CHAPTER VII.
First view of Quebec—Passage of the St. Lawrence—Novel and rather alarming situation—Russell’s Hotel—The Falls of Montmorenci, and the “Cone”—Aspect of the City—The Point—“Tarboggining”—Description of the “Cone”—Audacity of one of my companions—A Canadian dinner—Call on the Governor—Visit the Citadel—Its position—Capabilities for defence—View from parapet—The armoury—Old muskets—Red-tape thoughtfulness—French and English occupation of Quebec—Strength of Quebec.
First view of Quebec—Passage of the St. Lawrence—Novel and rather alarming situation—Russell’s Hotel—The Falls of Montmorenci, and the “Cone”—Aspect of the City—The Point—“Tarboggining”—Description of the “Cone”—Audacity of one of my companions—A Canadian dinner—Call on the Governor—Visit the Citadel—Its position—Capabilities for defence—View from parapet—The armoury—Old muskets—Red-tape thoughtfulness—French and English occupation of Quebec—Strength of Quebec.
It was early in the morning when the train from Montreal arrived at Point Levi on the right bank of the St. Lawrence, a little above Quebec. The impression produced on us by the heights of Abraham, by the frowning citadel, by the picturesque old city glistening in the sun’s rays, and by the great river battling its way through the fields of ice and the countless miniature bergs, which it hustled upwards with full-tide power, can never be effaced.
It required some faith to enable one to believe the passage could be made by mortal boat of that vast flood from which the crash of ice sounded endlessly, as floes and bergs floating full speed were dashed against each other—flying fast as clouds in a wintry sky up the river, the banks of which resembledthe sheer sidesof an Alpine crevasse. The force of the stream is so great as to rend through and rupture the coat of ice which is thickened daily, and the masses thus broken, tossed into all sorts of singular shapes, jagged and quaint, are borne up and down by the flood till they are meltedby the increasing warmth of spring. An ice bridge is occasionally formed by the concentration of the ice in such masses as to resist the action of the water, and then sleigh horses cross by a path which is marked out by poles or twigs stuck in the snow, but it more usually happens that the river opposite Quebec remains unfrozen, and offers the singular spectacle of the ice rushing up and down every day as the tide rises and falls, to the great interest and excitement of strangers who have to cross from one side to the other.
At first the attempt seems impracticable. The deep blue of the St. Lawrence can be only seen here and there through the bergs and floes, like the veins beneath a snowy skin, but those glints are for ever varying as the ice passes on. The clear spaces are no sooner caught by the eye than they are filled up again, and every instant there arefresh rifts madein the shifting surface, which is at once as solid as a glacier and as yielding as water. In this race the bergs are carried with astonishing force and rapidity, and a grating noise; and a grinding, crashing sound continually rises from the water.
At the station there was a goodly crowd of men in ragged fur coats and caps, pea jackets, and long boots, of an amphibious sort, who did not quite look like sailors, and who yet were not landsmen. These were clamouring for passengers, and touting with energy in a mixture of French and English. “Prenez notr’ bateau, M’sieu’—La Belle Alliance! Good boat, Sar! Jean Baptiste, M’sieu’: I well known boat-man, Sir.” “The blue boat, Sir, gentleman’s boat, Mon Espoir,” “L’Hirondelle,” and so on at the top of their voices. And sure enough there, drawn up on thesnow near the station, was a range of stout whale boats, double planked on the sides, and provided with remarkably broad keels.
We selected, after a critical inspection, the captain of one of these—a merry-eyed, swarthy fellow, with a big beard and brawny shoulders—as our Charon, and following his directions we were stowed away in a sort of well between the steersman and the stroke oar, where we sat down with our legs stretched out very comfortably, and were then covered up to the chin with old skins, furs, and great coats. When all was ready, a horse was brought forward with a sling bar, to which a rope was attached from the bow, and we glided forward along the road towards the most favourable point for crossing at that stage of the tide. The boat was steadied and guided by the crew, who ran alongside with their hands on the gunwales. Houses by the roadside snowed up—shop windows with French names—sallow-faced, lean people looking out of the grimy windows—some large ships on the stocks, roughly placed on the river bank—these met the eye as we passed over the snow road towards the point opposite the city now looming nearer. With cheap timber and labour it is not surprising that the shipbuilding trade of Quebec flourishes.
