property confiscated. All this you know. I shall now tell you what, probably, you do not know. This Intendant attempted to lead in Canada the same dissolute life which the old _n.o.blesse_ led in France before the Revolution had _levelled_ all cla.s.ses. He it was who built this country seat, of which you now contemplate the ruins. Here he came to seek relaxation from the cares of office; here he prepared entertainments to which the rank and fas.h.i.+on of Quebec, including the Governor General, eagerly flocked; nothing was wanting to complete the _eclat_ of this _little_ Versailles. Hunting was a favorite pastime of our ancestors, and Bigot was a mighty hunter. As active as a chamois, as daring as a lion was this indefatigable Nimrod, in the pursuit of bears and moose.

"On one occasion, when tracking with some sporting friends an old bear whom he had wounded, he was led over mountainous ridges and ravines very far from the castle. Nothing could restrain him; on he went in advance of every one, until the b.l.o.o.d.y trail brought him on the wounded animal, which he soon dispatched.

"During the chase the sun had gradually sunk over the western hills; the shades of evening were fast descending; how was the lord of the manor to find his way back? he was alone in a thick forest; in this emergency his heart did not fail him,--he hoped by the light of the moon to be able to return to his stray companions. Wearily he walked on, ascending once or twice a lofty tree, in order to see further, but all in vain; soon the unpleasant conviction dawned on him that like others in similar cases, he had been walking round a circle. Worn out and exhausted with fatigue and hunger, he sat down to ponder on what course he should adopt. The Queen of night, at that moment shedding her silvery rays around, only helped to show the hunter how hopeless was his present position. Amidst these mournful reflections, his ear was startled by the sound of footsteps close by; his spirits rose at the prospect of help being at hand; soon he perceived the outlines of a moving white object. Was it a phantom which his disordered imagination had conjured up; terrified he seized his trusty gun and was in the act of firing, when the apparition, rapidly advancing toward him, a.s.sumed quite a human form; a little figure stood before him with eyes as black as night, and raven tresses flowing to the night wind; a spotless garment enveloped in its ample folds this airy and graceful spectre. Was it a sylph, the spirit of the wilderness?

Was it Diana, the G.o.ddess of the chase, favoring one of her most ardent votaries with a glimpse of her form divine? It was neither. It was an Algonquin beauty, one of those ideal types whose white skin betray their hybrid origin--a mixture of European blood with that of the aboriginal races. It was Caroline, a child of love, born on the sh.o.r.es of the great Ottawa river; a French officer was her sire, and the powerful Algonquin tribe of the Beaver claimed her mother.

"The Canadian Nimrod, struck at the sight of such extraordinary beauty, asked her name, and after relating his adventure, he begged of her to shew him the way to the castle in the neighborhood, as she must be familiar with every path in the forest. Such is the story told of the first meeting between the Indian beauty and the Canadian Minister of Finance and Feudal Judge in the year 175--.

"The Intendant was a married man; [326] his lady resided in the capital of Canada. She seldom accompanied her husband on his hunting excursions, but soon it was whispered that something more than the pursuit of wild animals attracted him to his country seat; an intrigue with an Indian beauty was hinted at. These discreditable rumors came to the ears of her ladys.h.i.+p; she made several visits to the castle in hopes of verifying her worst fears; jealousy is a watchful sentinel.

"The Intendant's dormitory was on the ground floor of the building; it is supposed the Indian girl occupied a secret apartment on the flat above; that her boudoir was reached through a long narrow pa.s.sage, ending with a hidden staircase opening on the large room which overlooked the garden.

"The King, therefore, for his defence Against the furious Queen, At Woodstock builded such a bower, As never yet was seen.

Most curiously that bower was built, Of stone and timber strong."

(Ballad of Fair Rosamond.)

