Summer Provinces
by the Sea

A description of the Vacation Resources of Eastern Quebec and the Maritime Provinces of Canada, in the territory served by the Canadian Government Railways:—

INTERCOLONIAL RAILWAY
PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND RAILWAY

CONTENTS

Page [1. Introductory] 5 [2. Historic Quebec] 28 [3. Summer Resorts of the Lower St. Lawrence] 68 [4. Across the Base of the Gaspé Peninsula; and Some Superb Fishing Streams] 105 [5. The Bay of Chaleur] 120 [6. The Miramichi River and Nashwaak Valley Districts] 142 [7. Fredericton, and the Upper St. John River] 153 [8. The City of St. John, and Lower St. John River] 173 [9. St. John to Moncton and Point du Chene] 192 [10. Prince Edward Island] 203 [11. Moncton to the Atlantic, over the Halifax Division] 229 [12. Halifax, an Ocean Gateway] 246 [13. Nova Scotia, North and East] 260 [14. Cape Breton Island] 271 [15. Where to Go—Recommended Places] 299

Chateau Frontenac, Quebec

INTRODUCTORY

One glance at a map of the Western Hemisphere is all that is needed to show the splendid situation of Eastern Quebec and the Maritime Provinces of Canada as the natural summer recreation centres for the people of a continent.

Communicating with the world’s greatest system of inland waterways; washed by the salt spray of the rolling Atlantic; blessed with innumerable lakes, majestic rivers, dashing waterfalls and sparkling brooks; clothed with noble forests; featured by towering mountain chains, and swept by cool health-bringing breezes—these delightful domains are surely the summer provinces of all America.

Who has not read with fascination and delight the thrilling pages of Canada’s romantic history; or has not been stirred with deep emotion over the adventures of that trio of great explorers: Cabot, Cartier and Champlain!

The desperate struggles of the early colonists with the savage Iroquois Indians; the long and fluctuating conflict for supremacy between France and Great Britain; the incursions of the New England Colonists; the mixed settlement of Colonial Loyalists, French, English, Scotch and Irish; the Acadian Expulsion—all have combined to make Quebec and the Maritime Provinces a field that is rich in interest and quite unlike any other part of the continent.

Here buried treasures of legend and story are on every hand, promising rich reward to the happy discoverers.

There is a fascination in seeing places where the people of long ago have lived, and where epoch-making events have occurred; for there we may learn at first hand and from personal observation many things that cannot be read in the printed page.

How delightful to stand where Jacques Cartier planted his symbolic cross with its emblazoned shield bearing the royal lilies of France, and to remember that here his banners were first unfurled to the breezes of this western land. And while the loyal sons of St. Denis saluted the fluttering flags as the guns were discharged in joyful salvo to mark the birth of an empire beyond the seas did the wondering Indians understand the full meaning of the ceremony, or realize that this handful of men was but the advance guard of a mighty host propelled by a still mightier force—the power of civilization—that would compel the poor “sons of the forest” to give way before the irresistible onrush?

This sixteenth century invasion of Canada seems very remote to us; but long before Columbus, Cabot or Cartier set foot on the Western Continent, other Europeans had visited it.

From the first contact of the white man with his red brother, the Aboriginal tribes living along the North Atlantic coast had well defined and century-old traditions of a wonderful ship that had been cast ashore manned by strange white men who were all drowned. In Norse history, also, there is the Saga of Eric the Red relating to the discovery of the east coast of North America, before the Christian Era was a thousand years old. Whittier refers to this in his legendary verses, “The Norsemen”:

“What sea-worn barks are those which throw

The light spray from each rushing prow?

Have they not in the North Sea’s blast

Bowed to the waves the straining mast?

* * * * *

Onward they glide,—and now I view

Their iron-armed and stalwart crew,

Joy glistens in each wild blue eye,

Turned to green earth and summer sky;

Each broad, seamed breast has cast aside

Its cumbering vest of shaggy hide;

Bared to the sun and soft warm air,

Streams back the Norseman’s yellow hair.”

Riviere Ste. Anne

The Vikings are believed to have had a fishing station at Gaspé in the tenth century, and it is almost certain that in the few following centuries Norman and Basque fishermen sailed up and down the waters of the St. Lawrence.

But early history, although interesting to those who would know something of the land in which they sojourn, is only a background for the natural beauty and other material features of the provinces. Beginning, therefore, with Quebec,—which although ocean-swept and geographically maritime, is not one of the Maritime Provinces,—and proceeding east, a brief survey is now made of New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Nova Scotia inclusive of Cape Breton.

The Province of Quebec is highly diversified and mountainous, and full of ever-changing pictures of great beauty. Its eastern borders are famed for their fine highland scenery, picturesque lakes and romantic glens. In many parts the scenery is majestic, with everything on a grand scale; and the mountains, woods, lakes, rivers, precipices and waterfalls all combine to make the country one of the grandest in the world. Canada’s beautiful Mediterranean, the noble St. Lawrence, traverses the province from south-west to north-east, and receives as tributaries the great rivers Ottawa, Richelieu, St. Maurice and the Saguenay, as well as a multitude of other rivers of considerable size.

“What river is this?”.....asked Cartier of his Indian pilot, when first he sailed over the broad expanse of the St. Lawrence. With impressive dignity came the reply, “A river that has no end.” How apt this conception was is apparent when we remember that in its widest sense—for the great lakes are but river beds of the Ice Age—the St. Lawrence system is over 2200 miles long.

It is interesting to remember that all the early navigators sailed up the St. Lawrence with the hope of thus reaching China and the Indies. It was this quest for a direct western seaway to the Orient that led to the discovery of the North American continent. Indeed, in Roman times and many centuries before the Norse discovery of a thousand years ago, Iberian shipping, bound west, is believed to have reached the St. Lawrence as far as Tadousac and the Saguenay River. All of these daring navigators believed that the Western shores reached by them were the bold headlands of the Asiatic continent.

The value of Cabot’s discovery of the Western continent in early days—or the niggardly character of the ‘royal’ Henry—may be inferred from the following entry in the expenditure account, for the year 1497, still to be seen in the British Museum: “August 10th........To hyme that founde the new Isle........£10.”

The great Champlain, in his search for a western waterway to China, penetrated as far as the lake in the State of New York that now bears his name.