For more than a mile and a half the boat careered eastwards, in active emulation with several other boats which were in our track, and the citadel on the opposite shore already lay behind us, before the horse was detached at the side of a deep incline leading to the river, and in another moment the boat was gliding down the bank and rushing for a blue rent in the midst of the heavy surface, into which we splashed as unerringly asa wild duck drops into a moss hole. The moment the bow touched the water, all the crew, some seven or eight in number, leaped in and seized their oars, which they worked with a will, whilst the skipper, standing in the bow, directed the course of the steersman.
We were now in a basin of clear water surrounded quite by ice, which only left the tops of the small bergs and the high banks on each side visible to us seated low down in the boat; and as we looked the floes were rapidly closing in upon us; but the skipper saw where the frozen wall was about opening, and forced the boat to the point of the advancing and narrowing circle, in which suddenly a tiny canal was cleft by the parting of the bergs, and the opportunity was instantly seized by the boatmen.
The ice was already closing and gripping the timbers as soon as we had fairly entered, and in an instant out leaped the crew on the treacherous surface, which here and there sank till they were knee-deep, and by main force they slid the boat up on a floe, and rocking her from side to side as a kite flutters before it makes a swoop, they roused her along on the surface of the ice, which was floating up towards the city very rapidly. With loud cries to a sort of chorus, the crew forced the craft across the floe till they floundered in some half-frozen snow, through which the boat dropped into the water. Then in they leaped, like so many Newfoundland dogs coming to land, all wet and furry, took the oars again, and rowed across and against the tide-set as hard as they could. Now in the water, then hanging on by the gunwales, this moment rowing, in another tugging at the boat ropes, clambering over small ice rocks, running across floes, sinking suddenlyto the waist in the cold torrent, the men battled with the current, and by degrees the shore grew nearer, and the picturesque outlines of the city became more distinct in the morning sun.
What with the extraordinary combinations and forms of the ice drifts, the inimitably fantastic outlines of the miniature ice architecture, and the novelty of the scene, one’s attention was entirely fixed on what was passing around, and it was not till we had nearly touched land that we had time to admire the fine effect of the streets and citadel, which, rising from the icy wall of the river bank, towered aloft over us like the old town of Edinburgh suddenly transplanted to the sea.
We found an opening in the blue cold water-rocks near the Custom-house landing-wharf, at which place there was a shelving bank; a stout horse was attached to the boat by a rope, on which the crew threw themselves with enthusiasm; and in a few seconds more we were on the quay, and thence proceeded to Russell’s Hotel, which was recommended to us as the best in the place. One may find fault with American hostelries; but assuredly they are better than the imitations of them which one finds in Canada, combining all the bad qualities of hotels in the States and in Europe, and destitute of any of the good ones.
The master of the hotel was an American, and he had struggled hard “under the depressing influences of the British aristocracy” to establish an American hotel, and he only succeeded in introducing the least agreeable features of the institution; but the attendants were civil and obliging, and there was no extravagant pressure on the resources of the place, so that we fared better than if we had been down south of the frontier. Eventhe landlord, though not particularly well-disposed towards one so unpopular among his countrymen as myself, yielded so far to thegenius locias to be civil. The rooms were small, and not particularly clean; but as painting and papering were going on, those who follow me may be better provided for.
A short rest was very welcome; but what fate is like that which drives the sightseer ever onwards, and forces him, with the rage of all the furies, from repose? “The Falls of Montmorenci were but a drive away, and the ‘Cone’ was in great perfection.”
“What is ‘the Cone?’” The effect of our ignorance on the waiter was so touching—he was so astonished by the profound barbarism of our condition—that we felt it necessary for our own character to proceed at once to a spot which forms the delight of Quebec in the winter season, and to which thebourgeoisiewere repairing in hot haste for the afternoon’s pleasure.
