LOWER CANADA.
The Grand Trunk Railway runs directly from Portland to Montreal,
which latter town is, in fact, the capital of Canada, though it never
has been so exclusively, and, as it seems, never is to be so, as
regards authority, government, and official name. In such matters
authority and government often say one thing while commerce says
another; but commerce always has the best of it and wins the game
whatever Government may decree. Albany in this way is the capital of
the State of New York, as authorized by the State Government; but New
York has made herself the capital of America, and will remain so. So
also Montreal has made herself the capital of Canada. The Grand Trunk
Railway runs from Portland to Montreal; but there is a branch from
Richmond, a township within the limits of Canada, to Quebec; so that
travellers to Quebec, as we were, are not obliged to reach that place
_viâ_ Montreal.
Quebec is the present seat of Canadian Government, its turn for that
honour having come round some two years ago; but it is about to be
deserted in favour of Ottawa, a town which is, in fact, still to be
built on the river of that name. The public edifices are, however, in
a state of forwardness; and if all goes well the Governor, the two
Councils, and the House of Representatives will be there before
two years are over whether there be any town to receive them or no.
Who can think of Ottawa without bidding his brothers to row, and
reminding them that the stream runs fast, that the rapids are near
and the daylight past? I asked, as a matter of course, whether Quebec
was much disgusted at the proposed change, and I was told that the
feeling was not now very strong. Had it been determined to make
Montreal the permanent seat of government Quebec and Toronto would
both have been up in arms.
I must confess that in going from the States into Canada, an
Englishman is struck by the feeling that he is going from a richer
country into one that is poorer, and from a greater country into one
that is less. An Englishman going from a foreign land into a land
which is in one sense his own, of course finds much in the change to
gratify him. He is able to speak as the master, instead of speaking
as the visitor. His tongue becomes more free, and he is able to fall
back to his national habits and national expressions. He no longer
feels that he is admitted on sufferance, or that he must be careful
to respect laws which he does not quite understand. This feeling was
naturally strong in an Englishman in passing from the States into
Canada at the time of my visit. English policy at that moment was
violently abused by Americans, and was upheld as violently in Canada.
But, nevertheless, with all this, I could not enter Canada without
seeing, and hearing, and feeling that there was less of enterprise
around me there than in the States--less of general movement, and
less of commercial success. To say why this is so would require a
long and very difficult discussion, and one which I am not prepared
to hold. It may be that a dependent country, let the feeling of
dependence be ever so much modified by powers of self-governance,
cannot hold its own against countries which are in all respects their
own masters. Few, I believe, would now maintain that the Northern
States of America would have risen in commerce as they have risen,
had they still remained attached to England as colonies. If this be
so, that privilege of self-rule which they have acquired, has been
the cause of their success. It does not follow as a consequence that
the Canadas fighting their battle alone in the world could do as
the States have done. Climate, or size, or geographical position
might stand in their way. But I fear that it does follow, if not as a
logical conclusion at least as a natural result, that they never will
do so well unless some day they shall so fight their battle. It may
be argued that Canada has in fact the power of self-governance; that
she rules herself and makes her own laws as England does; that the
Sovereign of England has but a veto on those laws, and stands in
regard to Canada exactly as she does in regard to England. This is
so, I believe, by the letter of the Constitution, but is not so in
reality, and cannot, in truth, be so in any colony, even of Great
Britain. In England the political power of the Crown is nothing. The
Crown has no such power, and now-a-days makes no attempt at having
any. But the political power of the Crown, as it is felt in Canada,
is everything. The Crown has no such power in England because it must
change its ministers whenever called upon to do so by the House of
Commons. But the Colonial Minister in Downing Street is the Crown's
Prime Minister as regards the Colonies, and he is changed not as any
Colonial House of Assembly may wish, but in accordance with the will
of the British Commons. Both the Houses in Canada--that, namely,
of the Representatives, or Lower House, and of the Legislative
Council, or Upper House--are now elective, and are filled without
direct influence from the Crown. The power of self-government is
as thoroughly developed as perhaps may be possible in a colony. But
after all it is a dependent form of government, and as such may
perhaps not conduce to so thorough a development of the resources of
the country as might be achieved under a ruling power of its own, to
which the welfare of Canada itself would be the chief if not the only
object.
I beg that it may not be considered from this that I would propose to
Canada to set up for itself at once and declare itself independent.
