The Mellow And Serene
Glow Of The Autumn Day Harmonized So Perfectly With The Solemn
Grandeur Of The Scene Around Me, And Sank So Silently And Deeply Into
My Soul, That My Spirit Fell Prostrate Before It, And I Melted
Involuntarily Into Tears."
Such the poetic visions which were awakened in the poetic mind of the
brilliant author of "Roughing it, in the
Bush." Charles Dickens also had
his say in this matter, on his visit to Quebec, in May 1842, where he was
the guest of the President of the Literary and Historical Society, Dr.
John Charlton Fisher: -
"The impression made upon the visitor by this Gibraltar of America,
its giddy heights, its citadel suspended, as it were, in the air; its
picturesque steep streets and frowning gateways; and the splendid
views which burst upon the eye at every turn, is at once unique and
lasting. It is a place not to be forgotten or mixed up in the mind
with other places, or altered for a moment in the crowd of scenes a
traveller can recall. Apart from the realities of this most
picturesque city, there are associations clustering about it which
would make a desert rich in interest. The dangerous precipice along
whose rocky front Wolfe and his brave companions climbed to glory; the
Plains of Abraham, where he received his mortal wound; the fortress so
chivalrously defended by Montcalm; and his soldier's grave, dug for
him when yet alive, by the bursting of a shell, are not the least
among them, or among the gallant incidents of history. That is a noble
monument too, and worthy of two great nations, which perpetuates the
memory of both brave Generals, and on which their names are jointly
written.
"The city is rich in public institutions and in Catholic churches and
charities, but it is mainly in the prospect from the site of the Old
Government House and from the Citadel, that its surpassing beauty
lies. The exquisite expanse of country, rich in field and forest,
mountain-heights and water, which lies stretched out before the view,
with miles of Canadian villages, glancing in long white streaks, like
veins along the landscape; the motley crowd of gables, roofs and
chimney tops in the old hilly town immediately at hand; the beautiful
St. Lawrence sparkling and flashing in the sunlight; and the tiny
ships below the rock from which you gaze, whose distant rigging looks
like spiders' webs against the light, while casks and barrels on their
decks dwindle into toys, and busy mariners become so many puppets; all
this framed by a sunken window [1] in the fortress and looked at from
the shadowed room within, forms one of the brightest and most
enchanting pictures that the eye can rest upon." (Dickens' American
Notes.)
A distinguished French litterateur, fresh from the sunny banks of
the Seine, thus discourses anent the Ancient capital; we translate: -
"Few cities," says M. Marmier, [2] "offer as many striking contrasts
as Quebec, a fortress and a commercial city together, built upon the
summit of a rock as the nest of an eagle, while her vessels are
everywhere wrinkling the face of the ocean; an American city inhabited
by French colonists, governed by England, and garrisoned with Scotch
regiments; [3] a city of the middle ages by most of its ancient
institutions, while it is submitted to all the combinations of modern
constitutional government; an European city by its civilization and
its habits of refinement, and still close by, the remnants of the
Indian tribes and the barren mountains of the north, a city of about
the same latitude as Paris, while successively combining the torrid
climate of southern regions with the severities of an hyperborean
winter; a city at the same time Catholic and Protestant, where the
labours of our (French) missions are still uninterrupted alongside of
the undertakings of the Bible Society, and where the Jesuits driven
out of our own country (France) find a place of refuge under the aegis
of British Puritanism!"
An American tourist thus epitomises the sights:
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