It Stood In
Rear Of Valliere's Furniture Factory And Boswell's Brewery.
Thus was
acquired the Jesuits' Barrack, and thus perished the Intendant's
Palace." - (Chronicle, 27th Dec., 1871.)
D'Auteuil street, bounded to the west by an open space - the Esplanade -
lined on one side by shade trees, on the other by the verdant slopes of
the glacis and city walls, deserves a passing notice. Bouchette describes
it thus: - "The Esplanade, between St. Louis and St. John's Gate, has a
length of 273 yards, by an average breadth of 80, except at the Ste.
Ursula bastion, where it is 120 yards. It is tolerably level, in some
places presenting a surface of bare rock. This is the usual place of
parade for the troops of the garrison, from whence every morning in summer
the different guards of the town are mounted; in winter the Jesuits'
Barracks drill ground is generally used for parades. The musters and
annual reviews of the militia belonging to the city are held there. [78]
The Esplanade is still used as a parade ground, if not by our city militia
by our provincial troops. Right well can we recall the manly form of the
Commander of the "B" Battery, Lieut.-Colonel T. B. Strange, bestriding a
noble charger, putting his splendid, though not numerous corps, through
their drill on the Esplanade. We have also sometimes caught sight there of
our gay Volunteers. Occasionally these grounds are used by the divers
lacrosse clubs for their athletic games - the doyen of our city
litterateurs, the Hon. P. J. O. Chauveau, in a graphic portraiture
of the "Quebec of the Past," has most feelingly retraced the vanished
glories, the military pageants, the practical jokers, the City Watch, the
social gatherings, which his youthful eyes witnessed of yore on the
Esplanade and on Durham Terrace. We have attempted to render in English a
striking chapter of this sparkling effusion: -
OLDEN TIMES IN THE ANCIENT CAPITAL.
"There is not only the quaint city of Champlain - of Montmagny - of
Frontenac - of Bishop Laval - of Governor de Vaudreuil and Montcalm - of
Lord Dorchester and Colonel Dambourges - that is rapidly fading away;
there is not merely the grim fortress of the French regime, the
city of early English rule, disappearing piecemeal in the dissolving
shadows of the past. A much more modern town - newer even than that so
graphically pictured by our old friend Monsieur de Gaspe - the Quebec
of our boyhood - of our youth - the Quebec embalmed in the haunted
chambers of memory prior to 1837 - it also each day seems retreating -
crumbling - evanescing.
Where are those dashing regiments which every Sunday at 4 p.m. (we
were not such Puritans then as now) paraded in the open space facing
the Esplanade walls, under the approving eye of the beauty and fashion
of all Quebec, assembled from outside and from inside of the walls -
the men proud of their bottle-green or dark-blue coats and white duck
pants - all the vogue then - while the softer sex and juveniles were
apparelled in the gayest of toilettes - brightest of colors - loudest of
contrasts: white - pink - green! How densely packed, our Esplanade!
Little boys and girls crowding in every corner of the lovely
precipitous lawn which, amphitheatre-like, stretches down - a hanging
garden of verdure and beauty. The splendid regimental bands of music,
the gaudily uniformed staff officers curvetting on their chargers,
with nodding plumes and heavy, glittering epaulettes (alas! the navy
now seems to have monopolised the gold lace for their shoulder-
straps), and those irresistible sappers with their bushy beards
heading the pageant, and those incomparable drum-majors, who could
fling high in the air their batons, and catch them so gracefully in
their descent. How their glittering coats did enrapture the crowd! All
these wondrous sights of our youth, where will we now find them?
The mounting guard, the Grand Rounds at noon, when one of the
regimental bands (there were here nearly always two, and an honorable
rivalry existed between them) struck up a martial strain, whilst every
sentry in the city was relieved. What a treat this was to every one,
without forgetting the Seminary Externes (pupils), with their blue
coats and sashes of green or of variegated tints.
More than one of those lithesome youths came to grief for having
rushed away from the Gradus ad Parnassum to those Elysian Fields,
ostensibly to hear the band - possibly to cast a sly glance at "sweet
sixteen" chatting with the Militaires off duty. Here,
too, was the spot where amateurs came to hear new pieces of music - the
latest from London. Durham Terrace was the favoured locality from
whence the new waltz - the fashionable march - the latest opera - was
launched into city existence; from thence it found its way to the
salons of the wealthy: such the history of Di tanti palpiti and
other sweet emanations of great masters.
Where, now, are those squads of jolly tars, in navy blue,
irrepressible in their humors when on shore, far from the quarterdecks
of the trim frigates anchored under Cape Diamond: upsetting the cake-
stands, the spruce beer kegs - helping open-handed to the contents the
saucy street urchins, or, handing round, amidst the startled
wayfarers, pyramids of horse cakes, trays of barley-sugar and
peppermints, like real princes dispensing the coin of the realm. Where
are those noisy gangs of swaggering raftsmen - those voyageurs from
the pays d'en haut, with their glittering costumes - hats festooned
with red or blue ribbons, sashes of variegated colors, barred shirts -
tightly wedged, three by three, in caleches, like Neapolitans -
patrolling the streets - interlarding a French song occasionally with
an oath, tolerably profane - at all times to be met, whether in the
light of day or the still hours of night. No police in those halcyon
days; but with the thickening shades of evening issued forth that
venerable brotherhood, the City Watch.
The watch, did we say? Where are now these dreamy wanderers of the
night, carolling forth, like the muezzin in Eastern cities, their
hourly calls, "All's well!" "Fine night!" "Bad weather!" as the case
might be - equally ready with their rattles to sound the dread alarm of
fire, or with their long batons to capture belated midnight
brawlers, that is, when they saw they had a good chance of escaping
capture themselves.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 61 of 231
Words from 61700 to 62754
of 236821