There is such a wealth of scenic beauty in the Province of Quebec, and such a delightful, old-time life is found in its many quaint villages, that a tour in any part of the province is full of very pleasant surprises. Without much imagination you may believe you are in a province of Old France. Thoreau, the naturalist, thought it appeared as old as Normandy itself, enabling him to realize much that he had heard of Europe and the Middle Ages. When you leave the United States you travel in company with the saints, for the names of villages such as St. Fereol, Ste. Anne, The Guardian Angel, and of mountains such as Belange and St. Hyacinthe are all along your route. The names “reel with the intoxication of poetry”—Chambly, Longueuil, Pointe aux Trembles, Bartholomy, etc. Like Thoreau you will “dream of Provence and the Troubadours.”

The beauties of Tadousac, and the grandeur of the “Dread Saguenay, where eagles soar”—will be of deep interest to all who reach Rivière du Loup on the opposite shore by Intercolonial Railway, and who cross over on the steamships of the Trans-St. Laurent Company.

There are few places in the world where such a delightful trip of two-and-a-half hours can be taken across a great waterway. Probably the best view of the whole north shore is that seen from here. The blue water, the gorgeous clouds, the great mountain ranges and the ‘tang’ of the sea air will ever be remembered.

“I saw the East’s pale cheek blush rosy red

When from his royal palace in the sky,

The sun-god, clothed in crimson splendor, came

And lit the torch of day with sudden flame,

While morning on white wings flew swiftly by

Bringing a message that the night was dead.”

Picturesque Tadousac,—with its delightful life—the tremendous chasms of the Saguenay, the majestic capes, the noble mountain stream of the Chicoutimi, the great lake of St. John, and the perpendicular cliffs and roaring rapids of the Marguerite; all show nature in her grandest aspect.

All along the south shore of the St. Lawrence are numerous pleasant summer resorts; and from Rivière Ouelle Junction on the Intercolonial Railway the train may be taken to the riverside wharf from whence the steamship Champlain makes a pleasant trip to the trio of splendid resorts on the north shore: Murray Bay with its sublime Alpine scenery, rugged Cap à l’Aigle, and charming St. Irénée.

And then Quebec, the old-world city, the capital of the province, the historic centre of Canada and all America, the city of Wolfe and Montcalm! Surely the thought of her glories brings a flush of pride to the faces of French and British alike. No city in all America is more famous than this.

“Near her grim citadel the blinding sheen

Of her cathedral spire triumphant soars,

Rocked by the Angelus, whose peal serene

Floats over Beaupré and the Lévis shores.”

Seen from the river, Quebec is noble, grand, and superb. Its cupolas, minarets, steeples and battlements give it the appearance of an Oriental city. Some find here a resemblance to Angoulême, Innspruck and Edinburgh; and the surrounding scenery has been likened to the unsurpassed views of the Bosphorus. The whole prospect of mountain, river and citadel-capped city cannot be surpassed in any part of the world.

The great interest excited by a near approach to the old capital is heightened as one steps ashore, thrilled by the novelty and beauty of all the surroundings. It is a city of striking contrasts; and full of the quaint and curious sights that make Old World travel so delightful.

The environs, too, and the whole surrounding country are rich with historic, romantic and picturesque interest.

It is related that a touring party in an automobile arrived recently at Quebec at 8.30 in the morning. They had breakfast, ‘did’ the city and surrounding country, had luncheon and were off for other parts by 1.30. This is surely a ‘record’; but...... poor Quebec! or rather, poor travellers! ........ for pity should be theirs.

A stay of a month will bring daily joys to the one that loves legend and romance, and all that is quaint and beautiful. The walks and drives and boating trips, the numerous pretty lakes, the fine rivers Chaudière and Jacques Cartier, as well as the Ste. Anne and smaller streams, supply constant incitement for healthful exercise; and above all there is the story of Quebec that will call him daily in every direction to drink at the fountain head of historic lore.

Trout Creek, Sussex

If haply the visitor can remain for several months, he will find ample occupation in this rich and inexhaustible locality; and if his heart-chords are those of the poet, the scholar, the man of letters, the artist, the soldier, the student, or the lover of the beautiful, he will leave the city with deep regret; and with sad heart, a moist eye, and broken utterance will the words “Farewell to dear Old Quebec” be said.

A Summer Camp

In such a large, well-wooded and splendidly watered province as Quebec, the facilities for camping, boating, hunting and fishing are some of the best the world affords; and with a river as vast as an ocean, and widening out grandly until it meets the Atlantic, there is an unlimited choice of bathing and summer life at almost any reasonable temperature. The peninsula of Gaspé, too, with its legends and tales of adventure, is one of the world’s choicest fishing and hunting regions; while the far northern shores of the River and Gulf of St. Lawrence are watered by splendid rivers, with merely a fringe of settlement, so that the untrodden interior will give real occupation for naturalists, sportsmen and explorers for many a year to come.

In the sylvan province of New Brunswick none should go thirsty; for such a prodigality of rivers, streams, cascades, brooks, rivulets and springs, all sparkling like crystal, was never seen. In addition to its network of waterways, the province borders on the great deep; so that from any part of the interior it is easy to reach the St. Lawrence, the Bay of Chaleur and the Bay of Fundy. Nearly all of the principal rivers are intimately connected with each other, either by communicating streams or short portages.

De Monts and Champlain were the pioneer explorers who were sent by King Henry IV. of France at the opening of the seventeenth century to colonize Acadia, in which old-time domain New Brunswick was included. Stirring events have taken place, and many a clash of arms has been heard on the St. John River. The story of the gallant Charles La Tour and his brave wife Frances, “the Heroine of Acadia,” is a thrilling one. It is an episode of which all Canada is justly proud.

“But what of my lady?”

Cried Charles of Estienne:

On the shot-crumbled turret

Thy lady was seen:

Half-veiled in the smoke-cloud,

Her hand grasped thy pennon,

While her dark tresses swayed

In the hot breath of cannon!

* * * * *

Of its sturdy defenders,

Thy lady alone

Saw the cross-blazoned banner

Float over St. John.

The St. John River is the chief member of that great system of lakes and rivers that has won for this province the distinction of being “the most finely watered country in the world.” It is one of the most delightful waterways known, and it is questionable whether any part of America can exhibit greater beauty than that seen in a cruise over its entrancing waters. Steamers may navigate a hundred miles from its mouth, and canoes may go up another hundred miles without other obstruction than an occasional rapid.

