Picturesque Quebec : a sequel to Quebec past and present

by Sir J. M. Le Moine

"The true meaning of this device I never could learn, though I made all possible inquiries, without being gratified with the least information respecting its allusion. I have been informed that the first proprietor of the house was a man of great natural abilities, and possessed a plentiful fortune, which he, after many disappointments and losses in trade, had scraped together by means of the most indefatigable industry. Now, whether the foregoing device had any reference to these particulars of his own private affairs, or that we may rather suppose the bone with flesh on it to resemble Canada, and the dog an emblem of fidelity, to represent the French settled there as if determined faithfully to defend that colony for their King and country against the savage natives, who may perhaps be alluded to by the two last lines of the inscription, I will not take upon me to determine, but submit it to the more penetrating capacity of the curious reader."—(KNOX'S JOURNAL, Vol. II., p. 149.)

There are two ways of arriving at this El Dorado of commerce: an easy, expeditious, and, it is believed a safe passage, originated by our enterprising fellow-townsman, W. A. G. Griffith, Esq.—the Terrace Elevator. The ascent or descent by the elevator occupies fifty seconds of time, at the moderate cost of three cents per head. The elevator, opened to the public on 10th February, 1880, was erected at a cost of about $30,000. Whether it is placed in the most suitable spot remains to be seen.

THE ELEVATOR.

"The elevator is worked by the weight of water; this necessitates there always being a sufficient supply in the tank at the top of the incline, which is pumped by a 12-horse-power steam pump from a large tank at the foot. The modus operandi is as follows: Suppose a person enters the car at the foot of the incline to be carried to the top, the bell-boy at once rings a bell to notify the brakesman to go ahead; weight is required to bring the car and passenger from the foot to the top, and both cars being built on tanks with necessary valves for the entrance of the water from the upper tank and for the exit of the same water when it reaches the bottom of the track, which the large tank below receives, the brakesman proceeds to open one of the water valves and allows sufficient water to enter the car tank until it outweighs the car and passengers at the foot; the cars are now supposed to be in motion, with the bell-boy at the foot and brakesman at the top of the incline, who duties are to watch that everything runs smoothly and that the track is clear of all obstructions. Nothing can happen inside the cars during the transit that is not noticed by the employés; now let us suppose that while in motion one of the cables breaks, there is a second cable to take all the strain, which is never over five tons, and each cable will lift at least 30 tons, but should it happen by some extraordinary oversight that there existed flaws in the cables which had not been noticed, so that first one cable broke and then the second also broke, it would probably be thought that an accident must occur. No such catastrophe would happen, because under the cars and out of sight there are two enormously strong chisels bolted to the iron tank, and running within half an inch of the trestle work; immediately the strain is taken off the cables, or immediately the two cables break, the two chisels would enter the strong wooden beams that support the iron rails and hold the cars firmly in position. Finally, let us suppose that these chisels also gave way, it must be said surely an accident is now inevitable; but no, for at the top as well as at the foot of the track there are two air buffers, against which the cars strike on their ascent and descent. So nicely adjusted are they, and so ingeniously are they constructed, that although the cars may descend with great force against these air buffers, the resistance being gradually developed as the air compresses, there will be but little, if any, extra shock. Should the brakesman happen to be absent from his post, we are informed by the Manager that no irregularities would occur in consequence, as a governor regulates the speed at which the cars are to go, and on their arrival the air buffers come into play and receive them. So well has the brakesman the cars under his control that at one stroke of the bell he can stop them instantaneously wherever they may be on the track. The brakes are arranged in such a way that it would seem to be quite impossible for both of them to be out of order at the same time; but even if they were, nothing could happen, as the air buffers would check the force of any extra shock. It may be thought that an enormous quantity of water must be used to work this machinery, seeing that there is a 5,000 gallon water-tank at the top of the incline and a 10,000 gallon tank at the foot, but such is not the case, the water which is pumped up from the lower to the upper tank returns again to the lower one, and so the same water is used over and over again; indeed, the amount of water wasted is not nearly as much as is consumed by a private family. In confirmation of this statement, only a halt-inch tap is used to supply the tanks, and the Manager informs us that frequently for days together the tap is not turned on either at night or day."

