Chapter 12. Life Under The Ancien Regime

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_ CHAPTER XII. LIFE UNDER THE ANCIEN REGIME

For all its sombre background bright threads run through the warp and woof of the _ancien regime_. From Normandy, Brittany, and Perche they came, these simple folk of the St. Lawrence, to brave the dangers of an unknown world and wrestle with primeval nature for a livelihood. If their hands were empty their hearts were full, Gallic optimism and child-like faith in their patron saints bringing them through untold misfortunes with a prayer or a song upon their lips. The savage Indian with his reeking tomahawk might break through and steal, the moth and rust of evil administration might wear away the fortunes of New France, yet the _habitant_ ever found joy in labour and made light of hard circumstance.

In every language there is a pensive attraction in the words "the good old days"; and even to-day the phrase brings a tear to the eye of the French Canadian as his mind dwells on the time before the Conquest; for while conscious of his growth in freedom and wealth, the sentiment for past days and vanished glory obscures in his mind the thought of these material blessings. Spirits of the _ancien regime_ still haunt the dreamy firesides of the Province, yet their presence does not impair the loyalty of these adopted sons of Britain.

When Wolfe came to Quebec, the flight of a century and a half had transformed Champlain's "Habitation" and its clustering huts into the strongest and fairest city of the New World. Churches, convents, and schools huddled together, and composed a varied picture upon the uneven summit of a towering rock; cannon thrust their black muzzles through the girdling walls of stone; and the bastioned citadel rose over all, commanding the river, the city, and the graceful country rolling inland from high Cape Diamond.

Sunshine reflected from the spires and towers of the town made a beacon of hope to the peasant as he laboured on the seigneuries leagues and leagues away. Far down the Cote de Beaupre, beyond the Mont Ste. Anne, from the rich farms of Orleans, and across on the Levi shore, the glistening light on the city roofs by day, and at night the twinkling candles in the windows, were as guiding stars to these children in the wilderness. Twice in the early days, so their folklore told them, miraculous intervention had saved their city from the invader; and was she not impregnable still? And as he gazed happily across the uplands towards his Mecca, the _habitant_ could conceive of no power which might prevail against her stony ramparts. To this day the emblems of their faith abound, scattered along the wayside; and here and there a little wooden cross, set on with two or three rough steps, invites the wayfarer to pause and pray. Bareheaded, the pilgrim waits before the holy symbol to whisper an _Ave_ or to tell his beads. Rough bushmen cease from riot and laughter, and touch their caps as they pass. All down the cotes, these casual shrines exhort the simple peasant to his twofold duty--to God and to his neighbour. Throughout the river parishes the size and richness of the churches contrasts strangely with the poverty of the rough-cast cottages, revealing the devout spirit of the villagers, to whom the church stands before all else.

Seven leagues below the city of Quebec is the greatest of all these shrines, _L'Eglise de la bonne Ste. Anne._ In the foreground, the wide bosom of the St. Lawrence stretches across to the Isle of Orleans, while Mont Ste. Anne rises in graceful lines upon the flank, making a green background for the stone Basilica, which draws nearly two hundred thousand pilgrims every year to its healing altars. Perhaps, as you enter the village, the rich chimes of Ste. Anne are ringing a processional, and the cripples are thronging through the pillared vestibule. Some of these pious sufferers have come a thousand miles to wait, like those in days of old, for the moving of the waters. Inside the church, the pillars are covered with cast-off crutches, which faithful pilgrims leave behind when they go forth healed.

The history of the shrine of Ste. Anne de Beaupre goes back almost to the time of Champlain. A traditional account of its foundation relates that some Breton mariners, being overtaken by a violent storm on the St. Lawrence, vowed a sanctuary to Ste. Anne if she would but bring them safe to shore. Their prayers were heard, and forthwith they raised a little wooden chapel at Petit-Cap, seven leagues below Quebec. History, however, gives 1658 as the date of the first chapel of Ste. Anne; and it was while engaged in its construction that Louis Guimont became the subject of the first miraculous cure. Other cures rapidly followed, and soon the shrine became renowned for its miracles. The Marquis de Tracy made two pilgrimages; and Anne of Austria, the mother of Louis XIV. accorded her patronage, sending to the little chapel a vestment embroidered by herself.

