Ekfrid and Saxonisms--Greek _unde derivaturs_--The Grand
River--Brantford--Plaster of Paris--Mohawks--Dutch
forgetfulness--George the Third, a Republican King--Church of the
Indians--The Five Nations--A good Samaritan denies a drop of
water--Loafers--Keep your Temper, a story of the Army of
Occupation--Tortoise in trouble--Burford.
But to resume the journey. We passed the Ekfrid Hotel. Saxon names
creep steadily over Canada, whilst barbarous adaptations of Greek and
Latin find favour in the United States. A little learning is a
dangerous thing. Cicero and Pompey never dreamed or desired that a
white and green wooden village in a wilderness, where patent pails and
patent ploughs are the staple, should be dignified thus; but, as the
French say, _chacun à son goût_.
The first good view of the Grand River was attained three miles from
Brantford, and, although the name is rather too sounding, the Grand
River is a very fine stream. It put me singularly in mind, with its
oak-forested banks, its tall poplars, and its meandering clear waters,
of the Thames about Marlow, where I remember, when I was a boy at the
Military College, seeing the fish at the bottom on a fine day, so
plain that I longed to put a little salt on their tails.
You look down near the Union Inn, Carr's, on a most beautiful woodland
view, undulating, rich, and varied. This part of the country is a
sandy soil, and is called the Oak Plains. Here once flourished the
Indian. His wars, his glory, his people--where are they? Gone! The
Saxon and the Celt have swept off the race, and their memory is as a
cloud in a summer's sky, beautiful but dissolving.
Brantford is a very long village, with four churches or chapels, one
of them a handsome building, and with fine prospects of the country,
through which runs the Grand River. The houses are mostly of wood, a
few of brick, with some good shops, or stores, as they are universally
called in America and Canada, where every thing, from a pin to a
six-point blanket, may be obtained for dollars, country produce, or
_approved_ bills of exchange--chiefly however by barter, that true
universal medium in a new country, as may be gleaned from any Canadian
newspaper about Christmas time, when the subscribers are usually
reminded that wood for warming the printer will be very acceptable.
Plank side-walks, a new feature in Canadian towns, are rapidly
extending in Brantford, which is just starting into importance; as the
government, though it is so far inland, intend to make a port of it,
by thoroughly opening the navigation of the Grand River from its mouth
in Lake Erie. The works are near completion, and a steamboat, the
Brantford, plies regularly in summer. Thus an immense country,
probably the finest wheat-land in the world, will be opened to
commerce, and the great plaster of Paris quarries of the river find a
market, for increasing the fertility of the poorer lands of the lower
part of the province.
Brantford is named after Brant, the celebrated Indian warrior chief,
and here the Mohawk tribe of the Five Nations have their principal
seat. This excellent race, for their adhesion to British principles in
the war of the Revolution, lost their territory in the United States,
consisting of an immense tract in the fair and fertile valley of the
Mohawk river, in the State of New York, through which the Erie Canal
and railroad now run, and possessed by a flourishing race of farmers.
I remember being told a curious story of the Dutch, who have their
homesteads on the Mohawk Flats, the richest pasture land in New York.
These simple colonists, preserving their ancient habits, pipes,
breeches, and phlegm, looked with astonishment at the progress of
their Yankee neighbours, and predicted that so much haste and action
would soon expend itself. At last came surveyors and engineers, those
odious disturbers of antiquity and quiet rural enjoyments: they
pointed their spirit-levels, they stretched their chains across the
fair fields of the quiet slumbering valley of these smoking Dutchmen.
The very cows looked bewildered, and Mynheer, taking his meerschaum
from his lips, sighed deeply.