A sleigh was brought round, and in it, ensconced in furs, we started off for the Falls, which are about eight miles distant. It was delightful to see anything so old on this continent as the tortuous streets of the city, which bear marks of their French origin, after such a long contact as I had endured with the raw youth of American cities in general, but it was impossible to deny that the antiquity before us had a certain air of dreary staleness about it also. The double-windowed flat-faced houses had a lanky, compressed air, as if they had been starved in early life, and the citizens had the appearance of people who had no particular object in being there, and set no remarkable value on time. A considerable sprinkling of priests was perhaps the most remarkable feature in the scene, and occasionally knots of ruddy-faced riflemen,in all the glory of winter fur caps and great coats, disputed the narrow pavement, alternating with the “red” soldiers of the line.
The city is built on very irregular ground, and some of the streets are so steep that it is desirable for new comers to have steel spikes screwed into the foot-gear to combat the inclination to proneness on the part of the wearers. Emerging through a postern in the ancient battlemented wall we came out in an uninteresting suburb of small houses, from which a descent led to the margin of the water. Far as the eye could reach a vast snow plain extended, with surface broken into ridges, mounds, and long dark lines, and dotted with opaque blocks from which the church steeples sprung aloft, indicating the sites of villages. The ridges were the hills over the St. Lawrence, the mounds its islands, and the lines its banks, which expand widely on the left to embrace the sweep of the St. Charles Lake, on which stands the projecting ledge of the eastern part of the city.
As we approached the Lake, over which our route lay, black specks, which were resolved into sleighs, or men and women on foot, were visible making their way over the ice, which was marked by lines of bushes and branches of trees dressed up in the snow so as to indicate the route, and far away similar black specks could be made out crossing the St. Lawrence below, which has now become the great highway. But not a very smooth road. The surface is far from being level, and consists indeed of a succession of undulations in which the profound cavities sometimes give one a sense of insecure travelling.
On the whole, however, the expedition was muchto be enjoyed, the air was bracing, and the cold not intense, and the scene “slid into the soul” with all its deep tranquillity. Doubtless it produced a very different effect on the red-nosed Britons who were keeping watch and ward on the ramparts of the citadel, or on the poor “habitant” trudging patiently beside his sleigh-load of wood, and knowing that snow is his portion for the next five months.
On our right a continuous movement of white rugged masses, to all appearance like a stream of polar bears, betokened the course of the unfrozen St. Lawrence; on our left rose the high bank of the lake over which we were travelling, and cottages of the villagers; before us the sleighs were streaming towards a point which ran out into the river and beyond which there seemed to be a shallow bay. This was the point at which the Montmorenci river, recovering from its fall, expanded into a broad sheet at its junction with the greater river. Here we arrived in about an hour.
At the Point there were a few houses, some vessels imbedded in the snow, and piles of sawn timber and deal planks, and a great concourse of sleighs; and beyond it, looking up to the left, at the distance of some half-mile, we saw a glistening sugarloaf of snow, on the summit of which the creaming, yellow-tinged mass of the Falls apparently precipitated itself from the high precipice which bars the course of the stream. On the snow between us and the sugarloaf, and up the white sides of the latter, little black objects were toiling with small progress, but at intervals one of them, gliding from the top of the cone like a falling star in the Inferno, rushed prone to the base, and thence carried by the impetus of the descent skimmed over the ice towards us forhundreds of yards, like a round shot till its force was spent.
Of the crowd gathered at the Point nearly every one had the small hand-sleigh, something like a tiny truck with iron runners, under the arm, known in the vernacular as a “tarboggin,” of the derivation of which it is better to confess ignorance. A few were provided with sleighs of ampler proportions, and all the visitors were bent on tarboggining it, either from a shoulder of the Cone or from the summit of the mass itself.
As we approached over the snow the natives, men and women, flew past us on their way after a rush down the Cone, shouting to the bystanders to take care. Sometimes two were together, the lady seated on the front part of the machine, the man behind lying on his face with his feet stretched out so as to guide the sleigh by the smallest touch against the ice. At a distance the pleasure-seekers looked like some hideous insects impelled towards us with incredible velocity. As they came near and flew past, the expression of their countenances by no means indicated serene enjoyment.