In the first place I do not wish to throw over Canada; and in the
next place I do not wish to throw over England. If such a separation
shall ever take place, I trust that it may be caused, not by Canadian
violence but by British generosity. Such a separation, however, never
can be good till Canada herself shall wish it. That she does not
wish it yet is certain. If Canada ever should wish it, and should
ever press for the accomplishment of such a wish, she must do so in
connection with Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. If at any future time
there be formed such a separate political power, it must include the
whole of British North America.
In the meantime, I return to my assertion, that in entering Canada
from the States one clearly comes from a richer to a poorer country.
When I have said so, I have heard no Canadian absolutely deny it;
though in refraining from denying it, they have usually expressed a
general conviction, that in settling himself for life, it is better
for a man to set up his staff in Canada than in the States. "I do not
know that we are richer," a Canadian says, "but on the whole we are
doing better and are happier." Now, I regard the golden rules against
the love of gold, the "_aurum irrepertum et sic melius situm_," and
the rest of it, as very excellent when applied to individuals. Such
teaching has not much effect, perhaps, in inducing men to abstain
from wealth,--but such effect as it may have will be good. Men and
women do, I suppose, learn to be happier when they learn to disregard
riches. But such a doctrine is absolutely false as regards a nation.
National wealth produces education and progress, and through them
produces plenty of food, good morals, and all else that is good.
It produces luxury also, and certain evils attendant on luxury.
But I think it may be clearly shown, and that it is universally
acknowledged, that national wealth produces individual well-being. If
this be so, the argument of my friend the Canadian is nought.
To the feeling of a refined gentleman, or of a lady whose eye loves
to rest always on the beautiful, an agricultural population that
touches its hat, eats plain victuals, and goes to church is more
picturesque and delightful than the thronged crowd of a great city by
which a lady and gentleman is hustled without remorse, which never
touches its hat, and perhaps also never goes to church. And as we
are always tempted to approve of that which we like, and to think
that that which is good to us is good altogether, we--the refined
gentlemen and ladies of England I mean--are very apt to prefer the
hat-touchers to those who are not hat-touchers. In doing so we
intend, and wish, and strive to be philanthropical. We argue to
ourselves that the dear, excellent lower classes receive an immense
amount of consoling happiness from that ceremony of hat-touching,
and quite pity those who, unfortunately for themselves, know nothing
about it. I would ask any such lady or gentleman whether he or she
does not feel a certain amount of commiseration for the rudeness of
the town-bred artisan, who walks about with his hands in his pockets
as though he recognized a superior in no one.
But that which is good and pleasant to us, is often not good and
pleasant altogether. Every man's chief object is himself; and the
philanthropist should endeavour to regard this question, not from
his own point of view, but from that which would be taken by the
individuals for whose happiness he is anxious. The honest, happy
rustic makes a very pretty picture; and I hope that honest rustics
are happy. But the man who earns two shillings a day in the country
would always prefer to earn five in the town. The man who finds
himself bound to touch his hat to the squire would be glad to
dispense with that ceremony, if circumstances would permit. A crowd
of greasy-coated town artisans with grimy hands and pale faces, is
not in itself delectable; but each of that crowd has probably more
of the goods of life than any rural labourer. He thinks more, reads
more, feels more, sees more, hears more, learns more, and lives more.
It is through great cities that the civilization of the world has
progressed, and the charms of life been advanced. Man in his rudest
state begins in the country, and in his most finished state may
retire there. But the battle of the world has to be fought in the
cities; and the country that shows the greatest city population is
ever the one that is going most ahead in the world's history.
If this be so, I say that the argument of my Canadian friend was
nought. It may be that he does not desire crowded cities with
dirty, independent artisans; that to his view small farmers, living
sparingly but with content on the sweat of their brows, are surer
signs of a country's prosperity than hives of men and smoking
chimneys. He has, probably, all the upper classes of England with him
in so thinking, and as far as I know the upper classes of all Europe.