They told him that a railroad was projected across his acres; he would
not have minded a canal. He had survived the wars of the Indians; he
had forgotten Sir William Johnson and his neighbouring castle; he had
gone through the rebellion of Washington without being despoiled; and
had finally, as he thought, settled down in the lovely valley of the
meandering Mohawk, in a flat very like what his ancestors represented
to him as the pictured reality of Sluys or Scheldtland. He had smoked
and dozed through all this excitement, and was just beginning to
understand English. The American character was above his
comprehension. He remembered George the Third with respect, because
his great grandfather was a Dutchman, who had ascended the British
throne, and had proclaimed Protestantism and _Orange boven_ as the law
of the colonies. He still thought George the Third his ruler; and
never knew that George Washington had, Cromwell-like, ousted the
monarch from his fair patrimony, on pretence that tea was not taxable
trans-atlantically.
The railroad came: Acts of Congress or of Assembly passed; and fire
and iron rushed through the happy valley. The patriarchs lifted up
their hands and their pipes in utter dismay.
"Ten thousand duyvels!" exclaimed one old Van Winkle; "vat is dis?--it
is too ped! King Jorje is forget himsel. I should not vonder we shall
hab a rebublic next."
"I dink ve shall," was the universal response from amidst a dense
cloud of tobacco vapour.
The Mohawks, or Kan-ye-a-ke-ha-ka, as they style themselves, are now
only a dispersed remnant of a once powerful tribe of the Five Nations.
They received several grants of land in Canada for their loyalty, and
among others, 160,000 acres of the best part of the province in which
we are now travelling, but it is probable that their numbers
altogether do not now exceed 3000. Two thousand two hundred dwell near
the Grand River, and a large body near Kingston. The Kingston branch
are chiefly Church of England men, and an affecting memorial of their
adhesion to Britain exists in the altar-cloth and communion-plate
which they brought from the valley of the Mohawk, where it had been
given to them in the days of Queen Anne.
A church has recently been erected by them on the banks of the Bay of
Quinte, in the township of Tyendinaga, or the Indian woods. It is of
stone, with a handsome tin-covered spire, and replaces the original
wooden edifice they had erected on their first landing, the first
altar of their pilgrimage, which was in complete decay.
They held a council, and the chief made this remarkable speech, after
having heard all the ways and means discussed:--"If we attempt to
build this church by ourselves, it will never be done: let us
therefore ask our father, the Governor, to build it for us, and it
will be done at once."
It was not want of funds, but want of experience, he meant; for the
funds were to be derived from the sale of Indian lands. The Governor,
the late Sir Charles Bagot, was petitioned accordingly, and the church
now stands a most conspicuous ornament of the most beautiful Bay of
Quinte.
They raised one thousand pounds for this purpose; and, proper
architects being employed, a contract was entered into for £1037, and
was duly accepted. How well it would be if this amount could be
refunded to this loyal and moral people from England! What a mite it
would take from the pockets of churchmen!
The first stone was laid by S. P. Jarvis, Esq., Chief Superintendent
of Indians in Canada; and the Archdeacon of Kingston, the truly
venerable G. O. Stuart, conducted the usual service, which was
preceded by a procession of the Indians, who, singing a hymn, led the
way from the wharf where the clergy and visitors had landed from the
steamers, past the old church, through the grounds appropriated for
their clergyman's house, and then, ascending the hill westward, they
crossed the Indian Graves, and reached the site of their new temple.
_Te Deum_ and the Hundredth Psalm were then sung, and the Archdeacon,
offering up a suitable prayer, the stone was lowered into its place.
The following inscription was placed in this stone:--
To
The Glory of God and Saviour
The remnant of the Tribe Kanyeakehaka,
In token of their preservation by the Divine Mercy,
through Christ Jesus,
In the Sixth Year of our Mother Queen Victoria,
Sir Charles Theophilus Metcalfe, G.C.B.
Being Governor-General of British North America,
The Right Reverend J. Strachan, D.D. and LL.D.,
being Bishop of Toronto,
and the Reverend Saltern Givins, being in the 13th year
of his Incumbency,
The old wooden fabric having answered its end,
This Corner Stone
of
Christ's Church,
Tyendinaga,
was laid in the presence of
The Venerable George Okill Stuart, LL.D.,
Archdeacon of Kingston,
By Samuel Peters Jarvis, Chief Superintendent of
Indian Affairs in Canada,
Assisted by various members of the Church,
On Tuesday, May 30th, A.D. 1843.