The city of St. John is full of commercial and shipping activity, and is the natural centre of a very extensive and attractive country. It enjoys the proud distinction of having the great reversing fall, the only one in the world.

The woods and rivers of New Brunswick are so famous that they lure sportsmen and nature-lovers from all parts of the world. Who has not heard of the Restigouche River? a truly noble and stately stream, receiving a number of fine tributaries, and which has been termed “all things considered, the finest fishing-river in the world.”

Then the enticing Upsalquitch, the murmuring Matapedia or “Musical River,” the charming Miramichi River with its hills of verdure and valleys of green, and the wild Nepisiguit, leading to a marvellous hunting country; these rivers, with others, are Nature’s highways leading to the haunts of bear, moose and caribou, and to pellucid depths and sparkling falls where the lordly salmon struggles so bravely against capture.

This province is the natural home of the canoe, and to the native Indians we owe that bird of the wave with its birch-bark wings. In every direction towns, villages, lakes and streams are met that still retain their musical Indian names. Who would wish them changed? Scattered through the forests and by the side of many a river may be found the obliging Micmac and Maliceet Indians, skilled in canoeing and woodcraft, and with some of whom for guides delightful outdoor vacations may be enjoyed.

“If thou art worn and hard beset

With sorrows that thou wouldst forget,

If thou would read a lesson that will keep

Thy heart from fainting, and thy soul from sleep,

Go to the woods and hills!—no tears

Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.”

Prince Edward Island was first named L’Isle St. Jean by Champlain when he visited it in the early years of the seventeenth century. Cabot is supposed to have called there some fifteen years earlier, but there is no definite record of such a visit.

The Island is very pleasantly placed in the southern part of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and has deep water on every side. It was formerly covered with dense forest growth, but this has nearly all been cut down, and the whole island is under cultivation and is very fertile. It presents a striking appearance on a near approach from the sea, because of its red soil and the abundance of sandstone. The air is delightful, and the climate somewhat milder than that of New Brunswick.

Prince Edward is the Rhode Island of Canada, for with a total population of not one-third of that of Toronto, and much less than a fifth of that of Boston, the little province is self-governing, and it has a governor, a legislature and its own premier and cabinet, etc.

This pleasant and sunny little isle is well provided with attractive names. Because of its delightful situation, its balmy air and prolific soil it is known far and wide as the “Garden of the Gulf.” Many of the Micmac Indians made it their home in the early times, and from them has come the beautiful name, musical as well as poetical, Abegweit or “Resting on the Wave.”

A Prince Edward Island Beach

“A speck of green in the restless sea,

Its edge girt around with red,

Fanned by the sea-breeze wand’ring free—

A clear blue sky o’erhead.”

There is a pastoral simplicity and freshness about the island that has a fascination for those who visit its shores each year in such numbers. The early settlement by French peasantry from Bretagne, Picardy and Normandy, the Acadian French from Nova Scotia, and the English and Scotch settlers who followed, all give the pleasant little towns and villages an interesting character. There are good and safe harbors on the south side; but on the north it is difficult to find one, unless it be where:

“When nearing home the reapers go,

And Hesper’s dewy light is born:

Or Autumn’s moonbeams soft and slow

Draw dials round the sheaves of corn,

Southward o’er inner tracts and far

Mysterious murmurs wander on—

The sound of waves that waste the bar,

The sandy bar by Alberton.”

The miniature rivers of the province have a character all their own; and while the land is not one of “mountain and torrent,” the rippling streams, wooded banks, and smiling verdure on every hand make walks, drives, and boating and canoeing pastimes of happiness and delight.

Numerous and picturesque brooks and mill-streams are quite noticeable features in journeying over the land; and artists, nature-lovers, and those who admire the beautiful will surely linger in many a tranquil and secluded spot on this happy “isle of the summer sea” to drink deep of scenes that are both choice and unique.

“And one still pool as slow the day declines,

Holds close the sunset’s glory in its deeps

In colors that no mortal tongue could name.”

Nova Scotia and Cape Breton may be termed the sea-walls of the Maritime Provinces, for they are on the outer edge or Atlantic front where they receive the first violent shock of the turbulent rollers that later sweep into the Gulf and inner waters with rapidly lessening force, spent and defeated after their struggle with the giant headlands of granite.

As would naturally be expected, the scenery gradually changes as Quebec and Northern New Brunswick are left behind, not in the sense that it deteriorates, however—it simply alters its character. There are districts, such as the Wentworth Valley, that have become famous for their loveliness; and, as is now well known, Cape Breton has a wild and rugged beauty—like to that of the Scottish Highlands—that gives it a first place in the estimation of many. Indeed, in relation to travel interest generally, it is remarkable what great variety or diversity of scene is found in going from one part to the other of the Maritime Provinces. It may truly be said that each province has its own distinct features of beauty, and those who go to one district for the mountains will have their counterpart in others who will seek the sea and the open shore.

Over the cool green wall of waves advancing

Glistens a crested line of feathery foam,

Till along the beach the billows scatter, glancing

A mist of spray as over the waters comb,

Then fades the white-capped crest all slowly sinking

Where silent, shadowy sands are ever drinking, drinking.

Over the sea, miles out, a ship is riding,

Threading the ocean paths with oaken keel,

And under her bow the baffled waves are sliding

As over her sails the rising breezes steal,

And in her wake a foamy track is lying

As northward far she sails still flying, flying.

Canoeing on the East River, near New Glasgow

Nova Scotia proper—for Cape Breton, once a separate province, is now included politically with the Atlantic peninsula—is almost an island, being connected to New Brunswick by an isthmus that is only eight miles wide in its narrowest part. It is well watered by rivers and lakes, and has many fine harbors. The climate is mild and delightful, and makes it one of the most desirable places in which to spend a summer. Although there is no lack of sunshine, the Atlantic breeze is so refreshing, and the Arctic current that sets in against the shore is so cooling that no one can suffer from the heat. This gives a delightful stimulus to all outdoor recreation and sport, for, no matter how active the employment, there is no discomfort or lassitude as a result.