Near the Cone itself a crowd of “tarboggin” hirers and guides beset us and guaranteed a safe descent, but it seemed a doubtful pleasure at best, and there was some chance of breaking limb, as we were told happened frequently during the season. We ascended to the lower shoulder of the Cone by steps in the snow and gazed on the scene with some curiosity. Not only were the people launching themselves from the Cone, but more adventurous still there were who, climbing up the steep side of the precipice, tarboggin under arm, at last reached some vantage snow, by the side of the Fall, where they threw themselves flat on thesleigh, and then came rushing down with a force which carried them clear up the side of the lower ledge of the Cone and over it, so that they were once more plunged downwards and were borne off towards the St. Lawrence.
It could now be very plainly seen that the Falls fell behind the Cone into a boiling turbulent basin, which fretted the edge of the ice and repelled its advances. Although much diminished in volume the body of water, which makes a leap of 250 feet down a sheer rock face into the caldron, was sufficiently large to present all the finest characteristics of a waterfall, but it was at times enveloped in a mist of snow, or rather of frozen spray, which blew into eyes, mouth, ears, and clothes, and penetrated to the very marrow of one’s bones. And it is of this ever-falling frozen rain the Cone is built, and as the winter lengthens on the Cone grows higher and higher, till in favourable seasons it reaches an altitude of 120 feet. It is as regular as the work of an architect, and, I need not say, much more beautiful. At present it had not attained its full growth, and was only 80 feet in height—but its symmetry was of Nature’s own handiwork. The Falls are in a narrow concave cup of rock crested with pine forests, and its sides now forbid the ascent, which is practicable in summer time by a series of natural steps in the strata. The waters cover this young cone with wings of spray and foam, and flittering, tremulous, and unsubstantial as they are, it is nevertheless from their aerial vapours that the solid and sturdy ice mountain grows up.
Of its substantial nature we had an excellent proof—of a human, practical kind: for, obeying many invitations, we walked along a snow path which led to a portalcut in the solid oxide of hydrogen, and entering found ourselves in a hot and stuffy apartment excavated from the body of the Cone, in which there was an Americanised bar, with drinks suited to the locality, and as much want of air as one would find in a house in the Fifth Avenue of New York. It was full of people, who drank whiskey and other strong waters.
I know not by what seduction overcome, but, somehow, so it happened, that one of my companions, on our return to the outer air and light, was led to sacrifice himself on a tarboggin, and yielded to a demon guide. I watched him toiling on, with painful steps and slow, doggedly up the path towards the slippery summit, and, when he had gained it, I slid down below to observe the result of the experiment, and judge whether it looked pleasant or not. He was but an item among many, but I knew he was among thebraves des braves, and had received a baptism of fire in the trenches of Sebastopol, which had rained a very font of glory in India, and scarcely paled in China. I watched him assuming the penal attitude to which the young tarbogginer is condemned, and after a balance for a moment on the giddy height, his guide gave a kick to the snow, and down like a plunging bomb flew the ice-winged Icarus. He passed me close; I could see and mark him well. Never, to judge from facial expression, could man have been in deadlier fear. With hard-set mouth, staring and rigid eyes, and aspect quite antipathetic to pleasure, he careered like one who is falling from a house top, and his countenance had scarce assumed its wonted placid look when I met him gasping and half faint. And yet he had the astounding audacity to say, “It was delicious. Neverhad a more delightful moment,” when he came back pale and panting from his flight.
We returned from the Falls by a hilly, rough road over the bank of the Lake, and arrived at our hotel in time to dress for dinner, to which I was invited at the house of a Canadian gentleman, I think an Englishman by birth, who entertained us right hospitably.
There is a wonderful calm in the conversation of the Canadians, perhaps a little too much so, but it is a relief from the ambitious restlessness of the common American. The Canadian mind suffers as the mind of every country which is not a nationality must suffer, and caution assumes the place of enterprise. If the Americans knew the business of diplomacy a little better, and could but restrain the democratic vice of boastful threatening and arrogant menace, they could have alienated Canada from our cold rule long ago, even though Canada would have lost by the change many privileges and a cheap protection to her industry, commerce, and social expansion.