But the crowds themselves, the thick masses of which are composed
those populations which we count by millions, are against him. Up in
those regions which are watered by the great lakes, Lake Michigan,
Lake Huron, Lake Erie, Lake Ontario, and by the St. Lawrence, the
country is divided between Canada and the States. The cities in
Canada were settled long before those in the States. Quebec and
Montreal were important cities before any of the towns belonging to
the States had been founded. But taking the population of three of
each, including the three largest Canadian towns, we find they are
as follows:--In Canada, Quebec has 60,000; Montreal, 85,000; Toronto,
55,000. In the States, Chicago has 120,000; Detroit, 70,000; and
Buffalo, 80,000. If the population had been equal, it would have
shown a great superiority in the progress of those belonging to the
States, because the towns of Canada had so great a start. But the
numbers are by no means equal, showing instead a vast preponderance
in favour of the States. There can be no stronger proof that the
States are advancing faster than Canada,--and in fact doing better
than Canada. Quebec is a very picturesque town,--from its natural
advantages almost as much so as any town I know. Edinburgh, perhaps,
and Innspruck may beat it. But Quebec has very little to recommend it
beyond the beauty of its situation. Its public buildings and works of
art do not deserve a long narrative. It stands at the confluence of
the St. Lawrence and St. Charles rivers; the best part of the town is
built high upon the rock,--the rock which forms the celebrated plains
of Abram; and the view from thence down to the mountains which shut
in the St. Lawrence is magnificent. The best point of view is, I
think, from the esplanade, which is distant some five minutes' walk
from the hotels. When that has been seen by the light of the setting
sun, and seen again, if possible, by moonlight, the most considerable
lion of Quebec may be regarded as "done," and may be ticked off from
the list.
The most considerable lion according to my taste. Lions which roar
merely by the force of association of ideas are not to me very
valuable beasts. To many the rock over which Wolfe climbed to the
plains of Abram, and on the summit of which he fell in the hour of
victory, gives to Quebec its chiefest charm. But I confess to being
somewhat dull in such matters. I can count up Wolfe, and realize his
glory, and put my hand as it were upon his monument, in my own room
at home as well as I can at Quebec. I do not say this boastingly or
with pride, but truly acknowledging a deficiency. I have never cared
to sit in chairs in which old kings have sat, or to have their crowns
upon my head.
Nevertheless, and as a matter of course, I went to see the rock,
and can only say, as so many have said before me, that it is very
steep. It is not a rock which I think it would be difficult for
any ordinarily active man to climb,--providing, of course, that he
was used to such work. But Wolfe took regiments of men up there at
night--and that in face of enemies who held the summits. One grieves
that he should have fallen there and have never tasted the sweet cup
of his own fame. For fame is sweet, and the praise of one's brother
men the sweetest draught which a man can drain. But now, and for
coming ages, Wolfe's name stands higher than it probably would have
done had he lived to enjoy his reward.
But there is another very worthy lion near Quebec,--the Falls,
namely, of Montmorency. They are eight miles from the town, and the
road lies through the suburb of St. Roch, and the long straggling
French village of Beauport. These are in themselves very interesting,
as showing the quiet, orderly, unimpulsive manner in which the French
Canadians live. Such is their character, although there have been
such men as Papineau, and although there have been times in which
English rule has been unpopular with the French settlers. As far as
I could learn there is no such feeling now. These people are quiet,
contented; and as regards a sufficiency of the simple staples of
living, sufficiently well to do. They are thrifty;--but they do not
thrive. They do not advance, and push ahead, and become a bigger
people from year to year as settlers in a new country should do. They
do not even hold their own in comparison with those around them. But
has not this always been the case with colonists out of France; and
has it not always been the case with Roman Catholics when they have
been forced to measure themselves against Protestants? As to the
ultimate fate in the world of this people, one can hardly form a
speculation. There are, as nearly as I could learn, about 800,000 of
them in Lower Canada; but it seems that the wealth and commercial
enterprise of the country is passing out of their hands. Montreal,
and even Quebec are, I think, becoming less and less French every
day; but in the villages and on the small farms the French remain,
keeping up their language, their habits, and their religion. In the
cities they are becoming hewers of wood and drawers of water. I am
inclined to think that the same will ultimately be their fate in
the country. Surely one may declare as a fact that a Roman Catholic
population can never hold its ground against one that is Protestant.
I do not speak of numbers, for the Roman Catholics will increase
and multiply, and stick by their religion, although their religion
entails poverty and dependence; as they have done and still do in
Ireland. But in progress and wealth the Romanists have always gone
to the wall when the two have been made to compete together. And
yet I love their religion. There is something beautiful and almost
divine in the faith and obedience of a true son of the Holy Mother.
I sometimes fancy that I would fain be a Roman Catholic,--if I
could; as also I would often wish to be still a child, if that were
possible.
All this is on the way to the Falls of Montmorency. These falls are
placed exactly at the mouth of the little river of the same name, so
that it may be said absolutely to fall into the St. Lawrence. The
people of the country, however, declare that the river into which
the waters of the Montmorency fall is not the St. Lawrence, but the
Charles. Without a map I do not know that I can explain this. The
river Charles appears to, and in fact does, run into the St. Lawrence
just below Quebec. But the waters do not mix. The thicker, browner
stream of the lesser river still keeps the north-eastern bank till
it comes to the island of Orleans, which lies in the river five or
six miles below Quebec. Here or hereabouts are the Falls of the
Montmorency, and then the great river is divided for twenty-five
miles by the Isle of Orleans. It is said that the waters of the
Charles and the St. Lawrence do not mix till they meet each other at
the foot of this island.