Regatta Day—North West Arm, Halifax

The climate of this province is, therefore, a glorious natural heritage of inestimable value; and, as the years go by, the truth of this statement will become more and more apparent as the country becomes better known by summer-suffering millions to the south.

This is the province where fine deep-sea fishing may be had at so many places along the coast, and where the giant leaping-tuna, and huge, darting swordfish may be caught—royal sport, indeed!

De Monts and Champlain enter into the history of the province, as do the La Tours, father and son. Annapolis Royal, the old Port Royal of French days, has been the scene of many a conflict in which French, English and New England Colonials took part. The Acadian French were quite numerous here previous to the time of their expulsion. It is a mistake, however, to presume that the whole Acadian interest centres in one part of the Bay of Fundy side of the province. Such is not the case; for Acadian families and villages may be found in many parts of the Maritime Provinces.

The City of Halifax—the Cronstadt of America—has become the Mecca for annual thousands of visitors from all parts of the world. With its quaint and old-time appearance, its military and naval interests, its magnificent situation, its World-Harbor, its picturesque environs, lakes, forests and grand water privileges for yachting and boating, Halifax is unique as a centre of attraction. Moreover, it is the most convenient place from which to start for excursions down the romantic south-shore, as well as for the Annapolis Valley, and for all the great fishing rivers and hunting districts that lie east between the Atlantic and the line of the Intercolonial Railway, and extend as far as Guysboro and the Strait of Canso.

Nor must the beautiful country around Truro, and east and west of it, be forgotten; nor that along the northern water front of the province from Tidnish to Tracadie, with all the restful shore places included in that water-bow.

Nova Scotia is indeed a summer country, par excellence. It has splendid woodland and a fine system of rivers and lakes. Go where you will in any part of it and you are never more than thirty miles from the shore. Sea life is, therefore, a prominent feature, and with all the forms of recreation and amusement so bountifully provided, summer days passed in the Atlantic province go all too quickly by.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar.”

Cape Breton was originally called L’Isle Royale by the French in the time of the Grand Monarch, Louis XIV. Its history is an eventful one.

At Louisbourg on the east coast, once known as the Dunkirk of America, titanic conflicts have taken place. Its fortifications erected there in the early part of the eighteenth century, from plans by Vauban the celebrated military engineer, took over twenty years in construction. Citadel, massive stone bastions, a protective moat and huge gun batteries once existed there; and powerful fleets have battled in front of it for New-World supremacy.

As in other parts of the Maritime Provinces, the New England Colonials have left their impress on the history of Cape Breton. Here, too, are many Acadian settlements, made up of the descendants of those who fled from the mainland while this land of refuge was still a French possession.

It would be difficult to find a summer climate more agreeable than that of Cape Breton. The days are bright and sunny, tempered by cool and refreshing sea-breezes. There is no scorching heat at any time, and it affords a delightful contrast with the torrid conditions that prevail in districts a few hundred miles to the south.

House Boat on the Bras d’Or Lake

It is the land of the mountain and the sea, and has been aptly likened to the Scottish Highlands in its general character.

“Two voices are there—one is of the sea,

One of the mountains—each a mighty voice.”

The great salt-water lake known as the Bras d’Or, or ‘Arm of Gold,’ runs through the whole extent of the island, with many ramifications; and it has connection with the Atlantic by two narrow channels. It is almost a ‘tideless ocean,’ for before the water can lower itself to any appreciable extent, the Atlantic low tide has turned and is becoming high again. It is therefore an ideal place for yachting and motor boating; while in the pretty rivers and lagoons are found choice waters for boating and canoeing.

Fine mountain ranges and magnificent scenery make Cape Breton a delightful country for summer pleasures. A drive along the ‘Arm of Gold,’ and in almost any part of the island, is a delightful experience. Baddeck, Whycocomagh, Arichat, Louisbourg, the Sydneys, Ingonish and Mabou, as well as the Margaree and Middle Rivers, are all places of delight for vacationists. Fine forests of oak, birch, maple and ash, with plenty of the woods more commonly seen, are here in great profusion.

A climb up the great height of Old Smoky, the Cap Enfumé of the French, lands one almost in the clouds; and on a clear starlit night when the moon is in the heavens, a view is spread out below that can never be forgotten. The walks and drives in the lovely valleys, with towering mountains ever visible—the white gypsum at their base—a shimmery halo above; they, too, take a deep and fond hold on the memory.

“Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear

More sweet than all the landscape smiling near?

’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,

And robes the mountain in its azure hue.”

The Intercolonial Railway forms the greater part of the system known as the Canadian Government Railways. With the road known as the Prince Edward Island Railway, together with other shorter branch lines gradually coming under Government control, to their betterment, the whole system gives ready access to all of Central and Eastern Quebec and the Maritime Provinces.

This system may truly be called the fairy godmother of the Maritime Provinces, for with outstretched arm it has placed the five extended fingers of a fostering hand over the important commercial centres of Montreal, Quebec, St. John, Halifax and Sydney, causing them to pulsate with life, and bringing them into intimate relation with the great centres of the sister provinces from Atlantic to Pacific.

Merely to sit in one of the numerous comfortable trains, and observantly tour the main line, is a novel experience, a revelation of beauty and an education in itself; but if to that is added a sojourn in one or more of the localities best suited for the individual preference of the traveller, the result will be satisfactory and exhilarating.

While it is true, in a measure, that almost any part of the Intercolonial summer country will amply satisfy all general requirements for vacation pleasures, it should be remembered that an intelligent choice should be made of a district that is rich in those things essential for the enjoyment of those who intend going there.

To this end the present book has been written. It will be found accurate and reliable; and a careful perusal of its contents will give full information on all points of interest. Through its pages are distributed Indian legends, Acadian tales, and stories of hunting, fishing, boating, canoeing, and camp, tent and bungalow life, etc., embodied in the description of the districts to which such incidents properly belong. The natural history, or nature-interest, in animal, bird, fish and wild-flower life is a feature of the book that must give pleasure to those who go to a country like that described to enjoy life in the open.

A comprehensive index is also provided of events, subjects, districts, places, persons and things. When the reader has completed the first reading of the book, this index will afford ready means for turning to those subjects that linger in the memory, that enlighten travel and that enhance the pleasure of it; while as a practical and every-day guide for things it is necessary to know, the same index is sure to be helpful in looking up all necessary information from time to time.

All Aboard!