During two and a half centuries the church of Ste. Anne has been several times rebuilt. The present imposing structure dates from 1886, and has been raised by the Pope to the rank of a Basilica Minor. Beaupre has become the Lourdes of the New World, where the halt, the maimed, the sick, and the blind piously contend together in effort to reach the healing shrine.

In the old days once or twice a week, according to the season and the distance of the city, the peasant made his way to Quebec, to take up his stand on the market-place, and sell his produce to the townspeople. The practice still survives, and on a Saturday half the women of Upper Town busily drive their bargains outside St. John's Gate, while at the river's brink Champlain Market is equally alive.

When the ancient Seigneur came to town his sword was upon his thigh, and he wore his smartest toilet of peruke, velvet, and lace. The Chateau upon the cliff was his Versailles, and hither came the quality of the district to pay their court and attend the receptions of the Governor. The Seigneur's wife was gowned according to the latest intelligence from Paris, with _coiffe poudre_, court-plaster, ribbons, and fan. She could curtsey with fine grace and dance the stately minuet; and her sprightly conversation was the amazement of those visitors who have recorded their impressions of Quebec. La Potherie, in 1698, and Charlevoix, in 1720, both remarked upon the purity of the French language as spoken in these _salons_ of the far-distant West.

In spite of clerical anathema, the first ball in Canada was given at Fort St. Louis as early as 1646, and from that time forward social life at Quebec steadily progressed. The Marquis de Tracy with his suite of nobles and the regiment of Carignan-Salieres brought unwonted lustre to the remote court; and when a native order of noblesse was founded a few years later, the Chateau on the St. Lawrence reflected the elegance and gaiety of France itself.

The account of Madame de Vaudreuil's reception at Versailles in 1709, or the Duc de Saint-Simon's comment upon that lady's wit and deportment, affords a high certificate of the _savoir vivre_ of the old fortress town; and the letters of the Marquis de Montcalm, keen connoisseur of social arts, show that the drawing-rooms of the Rue du Parloir were far from uncongenial. Moreover, the fascinating Angelique des Meloises was something more in the history of New France than the prototype of the heroine in _Le Chien d'Or_.

Towards the close of the French period Quebec had a population of about seven thousand, of whom more than half lived in the Lower Town. Here, on the narrow strand beneath the cliff, the tenements stood in irregular groups, parted by winding streets. Up the hill, too, these tortuous pathways ran, changing, now and then, to breakneck stairs where the declivity was specially steep. The graded slope of Mountain Street zigzagged from the harbour up to the Castle, while on the St. Charles side the ascent was commonly made by way of Palace Hill. The Upper Town was chiefly occupied by public buildings, which comprised the Chateau, the Cathedral, churches, schools, and convents. Here also the streets followed no definite plan, but ambled hither and thither along the uneven summit. Out through the city gates ran the roads of St. Louis and St. John, highways to the straggling suburbs, which yet hung close to the protecting ramparts.

The houses were built of wood or of grey stone, usually to the height of one story, being also surmounted by a tall, steep roof, through which the tiny dormer windows peeped in picturesque disorder. Inside, a slight partition divided the dwelling into two chambers. In the end of the living-room stood a large open fireplace, the household cooking-pots swinging from an iron crane. A sturdy table occupied the centre of the floor, and benches or blocks of wood were ranged as chairs around the walls. The inevitable cradle, consecrated to the service of two, three, or four generations, pounded monotonously to and fro upon the uneven floor, and by the low-set window the thrifty housewife wove her flaxen homespun in a venerable loom. Saints, in pictures of fervid tints, looked down serenely from low, unplastered walls, while from the rafters of the ceiling were hung the weapons of the family arsenal--flint-lock muskets and hilted hunting-knives, and sometimes too an ancestral sword or silver-handled pistol.

In the matter of dress, social distinctions were punctiliously regarded. The _gentilhomme_ was as careful as his wife to follow the latest vogue at Versailles. His hair was curled, powdered, and tied in a _queue_, his headgear was the ceremonious three-cornered hat. A stately, coloured frockcoat, an embroidered waistcoat, knee-breeches, silk stockings, and high-heeled buckled shoes completed the toilette of the Canadian seigneur.

