December 20.
Toronto--such is now the sonorous name of this our sublime capital--was,
thirty years ago, a wilderness, the haunt of the bear and deer, with a
little, ugly, inefficient fort, which, however, could not be more ugly
or inefficient than the present one. Ten years ago Toronto was a
village, with one brick house and four or five hundred inhabitants; five
years ago it became a city, containing about five thousand inhabitants,
and then bore the name of Little York: now it is Toronto, with an
increasing trade, and a population of ten thousand people. So far I
write as _per_ book.
What Toronto may be in summer, I cannot tell; they say it is a pretty
place. At present its appearance to me, a stranger, is most strangely
mean and melancholy. A little ill-built town, on low land, at the bottom
of a frozen bay, with one very ugly church, without tower or steeple;
some government offices, built of staring red brick, in the most
tasteless, vulgar style imaginable; three feet of snow all around; and
the grey, sullen, wintry lake, and the dark gloom of the pine forest
bounding the prospect: such seems Toronto to me now. I did not expect
much; but for this I was not prepared.
I know no better way of coming at the truth than by observing and
recording faithfully the impressions made by objects and characters on
my own mind--or, rather, the impress they _receive_ from my own
mind--shadowed by the clouds which pass over its horizon, taking each
tincture of its varying mood--until they emerge into light, to be
corrected, or at least modified, by observation and comparison. Neither
do I know any better way than this of conveying to the mind of another
the truth, and nothing but the truth, if not the whole truth. So I shall
write on.
There is much in first impressions, and as yet I have not recovered from
the pain and annoyance of my outset here. My friends at New York
expended much eloquence--eloquence wasted in vain!--in endeavouring to
dissuade me from a winter journey to Canada. I listened, and was
grateful for their solicitude, but must own I did not credit the picture
they drew of the difficulties and _desagremens_ I was destined to meet
by the way. I had chosen, they said, the very worst season for a journey
through the state of New York; the usual facilities for travelling were
now suspended; a few weeks sooner the rivers and canals had been open; a
few weeks later the roads, smoothed up with snow, had been in sleighing
order;--now, the navigation was frozen, and the roads so broken up as to
be nearly impassable. Then there was only a night boat on the Hudson,
"to proceed," as the printed paper set forth, "to Albany, _or as far as
the ice permitted_." All this, and more, were represented to me--and
with so much apparent reason and real feeling, and in words and tones so
difficult to resist! But though I could appreciate the kindness of those
persuasive words, they brought no definite idea to my mind; I could form
no notion of difficulties which by fair words, presence of mind, and
money in my pocket, could not be obviated. I had travelled half over the
continent of Europe, often alone, and had never yet been in
circumstances where these availed not. In my ignorance I could conceive
none; but, with the experience I have gained, I would not lightly
counsel a similar journey to any one, certainly not to a woman.
As we ascended the Hudson in the night, I lost, of course, the view of
that superb scenery which I was assured even winter could not divest of
all its beauty--rather clothed it in a different kind of beauty. At the
very first blush of morning I escaped from the heated cabin, crowded
with listless women and clamorous children, and found my way to the
deck. I was surprised by a spectacle as beautiful as it was new to me.
The Catskill mountains, which we had left behind us in the night, were
still visible, but just melting from the view, robed in a misty purple
light, while our magnificent steamer--the prow armed with a sharp iron
sheath for the purpose--was _crashing_ its way through solid ice four
inches thick, which seemed to close behind us into an adhesive mass, so
that the wake of the vessel was not distinguished a few yards from the
stern: yet in the path thus opened, and only seemingly closed, followed
at some little distance a beautiful schooner and two smaller
steam-vessels. I walked up and down, from the prow to the stern,
refreshed by the keen frosty air, and the excitement caused by various
picturesque effects, on the ice-bound river and the frozen shores, till
we reached Hudson. Beyond this town it was not safe for the boat to
advance, and we were still thirty miles below Albany. After leaving
Hudson (with the exception of the railroad between Albany and Utica), it
was all heavy, weary work; the most painfully fatiguing journey I ever
remember. Such were the roads, that we were once six hours going eleven
miles. What was usually a day's journey from one town, or one good inn,
to another, occupied sometimes a day and a night, or even two days.[1]
After six days and three nights of this travelling, unrelieved by
companionship, or interest of any kind, I began to sink with fatigue.
