day were closeted with Mr Cribbs. Letters produced by Sinclair
corroborated all that he had said touching the cheat that had been
played upon him. Astounded as I had been by his explanation, it would
have argued more for my wisdom, to say nothing of my friendship, had I
suspected at the outset some artifice of the kind, and shown more
eagerness to investigate the matter, than to conclude the hitherto
unspotted Sinclair so pre-eminently base. The fault of his nature was
credulity. Did I not know that he trusted all men with the simplicity of
childhood, and believed in the goodness of all things with the faith and
fervour of piety itself? Had I no proofs of the wilyness of the woman's
heart, and of the witchery of her tongue? A moment's reflection would
have enabled me to be just. It was not the smallest triumph of the
artful Elinor that her scheme robbed me of that reflection, and threw
me, and all the world besides, completely off the scent.
Mr Cribbs was the very man to carry on this interesting case. He lost
not a moment. He had been concerned, as he acknowledged, in more actions
of the kind than could be satisfactory to himself, or complimentary to
the virtue of his country, and he knew the salient points of a case by a
kind of moral instinct. His witnesses were marshaled--his plan was drawn
out; every thing promised complete success, and the day of trial rapidly
approached.
That day of trial, however, Rupert was not to see. The great anxiety
which he suffered in the preparation of his unhappy cause--the
affliction he had already undergone, preying upon a shattered frame,
proved too great an obstacle to the slow appliances of healing nature.
He sank gradually beneath the weight of his great sorrows. About a month
previously to the coming off of the suit which he had brought against
the Earl of Minden, conscious of growing still weaker and weaker, he
resolved to have a consultation of his physicians, and to obtain from
them their honest opinion of his condition. That consultation was held.
The opinion was most unfavourable. Rupert heard it without a sigh, and
prepared for his great change.
He spent the day upon which his doom was pronounced--alone. The
following day found him at an early hour at the family mansion in
Grosvenor Square,--not alone,--for his little Alice was with him. He
knocked at the door,--the well-known porter opened it, and started at
the melancholy man he saw. Sorrow and sickness claim respect, and they
found it here. The porter knew not whether he should please his master
by admitting the visitors, but he did not think of turning them away.
They passed on. His name was announced to his mother. She came to him at
once.
"Rupert!" cried Lady Railton, looking at him with astonishment.
"Mother," he answered placidly, "I have brought you my child--the
innocent and unoffending. She will be an orphan soon--as you may guess.
You will protect and be a mother to her?"
The proudest of women was sufficiently humbled. The prodigal was
received with a tenderness that came too late--a welcome that had
nothing of rejoicing. He was forgiven, but his pardon availed him
nothing. He was watched and attended with affectionate care, when
watching and attention could not add an hour to his life, or one
consolation to his bruised spirit. The trial came on, a verdict was
pronounced in favour of the plaintiff. The knot that had been violently
tied was violently broken asunder. Upon the evening preceding that day,
Rupert Sinclair had finished with the earth. He died, with his little
darling kneeling at his side. He died, breathing her name.
* * * * *
Years have passed since that hour. I have seen much since I followed my
poor friend to his last resting-place. It has been my lot to behold a
proud and haughty woman instructed by misfortune, and elevated by human
grief. Lady Railton repaired the folly of a life by her conduct towards
the child committed to her charge. She did her duty to the lovely Alice;
she fulfilled her obligations to her father.--I have seen vice terribly
punished. A few months ago, I stood at a pauper's grave. It was the
grave of ELINOR TRAVIS. Deserted by Lord Minden, she descended in the
scale of vice,--for years she lived in obscurity,--she was buried at the
public charge. The family of General Travis has long since been extinct.
The money with which his daughter supplied him in Lyons enabled him to
compound with a merchant, whose name he had forged, and to leave Europe
for ever.
The little Alice is a matron now, but lovely in the meridian of her
virtuous life, as in her earlier morn. She is the mother of a happy
family--herself its brightest ornament.