Swinging through the forests,

Rattling over ridges,

Shooting under arches

Rumbling over bridges,

Whizzing through the mountains

Buzzing o’er the vale,—

Bless me! this is pleasant

Riding on the rail!

Soldier’s Monument, St. Louis Gate, Quebec

Historic Quebec

It is undoubtedly best to approach Quebec by way of the south shore; the city, as is generally known, being on the north side of the St. Lawrence. Whether coming from Montreal and the south-west, or St. John, Halifax and the east, the Intercolonial Railway brings the traveller to the most convenient point, Lévis, immediately opposite Quebec.

Here, taking one of the ferries, and with a seat under the awning of the upper deck, a splendid view is had of the further shore as the steamer makes its way across the river. No need to ask, “What place is this?” or “Is this Quebec?” Such a question would be absurd, for here in all its grandeur is the great St. Lawrence River, there clusters Quebec around the grim old rock, and yonder, high up, where proudly floats the flag of empire in the active breeze, is the King’s Bastion, with the old citadel, the Château Frontenac and all the spires, peaks and towers that make this place like an ancient picture from the Old World.

What a delightful experience it is to look upon sights and scenes that are novel and beautiful, full of charming local color, and permeated with that atmosphere of grandeur and power that quickens the pulse and causes the thrill of emotion to telegraph its way through the nerve centres. As soon as Quebec is approached it becomes immediately apparent that it is rich in all those things that excite human interest; and if the opinion of others is needed, the testimony of that galaxy of the great, famous in geography, literature, science and art—that long procession of renowned men and women that has taken its way hither in unbroken pilgrimage through the past centuries—is all based on the one majestic keynote of wonder, admiration, reverence and love for all that Quebec typifies for the people of two hemispheres.

How pleasant to sit and view the magnificent prospect up and down the noble river, and see the great mountains that tower and then disappear in the distant blue haze. What glorious clouds; and what beautiful effects of light and shade the bright sun paints on the broad outspread canvas of nature that surrounds us! It needs but the sight of Quebec in its grand setting of striking beauty and the simple melodies of the people heard from violins and harp amidships, to transport the mind in a delightful reverie of the past.

In fancy we see the Henrys, the Edwards, Good ‘Queen Bess,’ James, poor Charles, the sturdy Lord Protector, Cromwell, and all the long line of crowned heads whose history is woven in with that of Eastern Canada. And then the French King Francis, the two Henri, and the four Louis, with Champlain, Jacques Cartier and Frontenac; the noble missionaries who came here to teach the savage Indians—murdered, or burnt at the stake for their devotion; the great captains, including England’s Nelson, the brave soldiers down to Wolfe and Montcalm, and since; the Norman and Basque peasant settlers, the coureurs du bois, the buccaneers, privateers and adventurers; all these have figured in Quebec’s remarkable history.

A bump at the landing dock recalls us to the present, and as we step ashore it is with reverence akin to that which we feel when standing under the towering Norman greatness of Durham Cathedral, or when in the sacred precincts of Westminster Abbey where lie buried the genius and achievement of centuries.

And now Quebec is reached, and some of the things that will ever be in mind after this memorable visit are now before us; and weeks of happy experiences are about to unfold their treasure to our admiring gaze.

There is no better way of understanding and appreciating what the old city holds in store than that of first rambling about in every direction on foot. With occasional car trips and with a drive now and again in a caleche, the plan of the city and its environs becomes gradually clear. The sight of the quaint streets and of the many old features that are so novel on the new continent will be enjoyed because seen without guide or premeditation. The process known to our English cousins as ‘knocking about,’ which is to saunter where you will, on foot and without haste, is the best way in Old Quebec. It is on foot that terrestrial things are seen intimately, and when we have made a dozen ‘rounds’ of the lower town, walked along the ramparts again and again, rambled in the citadel, promenaded on Dufferin Terrace, quenched our thirst at the Frontenac, climbed the glacis, walked the parapets, viewed the majestic scene from the King’s Bastion, sauntered over the Plains of Abraham, and circled the city until every spot is known; then, and not until then, shall we drink in enough of the atmosphere, and be in a condition to take an intelligent view of all that surrounds us, awaiting the keen examination that cannot be made in a hasty or superficial manner.

Of the general appearance of Quebec it will be enough to quote from the words of three of its famous visitors. Thoreau wrote: “I rubbed my eyes to be sure I was in the nineteenth century.” Dickens recorded: “The impression made upon the visitor by this Gibraltar of America, its giddy heights, its citadel suspended, as it were, in the air; its picturesque, steep streets and frowning gateways; and the splendid views which burst upon the eye at every turn, is at once unique and lasting;” while Henry Ward Beecher set down these as his impressions: “Curious, old Quebec!...... of all the cities on the continent of America, the quaintest...... We rode about as if we were in a picture book, turning over a new leaf at each street!”

A brief survey of the history of New France, or Eastern Canada, is a necessary preliminary for the full enjoyment of all those things for which Quebec is famed.

Commissioned by Henry VII. of England, Cabot sailed west in search of a route to China and India, and discovered America. This new land he set down as the coast of China. The discovery was not immediately followed up by further exploration or settlement, and not until the year 1534 did Jacques Cartier, the St. Malo navigator, make a voyage of discovery for the French sovereign Francis I. The intrepid sailor succeeded in reaching the western continent, or New France, and landed at Gaspé, where he erected a cross with an inscription on it claiming the country for the King of France.

Winter approaching, he made his way home again. Before leaving he had entrapped two natives, and these he took with him as evidence of his success.

In the year 1535 Cartier made a second western voyage, and this time he sailed up the great river which he named the St. Lawrence. At that time the fish were so plentiful that the progress of the little flotilla of three tiny ships was often greatly impeded. Bears, also, were very numerous, and quite expert in catching the fish for their food. It was a common sight to see Bruin plunge into the water, fasten his claws in a great fish and drag it ashore.

The native Indians were also seen, in canoes, hunting seals and catching white whales. Alarmed by the approach of the strange men in their marvellous vessels, the savages paddled off with haste; but on being addressed in their own tongue by the two returned captives on Cartier’s vessel, they abandoned their flight and returned to gaze with astonishment and child-like wonder at all they saw.

