No Misconception Can Exist As To Where The
Chapel Stood, As There Are Still (In 1855) Living Several Persons Who Saw
The Walls Standing, And Can Point Out The Foundations Which Have Since
Been Identified And Enclosed By Stone Pillars And Chains.
To the right of
the small cape, and on a line with the chapel, stood the hospital, now
deserted for more than two centuries.
Over its foundation an elm has
grown, - 'tis now a handsome and large tree; six feet from the ground its
circumference measures two fathoms (12 feet), which makes its diameter
about three and a half. Heriot thus describes the locality in 1806: -
"From hence to Cap Rouge the scenery, on account of its beauty and
variety, attracts the attention of the passenger. At Sillery, a league
from Quebec, on the north shore, are the ruins of an establishment which
was begun in 1637, intended as a religious institution for the conversion
and instruction of natives of the country; it was at one time inhabited by
twelve French families. The buildings are placed upon level ground,
sheltered by steep banks, and close by the borders of the river; they now
only consist of two old stone houses, fallen to decay, and of the remains
of a small chapel (the chapel has of late been repaired and fitted up for
a malt house, and some of the other buildings have been converted into a
brewery). [192] In this vicinity the Algonquins once had a village;
several of their tumuli, or burying places, are still discoverable in the
woods, and hieroglyphics cut on the trees remain, in some situations, yet
unaffected." [193]
On the 6th June, 1865, we determined to afford ourselves a long-promised
treat, and go and survey, with Abbe Ferland's Notes on Sillery open
before us, and also the help of that eminently respected authority in
every parish, the "oldest inhabitant," the traces of the Sillery
settlement of 1637. Nor had we long to wait before obtaining ocular
demonstration of the minute exactitude with which our old friend, the
Abbe, had investigated and measured every stone, every crumbling remain of
brick and mortar. The first and most noticeable relic pointed out was the
veritable house of the missionaries, facing the St. Lawrence, on the north
side of the road, on Sillery Cove; it was the property of the late Henry
Le Mesurier, Esquire, of Beauvoir. Were it in the range of possible events
that the good fathers could revisit the scene of their past apostolical
labours and view their former earthly tenement, hard would be the task to
identify it. The heavy three-feet-thick wall is there yet, as perfect, as
massive, as defiant as ever; the pointed gable and steep roof, in spite of
alterations, still stands - the true index of an old French structure in
Canada. Our forefathers seemed as if they never could make the roof of a
dwelling steep enough, doubtless to prevent the accumulation of snow. But
here ends all analogy with the past; so jaunty, so cosy, so modern does
the front and interior of Sillery "Manor House" look - thus styled for many
years past. Paint, paper and furniture have made it quite a snug abode.
Nor was it without a certain peculiar feeling of reverence we, for the
first time, crossed that threshold, and entered beneath those fortress-
like walls, where for years had resounded the orisons of the Jesuit
Fathers, the men from whose ranks were largely recruited our heroic band
of early martyrs - some of whose dust, unburied, but not unhonoured, has
mingled for two centuries with its parent earth on the green banks of Lake
Simcoe, on the borders of the Ohio, in the environs of Kingston, Montreal,
Three Rivers, Quebec - a fruitful seed of christianity scattered
bountifully through the length and breadth of our land; others, whose
lifeless clay still rests in yon sunny hillock in the rear, to the west of
the "Manor House" - the little cemetery described by Abbe Ferland. Between
the "Manor House" and the river, about forty feet from the house,
inclining towards the south, are the remains of the foundation walls of
the Jesuit's church or chapel, dating back to 1640. On the 13th June,
1657, fire made dreadful havoc in the residence of the Jesuits
(Relations, for 1657, p. 26); they stand north-east and south-west,
and are at present flush with the greensward; a large portion of them were
still visible about thirty-five years ago, as, attested by many living
witnesses; they were converted into ballast for ships built at this spot,
and into materials for repairing the main road by some Vandal who will
remain nameless. From the Manor House you notice the little cape to the
south-west mentioned in Abbe Ferland's Notes, though growing smaller and
smaller every year from the quantities of soil and stone taken from it,
also to repair the road. The large elm pointed out by the Abbe as having
grown over the spot where the hospital stood is there yet, a majestic
tree. The selection of a site for the little cemetery is most judicious,
several little streams from the heights in the rear filter through the
ground, producing a moisture calculated to prevent decomposition and
explanatory of the singular appearance of the bodies disinterred there in
1855. Every visitor will be struck with the beauty, healthiness and
shelter which this sequestered nook at Sillery presents for a settlement,
and with its adaptability for the purposes for which it was chosen, being
quite protected against our two prevailing winds, the north-east and
south-west, with a warm southern exposure.
Many years after the opening of the Algonquin and Montagnais school at
Sillery, the Huron Indians, after being relentlessly tracked by their
inveterate foes, the Five Nations, divided into five detachments; one of
these hid on the Great Manitoulin Island, others elsewhere; a portion came
down to Quebec on the 26th July, 1650, [194] under the direction of Father
Ragueneau, and, on the 28th July, 1650, settled first on the Jesuits land
at Beauport; in March, 1651, they went to Ance du Fort, on the lands of
Mademoiselle de Grandmaison, on the Island of Orleans.
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