HOCHELAGA.[4]
LET not the unsophisticated reader be alarmed at the somewhat barbarous
and unintelligible word that heads this article. Let him not be deterred
by a name from the investigation of facts, nor hindered by the repulsive
magic of harshly-sounding syllables from rambling with us through the
pages of an amusing and clever book. HOCHELAGA is neither a heathen god
nor a Mohawk chief, an Indian cacique nor a Scandinavian idol, but
simply the ancient and little known name of a well-known and interesting
country. Under it is designated a vast and flourishing territory, a
bright jewel in England's crown, a land whose daily increasing
population, if only partially of British origin, yet is ruled by British
laws, and enjoys the blessings of British institutions. On the continent
of North America, over whose southern and central portions the banner of
republicanism exultingly floats, a district yet remains where
monarchical government and conservative principles are upheld and
respected. By nature it is far from being the most favoured region of
that New World which Columbus first discovered and Spaniards and English
first colonized. It has neither the mineral wealth of Mexico nor the
luxuriant fertility of the Southern States. Within its limits no cotton
fields wave or sugar-canes rustle; the tobacco plant displays not its
broad and valuable leaf; the crimson cochineal and the purple indigo are
alike unknown; no mines of silver and gold freight galleons for the
Eastern world. Its produce is industriously wrung from stubborn fields
and a rigid climate--not generously, almost spontaneously, yielded by a
glowing temperature and teeming soil. The corn and timber which it
exchanges for European manufactures and luxuries, are results of the
white man's hard and honest labour, not of the blood and sweat and
ill-requited toil of flagellated negroes and oppressed Indians. From the
Lakes and the St Lawrence to Labrador and the Bay of Hudson this country
extends. Its name is CANADA.
Mr Eliot Warburton, a gentleman favourably known to the English public,
as author of a pleasant book of travel in the East, has given the
sanction and benefit of his editorship to a narrative of rambles and
observations in the Western hemisphere. We put little faith in
editorships; favour and affection have induced many able men to endorse
indifferent books; and we took up _Hochelaga_ with all due disposition
to be difficult, and to resist an imposition, had such been practised.
Even the tender and touching compliments exchanged between author and
editor in their respective prefaces, did not mollify us, or dispose us
to look leniently upon a poor production. We are happy to say that we
were speedily disarmed by the contents of the volumes; that we threw
aside the critical cat-o'-nine-tails, whose deserved and well-applied
lashes have made many a literary sinner to writhe, and prepared for the
more grateful task of commending the agreeable pages of an intelligent
and unprejudiced traveller. Since the latter chooses to be anonymous, we
have no right to dispel his incognito, or to seek so to do. Concerning
him, therefore, we will merely state what may be gathered from his book;
that he is plump, elderly, good-tempered, and kind-hearted, and, we
suspect, an ex-_militaire_.
Before opening the campaign in Canada, let us, for a moment, step ashore
in what our author styles the fishiest of modern capitals, St John's,
Newfoundland. Here codfish are the one thing universal; acres of sheds
roofed with cod, laid out to dry, boats fishing for cod, ships loading
with it, fields manured with it, and, best of all, fortunes made by it.
The accomplishments of the daughter, the education of the son, the
finery of the mother, the comforts of the father, all are paid for with
this profitable fish. The population subsist upon it; figuratively, not
literally. For, although the sea is alive with cod, the earth covered
with it, and the air impregnated with its odour, it is carefully
banished from the dinner table, and "an observation made on its absence
from that apparently appropriate position, excited as much astonishment
as if I had made a remark to a Northumberland squire that he had not a
head-dish of Newcastle coals." But the abundance which renders it
unpalatable to the Newfoundlanders, procures them more acceptable
viands, and all the luxuries of life. The climate ungenial, the soil
barren, crops are difficult to obtain, and rarely ripen; even potatoes
and vegetables are but scantily compelled from the niggard earth; fish,
the sole produce, is the grand article of barter. In exchange for his
lenten ration of _bacallao_, the Spaniard sends his fruits and Xeres,
the Portuguese his racy port, the Italian his Florence oil and Naples
maccaroni. Every where, but especially in those "countries of the
Catholic persuasion" where the fasts of the Romish church are most
strictly observed, Newfoundland finds customers for its cod and
suppliers of its wants.