I do not know that I am particularly happy at describing a waterfall,
and what little capacity I may have in this way I would wish to keep
for Niagara. One thing I can say very positively about Montmorency,
and one piece of advice I can give to those who visit the falls.
The place from which to see them is not the horrible little wooden
temple, which has been built immediately over them on that side which
lies nearest to Quebec. The stranger is put down at a gate through
which a path leads to this temple, and at which a woman demands from
him twenty-five cents for the privilege of entrance. Let him by all
means pay the twenty-five cents. Why should he attempt to see the
falls for nothing, seeing that this woman has a vested interest in
the showing of them? I declare that if I thought that I should hinder
this woman from her perquisites by what I write, I would leave it
unwritten, and let my readers pursue their course to the temple--to
their manifest injury. But they will pay the twenty-five cents. Then
let them cross over the bridge, eschewing the temple, and wander
round on the open field till they get the view of the falls, and the
view of Quebec also, from the other side. It is worth the twenty-five
cents, and the hire of the carriage also. Immediately over the falls
there was a suspension bridge, of which the supporting, or rather
non-supporting, pillars are still to be seen. But the bridge fell
down one day into the river; and, alas, alas! with the bridge fell
down an old woman, and a boy, and a cart,--a cart and horse,--and
all found a watery grave together in the spray. No attempt has been
made since that to renew the suspension bridge; but the present
wooden bridge has been built higher up, in lieu of it.
Strangers naturally visit Quebec in summer or autumn, seeing that
a Canada winter is a season with which a man cannot trifle; but I
imagine that the mid-winter is the best time for seeing the Falls of
Montmorency. The water in its fall is dashed into spray, and that
spray becomes frozen, till a cone of ice is formed immediately under
the cataract, which gradually rises till the temporary glacier
reaches nearly half-way to the level of the higher river. Up this men
climb,--and ladies also, I am told,--and then descend with pleasant
rapidity on sledges of wood, sometimes not without an innocent
tumble in the descent. As we were at Quebec in September, we did not
experience the delights of this pastime.
As I was too early for the ice cone under the Montmorency Falls, so
also was I too late to visit the Saguenay river which runs into the
St. Lawrence some hundred miles below Quebec. I presume that the
scenery of the Saguenay is the finest in Canada. During the summer
steamers run down the St. Lawrence and up the Saguenay, but I was
too late for them. An offer was made to us through the kindness of
Sir Edmund Head, who was then the Governor-General, of the use of a
steam-tug belonging to a gentleman who carries on a large commercial
enterprise at Chicoutimi, far up the Saguenay; but an acceptance
of this offer would have entailed some delay at Quebec, and as we
were anxious to get into the North Western States before the winter
commenced, we were obliged with great regret to decline the journey.
I feel bound to say that a stranger regarding Quebec merely as a
town, finds very much of which he cannot but complain. The foot-paths
through the streets are almost entirely of wood, as indeed seems
to be general throughout Canada. Wood is of course the cheapest
material, and though it may not be altogether good for such a purpose
it would not create animadversion if it were kept in tolerable order.
But in Quebec the paths are intolerably bad. They are full of holes.
The boards are rotten and worn in some places to dirt. The nails have
gone, and the broken planks go up and down under the feet, and in
the dark they are absolutely dangerous. But if the paths are bad the
roadways are worse. The street through the lower town along the quays
is, I think, the most disgraceful thoroughfare I ever saw in any
town. I believe the whole of it, or at any rate a great portion,
has been paved with wood; but the boards have been worked into mud,
and the ground under the boards has been worked into holes, till
the street is more like the bottom of a filthy ditch than a roadway
through one of the most thickly populated parts of a city. Had Quebec
in Wolfe's time been as it is now, Wolfe would have stuck in the mud
between the river and the rock, before he reached the point which he
desired to climb. In the upper town the roads are not so bad as they
are below, but still they are very bad. I was told that this arose
from disputes among the municipal corporations. Everything in Canada
relating to roads, and a very great deal affecting the internal
government of the people, is done by these municipalities. It is made
a subject of great boast in Canada that the communal authorities
do carry on so large a part of the public business, and that they
do it generally so well, and at so cheap a rate. I have nothing to
say against this, and as a whole believe that the boast is true. I
must protest, however, that the streets of the greater cities,--for
Montreal is nearly as bad as Quebec,--prove the rule by a very sad
exception. The municipalities of which I speak extend, I believe, to
all Canada; the two provinces being divided into counties, and the
counties subdivided into townships to which, as a matter of course,
the municipalities are attached.