"The dress of the _Habitants_," says an observer of a much later date than Saint-Simon or Montcalm,[26] "is simple and homely; it consists of a long-skirted cloth or frock, of a dark grey colour, with a hood attached to it, which in winter time or wet weather he puts over his head. His coat is tied round the waist by a worsted sash of various colours, ornamented with beads. His waistcoat and trousers are of the same cloth. A pair of moccasins, or swamp boots, complete the lower part of his dress. His hair is tied in a thick long _queue_ behind, with an eelskin; and on each side of his face a few straight locks hang down like what are vulgarly called 'rat's tails.' Upon his head is a _bonnet rouge_, or in other words, a red night-cap. The _tout ensemble_ of his figure is completed by a short pipe, which he has in his mouth from morning till night. A Dutchman is not a greater smoker than a French Canadian.

"The visage of the _Habitant_ is long and thin, his complexion sunburnt and swarthy, and not unfrequently of a darker hue than that of the Indian. His eyes, though rather small, are dark and lively; his nose prominent, and inclined to the aquiline or Roman form; his cheeks lank and meagre; his lips small and thin; his chin sharp and projecting."

[Footnote 26: Lambert, _Travels_, vol i. p. 158.]

In winter, rich and poor alike were wrapped in homespun blanket _paletots_, whose vivid colours made a charming picture, as the wayfarers trudged over the deep white snow-fields on their buoyant snow-shoes, or coasted through the clear and bracing air on swift toboggans. In the evening they flocked to a chosen _rendezvous_, where a home-bred violinist tuned them through gay quadrilles; and anon the lonely violin would be drowned in the lusty voices of the dancers, who suited a folk-song to their steps--

"Malbrouck s'en va-t-en guerre,
Mironton, mironton, mirontaine;
Malbrouck s'en va-t-en guerre,
Ne sait quand reviendra.
Il reviendra z-a Paques
Ou a la Trinite.
La Trinite se passe,
Malbrouck ne revient pas."

Moreover, winter, the idle half of the year, was the season of social visits; and in these courtesies the _habitants_ were assiduous. Between Christmas and Ash Wednesday they strove, it would seem, to fill themselves with gaiety against the coming grey season of Lent. An unbidden throng of visitors would drive to a selected house, and sheer bankruptcy would indeed have been the housewife's portion if this welcome invasion had been wholly unexpected; but to meet such an emergency cooked meats and pies stood ready upon her pantry shelves, while _croquignoles_ and sweet pasties needed only a few moments in the oven before a meal was ready. Thus during the days of snow they went gaily from homestead to homestead, all being victimised in turn by these "surprise parties." For _la haute noblesse_ also, the winter season was the gayest of the year. Their quaint carrioles sped jingling over the snow from one manor-house to another; here a dinner-party, there a dance, and everywhere a frugal happiness.

In _Les Anciens Canadiens_ De Gaspe portrays the life of this seigneurial class to which he himself belonged. The manor-house was usually a long, low, stone-built structure, surmounted by overhanging gables and a lofty roof. A wing was sometimes added at right angles, and always a group of strongly-built outhouses, stables, and sheds clustered near by; among them standing a stone mill which had perhaps served as a tower of refuge in the troublous times of the Iroquois raids, but which the _censitaires_ now used merely to grind their grain. If the Seigneur was possessed of power to execute high, middle, and low justice, a gallows and a pillory might be found within the precincts; but towards the close of the _ancien regime_ these crude implements of punishment had happily fallen into disuse. The parish church was never far away, the Seigneur being at all times the patron of the _presbytere_, as well as the potent bulwark of the feudal village springing up within sight of his manor-house.