The first thing that roused me was our arrival at the ferry of the
Niagara river at Queenston, about seven miles below the Falls. It was a
dark night, and while our little boat was tossed in the eddying waters
and guided by a light to the opposite shore, we could distinctly hear
the deep roar of the cataract, filling, and, as it seemed to me, shaking
the atmosphere around us. That mighty cataract, the dream and vision of
my childhood and youth, so near--yet unseen,--making itself thus heard
and felt,--like Job's vision, consciously present, yet unrevealed and
undiscerned! You may believe that I woke up very decidedly from my
lethargy of weariness to listen to that mysterious voice, which made my
blood pause and thrill. At Queenston we slept, and proceeded next
morning to the town of Niagara on the shore of Lake Ontario. Now, as we
had heard, the navigation on the lake had ceased, and we looked for
nothing better than a further journey of one hundred miles round the
head of the lake, and by the most execrable roads, instead of an easy
passage of thirty miles across from shore to shore. But Fortune, seized
with one of those freaks which, when we met them in books, we pronounce
improbable and unnatural, (and she has played me many such, some good,
some bad,) had ordered matters otherwise. A steam-vessel, making a last
trip, had called accidentally at the port, and was just going off; the
paddles were actually in motion as I and my baggage together were
hurried--almost _flung_--on board. No sooner there, than I threw myself
down in the cabin utterly overwhelmed with fatigue, and sank at once
into a profound and dreamless sleep.
How long I slept I knew not: they roused me suddenly to tell me we were
at Toronto, and, not very well able to stand, I hurried on deck. The
wharf was utterly deserted, the arrival of the steam-boat being
accidental and unexpected; and as I stepped out of the boat I sank
ankle-deep into mud and ice. The day was intensely cold and damp; the
sky lowered sulkily, laden with snow, which was just beginning to fall.
Half-blinded by the sleet driven into my face and the tears which filled
my eyes, I walked about a mile through a quarter of the town mean in
appearance, not thickly inhabited, and to me, as yet, an unknown
wilderness; and through dreary, miry ways, never much thronged, and now,
by reason of the impending snow-storm, nearly solitary. I heard no
voices, no quick footsteps of men or children; I met no familiar face,
no look of welcome!--Up to the present hour all objects wear one hue.
Land is not distinguishable from water. I see nothing but snow heaped
up against my windows, not only without but within; I hear no sound but
the tinkling of sleigh-bells and the occasional lowing of a poor
half-starved cow, that, standing up to the knees in a snowdrift,
presents herself at the door of a wretched little shanty opposite, and
supplicates for her small modicum of hay.