James Howard of Toronto, Architect; George Brown of
Kingston, Architect,
having undertaken the Supervision of the work,
and John D. Pringle being the Contractor.
A hymn was sung by the Indians and Indian children of the school; the
Rev. William Macauley, of Picton, delivered an address, which was
followed by a prayer from the Rev. Mr. Deacon, and Collects, after
which the Archdeacon pronounced the blessing.
I have recited this because I feel that it will interest a very large
body of my countrymen in England, and trust that those who can afford
to consider it will not forget the Mohawks of Tyendinaga, in whom I
take the more interest from having had them under my command during
the troubles of 1838, and of whose loyalty and excellent conduct then
I have already informed the reader.
I saw this edifice lately; it is Gothic, with four lancet windows on
each side, and buttressed regularly. Its space is 60 feet by 40, with
a front tower projecting; and the spire, very pointed and covered with
glittering tin, rises out of the dark surrounding woods from a lofty
eminence of 107 feet. It is certainly the most interesting public
building in Canada West.
I wish some excellent lady would embroider a royal standard or silk
union-jack, that the Indians might display it on their tower on high
days and holidays. Depend upon it they would cherish it as they have
done the ancient memorials of their faith, which date from Queen Anne.
The Indian village near Brantford also boasts of its place of worship;
but, although it has its ritual from the Church of England, the
clergyman comes from the United States and is paid by the society,
called the New England Society. He has lived many years among his
flock, and is said to be an excellent man. The Indians are to a man as
loyal as those of Tyendinaga. The Society has a school which it
supports also, where from forty to fifty Indian children are taught
and have various trades to work at.
They are very moral and temperate, and here may be seen the strange
spectacle, elsewhere in the neighbourhood of the white man so rare--of
unmixed blood. But the Whites amongst them nevertheless are not of the
best sample of the race, as a great number of restless American
borderers have fixed their tents near the Grand River, and they have
managed to get a good deal of their property and lands, although in
Canada it is illegal to purchase land from the Indian races. A
superintendent, an old officer in the British army, is stationed with
the Five Nations purposely to protect them; yet it is impossible for
any one to be aware or to guard against the ruffianly practices of
those who think that the Red Man has no longer a right to cumber the
earth.
The Five Nations are settling; and it is observed that, whenever they
cease to be nomadic, and steadily pursue agriculture and the useful
arts, the decrease, so apparent in their numbers before, begins to
lessen.
The public works, the great high road to London, and the opening of
the navigation of the Grand River, have greatly enhanced the value of
their property, whilst at the same time it has brought dangers with
those conscienceless adventurers from the bordering States, and from
the reckless turbulent Irish canal men, who keep the country in
constant excitement, and who, owing no allegiance to Britain or to the
American Union, cross over from the States to Canada, or _vice versa_,
as work or whim dictates, carrying uneasiness and dismay wherever they
go.
Latterly, however, these worse than savages have been kept in some
control by the establishment of a mounted or foot police, and by
stationing parties of the Royal Canadian Regiment on their flanks. The
military alone can keep them in awe, though they cannot always
prevent midnight burnings and atrocities. The French Canadians and the
Indians cordially detest these canallers.
I was told a story in passing through Brantford, which shows how the
spirit of the lower class of American settlers in this portion of
Canada is kept up, since they first openly showed it during the
rebellion.
A regiment of infantry, I think the 81st, was marching to relieve
another at London, and, on arriving here, weary of the deep sandy or
miry roads, the men naturally sought the pumps and wells of the
village. A fellow who keeps a large tavern, called Bradley's Inn,
hated the sight of the British soldier to that degree, that he locked
up his pump of good drinking water and left another open, which was
unfit for any purpose.
