Later On,
I Viewed It, Mossy And Forlorn, In What Some Might Style Its "Non Age".
Of
this, hereafter.
The Chateau stood embowered amidst lilac groves and other ornamental
shrubs, so far as I can recollect, with a background of elms, white birch,
spruce, &c. Its vaulted, lofty and well-proportioned dining-room, with
antique, morocco-covered chairs, and carved buffets to store massive
plate, its spacious hall and graceful winding staircase, its commanding
position on the crest of the Beauport ridge, affording a striking view of
Quebec, its well-stocked orchard, umbrageous plantations, and ample
stables, from which issued, among other choice bits of blood, in 1842, the
celebrated racer "Emigrant": several circumstances, in fact, conspired to
impress it favorably on my youthful mind. On that occasion, I found le
milord anglais (as a waggish Canadian peasant called him) under his
ancestral roof.
Recalling our parish annals of early times, I used then to think that
should England ever (which God forbid) hand back to its ancient masters
"these fifteen thousand acres of snow," satirized by Voltaire, ridiculed
by Madame de Pompadour, cruelly and basely deserted by Louis XV, in their
hour of trial, here existed a ready-made manor for the Giffards and
Duchesnays of the future, where their descendants could becomingly receive
fealty and homage. (foi et homage) from their feudal retainers. There
was, however, nothing here to remind one of the lordly pageantry of other
times - the days of absolutism - of the dark era, the age of lettres de
cachet, corvees, lods et ventes, and other feudal burthens, when the
flag of the Bourbons floated over the fortress of New France. In 1846, at
the time of my visit, in vain would you have sought in the farm yard for a
live seigniorial capon (un chapon vif et en plumes) though possibly in
the larder, at Christmas, you might have discovered some fat, tender
turkeys, or a juicy haunch of venison. Of vin ordinaire ne'er a trace,
but judging from the samples on the table, perhaps much mellow Madeira,
and "London Stout" might have been stored in the cellars. Everywhere, in
fact, was apparent English comfort, English cheer. On the walls of the
banqueting apartment, or within the antique red-leathered portfolios
strewn round, you would have run a greater chance of meeting face to face
with the portraits of Lord Dorchester, Genl. Prescott, Sir Robert Shore
Milnes, Sir James Craig, the Duke of Richmond, and other English
Governors, the cherished friends of the Rylands than with the powdered
head of his most sacred Majesty, the Great Louis, or the ruffled bust and
sensual countenance of the voluptuous Louis XV.... But let us see more of
Mount Lilac and its present belongings.
Facing the glittering cupolas of Quebec, there is a fertile area of meadow
and cornfield stretching from Dorchester bridge to the deep ravine and
Falls over which the Montmorency, La Vache, hangs its milk-white
curtain of spray. On the river shore, in 1759, stood Montcalm's earth and
field works of defence.
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