February 10th.—To-day I paid my respects to His Excellency the Governor, Viscount Monck, and proceeded to visit the citadel, which is now occupied by a battalion of the 60th Rifles under Colonel Hawley. Independently of the historical associations which attach to this commanding-looking work, I was attracted to it by the consideration that it has twice saved Canada to Great Britain. I am bound to say that, in my poor opinion, it will never do so again, if left in its present condition. The works, once strong, have lost much of their importance since the introduction of long-range artillery, and the armament is in a very imperfect condition, consisting of old-fashionedpieces of small calibre, which could furnish no reply to a battery established on the heights across the St. Lawrence.
The citadel itself has in its construction some of the points of a regular fortress after Vauban, and on the river side the parapets tower aloft from a steep rock, which puts one in mind of the site of the platform at Berne; but on the east side it is hampered by houses and by the suburbs of the city; and it could be approached without much difficulty from the other side, as soon as a lodgment could be effected on the heights of Abraham. The fosses and ditches were partially filled with snow, which obscured the ground and the adjacent country, if such whiteness can obscure anything. Colonel Hawley was good enough to show us over the works and point out the objects of interest as far as they could be discerned. Among them were some ancient iron guns on which Great Britain ought not to rely for very effective service in the defence of the place.
But some new heavy guns have recently been mounted, others are to follow, and as the ordnance stores in Canada will soon be replenished with the best description of pieces, there then need be no apprehension for Quebec on the score of weak artillery: or for a position that is the key of Quebec, which is most emphatically the master-key of Canada.
The outworks of the citadel itself, however, are not by any means in a satisfactory condition; even the high parapet overlooking the lower town might be crumbled away and expose the interior of the place; in one particular part of this work the guns are masked by blocks of houses, the windows of which actually look into theinterior of the citadel, and the fire of the place could be so impeded, and the defence so cramped by the existing enceinte, that I very much doubt whether it would not be better to remove the latter altogether.
We trudged patiently around the long lines of parapet in the snow, now looking down upon the river clamorous with its burden of ice, and on the tortuous streets of the old-fashioned town. In summer and in the open months the St. Lawrence is thickly studded with ships; and dense forests of masts line the course of its banks; but now the only specimen of commercial enterprise on its bosom consisted of a few canoes struggling backwards and forwards through ice and water with their scanty freights.
Inside the citadel, cherry-cheeked riflemen were playing like schoolboys in the snow. In spite of temptation the regiment was in good condition; and although in modern days some objection might be taken to the closeness of their quarters in summer, the British soldiers who served under Wolfe would have been greatly astonished if they could have seen the comforts enjoyed by, and the cares bestowed on, their descendants. Even those much-neglected, injured Penelopes, the soldiers’ wives, are tolerably well off in their quarters, somewhat too crowded, it is true, but still more comfortable than at Aldershot or the Tower.
After a long march along the parapet, in which I stumbled across more rotting gun-carriages, useless mortars, and bad platforms than I care to mention, we visited the Armoury, which is near the parade-ground of the citadel. The stock of firearms is arranged with great taste, and the cleanliness andeffectiveness of all the material reflected credit on the storekeeper.
Some of the contents consisted of very interesting rifles of renowned makers in former days, with carved stocks, flint locks, and barrels encrusted with gold, intended as presents to Indian chiefs and warriors of tribes sufficiently strong to cause us injury by their hostility or render us service by their alliance. Old flint-lock muskets of inferior quality, with barrels like so many feet of cast-iron piping, intended for the indiscriminate destruction of friend or foe; horse-pistols of the fashion in vogue one hundred years ago, and the like, were to be found in the same spacious apartment, which contained specimens of the most recent improvements in firearms. Formerly flint pistols were served out to the frontier patrols, but of course percussion locks have, for many years, been given to all those employed in the service of the Crown in a military capacity. Some worthy official at home, however, still continues to send out barrels of flints with laudable punctuality, as he has not been relieved by superior order from the necessity of keeping up the supply of these articles. We have all heard of the forethought evinced by the home authorities, when they sent out water-tanks for our lake flotilla, forgetting that they were borne on an element quite fit for drinking. But I heard in the citadel of a still more remarkable instance of thoughtfulness.