Cartier was informed of the existence of an Indian village of considerable size at Stadacona, quite near to Quebeio or Quelibec, and there he met the great chief Donnacona, the ‘Lord of Canada.’

There is no complete agreement on the origin and meaning of the name ‘Quebec.’ Some have traced its derivation from the word ‘Kepek,’ the aboriginal equivalent for ‘come ashore,’ supposed to have been addressed to Jacques Cartier when he hove-to near Stadacona. Others have surmised that it sprang from the exclamation of a Norman sailor on first seeing the great cape—“Quelbec!” (“What a cape!”) Again, the Abenaquis word ‘Quelibec,’ meaning ‘narrowing’ or ‘closed,’ is supposed to be the real derivation; while a very strong claimant for recognition is the Indian word ‘Kebeque,’ which means ‘a narrowing of the waters.’

Learning of another large native village on the St. Lawrence, a considerable distance above Stadacona, Jacques Cartier determined to proceed there with one of his vessels. The chief Donnacona, a shrewd old savage, did not favor further penetration of his domains, and calling to his aid some of his tribe dressed as ‘devils,’ he hoped to frighten the bold navigator with the frightful whoopings and noisy invocation to the demons who were supposed to inhabit the forests.

Cartier pushed on, however, and leaving his vessel near the place now known as St. Maurice, and proceeding in the ship’s boats, reached Hochelaga, the site of the present Montreal. The village was circular in form, with a strong palisade surrounding it. The one entrance was well guarded by removable barriers, and platforms were erected inside from which stones could be showered on possible assailants. The square or assembly-ground was in the centre, having grouped around it the birch-bark wigwams or houses. Their weapons and implements were of rock, and their simple life was communal.

The impression made by the advent of the white-faced men from another land had a pathetic side; for the diseased and blind were carried out from their rude shelters in order that the great White Chief should cure their infirmities by the ‘laying on of hands.’ But alas! the white man was not divine—and the poor Indians were consoled by presents of hatchets, knives and beads, etc., followed by the thrilling sound of a ‘flourish of trumpets.’

During Cartier’s absence a fort and winter camp had been constructed at Stadacona by his men, the site of which may be seen on the River St. Charles. Cartier gave the name of Mount Royal to the mountain overlooking Hochelaga village, and this name has survived in the Montreal of Canada’s commercial capital.

Early next Spring Cartier, and all the remnant of his band that survived after a severe attack of scurvy, sailed for France. A serious blemish in Cartier’s character is shown by the record of his having carried off by force—torn from their homes and country—poor old Donnacona, ‘Lord of Canada,’ and other chiefs. They died in captivity, far from their kin, and with the sad memory of their great river and noble forests ever with them to the end.

Cartier returned to New France a third time after some five years; but the seed of distrust was sown in the minds of the natives by the absence of their stolen chiefs, and it was not long before the fruit of hatred and strife developed and gradually grew until it steeped the country in continual war and bloodshed. Cartier again set out to proceed up the river to Hochelaga, but finding the natives had been warned and were becoming hostile he turned back to Stadacona. He eventually returned with Roberval to France, and died in his native St. Malo about the middle of the sixteenth century.

It is interesting to learn that Roberval’s titles were Viceroy and Lieutenant-General of Canada, Hochelaga, Saguenay, Newfoundland, Belleisle, Labrador and Baccalaos.

France was now seeing stormy times in her home affairs, and no well-directed effort was made to follow up Cartier’s work—although other explorers and fur-traders crossed the stormy seas in their endeavor to make a settlement in the New World.

QUEBEC

1. Montmorency Falls 2. City Hall Park 3. Chateau Frontenac 4. Government House, Spencer Wood 5. Boating on the Lorette 6. Upper Fall, Montmorency

At last the brave and capable Champlain sailed from Harfleur in 1608, and reached Stadacona or Kebec in safety. Here at the foot of the rock where the quaint street Sous le Fort has since been made, a settlement was laid out which Champlain called ‘l’Abitation de Kébec,’ and which consisted of three lodgings and a store-house, all fenced in and surrounded by a ditch.

Champlain made several trips to France, each time bringing back missionary-priests and settlers. He built, a fort on the height above his ‘Abitation,’ on the spot where his statue has since been erected. The little colony commenced to grow, and soon numbered some fifty people. And now began the troubles that were to shake the infant settlement, rumblings of more desperate encounters, for a hostile British fleet arrived, and Quebec was compelled to capitulate. Champlain again sailed for France, where he remained until Charles I. of England gave back Quebec to King Louis.

The founder of Quebec at last, returned to the beloved home of his adoption, where the work of building had to be done a second time—fire having destroyed both ‘Abitation’ and fort, as well as other buildings. With energy and skill, supported in the main by the love and esteem of his fellow colonizers, Champlain toiled on; his noble character showing in all he did. To keep on good terms with the neighboring Algonquins and Hurons he took part in their struggles with the fierce Iroquois, and penetrated inland as far as the Georgian Bay and southern shore of Lake Ontario. The greatest vigilance was now more than ever necessary, for the savage Iroquois crossed the great lakes in their war canoes, came down the St. Lawrence and lurked in the woods, ever ready to cut off and scalp the French when found in small numbers. In addition, the inexperienced Colonists were quite unprepared for the severe winters, and they were often on the verge of starvation.

Other serious troubles came. The British appeared in naval force, and again Quebec capitulated—Champlain being taken to England as a prisoner of war.

The political kaleidoscope now took another turn, and Quebec was once more given back to France by Charles I. of England.

For the last time Champlain again returned to Quebec, this time as governor, and his customary energy was shown in all that related to the welfare of the colony. In the fulness of time, rewarded by the success of his labors and beloved by his fellows, the great man breathed his last. He is justly considered to have been the ablest and best of all the early explorers and governors.

The new governor Montmagny was a worthy and capable man. He greatly improved Quebec and commenced the stone construction of Fort Saint-Louis. It is interesting to note that during his incumbency the Jesuits built their college. It was commenced in the year 1638, which makes it the oldest institution of learning in North America, antedating Harvard College by one year. A few years after this the Château Saint-Louis was built within the walls of the fort.

