Bevy of Quebec's fairest
daughters, who loved to haunt her windows where they could see and be seen
to the best advantage exchanging salutations, smiles and repartees with
the gay young officers and gallants who rode or walked along its lively
thoroughfare."
The novelist has selected this historic house for the meeting of the
lovers, on Christmas Eve 1748. Here Le Gardeur de Repentigny, the loyal
and devoted cavalier was to meet the fascinating, but luckless Cleopatra
of St Louis street a century ago and more.
"As Le Gardeur spoke, adds Mr. Kirby; a strain of heavenly harmony
arose from the chapel of the Convent of the Ursulines, where they were
celebrating midnight service for the safety of New France. Amid the
sweet voices that floated up on the notes of the pealing organ was
clearly distinguished that of Mere St. Borgia, the aunt of Angelique,
who led the choir of nuns. In trills and cadences of divine melody,
the voice of Mere St. Borgia rose higher and higher, like a spirit
mounting the skies. The words were indistinct, but Angelique knew them
by heart. She had visited her aunt in the convent, and had learned the
new hymn composed by her for the solemn occasion. As they listened
with quiet awe to the supplicating strain, Angelique repeated to Le
Gardeur the words of the hymn as it was sung by the choir of nuns: -
Soutenez, grande Reine,
Notre pauvre pays!
Il est votre domaine,
Faites fleurir nos lis!
L'Anglais sur nos frontieres,
Porte ses etandards
Exaucez nos prieres
Protegez nos remparts!"
"The hymn ceased. Both stood mute until the watchman cried the hour in
the silent street."
We shall not follow further the beautiful but heartless Cleopatra through
her deadly schemes of conquest, or in her flight after the Intendant.
Sixteen years after the departure of the Court beauty, on a dark, stormy
winter morning, the 31st December, 1775, a loud note of alarm awoke at
dawn from their slumbers the demure denizens of St. Louis street. It was
the captain of the guard, Captain Malcolm Fraser, [26] formerly of
Fraser's Highlanders (78th), but now of the 84th Royal Emigrants, Col.
Allan McLean - who, on going his rounds between 4 and 5 in the morning, had
passed the guard at St. Louis gate, and had noticed flashes like lightning
on the heights without the works. Convinced it was for an attack, he sent
notice to all the guards, and ran down St. Louis street, calling "Turn
out" as loud and as often as he could. The alarm soon caught the quick ear
of the General (Guy Carleton) and the picquet at the Recollets Convent was
instantly turned out. Captain Fraser's alarm was timely. Before eight
o'clock on that memorable December morning, Benedict Arnold had been
wounded, routed at the Sault au Matelot barricade, and 427 of his daring
men taken prisoners of war, whilst the Commander-in-Chief, Brigadier-
General Richard Montgomery and thirteen followers were lying dead in their
snowy shrouds at Pres-de-Ville. The rest had taken flight.
The saddest sight ever witnessed in St. Louis street was that which
heralded to its awe-struck denizens the issue of the momentous conflict on
the adjoining heights in Sept. 1759.
In the paper read by the writer before the Literary and Historical Society
of Quebec, on the 3rd of December, 1879, the mournful appearance of the
French hero, Montcalm, is thus described: -
"The morning of the 13th September, 1759, has dawned; an astounding
rumour fills the air; the citizens of Quebec repeat with bated breath:
Wolfe's army is at the gates of the city.
"Hark! What means this deafening roar of artillery - this hissing of
shot and shell - these rolling, murderous volleys of musketry in the
direction of the heights of Abraham?
"Hark! to these loud cheers - British cheers mixed with the discordant
yells of those savage warriors, Fraser's Highlanders! The fate of a
continent has just been decided. The genius of William Pitt has
triumphed, though victory was bought at a dear price.
"Here comes from St. Louis gate [27] on his way to the Chateau, pale,
but dauntless - on a black charger - supported by two grenadiers, one on
each side of his horse, a General officer wearing the uniform which
won at Fontenoy, won at Laufeldt, as well as at the Monongahela [28]
and at Carillon. [29] A bloody trail crimsons the Grande Allee,
St. Louis street, on that gloomy September day. My friends, 'tis the
life-blood of a hero. Drop in reverential silence, on the moistened
earth, a sympathetic tear; France's chivalrous leader, the victor of
many battle-fields, has returned from his last campaign.
"Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu! Le Marquis est tue," is repeated by female
voices as the death-stricken but intrepid general glides past, to
which he courteously replies, trying to quiet their fears, 'that he
was not seriously hurt, and not to distress themselves on his
account.' 'Ce n'est rien! ce n'est rien! ne vous affligez pas pour
moi, mes bonnes amies.'
"You have all heard the account of the death-bed scene - of his tender
solicitude for the good name of France - of his dying injunctions to de
Ramesay, the King's lieutenant in charge of the Quebec Garrison, and
to the Colonel of the Roussillon Regiment. 'Gentlemen, to your
keeping I commend the honour of France. Endeavour to secure the
retreat of my army to-night beyond Cape Rouge. As for myself, I shall
pass the night with God, and prepare for death.'
"At nine o'clock in the evening of that 14th of September, 1759, a
funeral cortege, issuing from the castle, winds its way through the
dark and obstructed streets to the little church of the Ursulines.
With the heavy tread of the coffin-bearers keeps time the measured
footsteps of the military escort.