"Let us now see what took place on this identical spot on the 2nd July, 176--. It is night; the hall clock has just struck eleven; the murmur of the neighboring brook, gently wafted on the night wind, is scarcely audible; the Song Sparrow [327] has nearly finished his evening hymn, while the _Sweet Canada_ [328] bird, from the top of an old pine, merrily peals forth his shrill clarion. Silence the most profound pervades the whole castle; every light is extinguished; the pale rays of the moon slumber softly on the oak floor, reflected as they are through the gothic windows; every inmate is wrapped in sleep, even fair Rosamond who has just retired. Suddenly her door is violently thrust open; a masked person, with one bound rushes to her bed-side, and without saying a word, plunges a dagger to the hilt in her breast. Uttering a piercing shriek, the victim springs in the air and falls heavily on the floor. The Intendant, hearing the noise, hurries up stairs, raises the unhappy girl who has just time to point to the fatal weapon, still in the wound, and then falls back in his arms a lifeless corpse. The whole household are soon on foot; search is made for the murderer, but no clue is discovered. Some of the inmates fancied they had seen the figure of a woman rush down the secret stair and disappear in the woods about the time the murder took place. A variety of stories were circulated, some pretended to trace the crime to the Intendant's wife, whilst others alleged that the avenging mother of the creole was the a.s.sa.s.sin; some again urged that Caroline's father had attempted to wipe off the stain on the honour of his tribe, by himself despatching his erring child. A profound mystery to this day surrounds the whole transaction. Caroline was buried in the cellar of the castle, and the letter 'C' engraved on her tombstone, which, my son, you have just seen."

Half a century has now elapsed since the period mentioned in this narrative. In vain do we search for several of the leading characteristics on which Mr. Papineau descants so eloquently; time, the great destroyer, has obliterated many traces. Nothing meets one's view but mouldering walls, over which green moss and rank weeds cl.u.s.ter profusely.

Unmistakable indications of a former garden there certainly are, such as the outlines of walks over which French cherry, apple and gooseberry trees grow in wild luxuriance. I took home from the ruins a piece of bone; this decayed piece of mortality may have formed part of Caroline's big toe, for aught I can establish to the contrary; Chateau-Bigot brought back to my mind other remembrances of the past. I recollected reading that pending the panic consequent on the surrender of Quebec in 1759, the non- combatants of the city crowded within its walls; this time not to realized, but to seek concealment until Mars had inscribed another victory on the British flag. Who would be prepared to swear that later, when Arnold and Montgomery had possession of the environs of Quebec, during the greater portion of the winter, of 1775-6, some of those prudent English merchants, (Adam Lymburner at their head), who awaited at Charlesbourg and Beauport the issue of the contest, did not take a quiet drive, to Chateau- Bigot, were it only to indulge in a philosophical disquisition on the mutability of human events?

We are indebted to Mr. John D. Stewart of Quebec for a copy of the following letter from his grandfather, written in 1776, from the Chateau.

(Mr. Charles Stewart, father of the late Mr. Charles Grey Stewart, Comptroller of Customs, to his father.)

"HERMITAGE, June 25th, 1776.

"MY DEAR FATHER,--I was overjoyed to hear by a letter from Mr. Gray, that you and my dear mother were in good health. Nothing can give me greater pleasure than to hear so. I was very sorry to hear that my sister had been ill. I hope she is now getting better.

We have been here for this winter in a very dismal situation. The rebels came here and blocked up the town of Quebec, at the end of November. I had been not at all well for two months previous, and at that time had not got better with a pain which obliged me to stay in the country, where I had been all the summer, although greatly against my inclination. I was allowed to remain peaceably by the rebels, until the middle of January, when I was taken and carried with sword and (fixed) bayonets before their general; the reason why, was, that after their attack upon the town on the 31st December, the Yankees were obliged to demand a.s.sistance of the country people to join them. I had spoken and done what I could to hinder the people of the village where I resided from going and taking arms with them. This came to light, and I was told at their head-quarters their general, one Arnold, a horse jockey or s.h.i.+pmaster, who then had the command, threatened to send me over to the (New England) colonies. After being detained a ...

and two days, Arnold asked me, if he had not seen me before in Quebec.