Frontenac next ruled the destinies of Quebec with a firm hand. Excepting Champlain he was perhaps the ablest governor, although his character was marred by arrogance and sell-will. He, perhaps better than any, understood how to hold the Indians in check. The brave d’Ibberville ably seconded the aggressive governor during his second term of office—recalled to stem the victories of the Iroquois and to repel the threatened attack on Quebec by a British fleet. This fleet arrived and anchored off the Isle of Orleans. To the haughty summons from Admiral Phipps, to surrender within an hour, came the proud reply of Frontenac, “It is through the mouth of my guns that your general will hear my reply.” The attack was a failure—so well did the guns talk. After that the able Frontenac strengthened the defences of Fort Saint-Louis to such an extent as to convert it into a real citadel.

Towards the close of the seventeenth century Frontenac passed away. The troubles of Quebec were not by any means ended. A great army and fleet under the British Admiral Walker was sent out to reduce and occupy Quebec. In going up the St. Lawrence River during a dense log, a number of the transports were wrecked on Egg Island. More than a thousand men were drowned. This calamity saved the threatened city, for the officers of the expedition became disheartened and abandoned the project.

Governor’s Garden, Quebec

As a sequel to that terrible loss of life in the great outer waters of the St. Lawrence there has survived one of those traditions of which the story of ‘The Flying Dutchman’ is the prototype. In the words of Moore:

“There lieth a wreck on the dismal shore

Of cold and pitiless Labrador

Where, under the moon upon mounts of frost,

Full many a mariner’s bones are tossed.

Yon shadowy bark hath been to that wreck

And the dim blue fire that lights her deck

Doth play on as pale and livid a crew

As ever yet drank the churchyard dew.

To Deadman’s Isle in the eye of the blast,

To Deadman’s Isle she speeds her fast;

By skeleton shapes her sails are furl’d,

And the hand that steers is not of this world!”

The Treaty of Utrecht brought peace to France and Great Britain in a division of the land for which they had contended. It was agreed that Canada, Isle Royal (Cape Breton) and l’Isle St. Jean (Prince Edward Island) should belong to France; while Great Britain received Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and the Hudson Bay Territory.

In the succeeding years the two countries again drifted into war, and by the year 1759 it was apparent that Quebec was once more to be attacked. Before the year was half over, a British fleet bearing 18,000 men dropped anchor near the eastern end of the Isle of Orleans. Troops were landed to the east of Montmorency River, and batteries were erected there and at Point Lévis opposite Quebec. A bombardment lasting two months soon followed. The ensuing land struggle, known as the battle of Montmorency, brought face to face the two great leaders, Montcalm and Wolfe, upon whom France and Britain respectively depended in the contest for supremacy on the North American continent.

Wolfe was studying his plan of attack, and making feints in several directions to confuse the enemy. Finally on the last day of July the British troops forded the Montmorency River, and with the guns of the fleet shelling the enemy’s trenches the attacking force made a concentrated rush on the western bank to carry the position by assault.

The French were well placed, and the plan of defense was excellent. The lines had previously been strengthened at every favorable attacking point by the able general Montcalm, and he had a picked reserve at hand ready to hurl it in whatever direction it should be most needed.

The British lost heavily, and Wolfe abandoned the attack in that direction and recalled his troops across the river.

This trial of strength was the prelude to more serious work. Wolfe, weakened by illness—and against the counsels of his officers who were almost unanimous that the siege should be abandoned—persisted in his determination to reduce Quebec. More than a month passed by before new plans were perfected, but at last towards the middle of September a new assault was commenced.

Soon after midnight the boats of the British stole quietly along the Sillery shore under cover of the darkness. In the foremost boat was a Highland officer who spoke the French language. “Qui Vive!” rang out the challenge, as a sentry detected the shadowy boat making inshore. Fortune surely favored the British, for the Scotchman had no difficulty in passing himself off as a French officer in charge of a detachment bringing expected supplies for Quebec. Some of the boats had drifted further east beyond the inlet now known as Wolfe’s Cove. Here what had always been regarded as an impossible ascent was found practicable by the sturdy mountain-climbing Highlanders. Swarming up the unprotected height they immediately overmastered the scattered sentries, captured in his tent the sleeping officer in charge, and sent back word to General Wolfe that the ground was clear. The troops were disembarked at once, and the dawn of day revealed the British lines on the Plains of Abraham, their right wing extending to the heights and their left on the St. Foye Road.

Montcalm was not aware of the momentous occurrence until the heights had been occupied in force. His troops were at Beauport, some miles away, and before they could be brought up to resist the advance of the invading force the morning was well in progress. As soon as it was known that the British were making entrenchments, the French general decided upon an immediate attack to prevent them from strengthening their position.

Soon after ten o’clock on the bright September morning, Montcalm advanced impetuously to the charge. Down the ravine the French rushed, the formation of the ground causing some confusion. They stopped to re-form within a few hundred yards of the advancing British, but ere they could climb the hill a frightful volley, hitherto held in reserve, now wrapped the advancing host in a death-flame that caused terrible havoc. Montcalm was in the forefront, heroically urging forward his wavering troops; while Wolfe on the right of the British advance was in the thick of the deadly fray.

A bullet struck the British general on the wrist. It was hastily bound with a handkerchief. At the head of the Louisbourg grenadiers he pressed eagerly forward, when he was struck a second time and dangerously wounded. His bright uniform made him a mark for every sharpshooter. And now a bullet entered his breast. He staggered. Alas! the wound was mortal. “Support me,” he hastily cried, “my brave men must not see me fall.” He was carried to one side and laid on the grass. “A surgeon!” cried a grenadier officer. “It is useless,” faintly uttered the gallant Wolfe, “I am done for.” He was gradually lapsing into unconsciousness.

“They fly,” came eager comments from the sad group surrounding the dying general. “Who?” quickly uttered Wolfe, arousing himself by one last, painful effort. “The enemy!” came the glad reply, “they are yielding in every direction.” Wolfe immediately gave the important order to speed to the St. Charles River, capture the bridge and thus cut off the enemy’s retreat. He turned on his side, and, as he murmured, “the Lord be praised, I die in peace!” his dauntless spirit took its wing, leaving the dead hero a victor, and the founder of an empire that great then, and greater now, is yet only in the infancy of its splendid course.

The ‘Great Commoner’ of England, William Pitt, has well said: “The horror of the night, the precipice scaled by Wolfe, the empire he with a handful of men added to England, and the glorious catastrophe of contentedly terminating his life where his fame began ........Ancient story may be ransacked, and ostentatious philosophy thrown into the account, before an episode can be found to rank with Wolfe’s.”