Excepting in the case of a boundary question to settle, or a patriot
revolt to quell, Canada obtains in England a smaller share than it
deserves of the public thoughts. It does not appeal to the imagination
by those attractive elements of interest which so frequently rivet
attention on others of our colonies. India is brought into dazzling
relief by its Oriental magnificence and glitter, and by its feats of
arms; the West Indies have wealth and an important central position; our
possessions towards the South pole excite curiosity by their distance
and comparative novelty. But Canada, pacific and respectable, plain and
unpretending, to many suggests no other idea than that of a bleak and
thinly-peopled region, with little to recommend it, even in the way of
picturesque scenery or natural beauty. Those who have hitherto
entertained such an opinion may feel surprised at the following
description of Quebec.
"Take mountain and plain, sinuous river and broad tranquil waters,
stately ship and tiny boat, gentle hill and shady valley, bold headland
and rich fruitful fields, frowning battlement and cheerful villa,
glittering dome and rural spire, flowery garden and sombre forest--group
them all into the choicest picture of ideal beauty your fancy can
create--arch it over with a cloudless sky--light it up with a radiant
sun, and, lest the sheen should be too dazzling, hang a veil of lighted
haze over all, to soften the lines and perfect the repose; you will then
have seen Quebec on this September morning."
The internal arrangements of the chief port and second town of Canada do
not correspond with its external appearance and charming environs. The
public buildings are ugly; the unsymmetrical streets twist and turn in
every possible direction--are narrow and of quaint aspect, composed of
houses irregularly placed and built. The suburbs, chiefly peopled by
French Canadians, are of wood, with exception of the churches,
hospitals, and convents. The population of the city, which now amounts
to forty thousand souls, has increased fifteen thousand during the last
fifteen years. The people are as motley as their dwellings; in all
things there is a curious mixture of French and English. "You see over a
corner house, 'Cul de Sac Street;' on a sign-board, 'Ignace
Bougainville, chemist and druggist.' In the shops, with English money
you pay a Frenchman for English goods; the piano at the evening party of
Mrs What's-her-name makes Dutch concert with the music of Madame Chose's
_soirA(C)e_ in the next house. Sad to say, the two races do not blend; they
are like oil and water--the English the oil, being the richer and at the
top." The difference of descent tells its tale; the restless, grumbling
Anglo-Saxon pushes his way upwards, energetic and indefatigable; the
easy-going, contented French-Canadian, remains where he is, or rather
sinks than rises. The latter has many good qualities; he is honest,
sober, hardy, kind, and courteous. Brave and loyal, he willingly takes
the field in defence of the established government and of British
rights. The most brilliant exploit of the last American war is recorded
of three hundred French Canadians under M. de Salaberry, who, by their
resolute maintenance of a well-selected position, compelled General
Hampton, with a park of artillery and a body of troops twenty times as
numerous as themselves, to evacuate Lower Canada. Simple, credulous, and
easily worked upon, it was at the incitation of a few knaves and
adventurers that a portion of the French population were brought to
share in the rebellion of 1837. There is little danger of another such
outbreak, even though colonial demagogues should again agitate, French
republicans again rave about British tyranny towards their oppressed
brethren, and though the refuse and rabble of the States should once
more assemble upon the frontier to aid and abet an insurrection. The
abortive result of the last revolt, the little sympathy it found amongst
the masses of the population, the judicious and conciliatory measures of
recent governors, have combined to win over the disaffected, and to
convince them that it is for their true interest to continue under the
mild rule of Great Britain. An excellent feeling has been shown by all
parties during our late difficult relations with the United States. "The
Americans are altogether mistaken," said the leader of the Upper Canada
reformers, "if they suppose that political differences in Canada arise
from any sympathy with them or their institutions; we have our
differences, but we are perfectly able to settle them ourselves, and
will not suffer their interference."