* * * * *
The choice of this site for the capital of the Upper Province was
decided by the fine harbour, the only one between Burlington Bay and
Cobourg, a distance of about a hundred and fifty miles. General Simcoe,
the first governor after the division of the two provinces, and a man of
great activity and energy of character, entertained the idea of founding
a metropolis. At that time the head quarters of the government were at
Niagara, then called Newark, on the opposite shore; but this was too
near the frontiers to be a safe position. Nor is Toronto much safer:
from its low situation, and the want of any commanding height in the
neighbourhood, it is nearly defenceless. In case of a war with America,
a few boats sent from the opposite coast of New York could easily lay
the fort and town in ashes; and, in fact, during the last war, in 1813,
such was the fate of both. But the same reasons which rendered the place
indefensible to us, rendered it untenable for the enemy, and it was
immediately evacuated. Another objection was, and _is_, the
unhealthiness of its situation,--in a low swamp not yet wholly drained,
and with large portions of uncleared land immediately round it: still
the beauty and safety of the spacious harbour, and its central position
about half-way between Lake Huron and the frontier line of Lower Canada,
have fixed its rank as capital of the province and the seat of the
legislature.[2]
When the engineer, Bouchette, was sent by General Simcoe to survey the
site (in 1793), it was a mere swamp, a tangled wilderness; the birch,
the hemlock, and the tamarac-trees were growing down to the water's
edge, and even into the lake. I have been told that Toronto, the Indian
appellation of the whole district, signifies _trees growing out of
water_. Colonel Bouchette says, that at this time the only vestige of
humanity for a hundred miles on every side was one solitary wigwam on
the shore, the dwelling of a few Missassagua Indians. Three years
afterwards, when the Duc de Rochefoucauld was here, the infant
metropolis consisted of a fort and twelve miserable log huts, the
inhabitants of which, as the duke tells us, bore no good reputation. The
town was, however, already marked out in streets running parallel with
the shore of the bay for about two miles, and crossed by others at right
angles. It is a pity that while they were about it they did not follow
the example of the Americans in such cases, and make the principal
streets of ample width; some hundred feet, or even furlongs, more or
less, would have made little difference where the wild unowned forest
extended, for all they knew, from the lake to the north pole,--_now_, it
would not be so easy to amend the error. King Street, the principal
street, looks narrow, and will look narrower when the houses are higher,
better, and more regularly built. I perceive that in laying out the
_fashionable_, or west-end of the city, they have avoided the same
mistake. A wide space between the building lots and Lake Ontario has
been reserved very properly as a road or esplanade, but I doubt whether
even this be wide enough. One of the most curious and inexplicable
phenomena connected with these immense inland seas is the gradual rise
of the waters; and even within these few years, as I am informed, great
part of the high bank has been washed away, and a carriage-road at the
foot of it along the shore has been wholly covered. If this process goes
on, and at the same rate, there must be a solid embankment, or quay,
raised as a barrier against the encroaching waters, or the esplanade
itself will in time disappear.
* * * * *
January 14.
It should seem that this wintry season, which appears to me so dismal,
is for the Canadians the season of festivity. Now is the time for
visiting, for sleighing excursions, for all intercourse of business and
friendship, for balls in town, and dances in farm-houses, and courtships
and marriages, and prayer-meetings and assignations of all sorts. In
summer, the heat and the mosquitos render travelling disagreeable at
best; in spring the roads are absolutely impassable; in autumn there is
too much agricultural occupation: but in winter the forests are
pervious; the roads present a smooth surface of dazzling snow; the
settlers in the woods drive into the towns, supply themselves with
stores and clothing, and fresh meat,--the latter a luxury which they can
seldom obtain in the summer. I stood at my window to-day watching the
sleighs as they glided past. They are of all shapes and sizes. A few of
the carriage-sleighs are well appointed and handsome. The market-sleighs
are often two or three boards nailed together in form of a wooden box
upon runners; some straw and a buffalo skin or blanket serve for the
seat; barrels of flour and baskets of eggs fill up the empty space.
Others are like cars, and others, called _cutters_, are mounted on high
runners, like sleigh phaetons; these are sported by the young men and
officers of the garrison, and require no inconsiderable skill in
driving: however, as I am assured, they are overturned in the snow not
above once in a quarter of an hour, and no harm and much mirth ensues:
but the wood sleighs are my delight; a large platform of boards is
raised upon runners, with a few upright poles held together at top by a
rope, the logs of oak, pine, and maple, are then heaped up to the height
of six or seven feet. On the summit lie a couple of deer frozen stiff
their huge antlers projecting in a most picturesque fashion, and on
these, again, a man is seated with a blanket round him, his furred cap
drawn down upon his ears, and his scarlet woollen comforter forming a
fine bit of colour. He guides with a pole his two patient oxen, the
clouds of vapour curling from their nostrils into the keen frosty
air--the whole machine, in short, as wildly picturesque as the grape
waggons in Italy, though to be sure, the associations are somewhat
different.