These country mansions were much the same as those of Quebec, and there was little difference in the manner of living within and without the city walls. At eight o'clock the _gentilhomme_ and his family breakfasted on rolls, white wine, and coffee; while dinner was served at noon, and supper at seven in the evening. The dining-room of a fashionable household was tastefully arranged. One end of the room was completely occupied by the massive side-board, filled with ancestral silver and china. Upon a shelf apart stood cut-glass decanters for the table service, and as a _coup d'appetit_ cordials were handed round in the drawing-room. On coming into the dining-room the guest might, if he chose, rinse his hands in a blue and white porcelain water-basin, which stood upon a pedestal in one corner of the room. Arrived at the table, he found his _couvert_ to consist of a napkin, plate, silver goblet, fork and spoon, being expected to supply his own knife. For these occasions men usually carried knives in their pockets, the ladies wearing them in a leathern, silken, or birch-bark sheath. This peculiar custom caused some embarrassment to those English officers who were billeted in French houses after the capture of the city.[27]

[Footnote 27: Captain Knox's _Journal of the Siege_.]

The maple sugar season brought to the _habitants_ their first relaxation from the severities of Lent. Huge caldrons of sap hung on poles over the roaring fires, and the children gathered round to taste the syrup, and salute with songs of welcome the coming of jocund spring. May-day soon followed, "the maddest merriest day" in all the calendar. In the early morning the _habitant_ repaired to the seigneury to assist in erecting the May-pole. Almost every one he knew--man, woman, or child--was there with similar intent. Presently the tall fir-tree, stripped of its bark, was firmly planted in the farmyard, and a deputation waited upon the Seigneur to beg his acceptance of this homage. A fusillade of blank musket shots was now kept up until the May-pole was thoroughly blackened. This done, the doors of the manor-house were thrown wide open in welcome; and the rest of the day was one long banquet. The Seigneur's tables groaned beneath burdens of roasted veal, mutton, and pork, huge bowls of stew, pies, and cakes, to which was added white whiskey and tobacco. Songs, stories, and homely wit sped the day until the banqueters were weak in flesh and spirit. Baptisms, betrothals, and weddings also were occasions of feasting; and the long-suffering Seigneur hardly escaped standing godfather to every child born within seven leagues of the manor.

Even the holy sisters came under the spell of the joyous life in which they moved; and one of the Ursuline nuns who came to Quebec with Madame de la Peltrie, thus writes in 1640:--

"Although confined in a small hole, with insufficient
air, yet we continue in good health. If in
France one eat only bacon and salt fish, as we do
here, one might be ill without a word said; but we
are well, and sing better than in France. The air is
excellent, and this is a terrestrial paradise, where the
difficulties and troubles of life come so lovingly, that
the more one is piqued, the more one's heart is filled
with amiability."

Behind all this gaiety, however, brooded the Church; for even in her lightest moments Quebec never strained far on her sacred leash. From its foundation as a mission trading-post to its consecration as an episcopal see, the rock city remained a fortress of the faith. Its early governors, Champlain, D'Ailleboust, and Montmagny, were monks military, dividing their services equally between faith and fatherland. First the Recollets, then the Jesuits, came into spiritual possession; and later on, episcopal rule succeeded to the influence of Loyola's disciples. The relative estimation in which these various orders of the Church were held being illustrated by a Canadian proverb: "Pour faire un Recollet, il faut une hachette, pour un Pretre un ciseau, mais pour un Jesuit, il faut un pinceau."

Thus, and in spite of resistance from D'Argenson, D'Avaugour, and Frontenac, Quebec had been held fast under a firm ecclesiastical control. Alternating penance with persuasion, the priests imposed their will upon the people. Absence from church and confession brought its sufficient penalty; and the calendar was filled with special days for prayer and purification. Priests, monks, and nuns crowded the city, in numbers disproportionate to the lay population. The place was heavy with the incense of a constant worship--the very atmosphere redolent of piety. From the unrestrained hands of the early governors, the administration of justice passed to the _Conseil Superieur_, a body comprising the governor, the bishop, the intendant, and a varying number of councillors. Their code took special account of offences against religion, sins for which the bishop was careful to exact proper expiation. The pillory, the stocks, and a certain wooden horse with a sharp spine were the ready instruments of correction. Proclamations were made either from the pulpit or read at the church-door after Mass. Royal edicts and ordinances of the _Conseil Superieur_ prescribed the duties of citizens, and stated without vagueness the penalties which would overtake breakers of the law. Yet in spite of this apparent harshness, the laws were administered in so patriarchal a spirit as to justify the observation: "It requires great interest for a man to be hung in Canada."

