After a hearty breakfast of kippers and scrambled egg, we hit Quebec, exploring the lower town by ourselves in the morning and embarking on a more arduous organised tour in the afternoon. The lower town is distinctly European, a network of narrow streets packed with tourists. (A Viking cruise ship was berthed close to ours.) Dodging bodies and competing camera angles we explored as much as we could, bought our souvenirs and looked forward to the organised tour, which proved excellent.
Now this irritated me. Stairs leading to nowhere. The number of tourists who climbed up hopefully and walked down baffled. No wonder the bloody French lost Quebec. Quixotic only goes so far—along with Poutine.
Quebec is distinctly French and in the afternoon our guide, excellent in every respect, reflected this as she took us through the lower town and up the startlingly steep funicular to the upper town. So much history packed into one place.
Champlain, a true hero of France dominates the square of the upper town. It was Champlain who in 1608 created Quebec as the administrative centre of New France. These early French colonists had hard and difficult lives, many dying early from the savage winters, disease and unsanitary conditions. In 1630 there were a bare 103 colonists rising to 355 in 1640.
Despite the dangers and suffering, it was men like Chammplain, and adventurers like Cartier who explored the great rivers, that all but handed North America to France on a plate.
Unfortunately the inertia of the over centralised bureaucracy back home, recognisable in our present 'Establishment' or 'blob' if you will, left these men of ambition and foresight stranded until it was too late. It gave the British their chance and they never let go.
The Chateau Frontenac is named after flamboyant and luxury loving Louis de Buade, Count of Frontenac and governor of New France off and on from 1672 – 1698.
The hotel is vast and took over a hundred years to build. It was also the site of two crucial war time meetings. The first Quebec conference 1943 was attended by Roosevelt, Churchill, and in a purely ceremonial role the Canadian PM Mackenzie King who hosted the conference. Stalin was invited. It was at Frontenac they planned the Normandy invasion and the demilitarisation of Germany, and it was there that the Quebec agreement was signed, spelling out the terms for the coordinated development of nuclear weapons. The room where the meeting took place can be easily seen from the outside—its lights are left perpetually on.
It was there, also, that the Hitchcock film I Confess, was shot, one of its stars Anne Baxter impressing the staff by smoking fat cigars when off camera.
In 1639 three French Ursuline nuns landed. One of their number was Marie de l'Incarnation who was to dominate the missionary endeavour in New France.
The Ursuline nuns focused on the education of girls and the care of the needy and sick. In this new raw and hostile environment, they set about learning the languages of the Iroquois and surrounding tribes. They succoured the sick, and educated children—especially those of the many mixed marriages. In 1661- 1662, their monastery was attacked by the Iroquois and one of their chaplains was slain and devoured. It was not a happy time.
The smaller altar shown here on the left of the main altar was the one devoted to the Ursuline sisters.
The tomb of the formidable Marie de l'Incarnation
Never speak ill of the dead, even so, the praise seemed excessive, and where was the monument to his nemesis, James Wolfe? Hmmph!
As the tour neared its end, I realised our excellent guide had failed to mention Wolfe at all, the one topic that interested me most: Wolfe and the fall of Quebec. Deliberate omission or not, I couldn’t let it rest. I wasn’t going to.
“Where are the Plains of Abraham?” I asked.
She looked at me sharply. “Far from here. Too far to see.”
I waited. A moment or two later. “But I thought a troop of British soldiers discovered an unguarded path up the cliff face and . . .”
“Ah yes, that.” And in fairness to her she gathered the group and gave a superb and succinct account of how the British captured Quebec.
Walking back down from the heights of Quebec, cannon illustrated what a formidable fortress it was.
And sailing away as twilight thickened into dusk, Quebec put on one last flamboyant show. So did the ship. I couldn't resist the phallic. Simple things appeal to simple minds.
1 comment:
You took an awfully big chance rattling the guide. LOL!
I could see you now in a French Canadian pokey.
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