* * * * *
January 16.
This morning, before I was quite dressed, a singular visit was
announced. I had expressed to my friend Mr. H * * * a wish to see some
of the aborigines of the country: he had the kindness to remember my
request; and Colonel Givins, the principal Indian agent, had accordingly
brought some Indians to visit us.
The party consisted of three--a chief named the White Deer, and two of
his friends. The chief wore a blanket coat and leggings, and a blanket
hood with a peak, from which depended a long black eagle plume; stout
mocazins (shoes of undressed deer-skin) completed his attire: he had
about fifty strings of blue wampum round his neck. The other two were
similarly dressed, with the exception of the wampum and the feathers.
Before I went down I had thrown a chain of wampum round my neck, which
seemed to please them. Chairs being presented, they sat down at once
(though, as Colonel Givins said, they would certainly have preferred the
floor), and answered with a grave and quiet dignity the compliments and
questions addressed to them. Their deportment was taciturn and
self-possessed, and their countenances melancholy; that of the chief was
by far the most intelligent. They informed me that they were Chippewas
from the neighbourhood of Lake Huron, that the hunting season had been
unsuccessful, that their tribe was suffering the extremity of hunger and
cold, and that they had come to beg from their Great Father the Governor
rations of food, and a supply of blankets for their women and children.
They had walked over the snow, in their snow-shoes, from the Lake, one
hundred and eighty miles; and for the last forty-eight hours none of
them had tasted food. A breakfast of cold meat, bread, and beer, was
immediately ordered for them; and though they had certainly never beheld
in their lives the arrangement of an European table, and were besides
half famished, they sat down with unembarrassed tranquillity, and helped
themselves to what they wished with the utmost propriety--only, after
one or two trials, using their own knives and fingers in preference to
the table knife and fork. After they had eaten and drunk sufficiently,
they were conducted to the government-house to receive from the governor
presents of blankets, rifles, and provisions; and each, on parting, held
out his hand to me, and the chief, with a grave earnestness, prayed for
the blessing of the Great Spirit on me and my house. On the whole, the
impression they left, though amusing and exciting from its mere novelty,
was melancholy. The sort of desperate resignation in their swarthy
countenances, their squalid, dingy habiliments, and their forlorn story,
filled me with pity, and, I may add, disappointment; and all my previous
impressions of the independent children of the forest are for the
present disturbed.
These are the first specimens I have seen of that fated race, with which
I hope to become better acquainted before I leave the country.
Notwithstanding all I have heard and read, I have yet but a vague idea
of the Indian character; and the very different aspect under which it
has been represented by various travellers as well as writers of
fiction, adds to the difficulty of forming a correct estimate of the
people, and more particularly of the true position of their women.
Colonel Givins, who has passed thirty year of his life among the north
west tribes, till he has become in habits and language almost identified
with them, is hardly an impartial judge. He was their interpreter on
this occasion; and he says that there is as much difference between the
customs and language of different nations--the Chippewas and Mohawks,
for instance--as there is between any two nations of Europe.
The cold is at this time so intense that the ink freezes while I write,
and my fingers stiffen round the pen. A glass of water by the bed-side,
within a few feet of the hearth (heaped with logs of oak and maple kept
burning all night long), is a solid mass of ice in the morning. God help
the poor emigrants who are yet unprepared against the rigour of the
season!--yet this is nothing to the climate of the Lower Province,
where, as we hear, the thermometer has been thirty degrees below zero.
I lose all heart to write home, or to register a reflection or a
feeling--thought stagnates in my head as the ink in my pen--and this
will never do!--I _must_ arouse myself to occupation; and if I cannot
find it without, I must create it from within. There are yet four months
of winter and leisure to be disposed of. How?--I know not; but they
_must_ be employed, not wholly lost.
[Footnote 1: Through all these districts there are now railroads, and
every facility for comfortable travelling.]
[Footnote 2: Now removed to Kingston, though some of the courts of law
still remain at Toronto.]
* * * * *