"Je Me Souviens" But Not Enough: Finding History in Vieux-Québec

 Je me souviens.

"I remember." That's the motto for the province of Quebec, and something that resonates in the hearts and minds of Canadians everywhere. Rightly or wrongly so, Quebec and its people have a strong association with the country's history; they are the proverbial guardians of Canada's French heritage. And whether you see it as a good thing (as a rallying cry to maintain history and culture) or a bad thing (as a means to hold on to old grudges from centuries past), there is no denying that something is being remembered in Quebec City, at all times.

So when I had the chance to finally visit Quebec City in October 2014 for a family vacation, I was very excited. This was something I had been wanting to do for a very long time. Sure, I had been to Quebec numerous times in the past, growing up - but the last time was over ten years ago, back when I had little respect or appreciation for Canada and its history.

This time, especially with a secret desire to glean some firsthand knowledge for historical fiction-writing purposes, would be different. This time, I thought, I would be inspired.

Just a small bonus: This is the hotel that I stayed at on one of my earlier childhood trips to Quebec. It's right on the edge of the Plains of Abraham.

In the past, I have had some very fruitful "research trips," as I like to call these excursions. I'd been to Boston and London, and while neither was a fully immersive experience, I came home with a deeper sense of the history and culture of these places and the significance they had to the people who lived there. In Boston, walking the Freedom Trail, I could see the birthplace of the American Revolution; meanwhile, in London, I felt myself transported to a different world.

Quebec, for me, was going to be the mother lode. What else could it be? This was where I wanted my stories to be set. I was a history enthusiast with a mission: to show the world that Canada was - and still is - important. That even two hundred years ago, we were something, and all one had to do was go to Quebec, the pinnacle of Canadian historical preservation, to see it.

For the most part, I wasn't disappointed. There is, in Vieux-Québec (i.e. the Old City of Quebec), a certain quaintness that I could easily envision working in the 18th century. There were old houses (some dating to the 18th century or even earlier - a rare sight, given the British bombardment of 1759), cobblestone streets, and the same narrow alleys and steep pathways that the city's past inhabitants navigated on a daily basis.

One of the several routes connecting the Upper Town and Lower Town. And yes, it is as steep as it looks. That doesn't deter locals, though: I saw a whole group of schoolchildren running down the sidewalk after their classes let out for the day.

Part of the foundations from some of Québec's historic buildings.

Not only that, but if I was willing to look closely, there were some very overt nods to a time gone by. For instance, in the Upper Town, I stumbled across one of Vieux-Québéc's odder landmarks.

This, mes amis, is a cannonball stuck in the roots of a tree in an otherwise unspectacular alleyway. There are two different stories as to how it got there: one is that it was a cannonball left from the British bombardment of Québec during the Siege of 1759 around which the tree grew; the other is that the ball was deliberately placed there when the tree was younger and smaller to discourage vehicular traffic from running over the roots. Both versions of the story are equally plausible - although I am rather romantically inclined to go with the first. After all, that was what I was in Quebec for: to discover some hint of what life was like in the 18th century. And finding an authentic cannonball from the period would certainly help there.

I also discovered, not surprisingly, that Canada and its government could have a rather biting sense of humour and irony. For evidence of this, I present to you the Duke of Kent House.

This building now houses the French Consulate in the city of Québec. And while it has certainly been expanded from its original 18th century size, this was also the place where the French signed the capitulation documents in September 1759, formally surrendering Québec to the British. Perhaps no offhanded jab was intended in the Duke of Kent House being adopted by the French Consulate, but given that many Québécois still bear resentment towards France for giving them up all those years ago...I can't help but wonder if there was. Either way, this simply could not be coincidence, in my mind, and would be a worthwhile avenue to explore.

All this being said, given my interest in Quebec during the Seven Years' War - and the 1759 campaign in particular - it's only fair that I really go to the mother ship itself: the Plains of Abraham. Now called Battlefields Park, this area just outside of the city walls has been preserved and is open to the public, serving as a site for many events great and small throughout the year.

Sculptures of Generals Wolfe and Montcalm - the British and French commanders respectively during the Battle of the Plains of Abraham - on the façade of Québec's parliament building. These were two out of many such sculptures depicting famous figures from the province's history.

This was not my first visit to the Plains of Abraham. Like many other Canadian schoolchildren, I came here on a trip with my classmates, and took part in a rather half-hearted re-enactment of the battle. So I was definitely looking forward to returning here to get a renewed look at the place.

And this was when my dream veered sharply off course.

