Life in a French-Canadian City

Greymouth Evening Star, 26 November 1927, Page 9

Life in a French-Canadian City

HVERYONE who has travelled has enshrined in his memory an “isle of enchantment,” a place of secret delight. To some it may be a quiet lake set among snowclad mountains; it may be a blue and sparkling harbour at the foot of emerald hills; or it may be, indeed, an island —one on which the ocean breaks; a tropical, verdant island luxuriant with gorgeous flowers of every hue, and of haunting perfume. Yet, though these have all thrilled and delighted me, it is not with one of them that my secret shrine is filled. The spell first fell upon me when, like the Lady of Shalott, I gazed from the window—not that of a tower, but of a modern Pulman car. We had spent the day travelling from Toronto, a beautiful Journey, along the shore of Lake Ontario, lying opalescent in the warmth of a springBummer day, and as we neared our journey’s end and ran through the suburbs, the green shutters of the quaint foreign houses seemed 'to twinkle at me, enticing and alluring. “We are Montreal,” they seemed to say, “and you will love us. We are new to you, we are different from what you have seen, but we are not aliep, not too strange.” <

In the bustle of arrival and of dining in an immense cosmopolitan hotel, the spell left me, but when, rested and fed, we walked on the streets and mingled with the crowds, the soft murmur of French around me again intrigued mo. I strained my ears to hear, but equid catch only an occasional familiar phrase. These dark-eyed folk, then, were those whose history had enchanted me in my school days. They had come across the ocean and founded a new France, had been conquered; but not entirely defeated. Here they were, virile and happy, living under a different flag, but enjoying the freedom that they had exiled themselves to obtain, and retaining the customs and habits they loved. They had kept their own language, the treasure that a people, loving freedom, cleaves to most ttenaciously, and surrenders only when threatened with extinction. In my modern classics I had read Drummond, Blake an Gilbert Parker, anl here was the home of the people whose romance they had caught. In my fancy, I saw Jean Baptiste. I named this one as Babette and that as Paul. “Quaint Montreal” it is called, this city of my delight, with its glittering domes- and spires, resplendent of the old order, its chimneys and warehouses indicative of active commercial life; its massive public instituti ns, its many churches, modern buildings and homes. Montreal is a veritable '•-easure-housd of historical interest. Here is charm, here is roman a strange mixture of the old and the new. The earliest days of its history date from 1535 when, on October 2, the site of the present city was visited by Jacques Cartier. It was then an Indian village having a population of 1,200, and bearing the euphonius name of Hochelaga. Montreal to-day is a beautiful modern city, and, including suburbs,' has a population of about 1,000,000, It

harbours two distinct peoples, the two races growing side by side, but intermingling. Everywhere the two languages are used —in the railway stations, street directions, hoardings, advertisements, prices in the shops, while at the cinema the wording on the screen is both French and English. The houses in the French district are most picturesque. They are of red brick and built in pairs. The windows, the framing of which is white, are provided with green shutters. Access to the second or third storey is gained by an outside stairway, rather ornate, of wrought iron, also green, which leads up to an open balcony, on which there is usually to be seen a baby in a pram, a child in its chair, or members of the family, the women sewing industriously. Even in the poorer quarters of the city, the permanent material of which the buildings are built, gives it a sub-

stantial air, while the general appearance is greatly enhanced by the trees on the streets.

Chateau de Ramezay, erected in 1704 by Claude de Ramezay, Governor of Montreal, is full of Canadian historical relics. When the American revolutionary army occupied Montreal in 1775, Montgomery made the chateau his headquarters and from it issued his manifesto to the Canadian people, urging them to cast off their allegiance to Great Britain. Benjamin Franklin came here at the time, bringing his printing press which was set up in the vaults of the chateau. Montreal is a city of.churches, there being over 300, including two cathedrals. From my bedroom window I could look out on St. James’s Cathedral, a small edition of St. Peter’s of Rome.

On the south of the Place d’Armes stands the parish church of Notre Dame. It was built in 1824 to take the place of an earlier structure dating back to 1672, and it accommodates 10,000 worshippers. Its twin towers, 227 feet high, contain 10 bells, one of which, known as "Le Gros Bourdon,” weighs nearly 25,0001 b. McGill • University; is one of the

foremost seats of learning in North America. It was founded by the Hon. Jas. McGill, a leading merchant and public-spirited citizen of Montreal, who died in 1813. He bequeathed his property of Burnside, consisting ot 4G acres of land, with the dwelling house and other buildings thereon, and a sum of £lO,OOO in money to found a college. My greatest delight was to visit Bonsecours Market on market day, where one could observe the scenes of French-Canadian provincial life. Thither on Tuesdays and Fridays the country inhabitants flock, with their little carts and their home-spun clothing. Amid ‘ the noise of Norman patois over the "frente sous,” the "neuf francs” or the “un ecu,” t one catches glimpses, through the jostling crowds, of piles of native tobacco, maple sugar, ducks, chickens and garlic, straw hats and home-made rocking chairs, rosaries and cheap

jewellery. At Eastertide the display of enormous beeves, decorated with paper roses, delights the hearts of the children.

Commercially, Montreal, is a city of considerable importance, being, though 1,000 miles from the sea, the largest inland port in the world. It handles more grain than any other port in the world, having a grain-conveyor system by which 23 vessels can be loaded simultaneously. It can boast also, of having one of the largest cold storage plants in the world, and the largest railway-car building plant in Canada, while its factories turn out boots and shoes, clothing, tobacco and cigars, rubber coods and machinery.

Everywhere one sees the quaint and the picturesque cab-horses with gray hoods over their heads and ears, and the "tally-ho,” a survival of romantic times, a big coach drawn by four prancing horses, whose driver wears a red coat and a tall silk hat.

I left it reluctantly, this city of enchantment, and crossing the mighty St. Lawrence, which glistened in the sun, bearing on its bosom ships front all the ports in the world, I silently bade it farewell. —H. KIRK.