On the French side the gallant Montcalm in vain tried to rally his retreating forces. The path of defeat led him towards the gate of Saint-Louis, but ere he could enter he was twice wounded. He was assisted inside, but his injury was soon seen to be mortal. To those around him weeping the brave Montcalm spoke: “It is nothing, kind friends; pray do not weep over me.” When told by the attending surgeon that he had only a few hours to live, he replied, “I am glad of it, I shall not see the surrender of Quebec.” Before morning his earthly struggles were over.

Subsequent efforts to retake Quebec from the British failed, and ere long it was seen that the ‘Battle of the Plains’ was final in its results.

The monument to Wolfe on the Plains of Abraham is erected where the great general breathed his last; while the joint memorial to Montcalm and Wolfe, erected in the Governor’s Garden overlooking Dufferin Terrace, fittingly marks the great struggle that has joined two races in one empire of happy union and effort.

As the coming centuries go by, this battle will not only rank equal to that of Waterloo in importance—it will far surpass it on account of the momentous bearing it will have on the future of the British Empire and the progress of the world’s true civilization.

Time passed on, and in the troublous days of the American War of Independence the much-tried city of Quebec was destined to besiegement for the fifth time in its history. This time the attack came from New England; a daring one it must be admitted, for the whole of the invader’s forces were brought over the Kennebec and Chaudière Rivers in the face of many obstacles. Arnold and Montgomery, after a siege of two months, planned to capture the citadel by a bold, surprise attack.

Sous le Fort Street, Quebec

The defense, however, was an alert one, and when Montgomery advanced with his force—as he thought, unawares—and was almost within the walls, a frightful volley was fired in their very faces. This discharge killed the revolutionary general and many of his followers. The others fled. Nor was Arnold more successful, although he escaped with his life; a life that if there ended, like Montgomery’s, would have terminated more gloriously for the able but misguided American than did his after years.

Many prisoners were taken, the remainder escaped and returned to New England, and the siege was raised.

Since then no alarm of War has been heard in Old Quebec; and although the War of 1812 brought suffering to many parts of Canada, none of the various struggles came nearer than Montreal.

The foregoing outline is intended to provide some knowledge of historic events as an aid to the appreciation of scenes, incidents and sketches in connection with people and places that have been prominent in bygone years. All such details now follow in the description of those parts of the country to which they properly belong.

One of the first things to claim the visitor’s attention will surely be the fortifications of the city. Because these are unique and peculiar to Quebec, not being found elsewhere on the American continent, they command the greater interest. Leaving out of consideration their many picturesque features, the fact that they represent in all the glory of almost perfect preservation a system of defense that is centuries old, and that here—one of the few such places in the world—we may tread on the undisturbed spot and in the very streets and houses where great, stirring events have taken place, gives a never-failing and absorbing interest to the outer walls and inner places of Old Quebec.

The advent of heavy ordnance on disappearing carriages, or in wrought-iron turrets, the strength given to concealed batteries through the use of smokeless gunpowder, the improvement of harbor defense by the use of mines, torpedoes, submarine boats and electric light, and the imminent use of aerial explosives; all these have united to sound the knell of the old style of fortification. The day of the hand-to-hand conflict has almost gone by, and probably we may never again read of assault and repulse at outer walls, never hear of the carrying of outer defenses, of the desperate struggle from one inner defense to the other, or of the last glorious stand around the colors on the bastion or keep. No! for man fights now more with brain and eye than with hand. Science and invention in future will destroy or annihilate the strongest defenses, and whole armies will walk out and surrender without a blow. This was so at Metz.

If the old days and ideas are gone, and the picturesque defenses of moat, rampart, bastion, keep and inner stronghold will never again be constructed, how important it is that we should admire and enjoy to the full their splendid survival in Quebec, before the lapse of time and the inevitable encroachments of modern city life shall destroy these dearly beloved monuments of the past.

The Citadel, Fortification Walls and Gates of Quebec now invite examination. Starting from the convenient point where stands Champlain’s monument, near the Château Frontenac, do not forget that a fort was first constructed by Champlain on the very spot where the monument now stands; and that Montmagny replaced the wooden walls of his predecessor with substantial stone work. Frontenac extended the defensive lines considerably, and added forts and bastions. Later the fortifications were again extended and solidified under a comprehensive plan drawn up by the great Vauban.

Damaged by sieges, and imperfectly repaired from time to time, the important stronghold was often neglected; but at the end of the eighteenth century the present works were finished by the English. The plans were approved by the ‘Iron Duke’ himself, and the construction cost an enormous sum. The solid stone facings, the batteries behind the glacis, the loopholed walls that seem strong enough to defy everything but dynamite, the ditches, gateways, underground passages, magazines, etc.; and all the accessories of a great defensive system are present.

Even during their first construction by the French so much money had been required that Louis XIV. once asked if the fortifications of Quebec were made of gold.

The citadel covers about forty acres, and access to it is gained by the solid Dalhousie Gate. There is also a great chain gate. The soldiers’ quarters are well protected against gun-fire, and the more important buildings are bomb-proof. The view from the King’s Bastion is one of the most beautiful it is possible to imagine. The Royal Canadian Garrison Artillery have their quarters in the barracks within the citadel. They muster a strength of from three to four hundred men.

By means of the halyards of the flagstaff on the King’s Bastion, from which floats the ‘Union Jack,’ two American prisoners once escaped after they had succeeded in drugging the sentry. The height above the river is 350 feet, and a look over the bastion at the drop below will show the daring nature of the venture.

Great guns command all the landward approaches. The waterway can also be swept by powerful cannon, while on the Lévis side of the river are strong batteries that dominate the river and both shores.

The Governor-General’s residence is on the Citadel Square, and not far away is the interesting Artillery Museum.

That portion of the defenses known as Grand Battery is at the eastern end of Dufferin Terrace, on the edge of the cliff that runs from the top of Mountain Hill towards Palace Gate. Here a number of guns are disposed in crescent form. In addition to this, and not counting those in the citadel, the following batteries may be seen: Assembly, Half-Moon, Hope Gate, Montcalm, Nunnery Nos. 1 and 2, Wolfe’s Grand Battery, and, finally, two that are smaller and unnamed.