From Quebec to Montreal there are two modes of travel. There are the
steamers up the St. Lawrence which, as all the world know is, or at
any rate hitherto has been, the high road of the Canadas; and there
is the Grand Trunk Railway. Passengers choosing the latter go towards
Portland as far as Richmond, and there join the main line of the
road, passing from Richmond on to Montreal. We learned while at
Quebec that it behoved us not to leave the colony till we had seen
the lake and mountains of Memphra-Magog, and as we were clearly
neglecting our duty with regard to the Saguenay, we felt bound to
make such amends as lay in our power, by deviating from our way to
the lake above named. In order to do this we were obliged to choose
the railway, and to go back beyond Richmond to the station at
Sherbrooke. Sherbrooke is a large village on the confines of Canada,
and as it is on the railway will no doubt become a large town. It is
very prettily situated on the meeting of two rivers; it has three
or four different churches, and intends to thrive. It possesses two
newspapers, of the prosperity of which I should be inclined to feel
less assured. The annual subscription to such a newspaper published
twice a week is ten shillings per annum. A sale of a thousand copies
is not considered bad. Such a sale would produce £500 a year, and
this would, if entirely devoted to that purpose, give a moderate
income to a gentleman qualified to conduct a newspaper. But the paper
and printing must cost something, and the capital invested should
receive its proper remuneration. And then,--such at least is the
general idea,--the getting together of news and the framing of
intelligence is a costly operation. I can only hope that all this is
paid for by the advertisements, for I must trust that the editors do
not receive less than the moderate sum above named. At Sherbrooke we
are still in Lower Canada. Indeed, as regards distance, we are when
there nearly as far removed from Upper Canada as at Quebec. But the
race of people here is very different. The French population had made
their way down into these townships before the English and American
war broke out, but had not done so in great numbers. The country was
then very unapproachable, being far to the south of the St. Lawrence,
and far also from any great line of internal communication towards
the Atlantic. But, nevertheless, many settlers made their way in here
from the States; men who preferred to live under British rule, and
perhaps doubted the stability of the new order of things. They or
their children have remained here since, and as the whole country
has been opened up by the railway many others have flocked in. Thus
a better class of people than the French hold possession of the
larger farms, and are on the whole doing well. I am told that many
Americans are now coming here, driven over the borders from Maine,
New Hampshire, and Vermont by fears of the war and the weight of
taxation. I do not think that fears of war or the paying of taxes
drive many individuals away from home. Men who would be so influenced
have not the amount of foresight which would induce them to avoid
such evils; or, at any rate, such fears would act slowly. Labourers,
however, will go where work is certain, where work is well paid, and
where the wages to be earned will give plenty in return. It may be
that work will become scarce in the States, as it has done with those
poor jewellers at Attleborough, of whom we spoke, and that food will
become dear. If this be so, labourers from the States will no doubt
find their way into Canada.
From Sherbrooke we went with the mails on a pair-horse waggon to
Magog. Cross country mails are not interesting to the generality
of readers, but I have a professional liking for them myself. I
have spent the best part of my life in looking after and I hope
in improving such mails, and I always endeavour to do a stroke of
work when I come across them. I learned on this occasion that the
conveyance of mails with a pair of horses in Canada costs little more
than half what is paid for the same work in England with one horse,
and something less than what is paid in Ireland, also for one horse.
But in Canada the average pace is only five miles an hour. In Ireland
it is seven, and the time is accurately kept, which does not seem to
be the case in Canada. In England the pace is eight miles an hour.
In Canada and in Ireland these conveyances carry passengers; but in
England they are prohibited from doing so. In Canada the vehicles
are much better got up than they are in England, and the horses too
look better. Taking Ireland as a whole they are more respectable in
appearance there than in England. From all which it appears that pace
is the article that costs the highest price, and that appearance does
not go for much in the bill. In Canada the roads are very bad in
comparison with the English or Irish roads; but to make up for this,
the price of forage is very low.
I have said that the cross mail conveyances in Canada did not seem
to be very closely bound as to time; but they are regulated by
clock-work in comparison with some of them in the United States.