I said he had, and put him in remembrance of having once dined with him; upon which he said, on condition that I gave my word of honour not to meddle in the matter, he would allow me to go away. I told him the inhabitants were a parcel of scoundrels, and beyond a gentleman's notice; upon this I got off, and remained for upwards of two months without molestation, till the tracks of persons going to town from Beauport had been observed; the country people immediately suspected me, and came with drawn cutla.s.ses to take me; luckily I was from home, having gone two days before about fifteen miles to see an acquaintance, and when I got back they had found out who had gone in (to town). The ill-nature of the peasants to me made me very uneasy on account of all the papers I had of Mr. Gray's, and dreading their malice much, I determined to go from them. I found out a place about five miles up amongst the woods, the Hermitage which being vacant I immediately retired to it, and carried all my papers with me. Mr.

Peter Stewart had gone from his house in Beauport, down with his family to the Posts, and gave me the charge of it, and having heard that they (the Yankees) were going to put 150 men in it, I sent all his furniture, &c., to the house I had taken, so that I had my house all furnished; this was in the beginning of March; since which I have remained there. The people who left the town in the fall have not been allowed to go back. A Mr. Vi... one of the most considerable merchants, went in immediately after the 6th of May, (the day when the town people made a sally with about 900 men in all, who drove nigh 3000 of the Yankees from their camp, and relieved the town) and was sent to prison and kept several days. Major John Nairn was so obliging as to come out 8 or 9 days after that affair to see me; he asked me why I had not been in town. I told him the reason; I had got no pa.s.s.

The next day he sent me one; except another, this is the only one which had been granted by the Governor as yet, and it is thought some won't be allowed to go in this summer, why, I cannot say. Every person had liberty to leave or stay by a proclamation for that purpose, but as it is military law, no person dare say it is wrong

I am going now again to remain in town, having now learned a little of the French. I understand every word almost that is said, although I cannot speak it as well; however I could wish that my brother John knew as much of it. I three days ago wrote him they were gone to Halifax, but am told they are to go from there to New York soon....

I am at present studying a little of the French law. If I do not make use it, it will do me no harm. I expect you have had letters from my brother Andrew....

I wish you would send me your vouchers of all your Jamaica debts I could go easily from here to there. If I cannot get money I can get rum, which sells and will sell, at a great price in this place. I can only stay there a few months."

Nor must we forget the jolly pic-nics the barons held there some eighty years ago. [329]

On quitting these silent halls, from which the light of other days had departed, and from whence the voice of revelry seems to have fled forever, I re-crossed the little brook, already mentioned, musing on the past. The solitude which surrounds the dwelling and the tomb of the dark-haired child of the wilderness, involuntarily brought to mind that beautiful pa.s.sage of Ossian, [330] relating to the daughter of Reuthamir, the "white-bosomed" Moina:--"I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls, and the voice of the people is heard no more. The thistle shook there its lonely head; the moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out of the windows, the rank gra.s.s of the wall waved round its head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina, silence is in the house.... Raise the, song of mourning, O bards! over the land of strangers. They have but fallen before us: for one day, we must fall."

L'INTENDANT BIGOT--ROMANCE CANADIENNE.

PAR JOS. MARMETTE.

After perusing the Legend of _Caroline, the Algonquin Maid_, the lover of Canadian story, can find a more artistically woven plot in one of Mr.