How our worthy grandfathers would have shrugged their shoulders had such an innovation been mooted eighty years ago. The other mode of penetrating into the Lower Town is through that steep and tortuous hill—called Mountain Hill by the English, Côte de la Montagne by the French.

This is the hill which has re-echoed the tread of so many regiments, on which so many Governors, French and English, have, on divers occasions, heard themselves enthusiastically cheered by eager crowds; the hill which Viceroys of France and of England, from the ostentatious Marquis de Tracy to the proud Earl of Durham, ascended on their way to Government House, surrounded by their brilliant staffs and saluted by cannon and with warlike flourish of trumpets! In earlier times the military and religious display was blended with an aroma of literature and elaborate Indian oratory, combining prose and poetry.

Francis Parkman will tell us of what took place on the arrival, on the 28th July, 1658, of the Viscount D'Argenson, the Governor of the colony:— "When Argenson arrived to assume the government, a curious greeting had awaited him. The Jesuits asked him to dine; vespers followed the repast; and then they conducted him to a hall where the boys of their school— disguised, one as the Genius of New France, one as the Genius of the Forest, and others as Indians of various friendly tribes—made him speeches by turn, in prose and in verse. First, Pierre du Quet, who played the Genius of New France, presented his Indian retinue to the Governor, in a complimentary harangue. Then four other boys, personating French colonists, made him four flattering addresses, in French verse. Charles Denis, dressed as a Huron, followed, bewailing the ruin of his people, and appealing to Argenson for aid. Jean François Bourdon, in the character of an Algonquin, next advanced on the platform, boasted his courage, and declared that he was ashamed to cry like the Huron. The Genius of the Forest now appeared, with a retinue of wild Indians from the interior, who, being unable to speak French, addressed the Governor in their native tongues, which the Genius proceeded to interpret. Two other boys in the character of prisoners just escaped from the Iroquois, then came forward imploring aid in piteous accents; and in conclusion the whole troop of Indians from far and near laid their bows and arrows at the feet of Argenson, and hailed him as their chief.

Besides these mock Indians, a crowd of genuine savages had gathered at Quebec to greet the new "Ononthio." On the next day—at his own cost, as he writes to a friend—he gave them a feast, consisting of seven large kettlesful of Indian corn, peas, prunes, sturgeon, eels and fat, which they devoured, he says, after having first sung me a song, after their fashion."

Probably one of the most gorgeous displays on record was that attending the arrival of the great Marquis of Tracy, in 1665. He came with a brilliant staff, a crowd of young nobles; and accompanied by two hundred soldiers, to be followed by a thousand more of the dashing regiment of Carignan-Salières. He sailed up the St. Lawrence, and on the 30th of June, 1665, anchored in the basin of Quebec. The broad, white standard, blazoned with the arms of France, proclaimed the representative of royalty; and Point Levi and Cape Diamond and the distant Cape Tourmente roared back the sound of saluting cannon. All Quebec was on the ramparts or at the landing place, and all eyes were strained at the two vessels as they slowly emptied their crowded decks into the boats alongside. The boats at length drew near, and the Lieutenant-General and his suite landed on the quay with a pomp such as Quebec had never seen before.

Tracy was a veteran of sixty-two, portly and tall, "one of the largest men I ever saw," writes Mother Mary (Marie de l'Incarnation), but he was sallow with disease, for fever had seized him, and it had fared ill with him on the long voyage. The Chevalier de Chaumont walked at his side, and young nobles surrounded him, gorgeous in lace and ribbons, and majestic in leonine wigs. Twenty-four guards in the King's livery led the way, followed by four pages and six valets; [82] and thus, while the Frenchmen shouted and the Indians stared, the august procession threaded the streets of the Lower Town, and climbed the steep pathway that scaled the cliffs above. Breathing hard, they reached the top, passed on the left the dilapidated walls of the Fort and the shed of mingled wood and masonry which then bore the name of the Castle de St. Louis; passed on the right the old house of Couillard and the site of Laval's new Seminary, and soon reached the square betwixt the Jesuit College and the Cathedral.