"Are you going this morning?" I said to a mail-driver in Vermont. "I
thought you always started in the evening." "Wa'll; I guess I do. But
it rained some last night, so I jist stayed at home." I do not know
that I ever felt more shocked in my life, and I could hardly keep my
tongue off the man. The mails, however, would have paid no respect to
me in Vermont, and I was obliged to walk away crestfallen.
We went with the mails from Sherbrooke to a village called Magog at
the outlet of the lake, and from thence by a steamer up the lake to a
solitary hotel called the Mountain House, which is built at the foot
of the mountain on the shore, and which is surrounded on every side
by thick forest. There is no road within two miles of the house. The
lake therefore is the only highway, and that is frozen up for four
months in the year. When frozen, however, it is still a road, for it
is passable for sledges. I have seldom been in a house that seemed
so remote from the world, and so little within reach of doctors,
parsons, or butchers. Bakers in this country are not required, as all
persons make their own bread. But in spite of its position the hotel
is well kept, and on the whole we were more comfortable there than at
any other inn in Lower Canada. The Mountain House is but five miles
from the borders of Vermont, in which State the head of the lake
lies. The steamer which brought us runs on to Newport,--or rather
from Newport to Magog and back again. And Newport is in Vermont.
The one thing to be done at the Mountain House is the ascent of the
mountain called the Owl's Head. The world there offers nothing else
of active enterprise to the traveller, unless fishing be considered
an active enterprise. I am not capable of fishing, therefore we
resolved on going up the Owl's Head. To dine in the middle of the day
is absolutely imperative at these hotels, and thus we were driven
to select either the morning or the afternoon. Evening lights we
declared were the best for all views, and therefore we decided on the
afternoon. It is but two miles; but then, as we were told more than
once by those who had spoken to us on the subject, those two miles
are not like other miles. "I doubt if the lady can do it," one man
said to me. I asked if ladies did not sometimes go up. "Yes; young
women do, at times," he said. After that my wife resolved that she
would see the top of the Owl's Head, or die in the attempt, and so
we started. They never think of sending a guide with one in these
places, whereas in Europe a traveller is not allowed to go a step
without one. When I asked for one to show us the way up Mount
Washington, I was told that there were no idle boys about that place.
The path was indicated to us, and off we started with high hopes.
I have been up many mountains, and have climbed some that were
perhaps somewhat dangerous in their ascent. In climbing the Owl's
Head there is no danger. One is closed in by thick trees the whole
way. But I doubt if I ever went up a steeper ascent. It was very hard
work, but we were not beaten. We reached the top, and there sitting
down thoroughly enjoyed our victory. It was then half-past five
o'clock, and the sun was not yet absolutely sinking. It did not seem
to give us any warning that we should especially require its aid,
and as the prospect below us was very lovely we remained there for
a quarter of an hour. The ascent of the Owl's Head is certainly a
thing to do, and I still think, in spite of our following misfortune,
that it is a thing to do late in the afternoon. The view down upon
the lakes and the forests around, and on the wooded hills below, is
wonderfully lovely. I never was on a mountain which gave me a more
perfect command of all the country round. But as we arose to descend
we saw a little cloud coming towards us from over Newport.
The little cloud came on with speed, and we had hardly freed
ourselves from the rocks of the summit before we were surrounded by
rain. As the rain became thicker, we were surrounded by darkness
also, or if not by darkness by so dim a light that it became a task
to find our path. I still thought that the daylight had not gone, and
that as we descended and so escaped from the cloud we should find
light enough to guide us. But it was not so. The rain soon became a
matter of indifference, and so also did the mud and briars beneath
our feet. Even the steepness of the way was almost forgotten as we
endeavoured to thread our path through the forest before it should
become impossible to discern the track. A dog had followed us up, and
though the beast would not stay with us so as to be our guide, he
returned ever and anon and made us aware of his presence by dashing
by us. I may confess now that I became much frightened. We were wet
through, and a night out in the forest would have been unpleasant to
us. At last I did utterly lose the track. It had become quite dark,
so dark that we could hardly see each other. We had succeeded in
getting down the steepest and worst part of the mountain, but we were
still among dense forest-trees, and up to our knees in mud. But the
people at the Mountain House were Christians, and men with lanterns
were sent hallooing after us through the dark night. When we were
thus found we were not many yards from the path, but unfortunately on
the wrong side of a stream. Through that we waded and then made our
way in safety to the inn. In spite of which misadventure I advise all
travellers in Lower Canada to go up the Owl's Head.