Lately, I see by the papers, this good Samaritan, who could not find
it in his heart to assuage the thirst of a parched throat, or to give
even a drop of water to the weary, had his house burnt down by
accident. It is a wonder that he had not tried to place it to the
account of the soldiers; but, perhaps, he was ashamed, and perhaps,
they being at so great a distance as London is, he thought that such
an impossibility would not go down. There was, it appears, no water to
quench his devouring flame. _Fiat justitia!_
This part of Canada, and about London, has been a chosen region for
American settlers, and also for loafers from the borders of the
Republic; and accordingly you observe that which is not obvious in any
part of the United States, twenty miles from the St. Lawrence, or the
lakes, great pretension to independence and rough rudeness of manner,
contrasted by the real independence and quiet bearing of the sons of
Britain.
The refugees, or whatever the American border-settlers or adventurers
in Canada may be called, are invariably insolent, vulgar, and
unbearable in their manners; whilst, away from the frontier, in the
United States, the traveller observes no ostentatious display of
Republicanism, no vulgar insolence to strangers, unless it be in the
bar-room of some wayside tavern, where one is sometimes obliged, as
elsewhere, to rest awhile, and where the frequenters may be expected
to be not either polite or polished.
The Americans may be said to live at the bar; and yet, in all great
cities, the bar of the hotels seldom exhibits anything to offend a
traveller, who has seen a good deal of the world; nor do I think that
purposed insult or annoyance would be tolerated towards any foreigner
who keeps his temper.
So it is all over the world. I remember, as a young man, in the army
of Occupation in France, when the soul of the nation was ground to
despair, at seeing foreign soldiers lording it in _la belle France_,
that, at Valenciennes, St. Omers, Cambray, and all great towns,
constant collisions and duels occurred from the impetuous temper of
the half-pay French officers, and yet, in many instances, good sense
and firmness avoided fatal results.
I know an officer, who was billeted, the night before one of the great
reviews of the allied troops, in a small country tavern, where an
Englishman had never before been seen, and he found the house full as
it could hold of half-pay Napoleonists. The hostess had but one room
where the guests could dine, and even that had a bed in it; and this
bed was his billet.
He arrived late, and found it occupied by moustached heroes of the
guard, Napoleon's cavalry and infantry _demi-soldes_, who had rested
there to see the review next day, where the battle of Denain was
fought over again with blank cartridge.
They were at supper and very boisterous, but, with the innate
_politesse_ of Frenchmen, rose and apologized for occupying his
bedroom. To go to bed was of course not to be thought of, so he asked
to be permitted to join the table; and, after eating and drinking, he
found some of the youngest very much disposed to insult him. He
watched quietly; at last, toasts were proposed, and they desired him
to fill to the brim. The toast they said, after a great deal of
improvising, was to the health of the greatest man and the greatest
soldier, _Napoléon le Grand!--De tout mon coeur, Napoléon le Grand!_
This took them by surprise; they had no idea that an Englishman could
see any merit in Napoleon.
"Fill your glasses, gentlemen," said the officer, "to the brim, as I
filled mine."
They did so, and he said "_A la santé de Napoléon deux_," which was
then a favourite way with the French Imperialists of toasting his son.
The effect was electric. The most insolent and violent of the _vieux
moustaches_ took up the stool he was sitting upon and threw it through
the window; the glasses followed; and then he went round and embraced
the proposer.
"Brave Anglais!" was shouted from many heated lungs; and the evening
not only concluded in harmony, but they caused the hostess to make her
unwelcome visitor as comfortably lodged for the night as the resources
of her house would admit.
Thus it is all over the world; firmness and prudence carry the
traveller through among strange people and stranger scenes; and,
believe me, none but bullies, sharpers, or the dregs of the populace
in any Christian country will insult a stranger.
All the stories about spitting, and "I guess I can clear you, mister,"
as the man said when he spat across some stage-coach traveller out of
the opposite window, are very far-fetched. The Americans certainly do
spit a great deal too much for their own health and for other people's
ideas of comfort, but it arises from habit, and the too free practice
of chewing tobacco. I never saw an American of any class, or, as they
term it, of any grade, do it offensively, or on purpose to annoy a
stranger. They do it unconsciously, just as a Frenchman of the old
school blows his nose at dinner, or as an Englishman turns up his
coat-tails and occupies a fireplace, to the exclusion of the rest of
the company.