The peasants, moreover, were far from rebelling against the impositions of their seigneurs, which they took as part of the order of nature; and General Murray, writing after the Conquest, thus bears testimony to the feeling of good-fellowship prevailing between the two classes: "The tenants, who pay only an annual quit-rent of about a dollar a year for about a hundred acres, are at their ease and comfortable. They have been accustomed to respect and obey their noblesse; their tenures being military in the feudal manner, they have shared with them the dangers of the field, and natural affection has been increased in proportion to the calamities which have been common to both, from the conquest of the country. As they have been taught to respect their superiors, and are not yet intoxicated with the abuse of liberty, they are shocked at the insults which their noblesse and the King's officers have received from the English traders and lawyers since the civil government took place."

Each householder was responsible for the street before his property, being compelled to keep it clean of snow and refuse. Innkeepers required a license, and had to conform to rigid laws. Cattle, pigs, and sheep were impounded if found straying in the streets, and the Intendant strictly regulated the possession of live-stock.

The first horse seen in New France had been brought out by the Governor Montmagny about 1636; but before the end of the century many more were shipped from Havre, and it was not long before the law began to regulate this new feature of social life. An ordinance forbade any _habitant_ to possess more than two mares and one colt. In riding away from service on Sunday the horseman was forbidden to break into a canter until he had travelled ten arpents from the church. Private baptism of children was refused except in cases of absolute necessity. The order in which the personages of Quebec should receive the sacrament was precisely established. Roads, bridges, and churches were built by forced labour. The construction of houses, both as to material and design, was regulated by law. Builders were required to conform to a line and face their houses on the highway. Certain personages, however, claimed exemption from this rule, and to these was accorded the right--_d'avoir pignon sur rue_--to have the gable on the street, the purpose being to secure a certain degree of privacy by means of an entrance away from the public highway.

As to the law of inheritance, the testator was bound to divide his estate fairly among all his children, the title and the largest share going to the eldest son. This legislation, which affected seigneur and _censitaire_ alike, subdivided the country into ribbon-like farms, with narrow frontages on the river and running back long distances inland. This attenuated appearance of the rural holdings strikes the stranger forcibly as he travels through the province of Quebec even at this day, and denotes a condition which prevailed in England also in the most primitive days of agriculture. The system had some justification, however, in the necessity which each peasant felt of having access to the St. Lawrence, the most convenient, and, for nearly a hundred years, the only highway to the city of Quebec. Moreover, it enabled the settlers to build their houses close together, thus protecting themselves against the ever-present danger of Indian raids. Even now the river St. Lawrence looks like a gigantic road bordered by homely white-washed cottages.

Examples of the quaint laws and customs of the _ancien regime_ might be multiplied indefinitely; but perhaps enough has already been said to show the paternalism of the legal system and the medievalism of the social life which prevailed. Before the Conquest the French Canadian had nothing whatever to do with the making of his own laws; and so far from struggling to obtain this right, he preferred to be without it. The Cure knew all about the laws, and the _habitant_ was willing to leave the matter to him!

On the whole, if we except the wicked exactions of the Intendant Bigot and his confederates, Quebec was happily governed. From generation to generation the light-hearted _habitant_ cheerfully paid his _dime_ to the Church, his _cens et rente_ to the Seigneur, his military service to the Governor. If the call came for a raid upon New England, he took down his musket and his powder-horn, and set out blithely upon his snow-shoes for the rendezvous of war; if to rally to the defence of Quebec, he was equally ready to bury his chattels and take his place upon the city ramparts, or to withstand a landing on the Beauport shore.

Such were the people who drew from the first British Governor a generous testimony: "I glory," says General Murray, "in having been accused of warmth and firmness in protecting the King's Canadian subjects, and of doing the utmost in my power to gain to my royal master the affections of that brave, hardy people, whose emigration, if it should ever happen, would be an irreparable loss to this empire."

So sped life beside the broad St. Lawrence, within and around Quebec. So flew the days of the _ancien regime_; some sunshine, some shadow, and always an honest fearless people who served God, honoured the King, and stood ready to die for New France and the golden lilies. _

Read next: Chapter 13. During The Seven Years' War

Read previous: Chapter 11. The Beginning Of The End

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