"My countrymen," said one of the most influential French Canadians,
during a discussion on the militia bill, "would be the first to rush to
the frontier, and joyfully oppose their breasts to the foe; the last
shot fired on this continent in defence of the British crown will be by
the hand of a French Canadian. By habits, feeling, and religion, we are
monarchists and conservatives."
When such sentiments are expressed by the heads of the opposition, there
is little fear for Canada, and ambitious democrats must be content to
push southwards. In a northerly direction it would be absurd for them to
expect either to propagate their principles or extend their territory.
They believe that in the event of a war with England, twenty or thirty
thousand militia would speedily overrun and conquer Canada. In a clear
and comprehensive statement of Canada's means of defence, the author of
_Hochelaga_ shows the folly of this belief, which assuredly can only be
seriously entertained by men overweeningly presumptuous or utterly
oblivious of the events of thirty years ago. When, in 1812, we came to
loggerheads with our Yankee cousins, and they walked into Canada,
expecting, as they now would, to walk over it, they soon found that they
were to take very little by their motion. The whole number of British
troops then in the colony was under two thousand four hundred men. Upper
Canada was comparatively a wilderness, occupied by a few scattered
labourers, difficult to organise into militia, and including no class
out of which officers could be made. Yet, even with this slender
opposition, how did the invaders fare? Where were the glorious results
so confidently anticipated? Let the defeat at Chrystler's farm, the rout
and heavy loss at Queenstown, the surrender of General Hall with his
whole army and the territory of Michigan, reply to the question. And
to-day how do matters stand? "Within the last twenty years, several
entire Scottish clans, under their chiefs--M'Nabs, Glengarys, and
others, worthy of their warlike ancestors--have migrated hither. Hardy
and faithful men from the stern hills of Ulster, and fiery but
kind-hearted peasants from the south of Ireland, with sturdy honest
yeomen from Yorkshire and Cumberland, have fixed their homes in the
Canadian forests. These immigrants, without losing their love and
reverence for the crown and laws of their native country, have become
attached to their adopted land, where their stake is now fixed, and are
ready to defend their properties and their government against foreign
invasion or domestic treason." The militia, composed in great part of
the excellent materials just enumerated, is of the nominal strength of
140,000 men. Of these a fourth might take the field, without their
absence seriously impeding the commerce and industry of the country.
The Canadian arsenals are well supplied, and nearly eight thousand
regular troops occupy the various garrisons. Quebec, with its strong
fortifications and imposing citadel, may bid defiance to any force that
could be brought against it from the States; important works have been
erected upon the island of Montreal; Kingston and its adjacent forts
would require a large army and corresponding naval force to subdue it;
Toronto would give the invaders some trouble. Defensive works exist
along the frontier of Lower Canada. In no way has the security of the
colonies been neglected, or the possibility of a war overlooked. But
there is yet one measure whose adoption the author of _Hochelaga_
strongly urges, whose utility is obvious, and which we trust in due time
to see carried out. This is the construction of a railroad, connecting
the whole of British America; commencing at Halifax and extending, by
Quebec, Montreal, Kingston, and Toronto, to Amherstburg and the far
west. The essential portion of the line is that from Halifax to Quebec,
by which, when the St Lawrence is closed by ice, troops might be
forwarded in a couple of days to the latter city. In the spring of 1847,
we are told, the canals will be completed which are to open the great
lakes to our fleets. For summer time that may suffice. But the five
months' winter must not be overlooked. And apart from the military view
of the case, the benefit of such a railway would be enormous. "It will
strengthen the intimacy between this splendid colony and the seat of
government: the emigrant from home, and the produce from the west, will
then pass through British waters and over British territories only,
without enriching the coffers of a foreign state. The Americans, with
their great mercantile astuteness, are making every effort to divert the
trade of Canada into their channels, and to make us in every way
dependent on them for our communications. The drawback bill, by which
the custom-duties on foreign goods are refunded on their passing into
our provinces, has already been attended with great success in obtaining
for them a portion of our carrying trade, especially during the winter,
when our great highway of the St Lawrence is closed."