Marmette's historical novels L'Intendant Bigot. The following pa.s.sage is from a short critique we recently published thereon:

"It is within the portals of Beaumanoir (Chateau-Bigot) that several of the most thrilling scenes in Mr. Marmette's novel are supposed to have taken place. A worthy veteran of n.o.ble birth, M. de Rochebrune, had died in Quebec through neglect and hunger, on the very steps of Bigot's luxurious palace, then facing the St Charles, leaving an only daughter, as virtuous as she was beautiful. One day, whilst returning through the fields (where St. Rochs has since been built) from visiting a nun in the General Hospital, she was unexpectedly seized by a strong arm and thrown on a swift horse, whose rider never stopped until he had deposited his victim at Bigot's country seat, Charlesbourg. The name of this cold-blooded villain was Soumois. He was a minion of the mighty and unscrupulous Bigot. Mdlle. de Rochebrune had a lover. A das.h.i.+ng young French officer was Raoul de Beaulac. Maddened with love and rage he closely watched Bigot's movements in the city, and determined to repossess his treasure, it mattered not, at what sacrifice. Bigot's was a difficult game to play.

He had a _liaison_ with one of the most fascinating and fas.h.i.+onable married ladies of Quebec, and was thus prevented from hastening to see the fair prey awaiting him at Beaumanoir. Raoul played a bold game, and calling jealousy to his help, he went and confided the deed to Madame Pean, Bigot's fair charmer, entreating her immediate interference, and after some hairbreadth escapes, arrived at the Chateau with her just in time to save Mdlle de Rochebrune from dishonor.

Madame Pean was returning to the city with Mdlle de Rochebrune and Raoul, when on driving past the walls of the Intendant's palace, close to the spot where Desfosses street now begins, her carriage was attacked by a band of armed men--a reconnoitering party from Wolfe's fleet, anch.o.r.ed at Montmorency. A scuffle ensued, shots were fired, and some of the a.s.sailants killed; but in the _melee_ Mdlle. de Rochebrune was seized and hurried into the English boat commanded by one Capt. Brown. During the remainder of the summer the Canadian maid, treated with every species of respect, remained a prisoner on board the admiral's s.h.i.+p. (It is singular that Admiral Durell, whose beloved young son was at the time a prisoner of war at Three Rivers, did not propose an exchange of prisoners.) In the darkness and confusion which attended the disembarking of Wolfe's army on the night of the 12th of September, 1759, at Sillery, Mdlle. de Rochebrune slipped down the side of the vessel, and getting into one of the smaller boats, drifted ash.o.r.e with the tide, and landed at Cap Rouge, just as her lover Raoul, who was a Lieutenant in La Roche-Beaucour's Cavalry was patrolling the heights of Sillery. Overpowered with joy, she rode behind him back to the city, and left him on nearing her home; but, to her horror, she spied dodging her footsteps her arch enemy the Intendant, and fell down in a species of fit, which turned out to be catalepsy. This furnishes, of course, a very moving _tableau_. The fair girl---supposed to be dead---was laid out in her shroud, when Raoul, during the confusion of that terrible day for French Rule, the 13th September, calling to see her, finds her a corpse just ready for interment. Fortunately for the heroine, a bombsh.e.l.l forgotten in the yard, all at once and in the nick of time igniting, explodes, shattering the tenement in fragments. The concussion recalls Mdlle. de Rochebrune to life; a happy marriage soon after ensues. The chief character in the novel, the Intendant sails shortly after for France, where he was imprisoned, as history states, in the Bastile, during fifteen months, and his ill-gotten gains confiscated. All this, with the exception of Mdlle. de Rochebrune's career, is strictly historical."

_THE FALLS OF THE CHAUDIeRE_.

A tourist of a cultured mind and familiar with cla.s.sic lore, standing on the lofty brow of the _Chaudiere_, might, without any peculiar flights of imagination, fancy he beholds around him a solitary dell of that lovely TEMPE immortalized in song:

"Est nemos Haemoniae, praerupta quod undique claudit Silva; vocant Tempe; per quae Peneus ab imo Effusus Pindo, spumosis volvitur undis, Dejectuque gravi tenues agitantia fumos Nubila conducit, sommasque aspergine silvas Impluit, et sonitu plus quam vicina fatigat."

_Ovid Met_. I--568.

The Falls of the _Chaudiere_, in their chief features, differ entirely from the majestic cascade of Montmorency.

