Leaving the little church on the Esplanade, on reaching St. Ann, and turning to the left, at the top of Ursule hill, you find a double brown house, with peculiar pointed turret windows. Here I lived when about eight years old, but most distinctly do I remember its surroundings. Come in and sit with me in the end parlor window and I will point out to you Colonel (afterwards General) Macdonald, in his brave uniform, the picture of dignity, coming down, the steps of the building formerly occupied by Dr. Boswell; also the house where Dr. Lemieux now lives, some officers (Guards, I think) had their quarters, and pretty lively quarters they were. Most of these gentlemen were rich, young, full of fun, and quite regardless of consequences. One of their eccentricities was to insist on a favorite horse being brought in by the front door and harnessed in one of the large rooms off the entrance. I used to watch these proceedings with great glee. No doubt they paid richly for their whistle when settling day came with their landlord. But they could well afford to pay for their pranks.
Opposite this house, the door facing Ann street is still the solid residence, the home some years since of the much-lamented Judge Alleyne; in the early days I speak of, the house of Mr. Le Mesurier, a merchant then, but previously an officer in ——, and carrying a reminder of the same in an empty sleeve, a noble mark of valor.
To be a good carver was then an absolute necessity, for all carving was done at table, and Mr. Le Mesurier piqued himself on always discharging this duty himself, which he did most skillfully by means of a peculiarly constructed knife and fork. Once seated at a side-table (I had been invited to tea with some of the younger members of the family), I watched him do so with great admiration. I do not recall precisely who else were there; but one figure is specially impressed on my memory, that of Mrs. Kerr (mother of the late Judge Kerr), a very stately lady in pink silk and high white plumes.
Mrs. Le Mesurier, although at the head of fashionable society, was one of the old-time good housekeepers. I think I see her now with her keys in hand, giving directions to some domestic. She had a large family—all popular; but the two special favorites were, I think, Miss Harriet, who is married to General Elliot, and Henry Le Mesurier, whose former lovely residence on the St. Lewis road still exists. He had a peculiarly winning charm of manner, inherited, as I saw in a very short interview I had with him, by his son George.
I will now take you up the Esplanade and stop at a cut-stone house on the corner of St. Lewis road, once used as the residence of the Lieut.-Governor. It was conveniently situated, and there was great indignation expressed when the project was mooted of buying Spencer Wood, for, though in most respects suitable, many said it was too far, for those whose position entitled them to vice-regal entertainments would find horse hire a heavy tax. For, my friends, in those early days the almighty dollar was not worshipped as now; in fact, very few of those moving in the highest society were rich—good family, culture and education were the tests, and no amount of money would have introduced a vulgar person into the charmed circle; in fact, permission to subscribe to the Quebec assemblies was a matter of almost as great moment as admittance to old London Almacks. An instance of which may be found in this over-true tale told me by an aged aunt who knew all the circumstances. Briefly, it was this: A rich tradesman lived on Mountain Hill, who had a pretty wife, who, not content with every needful luxury for her happiness, must needs sigh for, to her, the unattainable (that was entrée to the castle). On one occasion a military gentleman of high position who owed this tradesman some money said he regretted the circumstance, and that if he would give him time he would do anything possible for him in return. "Well," said Mr. Blank, "if you could do something for my wife, I should not only consider the bill paid, but be grateful too." "What is asked?" said the colonel. "Just this: you see, sir, my wife is young, and has taken it into her foolish little head she must get to one of the castle balls. Could you get her in?" "Nothing easier, my dear sir; on my arm she can come in unquestioned." So grand preparations were made by the lady, and at the appointed time she went to the castle, triumphant, on her cavalier's arm, advanced to the door where the cards of admission were received, when the official in waiting said, "Enter, colonel, but Mrs. —— is not known here, where is her invitation?" Mortified to death, it was said that Mrs. Blank, unwilling to face the occupants of the ladies' dressing-room, turned and fled precipitately in her slippers and without her outward wraps, rushed home, and that chagrin and cold brought on a severe illness that resulted in consumption. On her death-bed, unable to forgive the wound to her pride, she made her daughter promise that, eschewing all thoughts of love, she would promise her to marry only a man of such position she would be able to look down on those who had snubbed her mother. Being young, rich and pretty, this young girl accepted an aged man of very high rank, refusing one of the finest young men in Quebec, of whom she was fond, and commenced a life of unhappiness with a gentleman who in his dotage made her live almost a recluse in the country, and dress up and go through the drill as if he were commanding still.
His death finally rescued her from such a life, but by that time her nervous system had become so thoroughly unhinged, her mind gave way, and the last I knew of her was her being sent to the lunatic asylum, having no child or relative to care for her. A sad comment on an ill-placed mother's ambition.
At the opposite corner of said stone house was a pretty little residence occupied at one time and owned by the late Major Temple, adjoining which was his father-in-law's residence, the late Hon. Chief Justice Jonathan Sewell. Both these houses still stand, but in vain I look for the pretty lace curtains, and the two parrots on their stands, calling to you through the bright flowers in the window of the late Major Temple's residence. As an old Quebecer I am ashamed to say that pretty house has been the one blot on the whole of Quebec's loveliest street. It has been turned into a petty candy shop, a couple of bottles of sweets, two or three sugar-sticks and halfpenny cakes, and a notice, "Registry Office for Servants," replaces the view of the parrots and flowers. Were I rich I should purchase the property myself, and for old times let some one occupy it who would keep up somewhat its former appearance. Such a thing would not have occurred in Montreal. The Montrealers have too much ambition for their city to let it deteriorate, and consequently property becomes more valuable every day. Why, to think Americans should have been permitted to carry off bodily the house where Montgomery's body was laid and are making a fortune out of it, having set it up as an Indian curiosity shop in some part of the States. Why not have done it here?
Strolling on through the beautiful St. Louis Gate, past the new armory, certainly a credit to the old city, and past rows of handsome new houses, we come to a solid looking building with a golden lion sign. When I looked at it, I wondered if it was chosen to beguile the innocent into the impression that they were at the old chien d'or. It does not need that it has memories enough of its own, for here lived the late A. Joseph, Esq., and his amiable wife, one of the most charming of hostesses, and who gave us any number of pleasant parties, but almost every house on that street (then, as now, quite a fashionable one) is associated with pleasant recollections. The one just inside the toll gate on the left was then occupied by Capt. Charles Campbell, a retired officer of Her Majesty's 99th, I think, father of our old friend, A. C., joint Prothonotary of Quebec.
Mr. Le Moine, in his able work, "The Explorations of Eastern Latitudes," by Jonathan Old Buck, F. G. S. Q., so graphically depicted the Plains of Abraham and its surroundings, I can but touch on old personal memories, which as they please me in writing, for I live but in the past, may serve to amuse you, my readers, in an idle hour. I will now stop at Spencer Wood, and visit the pretty home of our favorite author.
The house at present occupied by Judge Bosse, Quebec, was fitted up in 1860 for Lord Monck, Spencer Wood having been burnt down on 12th March, 1860. Spencer Wood residence having been rebuilt and fitted up in accordance with the requirements of a permanently selected vice-regal residence, was successively occupied by the following parties: