by Nelson Rusk
Then, and that’s when Pearce’s confession became incoherent, a guest brought a pitcher containing a liquid to the altar, while another carried a silver plate laden with whitish crystals. The rest of the thronging crowd howled their unpronounceable song with blasphemous intonations. The woman knelt, and the disciples emptied the contents of the jug on her, slowly, while chanting. The liquid was thick, translucent, viscous, a kind of oil with a strange odor that immediately invaded the room. The other disciple sprinkled large amounts of crystals on her. The singing of the guests reached a strident note and one of them, who was not visible before, came out of the crowd carrying a flaming torch in his hands. Slowly, he approached the altar and, as the screams reached their climax, threw his torch at the woman.
According to the story, Pearce tried to run to the front of the stage to help the woman but the crowd restrained him. After a fierce, frenzied, and desperate brawl, he drove the guests away. At that moment, he had an unhindered vision of the altar and saw that the fire, of an unusually bright color, had reached impossible dimensions, licking the ceiling and the side walls. In this fiery maelstrom, Pearce claimed to have seen a nightmarish, unnatural creature, with a grimacing, crowned blue face—in reality, probably the face of the agonizing young woman—who looked him straight in the eyes, exposing his soul and projecting him into the psychotic delirium in which he was found.
After confessing the events of the night to Father Tremblay, Pearce took refuge in a mutism from which he emerged from time to time to shout fragments of incomprehensible songs. His condition has not changed since. Asked about it by Mr. Muir, Father Tremblay is certain that Pearce told the truth and that the person who tried to initiate him to these impious ceremonies was Phillips. Father Tremblay pledged all his help to Mr. Muir if, one day, the moment came when Phillips' activities could be drawn out of the filthy darkness in which the sinister character delved deep.
In his story, Mr. Muir also states that a surprising number of fires marked the end of the year 1833 in Quebec City. Although the need for winter heating caused several uncontrolled fires during Quebec’s illustrious history, its inhabitants were not used to such regular occurrences. The causes of many fires were suspect and went well beyond simple accidents. Witnesses reported that the fires emitted clouds of smoke with a strange and suffocating odor. Several observers also pointed to the particularly bright color of the flames. Mr. Muir did not fail to note the similarities between these testimonies and Pearce’s.
Most of the suspicious fires occurred either in the upper town or at the foot of Quebec’s cliff. Many churches fell victim to the raging infernos, resulting in the loss of a vast amount of architectural and cultural treasures. However, more than the destruction of these places of worship, it was the arson that occurred at Sir Thomas Long's residence that fueled Mr. Muir's suspicions. Sir Long, who was an influential member of the National Assembly well known in Lower Canada for his fierce defense of Quebec against the American invader during the War of 1812, lost his life in the fire. These events would have been unfortunate, though common, if it had not been for the fact that Mr. Muir saw Sir Long, who aspired to the post of governor of the colony, several times in Phillips’ company.
Indeed, Mr. Muir had observed at length Sir Long, whose face the citizens of Quebec knew well, walking in the castle with Phillips, and even entering his quarters. Initially cordial, this relationship degenerated in the weeks leading up to the fire in Sir Long’s residence. Mr. Muir heard several quarrels from the next room. The content of these was unclear but revolved around Sir Long's candidacy for the governorship. Knowing the boiling and authoritarian temperament of the men, Mr. Muir speculated on the possibility that their common ambition might have led them to become rivals.
This growing animosity culminated in the last quarrel. Mr. Muir heard Sir Long scream as he left Phillips' quarters:
“You are dreaming if you believe His Majesty will promote a commoner like you, a vulgar aide-de-camp, to this sensitive position. You can threaten me all you want, I do not care about your allies! I fought alongside General de Salaberry. It will take more than a parvenu like you, who could not prove himself in the Indies, to impress me! We'll see which of us wins, Phillips.”
Only two days later, during the night, a furious fire devastated Sir Long's old home, on the outskirts of the upper town, among the luxurious residences of the Grande Allée. The first witnesses of the scene affirmed that the fiery inferno had already consumed a good portion of the first floor before their arrival. The damage caused by the fire was made worse by the fact that, at the time of the fire, all the fire crews were out, having to respond to other alarms that proved to be false. In the absence of help, witnesses tried to enter the house to get the occupants out, but they found neither Sir Long, nor his wife, nor his four children. The fire continued until late at night and only ended when the whole house collapsed on its foundations. A week after the fire, the neighbors claimed ambers were still visible in the rubble and they perceived a bluish smoke rising slowly toward the sky when the night was dark and the moon visible.
Opulent houses of the Grande Allée circa 1900.
Mr. Muir followed closely the ensuing police investigation, convinced that Phillips was involved in one way or another. Unfortunately, the constables had no lead. At that time, the police service was still under the orders of a governor’s representative (it was not until 1843 that Quebec hired a chief of police). This man was a certain William Lancaster. According to sources, his skill was inferior to the seniority and nobility of his family. He refused until the end to admit the fire was a criminal act, despite the spreading speed of the blaze. Mr. Muir made several depositions in which he recounted the many altercations he witnessed between the victim and Phillips. Despite the goodwill of the young constable who took his depositions, named Thompson, the investigation bogged down to a halt and the lead detective cancelled it after hardly two weeks.
Dreadful Discoveries on the Island of Abraham
At this point in the story, as the New Year approached, the narrator became increasingly frustrated at his inability to reveal Phillips' actions, presumed or not. The amount of evidence Mr. Muir had collected against Phillips was large but circumstantial. He invested all his free time in a desperate search for something more tangible.
A few conversations over several weeks with Philips himself convinced Mr. Muir that the man, though dipping in unsavory businesses, was of great erudition, having traveled far and wide. His knowledge abounded on subjects as diverse as physics, astronomy, chemistry, and biology. However, the topic that interested him most, and by far, was occultism. Mr. Muir saw this when he questioned Phillips about the resurgence of pagan beliefs in the civilized world, feigning a keen interest in this kind of subject. Phillips then embarked on a long and passionate presentation of the various beliefs he had encountered during his stay in India. Although this monologue was very interesting, it’s what Phillips said after that really made an impression on Mr. Muir. He related it directly:
“... and you would be surprised, Mr. Muir, at the things I have seen in the far corners of this ancient land. There, the most primordial elements, the beneficent water, the angry wind, and, above all, the fire, the Universal Destroyer, are venerated, like so many gods with their own will. If you're interested, you could join a meeting I'll organize shortly. You would meet people with the same religious dispositions and ideas about the true place of religion to modern man.”
It was on hearing that last sentence, expounds the narrator, that a profound uneasiness filled him, without apparent cause, and which prompted him to take leave of his interlocutor without waiting. Only later, as Muir reflected on the evening's events, did he realize that it was the same phrase, or a reasonably close variant, that Phillips purportedly said to the soldier Pearce before leading him into an unlikely cavalcade that lost him his mind. This realization added weight to Pearce's story, of which Mr. Muir, until that moment, still doubted the veracity. The prospect of havi
ng narrowly avoided Phillips' invitation to a nightmarish ritual, amid a raucous and wicked congregation, to witness the killing of an innocent victim in the most brutal way possible, plunged the narrator into an abyss of reflections from which it was better to ignore the abominable conclusions.
That year, according to Mr. Muir, a tragic event marked the city of Quebec, shortly before Christmas. The press of the time made a great noise about the disappearance of several young women, coming from various social backgrounds, some of the French-Canadian working class, some of the British bourgeoisie. They were each reported missing over a period of ten days before the night of the 23rd of December. The police forces searched nights and days for them. In addition, concerned citizens set in motion a large coalition led by the Catholic Church, whose roots are deep in Quebec, to extend the search over the entire region.
Despite these tumultuous events, the British army kept with its tradition of organizing a grand yearly eve for its soldiers and officers. The aim was to distract them and maintain morale among the troops, most of whom passed the holidays away from their families. This was the case for Mr. Muir, who spent a Christmas night with alcohol as a companion, taking advantage of what seemed to be, on reading his story, a rare moment of communion with his fellow soldiers, from whom he had gradually detached himself due to his growing obsession. Still, Mr. Muir did not fail to notice that Phillips was not present at New Year's Eve, although he was certain to have seen him earlier in the day, leaving his quarters.
During this drunken evening, Mr. Muir described another disturbing event related to the occurrences of that year. Late in the night, as the full moon reflected on the vastness of the frozen river, a clamor resonated from the esplanade in front of the Château Saint-Louis. Driven by the curiosity of the few officers he was talking to, Mr. Muir went out to join the others and inquire about what was going on. A dozen soldiers had gathered near the balustrade overlooking the cliff and St. Lawrence River below. Their attention, however, was drawn beyond the river.
On the other side of the frozen waterway, it was possible to see the western tip of the Island of Orleans, which stood out in the middle of the river's dark vastness. Near the island's ultimate cove, on the gloomy and ghostly plain, a multitude of fires rising to the sky attracted everyone's attention. These fires cut huge intimidating silhouettes, despite the great distance that separated them from the castle. This undoubtedly made their size disproportionate in the minds of the observers, since some claimed their height, when compared to the Lévis lighthouse on the other side of the river, was at least six meters. All witnesses wondered who could have lighted such fires on this island, which was almost entirely uninhabited.
Lévis seen from the upper city of Quebec, circa 1880.
Besides the fires, Mr. Muir claimed to have seen bluish gleams emanating from the island that, in his own words, danced and twirled in the air, like spectral apparitions. The narrator did not indicate whether any of his companions could corroborate his observations, which casts doubt on them, given Mr. Muir's condition that evening. It is also possible that the man heard of the rumors concerning the Island of Orleans, which had been circulating since the beginning of the colony, when people called it Sorcerer's Island. These rumors said that fishermen sometimes saw will-o'-the-wisps swaying over its shallow creeks, which naturally could have inspired the narrator's subconscious mind.
The fires lasted until late into the night and seemed to occupy Mr. Muir's attention. He was soon convinced that Phillips had something to do with the blazes. In addition, the thought that the young women’s disappearances could be related in some way to these events entered his mind and did not leave him. Mr. Muir spent the evening conceiving a plan to investigate the location of these strange lights. Since he did not get his leave until 7 am the next day, he had to stay at the castle for the night. He resolved to share his plans with two friends and fellow officers, John Amherst and Alexander McEntyre, who also witnessed the evening's events. They made an appointment the next day at dawn, then went to rest to regain their strength for the coming expedition.
Mr. Muir does not give away much about his companions. From the way he talks about them and how they interact, the three of them served for many years in Quebec’s garrison. John Amherst was a taciturn, stern man who did not commit to any enterprise without thinking it through. Muir knew well, when requesting his help in exposing Phillips, that Amherst would not falter and would be an anchor on which he could rest and rely. Beyond this, however, the author does not let slip any detail about Amherst’s personal life, which prevents any foray into the man’s character and past.
The relationship between Mr. Muir and McEntyre seemed much tighter. Both were native Scotsmen and renewed their strength and resolution away from home by reminiscing about their long-lost motherland. Years away from friends and family weighed on their morale, souring their appreciation of Quebec City’s ineffable beauty. McEntyre, like most expatriates, lived in great poverty and owned nothing but what his cramped quarters at the Château Saint-Louis could house. A devout man at heart more than a soldier, McEntyre often lapsed into biblical metaphors in Mr. Muir’s retelling, showing an erudition in religious texts, if in nothing else.
The fires in Quebec City forced the creation of aqueducts and the introduction of water carriers to and from the sites.
The events that followed have made a strong impression on Muir. Indeed, the officer, who had remained until then down-to-earth in his descriptions, could not help but allow a fantastic element to seep in, whose poetry would be gripping if a dark veil of unsuspected proportions did not obscure the background of the events.
As expected, the confederates met at dawn and left the castle while the whole building seemed oddly sleepy. In the still penetrating cold of the nascent day, a spectral atmosphere reigned, giving the whole city a mysterious and ethereal look. A mist had fallen over the entire lower town of Quebec, and the upper town, dominated by the castle, was emerging from the sinking clouds like an island of reality standing out from the limbo. The three men set out for Beauport Bay. According to Muir, no one said a word on the way. The silence that accompanied them was heavy with anticipation of what they would find on the island.
When the three men arrived at Beauport Bay, about an hour later, the morning mist still had not risen. For this reason, many of the fishermen, who usually leave early in the morning, were anchored in the bay. For a sum of money, it was easy to find a fisherman willing to lend his boat on this day that promised to be a dreary one. They rented the frail boat of a fisherman whose best years were far behind. The man did not fail to greet the departure of the three soldiers with a smirk, as if he did not expect to see them return from the thick fog with which they merged.
In silence, the boat moved inexorably toward the island, which was not visible in the mist. A few times, the rowers had to make a detour to bypass a layer of ice blocking their travel on the river. Officers Muir and Amherst rowed silently, in a tacit agreement it was better not to risk warning anything that could prowl in the thick cocoon surrounding the boat. Lost between the two banks in the middle of the river, the narrator had the impression of having left the sensible world to enter a region of dreams and fantasy. But soon, and with relief, McEntyre, who was watching at the prow, saw the shore and announced in a voice heavy with meaning, “Gentlemen, we have arrived.”
They guided the boat to land near the western tip of the island, whose shape was thin and elongated. Finding no flat beach, the three men moored in the sharp rockery extending from one end of the coast to the other. Being the last to get out of the boat, Mr. Muir passed to the others the rifle they had brought. Amherst, the best shooter, grabbed it and laid it on his shoulder. He said, “It should be a walk of hardly over 15 minutes. The fires seemed close to the shore.” And that was all. They set out, their eyes fixed on the shapeless expanse before them.
After some time walking inland on large rocks, the mixed smell of moisture from the mist cloud and salt wate
r gave way to another smell. An odor of burnt wood, with a more insidious and indefinable aroma. As they continued, an odious reek added to the foul mix: that of charred flesh. The three men, not strangers to the horrors of war, looked at each other. An unnamed apprehension passed in their eyes.
Soon the rockery led to a lower plain where the fog was almost imperceptibly withdrawing. It was possible to see up to fifty meters. There, they saw a series of mounds, forming an approximate semi-circle. Streams of smoke billowed out from the still-glowing ashes at the base of each heap. The three men approached the middle of the plain to have a general view of the scene.
There were nine mounds in all. In the middle of the approximate semi-circle formed by the debris, the soldiers discovered the remains of various instruments used the day before. Several empty stone jugs had contained a smelly liquid. A crate still half full of small white crystals lay nearby. McEntyre, older than the others, thought he recognized the smell of the gunpowder soldiers used in his youth, and whose composition had changed since. They found a scarlet tunic, half buried in the snow. Scattered on the ground laid several pieces of rope whose ends had been cut by a sharp object. A large gathering of people had trampled the snow. Amherst estimated that at least thirty persons must have been there.
With apprehension, the three men made their way to the first pile of debris. It was still smoking and continued to burn from the inside. Some piles of rubble that were not completely burned suggested a solid, hand-trimmed wooden structure. Judging by the amount of ashes and the size of the pile of debris, the fire had to be huge and the structure several meters high. It was difficult to approach because of the heat emanating from it. The three men were circling around, looking for any clue about the nature of what had happened here the night before.