Traceable sometimes to a
dim - a forgotten past; sometimes to the utilitarian present time.
What
curious vistas are unfolded in the birth of its edifices - public and
private - alive with the memories of their clerical, bellicose,
agricultural or mercantile founders? How much mysterious glamour does not
relentless time shed over them in its unceasing march? How many
vicissitudes do they undergo before giving way to modern progress, the
exigencies of commerce, the wants or whims of new masters? The edifices,
did we say? Their origin, their progress, their decay, nay, their
demolition by the modern iconoclast - have they no teachings? How many
phases in the art of the builder and engineer, from the high-peaked Norman
cottage to the ponderous, drowsy Mansard roof - from Champlain's picket
fort to the modern citadel of Quebec - from our primitive legislative
meeting-house to our stately Parliament Buildings on the Grande Allee?
The streets and by-ways of famous old world cities have found chroniclers,
in some instances of rare ability: Timbs, Howitt, Augustus Sala,
Longfellow, &c. Why should not those of our own land obtain a passing
notice?
Is there on American soul a single city intersected by such quaint,
tortuous, legend-loving streets as old Quebec? Is there a town retaining
more unmistakable vestiges of its rude beginnings - of its pristine,
narrow, Indian-haunted, forest paths?
Our streets and lanes bear witness to our dual origin: Champlain,
Richelieu, Buade streets, by their names proclaim the veneration our
fathers had for the memory of men who had watched over the infancy of the
colony, whilst the mystic, saintly nomenclature of others exhibited the
attachment of the early dwellers in Quebec to the hallowed old Roman faith
which presided at their natal hour.
One also finds here and there, in the names of certain thoroughfares,
traces of the sojourn within our walls of popular Governors, famous
Viceroys, long since gathered to their fathers, some of whose ashes mingle
in our cemeteries with the dust of our forefathers - [8] Champlain,
Frontenac, Mesy, De Callieres, De Vaudreuil, De la Jonquiere, Ramsay,
Carleton, Hope, Dalhousie, Richmond and Aylmer.
A student of history, in the signboards affixed to street corners, loves
to light on the names of men whose memories are fragrant for deeds of
heroism, devotedness, patriotism or learning. Breboeuf, Champlain,
Dollard, Ferland, Garneau, Christie, Turgeon, Plessis, and many others of
blameless and exemplary life - each has his street. We know of a worthy and
learned old antiquary whose lore and advice has been more than once placed
at our disposal in unravelling the tangled skein on which we are engaged,
who rejoices that his native city, unlike some of the proud capitals of
Europe, is free from vulgar names, such as "Tire-Boudin," "P - t - au
D - - le," in gay Paris, and "Crutched Friars," "Pall-Mall," and "Mary-le-
bone," in great London.
In fact, does not history meet you at every turn? Every nook, every lane,
every square, nay, even the stones and rocks, have a story to tell - a
record to unfold - a tale to whisper of savage or civilized warfare - a
memento to thrill the patriot - a legend of romance or of death - war,
famine, fires, earthquakes, land and snow-slides, riot?
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