On the following day we crossed the lake to Georgeville, and drove
round another lake called the Massawhippi back to Sherbrooke. This
was all very well, for it showed us a part of the country which
is comparatively well tilled, and has been long settled; but the
Massawhippi itself is not worth a visit. The route by which we
returned occupies a longer time than the other, and is more costly
as it must be made in a hired vehicle. The people here are quiet,
orderly, and I should say a little slow. It is manifest that a strong
feeling against the Northern States has lately sprung up. This is
much to be deprecated, but I cannot but say that it is natural. It is
not that the Canadians have any special Secession feelings, or that
they have entered with peculiar warmth into the questions of American
politics; but they have been vexed and acerbated by the braggadocio
of the Northern States. They constantly hear that they are to be
invaded, and translated into citizens of the Union: that British rule
is to be swept off the Continent, and that the star-spangled banner
is to be waved over them in pity. The star-spangled banner is in fact
a fine flag, and has waved to some purpose; but those who live near
it, and not under it, fancy that they hear too much of it. At the
present moment the loyalty of both the Canadas to Great Britain
is beyond all question. From all that I can hear I doubt whether
this feeling in the Provinces was ever so strong, and under such
circumstances American abuse of England and American braggadocio
is more than usually distasteful. All this abuse and all this
braggadocio comes to Canada from the Northern States, and therefore
the Southern cause is at the present moment the more popular with
them.
I have said that the Canadians hereabouts are somewhat slow. As we
were driving back to Sherbrooke it became necessary that we should
rest for an hour or so in the middle of the day, and for this purpose
we stopped at a village inn. It was a large house, in which there
appeared to be three public sitting-rooms of ample size, one of which
was occupied as the bar. In this there were congregated some six or
seven men, seated in arm-chairs round a stove, and among these I
placed myself. No one spoke a word either to me or to any one else.
No one smoked, and no one read, nor did they even whittle sticks. I
asked a question first of one and then of another, and was answered
with monosyllables. So I gave up any hope in that direction, and sat
staring at the big stove in the middle of the room, as the others
did. Presently another stranger entered, having arrived in a waggon
as I had done. He entered the room and sat down, addressing no one,
and addressed by no one. After a while, however, he spoke. "Will
there be any chance of dinner here?" he said. "I guess there'll be
dinner by-and-by," answered the landlord, and then there was silence
for another ten minutes, during which the stranger stared at the
stove. "Is that dinner any way ready?" he asked again. "I guess it
is," said the landlord. And then the stranger went out to see after
his dinner himself. When we started at the end of an hour nobody said
anything to us. The driver "hitched" on the horses, as they call
it, and we started on our way, having been charged nothing for our
accommodation. That some profit arose from the horse provender is to
be hoped.
On the following day we reached Montreal, which, as I have said
before, is the commercial capital of the two Provinces. This question
of the capitals is at the present moment a subject of great interest
in Canada, but as I shall be driven to say something on the matter
when I report myself as being at Ottawa, I will refrain now. There
are two special public affairs at the present moment to interest a
traveller in Canada. The first I have named, and the second is the
Grand Trunk Railway. I have already stated what is the course of this
line. It runs from the Western State of Michigan to Portland on the
Atlantic in the State of Maine, sweeping the whole length of Canada
in its route. It was originally made by three Companies. The Atlantic
and St. Lawrence constructed it from Portland to Island Pond on the
borders of the States. The St. Lawrence and Atlantic took it from the
South Eastern side of the river at Montreal to the same point, viz.,
Island Pond. And the Grand Trunk Company have made it from Detroit to
Montreal, crossing the river there with a stupendous tubular bridge,
and have also made the branch connecting the main line with Quebec
and Rivière du Loup. This latter company is now incorporated with the
St. Lawrence and Atlantic, but has only leased the portion of the
line running through the States. This they have done, guaranteeing
the shareholders an interest of six per cent. There never was a
grander enterprise set on foot. I will not say there never was one
more unfortunate, for is there not the Great Eastern, which by the
weight and constancy of its failures demands for itself a proud
pre-eminence of misfortune? But surely the Grand Trunk comes next
to it. I presume it to be quite out of the question that the
shareholders should get any interest whatever on their shares for
years. The company when I was at Montreal had not paid the interest
due to the Atlantic and St. Lawrence Company for the last year, and
there was a doubt whether the lease would not be broken. No party
that had advanced money to the undertaking was able to recover what
had been advanced. I believe that one firm in London had lent nearly
a million to the Company and is now willing to accept half the sum so
lent in quittance of the whole debt. In 1860 the line could not carry
the freight that offered, not having or being able to obtain the
necessary rolling stock; and on all sides I heard men discussing
whether the line would be kept open for traffic. The Government of
Canada advanced to the Company three millions of money, with an
understanding that neither interest nor principal should be demanded
till all other debts were paid, and all shareholders in receipt of
six per cent. interest. But the three millions were clogged with
conditions which, though they have been of service to the country,
have been so expensive to the Company that it is hardly more solvent
with it than it would have been without it. As it is, the whole
property seems to be involved in ruin; and yet the line is one of the
grandest commercial conceptions that was ever carried out on the face
of the globe, and in the process of a few years will do more to make
bread cheap in England than any other single enterprise that exists.
