The religious establishments of Quebec are quite numerous, and belong mostly to the Roman Catholics: like those of Montreal, they are quite ancient and well endowed; but they did not interest me, and I am sure my description of them would not interest my reader. As a matter of course, I visited the French Cathedral. It seems to be as old as the hills, and yet all the windows of the principal tower are roughly boarded up. On entering the edifice, which is crowded with gilded ornaments, I could not fix my eye upon a single object which suggested the idea of richness. The sculpture, the paintings, and even the gilding, are all without merit; and what greatly added to my disgust was, that I could not obtain a civil answer from a single one of the many boorish men and boys who were fussing about the church.
In the front of an extensive promenade, just below the citadel, stands the monument erected to the memory of Montcalm and Wolfe. The gentleman who contributed the largest sum for its erection was Lord Dalhousie. It is a handsome obelisk, and was designed by a military gentleman named Young. The principal inscription on the column is characteristic of the English nation, and is what a shrewd Yankee would call “a puff of Dalhousie”—even though it be chiselled in Latin. The annoying effect of this inscription, however, is counteracted by another, which is also in Latin, and very beautiful. It was composed by J. C. Fisher, Esq., founder of the Quebec Gazette, and is as follows:
“Military virtue gave them a common death,
History a common fame,
Posterity a common monument.”
The Golden dog is another curiosity which will attract the attention of the visitor to Quebec. It is the figure of a dog, rudely sculptured in relievo, and richly gilded, which stands above the entrance of an ancient house, which was built by M. Phillibert, a merchant of this city, in the time of M. Bigot, the last intendant under the French government. Connected with it is the following curious story, which I copy from an old record:—
“M. Phillibert and the intendant were on bad terms, but, under the system then existing, the merchant knew that it was in vain for him to seek redress in the colony, and determining at some future period to prefer his complaint in France, he contented himself with placing the figure of a sleeping dog, in front of his house, with the following lines beneath it, in allusion to his situation with his powerful enemy:
“Je suis un chien qui ronge l’os,
En le rongeant je prends mon repos—
Un terme viendra qui n’est pas venu