"To a person who desires nothing more than the primary and sudden electric feeling of an overpowering and rapturous surprise, the cascade of Montmorency would certainly be preferable, but to the visitor, whose understanding and sensibilities are animated by an infusion of antiquated romance, the Falls of the _Chaudiere_ would be more attractive." [331]

This favourite resort of tourists is accessible by two modes of travel. We would a.s.suredly advise visitors, both on account of the striking objects to be met with, to select the water route, going the land route on their return; a small steamer plies daily, for a 10 cent fare, at stated hours, from the Lower Town market place, touching at Sillery and skirting the dark frowning cliffs of Cape Diamond, amidst the s.h.i.+pping, affording a unique view of the mural-crowned city. After stopping five minutes at the Sillery wharf, the steamer crosses over and lands its pa.s.sengers nearly opposite the R. C. Church of St. Romuald, which, with its frescoed ceiling and ornate interior is one of the handsomest temples of wors.h.i.+p round Quebec. Vehicles are abundant at Levi and at St. Romuald; an hour's drive will land the tourist on the weird and romantic brink of the _Chaudiere_, either by following the lower road on the beach, skirting the adjoining highland, or taking the road on the heights.

"Although yielding in grandeur to Niagara and Montmorency, it possesses features more interesting than either. The river, in its course of one hundred miles over a rugged bed, full of rapids and falls, is here narrowed to a width of between three hundred and four hundred feet, and is precipitated over a height of about one hundred and thirty feet, preserving the characteristic features of its _boiling_ waters, till it mingles with the St. Lawrence. Hence it has received the appropriate name of _Chaudiere_ or _Caldron_. Instead of descending in one continuous sheet, it is divided by large projecting rocks into three channels or cataracts, which, however, unite before reaching the basin below. A globular figure is imparted to the descending volumes of brilliant white foam, in consequence of the deep excavations of the rocks, and the clouds of spray produce in the suns.h.i.+ne a brilliant variety of prismatic colours.

The dark-green foliage of the dense forests that overhang the torrent on both sides, forms a striking contrast with its snow-white foam.

"The wild diversity of rocks, the foliage of the overhanging woods, the rapid motion, the effulgent brightness and the--deeply solemn sound of the cataracts, all combine to present a rich a.s.semblage of objects highly attractive, especially when the visitor, emerging from the wood, is instantaneously surprised by the delightful scene. Below, the view is greatly changed, and the falls produce an additionally strong and vivid impression.

"If strangers view the Falls from one side of the river only, the prospect from the eastern sh.o.r.e is recommended as preferable.

"The Falls of Montmorency are not immediately surrounded by any rugged scenery, calculated to strengthen and perpetuate the peculiar emotion which is excited by the first glimpse of the cascade, but the dreary wildness in the foliage of the encircling forest, the total absence of every vestige of human improvement, and the tumultuous waves and commotion and effulgence that incessantly occupy the mind and rivet the senses of the beholder in the survey of the _Chaudiere_, conjoined with the wider expansion and larger quant.i.ty of water in the stream, in the opinion of many visitors more than compensate for the greater elevation from which the waters of the Montmorency are precipitated."

On returning to the town of Levi, the tourist, taking the upper road, may visit the Falls of Etchemin, where have existed for close on a century, the extensive saw mills of Sir John Caldwell. They are now owned by Henry Atkinson, Esq.

APPENDIX

[See p. 4.]

_JACQUES CARTIER'S OFFICERS AND CREW._

_Liste de l'equipage_ de Jacques Cartier, conservee dans les archives de St. Malo, France--revue avec soin sur le _fac-simile_ par C. H.

Laverdiere, Ptre., Bibliothecaire de l'Universite Laval, 22 novembre, 1859.

Jacques Cartier, capne.

Thomas Fourmont, Me. de la nef.

Guille. Le breton Bastille, capne. et pilote du Galion.

Jacq. Maingar, me. du Galion.