A ship arrived at Quebec some time ago with an enormous spar reaching from her bowsprit to her taffrail consigned to the storekeeper. It had been the plague of the ship’s company, it had been in everybody’sway, and had nearly caused the loss of the vessel in some gales of wind. The whole resources of the quarter-master-general’s department were taxed to get it safely on shore, and transport it to the heights. And what was it? A flag-staff for the citadel. And what was it made of? A stout Canadian pine, which had probably been sent from the St. Lawrence in a timber ship to the government officials at home; who, having duly shaped and pruned it into a flag-staff, returned it to the land of its birth at some considerable expense to John Bull.
The citadel is of no mean extent, but covers about forty acres of ground, and necessarily requires a very strong garrison; if they were exposed to shell or vertical fire from the opposite side of the river, or from the western side of the place, as there is no defence provided, they would certainly suffer great loss. It is obvious that a permanent work must be built at Point Levi, to sweep the approaches and prevent the establishment of hostile batteries on the river. A regular bastion with outworks should be constructed on the heights above the point, in order to make Quebec safe.
There are also dangers to be apprehended from the occupation of the railway terminus at Rivière du Loup which do not affect Quebec immediately, but are, nevertheless, to be carefully guarded against. In the event of war appearing imminent, a temporary work to cover the terminus on the land side, and sweep the river, would be necessary.
There exist the remains of some outworks in advance of the citadel, which are so well placed that it would be very desirable to reconstruct defences on their sites.They are called the French works, and their position does credit to the skill of the engineer who chose it.
The British flag has waved for just 102 years from Cape Diamond, but the Fleur-de-lys had fluttered on the same point for 220 years, with the exception of the three years from 1629 to 1632, when Sir David Kirke placed Quebec in our hands.
Nothing proves the inaccuracy of artillery in those days more strikingly than the inability of the French, on Cape Diamond, to prevent the British transports landing their men at Point Levi, although the St. Lawrence is little more than 1000 yards broad opposite the citadel. By our bombardment, however, we nearly laid Quebec in the dust before the action.
On account of the very natural remembrance of the glory of Wolfe’s attack, his death and victory, it has almost been forgotten that our first attempt to land at Montmorenci was repulsed by Montcalm with the loss of 500 men; and it was only when the original scheme failed, that Wolfe conceived the plan of re-embarking his troops, and landing above the town. He had 8000 regular troops; the French had 10,000 men, but of these only five battalions were regular French soldiers. Montcalm believed no doubt that he could drive the British into the river, or force them to surrender, and he threw the force of his attack on the British right, which rested on the river. The French right, consisting of Indians and Canadians, was easily routed; the French left, deprived of the services of its general and of his second in command, was ultimately broken, and fled towards the town, covered in some degree by the centre battalions, which fell back steadily; nor was it till five days after the battle that Quebec fellinto our hands. The fire must have been exceedingly close and desperate; and its effects speak well for the efficiency of old Brown Bess at close quarters, for out of the force engaged, the British lost over 630, and the French 1500, of whom 1000 were wounded or taken prisoners. There was little artillery engaged; for we had but one, and the French but two or three pieces on the heights. A very few months afterwards we had nigh lost that which we had so gallantly and fortunately gained.
On the 28th April next year, General Murray, following the example of Montcalm, and depriving himself of the advantages which a position inside the walls of Quebec would have given him, moved out on the heights of Abraham, with 3000 men and twenty guns, to oppose the French under the Chevalier de Levi, who were moving down upon the city. In an ill-conceived attack on the enemy, Murray lost no less than 1000 men and all his guns, and had to retreat to the city. He was only relieved by the arrival of a British squadron in the river, which compelled the French to retire with the loss of all their artillery.