I do not know that blame is to be attached to any one. I at least
attach no such blame. Probably it might be easy now to show that the
road might have been made with sufficient accommodation for ordinary
purposes without some of the more costly details. The great tubular
bridge on which was expended £1,300,000 might, I should think, have
been dispensed with. The Detroit end of the line might have been
left for later time. As it stands now, however, it is a wonderful
operation carried to a successful issue as far as the public are
concerned, and one can only grieve that it should be so absolute a
failure to those who have placed their money in it. There are schemes
which seem to be too big for men to work out with any ordinary regard
to profit and loss. The Great Eastern is one, and this is another.
The national advantage arising from such enterprises is immense; but
the wonder is that men should be found willing to embark their money
where the risk is so great, and the return even hoped for is so
small.
While I was in Canada some gentlemen were there from the Lower
Provinces--Nova Scotia, that is, and New Brunswick--agitating the
subject of another great line of railway from Quebec to Halifax.
The project is one in favour of which very much may be said. In a
national point of view an Englishman or a Canadian cannot but regret
that there should be no winter mode of exit from, or entrance to,
Canada, except through the United States. The St. Lawrence is blocked
up for four or five months in winter, and the steamers which run
to Quebec in the summer run to Portland during the season of ice.
There is at present no mode of public conveyance between the Canadas
and the Lower Provinces, and an immense district of country on the
borders of Lower Canada, through New Brunswick and into Nova Scotia
is now absolutely closed against civilization, which by such a
railway would be opened up to the light of day. We all know how much
the want of such a road was felt when our troops were being forwarded
to Canada during the last winter. It was necessary they should reach
their destination without delay; and as the river was closed, and
the passing of troops through the States was of course out of the
question, that long overland journey across Nova Scotia and New
Brunswick became a necessity. It would certainly be a very great
thing for British interests if a direct line could be made from such
a port as Halifax, a port which is open throughout the whole year,
up into the Canadas. If these Colonies belonged to France or to any
other despotic Government, the thing would be done. But the Colonies
do not belong to any despotic Government.
Such a line would in fact be a continuance of the Grand Trunk; and
who that looks at the present state of the finances of the Grand
Trunk can think it to be on the cards that private enterprise should
come forward with more money,--with more millions? The idea is that
England will advance the money, and that the English House of Commons
will guarantee the interest, with some counter-guarantee from the
Colonies that this interest shall be duly paid. But it would seem
that if such Colonial guarantee is to go for anything, the Colonies
might raise the money in the money market without the intervention of
the British House of Commons.
Montreal is an exceedingly good commercial town, and business there
is brisk. It has now 85,000 inhabitants. Having said that of it, I do
not know what more there is left to say. Yes; one word there is to
say of Sir William Logan the creator of the Geological Museum there
and the head of all matters geological throughout the Province.
While he was explaining to me with admirable perspicuity the result
of investigations into which he had poured his whole heart, I stood
by understanding almost nothing, but envying everything. That I
understood almost nothing, I know he perceived. That, ever and anon,
with all his graciousness became apparent. But I wonder whether
he perceived also that I did envy everything. I have listened to
geologists by the hour before--have had to listen to them, desirous
simply of escape. I have listened and understood absolutely nothing,
and have only wished myself away. But I could have listened to Sir
William Logan for the whole day, if time allowed. I found even in
that hour that some ideas found their way through to me, and I began
to fancy that even I could become a geologist at Montreal.
Over and beyond Sir William Logan there is at Montreal for strangers
the drive round the mountain, not very exciting; and there is the
tubular bridge over the St. Lawrence. This, it must be understood,
is not made in one tube, as is that over the Menai Straits, but is
divided into, I think, thirteen tubes. To the eye there appear to be
twenty-five tubes; but each of the six side tubes is supported by a
pier in the middle. A great part of the expense of the bridge was
incurred in sinking the shafts for these piers.