That fatal "yes" has been uttered, and no true knight goes back
from his plighted word.
There being no help, we devoutly commend our case
to St. Columba, St. Joseph, and the archangel St. Michel, the patrons of
our parish, and set to our task, determined to assume a wide margin, draw
heavily on history, and season the whole with short anecdotes and glimpses
of domestic life, calculated to light up the past and present.
O critic, who would fain seek in "Our Parish" - in our homes - great
architectural excellence, we beseech you to pause! for the majority of
them no such pretension is set up. Nowhere, indeed, on our soil are to be
found ivied ruins, dating back to doomsday book, moated castle, or
mediaeval tower. We have no Blenheims, no Walton Halls, nor Chatsworths,
nor Woburn abbeys, nor Arundel castles, to illustrate every style of
architectural beauty, rural embellishment, and landscape. A Dainpierre, a
Rochecotte, a LaGaudiniere, may suit old France: they would be lost in New
France. Canadian cottages, the best of them, are not the stately country
homes of
"Old pheasant-lords,
... Partridge-breeders of a thousand years,"
typifying the accumulated wealth of centuries or patrician pride; nor are
they the gay chateaux of La Belle France. In the Canada of the past,
we could - in many instances we had to - do without the architect's skill;
nature having been lavish to us in her decorations, art could be dispensed
with. Our country dwellings possess attractions of a higher class, yea, of
a nobler order, than brick and mortar moulded by the genius of man can
impart. A kind Providence has surrounded them in spring, summer and autumn
with scenery often denied to the turreted castle of the proudest nobleman
in Old England. Those around Quebec are more particularly hallowed by
associations destined to remain ever memorable amongst the inhabitants of
the soil.
Some of our larger estates, like Belmont (comprising 450 acres,) date back
more than two centuries, whilst others, though less ancient, retrace
vividly events glorious in the same degree to the two races, who, after
having fought stoutly for the mastery, at last hung out the olive branch
and united long since, willing partners, in the bonds of a common
nationality, neither English nor French, though participating largely of
both, and have linked their destinies together as Canadians. Every
traveller in Canada, from Baron La Hontan, who "preferred the forests of
Canada to the Pyrenees of France," to the Hon. Amelia Murray, Charlevoix,
LaGalissoniere, Peter Kalm, Isaac Weld, John Lambert, Heriot, Silliman,
Dickens, Lever, Ampere, Marmier, Rameau, Augustus Sala, have united in
pronouncing our Quebec landscape so wild, so majestic, and withal so
captivating, as to vie in beauty with the most picturesque portions of the
Old or the New World.
Let us first sketch "Our Parish," the home of our forefathers - the home of
our children.
SILLERY.
Henry IV. of France had for his chancellor, in 1607, Nicholas Brulart de
Sillery, a worthy and distinguished magistrate, who, as state councillor,
ever enjoyed the confidence of his sovereign until death closed his useful
career in 1627, at the ripe age of 80.
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