I've been on a historic battlefield before: Bunker Hill in Boston. There, I remember being able to stand on top of the hill, look down towards the harbour, and have the whole battle just mentally "click" into place. I could envision the British assault, the colonial defence...the actual hushed solemnity that one associates with a site of bloodshed.

Surely, given my passion for the subject and my strong sense of mission re: Canadian history, this would be almost like a sacred site for me. If I could bring myself to feel for a battle fought on foreign soil - and feel sympathy for the side I was raised to revile - then doubtless I would feel that again here. At home. And many times more.

Instead, I felt nothing.

I can't explain it. Even now, a few months later, I still can't put into words what came over me. When I stepped out from the city walls to look at the Plains, all I saw was a public park. No more, no less.

I tried to feel more than that. Really, I did. I started walking slowly and determinedly along the edge of the park, staring intently into it, earning strange looks and prodding questions from the others in my party. "Do you want to go down into the park?" they asked. I wanted to. But the slope going down into the field was steep, it was about to rain, and I knew that in everyone else's eyes, this really was just a park. So instead, I kept walking and staring, caught up in my own existential crisis on the Plains of Abraham.

What sort of a Canadian history buff would I be if I couldn't bring myself to feel? What sort of a Canadian would I be, altogether, if I could feel more for an American battlefield than my own?

I will say, however, that I found myself inexplicably drawn to this copse of trees. Perhaps I subconsciously remembered it from that school re-enactment all those years ago.

I still don't know why I was unable to feel the same sense of transportation into the past that I did at Bunker Hill. Perhaps I was choked by my own expectations - feelings, after all, could not be forced, and if there was one thing I knew, it was that I was forcing them. Perhaps I felt that the site I saw simply could not be what I had had in my imagination. Perhaps, on some subconscious level, I felt that the Plains had been changed, somewhere in the intervening two hundred and fifty years, into a tourist attraction: a place far removed from its bloody beginnings.

Whatever it was, all I know is this: in the moment when I ought to have felt it most, "Je me souviens" did not happen for me.

Epilogue

Fortunately for us, the story does not end here. I did find something to honour and remember in the end - just not what I expected. There was, near the Plains of Abraham, a war memorial dedicated to Canadians who had fought and died in the World Wars and the Korean War.

And there, I saw that it was not just past conflicts, but more recent ones, that Québec was remembering. At the base, I found a bouquet of flowers dedicated to Corporal Nathan Cirillo, a Canadian who, just days earlier, had been killed in a terrorist attack in Ottawa.

Je me souviens, indeed.

Image Credits

All photos (c) Kita Inoru

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Walker at the Château Ramezay, Montreal

As a volunteer at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, I know that sometimes, finding out the true information about an artifact is easier said than done. This is particularly the case once the curators start working with donated items: things that sometimes come with stories attached to them which might be intriguing - and sound very, very cool! - but might not actually be the historical reality. Family heirlooms, objects acquired by collectors who lived and died centuries before the date of acquisition (and oftentimes with shoddy record-keeping habits)...all of these could potentially lead historians to come away with more questions than answers.

The story I'm about to tell you is a long one, with considerable historical background needing to be explained beforehand, so please bear with me. It is also, in fact, not from the Royal Ontario Museum. Instead, it features a little historical mystery that I've recently come across on a recent trip to Montreal and Quebec City. (Yes, the so-long-desired research trip that I'd talked about in an earlier post has finally come.) While I was in Montreal, I had the opportunity to visit the Château Ramezay in the historic part of the city.

View of the Chàteau Ramezay from across the street

The Château Ramezay (lit. "Castle Ramezay" in French) does not look like a very grand, imposing building - at least not when compared to similar "castles" elsewhere in the world. But in terms of French Canada, a place like this was already quite luxurious. The property was first owned by the Ramezay family, who were part of the colonial administration in 18th-century Montreal during the French regime; they were, in other words, part of the elite. After this, the building was occupied by a trading company, before becoming the official residence for the British Governor of Quebec whenever he was in the city.

Occupants of the Château Ramezay over the years; immediately relevant to us are the first four entries.

But it is the fourth entry, "Armée des États-Unis 1775-1776" that I am going to focus on here. From the fall of 1775 until the fall of 1776, the Continental Army in what is now the United States attempted to invade Quebec. The details of that campaign and how they played out would be better saved for another day, but for our intents and purposes, the Americans successfully took and occupied the city of Montreal from November 1775 to June 1776, when the British finally drove them back.

During this occupation, there was, in fact, a delegation sent to Montreal from the Continental Congress. Their hope was to be able to draw up support for their cause from the local French-Canadian population, but by the time they arrived on April 29, 1776, a winter's worth of increasingly sour relations between the French-Canadians and their (mostly) English-American occupiers meant that this attempt was doomed from the beginning. By the end of May, the entire delegation (and then some) had left Montreal for the American colonies to continue their efforts elsewhere - and ultimately help pave the way towards the Declaration of Independence in July that same year.

So where do "Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Walker" come into all of this? A lot of it can be seen in this document held at the Château Ramezay, which served as the Continental Army's headquarters during the occupation:

Letter dated to May 11, 1776, at the Château Ramezay, written by delegates to Montreal from the Continental Congress

The text may be hard to decipher, but fortunately, the curators at the Château Ramezay included a transcription in the display:

Montreal, 11th May 1776

Dear Sir,

We desire that you will shew to Mrs Walker every civility in your power and facilitate her on her way to Philadelphia, the fear of cruel treatment from the enemy on account of the strong attachement to, and zeal of her husband in the cause of the united Colonies induces her to depart precipitately from her home; & to undergo the fatigues of a long and hazardous journey. We are sorry for the occasion of writing this letter & beg your attention to alleviate her distress; your known politeness and humanity, we are sensible, without this recommendation from us, would prompt you to perform the friendly office. We are with great esteem & sincere regard for yourself & family.

Your affectionate hum. Servts,

Samuel Chase
Charles Carroll of Carrollton
B. Franklin

(And, if anyone is wondering, yes, "B. Franklin" is who you think he is! Chalk that up for something cool: a 1776 document written by Benjamin Franklin held in Montreal - and I saw it firsthand.)

Now, safe passage, as this document asks for on behalf of Mrs. Walker, was certainly needed. As implied, Thomas Walker had been, ever since he first arrived in Montreal from Boston in 1763, a strong supporter of what he held to be the proper rights of British subjects. What this meant is that he was an advocate for the presence of elected government and other benefits that many American colonists had become accustomed to by the 1760s. Ultimately, this led to considerable friction between Walker and the British colonial administration: Walker was strongly opposed to the Quebec Act in 1774 (which, while granting a variety of civil liberties to the Catholic French-Canadians, also firmly denied the request of English-Canadian merchants like Walker for an elected assembly) and, by 1775, was openly in favour of the Patriots fighting in the Thirteen Colonies. He was not only vocal in his opinions, but took various modes of action: meeting with other American sympathizers in the city, urging Canada to join in the Continental Congress, and ultimately recruiting members of the local population to fight for the Patriots against the British. It was Thomas Walker, in fact, who hosted the delegation from Congress in his house during their stay in the spring of 1776, and he left along with them - the reason why the letter speaks of Mrs. Walker specifically is because Mr. had already gone the night before!

With such a fascinating story to tell (just the idea that Canada was, in some way, involved in the American Revolution might be news to some), it's no wonder that, in 1905, the Château Ramezay received a pair of portraits from a donor who believed them to be depictions of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Walker.

That's all fine and dandy - and, again, it makes for a great story - but when I saw these two portraits together with a placard giving a short spiel about Thomas Walker's involvement in the American Revolution, I was skeptical. Unconvinced, if you will. I don't doubt the veracity of the historical events described - I had seen them in enough sources whilst working on my Hetalia fanfiction years ago to know they were true - but I'm not convinced these two portraits are of the Walkers at all. Or, at least, not the Walkers the Château Ramezay wanted.

There area few reasons for my skepticism. First of all, the Château Ramezay said that Thomas Walker lived from 1717 to 1788, although it did not offer any such dates for Mrs. Walker (née Jane Hughes, by the way). Even allowing for a slight margin of error on the date of birth, this means that by 1775/1776, we would be dealing with a man well into middle age, at least. Of course, these portraits could be of the Walkers in their youth, but that leads to an even greater problem, as far as I am concerned. From everything that I could see - the style of painting, the subjects' appearances (dress, hairstyle, etc.) - these two portraits look to me to be from the early 19th century instead of the mid- to late 18th.

All this means that this one small corner of the Château Ramezay left me with far more questions than answers. Are these posthumous portraits? That's certainly plausible. I could imagine, say, a descendant wanting an image of his/her ancestors several decades down the road. But if not, then who are this couple - and how did the donor of these paintings come to not only believe they are Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Walker, and how did he convince the curators of the Château Ramezay of such?

The thing I love about historical mysteries is that they can be a lot of fun to pursue. If the time and opportunity arose for me to do that with these two paintings, I certainly would. In the meantime, if anyone reading this is interested, perhaps you'd like to let me know some of your ideas. Who knows? Maybe you'll have the answers after all!

Image Credits

All photographs (c) Kita Inoru

The Story in My Mind - "Research" Trips

Me on Bunker Hill looking down towards Charlestown during a "research" trip to Boston in October 2011.

Wow...it's been a long time since I've posted anything to this blog. You can all blame real life for that. Know that I *am* currently working on something that would be a bit more educational in nature and hope to have that posted soon, circumstances permitting.

But in the meantime, how about something a bit more fun and lighthearted? I'd mentioned in one of my earlier blog posts that I would like to foray into historical fiction writing someday and am already brainstorming/researching for character and plot ideas. Given that, I thought I'd take this time to share a bit about something that, time and finances permitting, I like to do with my story-writing projects: "research" trips.

Note the quotation marks. See, I seldom have the luxury or the connections that would permit me to go someplace to really formally research: accessing archives, academic sources, etc. Most of the "research" trips I've taken in the past have, in fact, just my taking advantage of any existent family vacations to glean what little I can that would be useful for my writing. What that means is that I very rarely ask that we go somewhere directly relevant to my story development - the onus is not on the rest of the party (who may or may not actually be interested in what I want to do) to accommodate me, but on me to keep my eyes and ears open anywhere we go. Vacations are a lot more enjoyable that way, I've found ;)

Since I've started dabbling in historical fiction writing - Hetalia fanfiction and otherwise - I've really only gone on two real "research" trips so far. (I've gone on more family trips than that, but not necessarily to places that'd be directly relevant to what I want to write.)

The first was in October 2011 to Boston, Massachusetts; at the time, I was working on my Hetalia piece Brother of Absalom, which was set before and during the American Revolutionary War. While my immediate focus was on Canadian history - and the Continental Army's invasion of Quebec from 1775-1776 in particular - I really wanted to milk an already-planned trip to Boston for all its worth.

A historical interpreter/tour guide dressed as a British soldier on the Freedom Trail in Boston; photo taken in October 2011 during a "research" trip.

The only time that I overtly looked at and did stuff for my writing was walking Boston's famous Freedom Trail, which took me to sites like Bunker Hill (pictured above), Paul Revere's house, and the site of the Boston Massacre. Otherwise, I made do with taking pictures of relevant art and artifacts in the museums, and dogging my hosts in Arlington (a suburb of Boston) for historical information about the neighbourhood. (That's how I found out, for instance, that the British had passed through where I was staying on their way to Lexington and Concord that fated April 19, 1775.)

Historical buildings near Covent Garden, London; photo taken during a "research" trip in May 2014.

More recently, I had the chance to go to London earlier this year - and for this trip, I was definitely very excited. My re-working of my older Hetalia stories to suit a broader historical fiction context meant that I had to do more involving 18th century London than ever before. So I was definitely looking forward to seeing what I could. This time around, to be honest, I didn't get to do or experience everything that I would have wanted - I had originally planned to visit the Handel House Museum to be able to get a glimpse inside a middle-class mid-18th century residence, for example, but ran out of time. However, the trip was by no means not a waste. It was amazing to see what I did manage to see - and experience what I got to experience.

1727-1728 Period room reproduction at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London; photo taken during a "research" trip in May 2014.

For instance: I broke one of the biggest "tourist" rules in the book and opted not to wear my very comfortable running shoes whilst out and about. Instead, I opted for a pair of black leather shoes with a chunky low heel. Those of you who are familiar with historical footwear should get where I'm going with this; for everyone else, know that I often try to - safely! - simulate as much as I could of what my characters might end up going through in order to write them properly. Now, I want to say that usually, those black shoes are very comfortable: they're my favourite for work/school wear, for instance. However, my relatively sedentary 21st century self was NOT prepared for the amount of beating they'd take on London's streets - especially any part of the streets and sideways were made up of cobblestones! So every night, I'd get back to the hotel nearly limping and with callouses developing on the soles of my feet, go to bed asking why I'd put myself through something like this...and then, upon looking at those black shoes up next to my running shoes the next morning, put them on again anyway. Lesson learned? My characters must have been many times tougher than me!

Historical interpreters drilling at Fort Henry, Kingston, Ontario in May 2013. Not an official "research" trip, as they were 19th century interpreters, but I did get the chance to hold one of their replica 1867 rifles afterwards and get a feel for its weight.