Looking down upon the narrow path below the parapet, one must do credit to the daring of Arnold, Montgomery, and the Americans in their disastrous attempt to carry the citadel by an escalade. Arnold, after his astonishing march and desperate perils by the Kennebeck and Chaudière—which has been well styled by General Carmichael Smyth one of the most wonderful instances of perseverance and spirit of enterprise upon record—followed the course pursued by Wolfe; and embarking at Point Levi, occupied the heights of Abraham, but when Montgomery joined him fromMontreal, it was found they had no heavy artillery. Thus they were forced either to march back again, or to try to carry the place by storm. Two columns, led by Arnold and Montgomery, endeavoured to push through the street at the foot of the citadel, one from the east and another from the west.
The Canadians say, that after Montgomery carried the entrenchment, which extended from the foot of the cliff to the river, he rushed at the head of his column, followed by a group of officers, towards a second work, on which was mounted a small field-piece. The Americans were just within twenty yards when a Canadian fired the gun, which was loaded with grape. Montgomery and the officers who followed him were swept down in a heap of killed and wounded, and the column at once fled in confusion. Arnold, who had forced his way into the houses under the citadel, was carried back wounded soon after his gallant advance: and the Canadians again claim for one of their own countrymen, named Dambourges, the honour of having led the sortie from the citadel which charged the Americans, and forced those who were not slain to surrender.
Certainly the Canadians showed upon that occasion, as no doubt they would again, a strong indisposition to fraternise with the American apostles of liberty, equality, and fraternity; they harassed their communications, and, under their seigneurs, cut off several detachments. The attempt on Quebec was never repeated; and the Americans fared but ill in both their Canadian campaigns.
A well-organised expedition made in winter-time would now be attended with far greater danger than it was in former days, and if the snow remained ingood condition, artillery, provisions, and munitions of war could be transported with greater facility than on the ordinary country roads. Quebec would, under these circumstances, be deprived of the co-operation of the fleet; but with the improvement in the defence which would be effected by the erection of a regular work at Point Levi, and by the alterations indicated in the citadel itself, Quebec would be in a position to resist any force the Americans might direct against it, and would have nothing to fear except from regular siege operations, which there was no chance of interrupting or raising. It would be most important to have the feelings of the inhabitants enlisted on our side. I fear there is reason to believe that they are antagonistic to the Americans, rather than violently enamoured of ourselves.
Having enjoyed a view from the Flag-staff Tower, 350 feet above the river, which in summer must be one of the grandest in the world, and which even now was full of interest, my visit to the Citadel was terminated by lunch in the mess-room, and I returned homewards through the city. I was encircled with people enjoying the keen bright air, though the thermometer was twenty degrees below freezing point.
Not the least interesting to me of the people were the habitans in their long robes gathered in round the waist by scarlet or bright-coloured sashes, with long boots, and fur caps, and French faces, chatting in their Old-World French; and the monks, or regular clergy, who moved as beings of another age and world through the more modern types of civilisation—such as fast officers in fast sleighs, and the Anglicised families in their wheellesscalèches. I had the honour of an invitation to dine atthe club called Stadacona, which is a corruption or modification of Indian words signifying “the site of a strait,” where I met a number of the citizens of Quebec at an excellent substantial dinner, which had far more of English tastes than of French cookery about it. The conversation did not disclose any symptoms of the tendency towards Americanisation which the Northern journals are so fond of attributing to the people of Canada; but it was perceptible that a war with America was regarded as an evil which could only fall on Canada because of her connection with Great Britain, and that Great Britain ought therefore to take a main part in it. The Canadians are proud of the part borne by De Salaberry and others in the former war; but, greatly as the country has advanced, I doubt if there is now such a population of ready, hardy fighting men as then existed: for most of the hunters, lumberers, and nomad half-castes, who cannot be called settlers, have been absorbed in cultivated lands and settled habits. The appointment of British officers to organise and command the volunteers has given offence; and I think it would be advisable, if not necessary, in case of actual war, to let the volunteers choose their officers within certain limits, and to give the authorities corresponding to our lords-lieutenant of counties power to name the commanding officers of corps, under the sanction of the Governor-General.