An Englishman should not form his notions of America from the works of
professed tourists--men and women who go to the United States, a
perfectly new country, for the express purpose of making a marketable
book: these are not the safest of guides. One class goes to depreciate
Republican institutions, the other to praise them. It is the casual
and unbiassed traveller who comes nearest to the truth.
Monsieur de Tocqueville was as much prepossesed by his own peculiar
views of the nature of human society as Mrs. Trollope. Extremes meet;
but truth lies usually in the centre. It is found at the bottom of the
well, where it never intrudes itself on general observation.
The Americans have no fixed character as a nation, and how can they?
The slave-holding cavaliers of the South have little in common with
the mercantile North; the cultivators and hewers of the western
forests are wholly dissimilar from the enterprising traders of the
eastern coast; republicanism is not always democracy, and democracy is
not always locofocoism; a gentleman is not always a loafer, although
certainly a loafer is never a gentleman. A cockney, who never went
beyond Margate, or a sea-sick trip to Boulogne, that paradise of
prodigals, always fancies that all Americans are Yankees, all
clock-makers, all spitters, all below his level. He never sees or
converses with American gentlemen, and his inferences are drawn from
cheap editions of miserable travels, the stage, or in the liners in
St. Katherine's Docks, after the company of the cabin has dispersed.
The American educated people are as superior to the American
uneducated as is the case all over Christendom; and John Bull begins
to find that out; for steam has brought very different travellers to
the United States from the bagmen and adventurers, the penny-a-liners,
and the _miserables_ whose travels put pence into their pockets, and
who saw as little of real society in America as the poor Vicar of
Wakefield's family, before they knew Mr. Burchell.
The Americans you meet with in Canada are, with some exceptions,
adventurers of the lowest classes, who, with the dogmatism of
ignorant intolerance, hate monarchy because they were taught from
infancy that it was naught. Such are the people who lock up their
pumps; but they are not all alike. There are many, many, very
different, who have emigrated to Canada, because they dislike mob
influence, because they live unmolested and without taxation, and
because they are not liable every moment to agrarian aggression.
In this part of the Canadas, the runaway slaves from the Southern
States are very numerous.
There is an excellent covered bridge over the Grand River at
Brantford; and, on crossing this in the waggon, we saw a good-hearted
Irishman do what Mr. Bradley refused to do, that is, give drink to a
wayfarer. This wayfarer resembled the Red Coat that Mr. Bradley hated
so in one particular--he had his armour on. It was a huge mud turtle,
which had most inadvertently attempted to cross the road from the
river into the low grounds, and a waggon had gone over it; but the
armour was proof, and it was only frightened. So the old Irish
labourer, after examining the great curiosity at all points, took it
up carefully and restored it to the element it so greatly
needed--water. Was he not the Good Samaritan?
Whilst here, we were told that at Alnwick, in the Newcastle district,
the government has located an Indian settlement on the Rice Lake very
carefully. Each Indian has twenty-five acres of land, and a fine creek
runs through the place, on the banks of which the Indian houses have
been built so judiciously, that the inhabitants have access to it on
both sides.
The Mohawk language is pronounced without opening and shutting the
lips, labials being unknown. Some call the real name of the tribe
Kan-ye-ha-ke-ha-ka, others Can-na-ha-hawk, whence Mohawk by
corruption.
After staying a short time at Clement's Inn, which is a very good one,
we left Brantford at half-past one, and were much pleased with the
neatness of the place, and particularly with the view near the bridge
of the river. The Indian village and its church are down the stream to
the left, about two miles from the town, and embowered in woods.
We drove along for eight miles to the Chequered Sheds, a small village
so called; at twenty minutes to four reached Burford, two miles
further on, which is another small place on Burford Plains, with a
church; and at a quarter past four reached a very neat establishment,
a short distance beyond a small creek, and called the Burford Exchange
Inn. The country is well settled, with good houses and farms.
We stopped a short time at Phelan's Inn, four miles and a half on,
just beyond which the macadamized road commences again; but the
country is not much settled between the Exchange and Phelan's Inn.