The estimated cost of the railway, as far as Quebec, is three millions
sterling--a sum far too large to be raised by private means in the
colony. The advantages would be manifold, and a vast impulse would be
given to the prosperity of Canada. The Canadians are anxious to see the
scheme carried out, but they look to this country for aid. As one means
of repaying the expenses of construction, it has been proposed that
tracts of land along the line of road should be granted to the company:
the railway once completed, these would speedily become of great value.
The engineering difficulties are stated to be very slight.
This proposed railway brings us back to Quebec, whence we have been
decoyed sooner than we intended, by the discussion of Canada's military
defences. We sincerely wish that these may never be needed; that no
clouds may again overshadow our relations with the States, and that,
should such arise, they may promptly and amicably be dissipated. In
disputes and discussions with the great American republic, this country
has ever shown itself yielding; far too much so, if such pliancy
encourages to further encroachment. But if we are at last met in a good
spirit, if our forbearance and facility are read aright, it will be some
compensation to Great Britain for having more than once ceded what she
might justly have maintained. We shall not at present enter into the
subject, or investigate how far certain English governments have been
justified in relinquishing to American clamour, and for the sake of
peace, tracts of territory which it would have been more dignified to
retain, even by the strong hand. Insignificant though these concessions
may individually have appeared, their sum is important. Were evidence of
that fact wanting, we should find it in the book before us.
"Extensive though may be this splendid province of Canada, it is yet
very different indeed from what it originally was. In the fourteenth
year of the reign of George the Third, the boundaries of the province of
Quebec, as it was then called, were defined by an act of the Imperial
Parliament. By that act it included a great extent of what is now New
England, and the whole of the country between the state of Pennsylvania,
the river Ohio and the Mississipi, north to the Hudson's Bay territory,
where now a great portion of the rich and flourishing Western States add
their strength to the neighbouring republic. By gradual encroachments on
the one hand, and concessions on the other, by the misconstruction of
treaties and division of boundaries, have these vast and valuable tracts
of country been separated from the British empire."
England has the reputation of holding her own with a firm and tenacious
grasp; and by foreign rivals it is imputed to her as a crime that she is
greedy and aggressive, more apt to take with both hands, than to give up
with either. If such be really the general character of her policy, in
North America she has strangely relaxed it. None, it is true, not even
our kinsmen beyond the Atlantic, highly as they estimate their own
weight and prowess, will suspect this country of giving way from other
motives than a wish to remain on amicable terms with a relative and a
customer. But such considerations must not be allowed undue influence.
It would be unworthy the British character to fly to arms for a pique or
a bauble; it would be still more degrading to submit patiently to a
systematic series of encroachments. Unquestionably, had France stood
towards America in the same position that we do, with respect to Canada,
and if America had pursued with France the same course that she has done
with us, there would long since have been broken heads between Frenchmen
and Yankees; probably at this very moment the tricolor and the stars and
stripes would have been buffeting each other by sea and land. We do not
set up France as an example to this country in that particular. We are
less sensitive than our Gallic neighbours, and do not care to injure or
peril substantial interests by excessive punctiliousness. But there is a
point at which forbearance must cease. Governments have patched up
disputes, and made concessions, through fear of complicating their
difficulties, and of incurring blame for plunging the country into a
war. The country has looked on, if not approvingly, at least passively;
and, the critical moment past, has borne no malice, and let bygones be
bygones. But if war became necessary, the people of England would,
whilst deploring that necessity, enter upon it cheerfully, and feel
confident of its result. There must be no more boundary questions
trumped up, no more attempts to chip pieces off our frontier; or, strong
as the desire is to keep friends with Brother Jonathan, something
serious will ensue. Meanwhile, and in case of accidents, it is proper
and prudent to keep our bayonets bright, and to put bolts and bars upon
the gates of Canada.