I've built up a good deal more anecdotes than what I've already shared: both from my two "official" "research" trips, and from countless others where little gems pop up along the way (one instance pictured above). So what's next for me? Lord willing, Quebec City. This, more than any other place on the planet, is the central locus of my writing. Given that, it's hard to believe that, since this whole process started, I have not been there even once. I did go to Quebec City as a small child, and once on an eighth-grade school trip, but those times were different. Case in point, here's an excerpt from a travelogue I kept on the latter trip - and you'll see how it was anything but a research trip:

We were pretty much dead on our feet by the time we rendezvoused at the gate. That's when they told us: we were going to La Citadelle, which meant a whole ton more walking! Well, we got there, we were divided by our buses again, and were taken on a tour. It was really kind of boring. They kept on mentioning the Battle on the Plains of Abraham. I was really finding this annoying, and besides, who brags about LOSING?!?!

Um...yeah. Forgive me if I end up cringing whenever I think back to how flippant I was about my own country's history as a 14-year-old. Said teenaged self would probably have never imagined that I'd be where I am now: completely fascinated by the events of 1759 and desperately wanting to go back to Quebec City for a proper "research" trip. It's about time I did it justice, after all!

Image Credits

All photos (c) Kita Inoru

The Story in My Mind - How It All Began

I have mentioned, in my "About Me" page here, that I would like to go into writing historical fiction someday. I've already had a Pinterest board devoted to the subject for some time, and now I think it's high time I started saying a bit more about it here.

FYI: If you want to see the Pinterest board, it's right here:

Follow Kita's board The Story in My Mind on Pinterest.

So what do I have of it so far? To be honest, not much. I've got ideas for characters, for plot, for themes and settings, etc. but still lack a number of things that a lot of aspiring authors, I daresay, would already have worked out prior to sharing anything. A working title, for instance, would be bloody useful right about now, as would a clear decision on whether this will be a single piece or a series.

However, one thing that I think my story has that others might not is an earlier version. A previous practice run, if you will, before I decided to actually attempt any sort of formal publishing. It was, in fact, a piece of fanfiction for Axis Powers Hetalia (read: a manga/anime where the characters are all personified nations). At the time, I was working on an entire series titled Sous la Rose (French for "Under the Rose"), that would focus on Canada's history from the Battle of the Plains of Abraham in 1759 onwards. In the first installment, After the Conqueror, I focused on the remainder of the Seven Years War; meanwhile, in its sequel, Brother of Absalom, I picked up from 1763 onwards, dealing with first the political issues in both the Thirteen Colonies and Canada that brought on the American Revolutionary War, and then moving on to that war itself. While my focus, since this was fanfiction, was on the official Hetalia characters in question (Matthew Williams - Canada; Alfred F. Jones - America; Arthur Kirkland - England; and Francis Bonnefoy - France), I did something few Hetalia fanfiction authors had done at the time. I gave significant roles to human OCs (i.e. characters of my own creation that were not personified nations): namely, one Charles Arsenault.

An illustration for Brother of Absalom that was drawn for me by one of my readers: ScarletteDiscord on deviantART (http://scarlettediscord.deviantart.com/). She drew the lineart, while I coloured it. In this, you could see Matthew and Charles.

(FYI: If, coincidentally, you have read those stories before and are going, "Wait - the author's name wasn't Kita Inoru!", you're right. It wasn't. But I'm not plagiarizing either - I was just using another name at the time.)

Well then, you ask, where is it? Can we see it? Sadly...no. See, my earlier version of the story no longer exists. When, back in 2012, I became concerned that I wouldn't have the time to finish it, I opted for deleting all the online accounts where I had had it: FanFiction.net, deviantART, etc. In my mind, I'd rather destroy my work than leave my audience hanging in the false expectation that I would continue it. I'm sure, in hindsight, that I disappointed many people in doing this, but I saw it as the necessary thing to be done. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't painful for me as well.

So why am I saying all this? Well, because, as life would have it, Monsieur Arsenault here was not having it. Nor were the other human OCs I had created. Even after I'd stopped writing, their stories still persisted in my mind - and, more importantly, they were evolving. "What if," they asked me, "there were no national personifications? What if the focus was on *us*? What would have happened?"

A situation to which, I'm sure, a lot of authors can relate.

And that's where I am now. Trying to figure that all out and write it down for you all to see. The changes, as it turns out, have been astounding: the characters have taken drastically different paths than they did in my earlier Sous la Rose stories. Some now live where they had died, and new faces have joined the cast. It's been a lot of fun just thinking it out so far, and I invite you now to join me as I delve into the world of 18th century Quebec to see what these guys (and girls!) have to say. :)