The Saguenay River—Chicoutimi—Storm Picture—Hudson’s Bay
Company—Eminent Merchant—The Mountaineer Indians—Tadousac—Ruin
of a Jesuit Establishment.
Tadousac. July.
About one hundred and fifty miles north of the St. Lawrence, and on one
of the trails leading to Hudson’s Bay, lies a beautiful Lake called St.
John. It is about forty miles long, and surrounded with a heavily
timbered and rather level country. Its inlets are numerous, and twelve
of them are regular rivers. Its waters are clear, and abound in a great
variety of uncommonly fine fish. The principal outlet to this Lake is
the Saguenay river, which takes a southerly direction, and empties into
the St. Lawrence. It is the largest tributary of the great river, and
unquestionably one of the most remarkable on the continent. Its original
Indian name was Chicoutimi, signifying _Deep Water_; but the early
Jesuit missionaries, who have scattered their _Saint-anic_ names over
this entire country, thought proper to give it the name which it now
bears, and the round-about interpretation of which is, _Nose of the
Sack_. This name suggests to the world that the nose of St. John must
have been a very long nose, and may be looked upon as a unique specimen
of French poetry.
The scenery of the Saguenay is wild and romantic to an uncommon degree.
The first half of its course averages half a mile in width, and runs
through an untrodden wilderness of pine and spruce covered hills. It
abounds in waterfalls and rapids, and is only navigable for the Indian
canoe. A few miles below the most southern fall on the river the village
of Chicoutimi is situated, where an extensive lumbering business is
transacted, and the Hudson’s Bay Company have an important post. The
village has an ancient appearance, and contains about five hundred
inhabitants, chiefly Canadian French. The only curiosity in the place is
a rude Catholic Church, which is said to have been built by Jesuit
missionaries upwards of one hundred years ago. It occupies the centre of
a grassy lawn, surrounded with shrubbery, backed by a cluster of
wood-crowned hills, and commands a fine prospect, not only of the
Saguenay, but also of a spacious bay, into which there empties a noble
mountain stream, now known as Chicoutimi River. In the belfry of this
venerable church hangs a clear-toned bell, with an inscription upon it
which the learning of Canada (with all its learned and unnumbered
priests) has not yet been able to translate or expound. But, great as is
the mystery of this inscription, it is less mysterious to my mind than
are the motives of the Romish Church in planting the cross in the
remotest corners of the earth, as well as in the mightiest of cities.
About ten miles south of Chicoutimi there recedes from the west bank of
the Saguenay, to the distance of ten miles, a beautiful expanse of water
called Grand Bay. The original name of this bay was “Ha, Ha,”
descriptive of the surprise which the French experienced when they first
entered into it, supposing that it was the Saguenay, until their shallop
grounded on the north-western shore. At the head thereof is another
settlement, similar to Chicoutimi. Between these two places the Saguenay
is rather shallow, (when compared with the remainder of its course,) and
varies in width from two and a half to three miles. The tides of the
ocean are observable as far north as Chicoutimi, and this entire section
of the river is navigable for ships of the largest class.
That portion of the Saguenay extending from Grand Bay to the St.
Lawrence, a distance of sixty miles, is greatly distinguished for its
wild and picturesque scenery. I know not that I can better pourtray to
my reader’s mind the peculiarity of this river than by the following
method: imagine for a moment an extensive country of rocky and
thinly-clad mountains, suddenly separated by some convulsion of Nature
so as to form an almost bottomless chasm, varying from one to two miles
in width; and then imagine this chasm suddenly half-filled with water,
and that the moss of centuries has softened the rugged walls on either
side, and you will have a pretty accurate idea of the Saguenay.
The shores of this river are composed principally of granite, and every
bend presents you with an imposing bluff, the majority of which are
eight hundred feet high, and many of them upwards of fifteen hundred.
And, generally speaking, these towering bulwarks are not content to loom
perpendicularly into the air, but they must needs bend over as if to
look at their own savage features reflected in the deep. Ay, and that
word deep tells but the simple truth; for the flood that rolls beneath
is black and cold as the bottomless pit. To speak without a figure, and
from actual measurement, I can state that many portions of the Saguenay
are one thousand feet deep, and the shallowest spots not much less than
one hundred. In many places, too, the water is as deep as five feet from
the rocky barriers as it is in the centre of the stream. The feelings
which filled my breast, and the thoughts which oppressed my brain, as I
paddled by these places in my canoe, were allied to those which almost
overwhelmed me when I first looked upward from below the Fall, to the
mighty flood of Niagara. Awful beyond expression, I can assure you, is
the sensation which one experiences in sailing along the Saguenay, to
raise his eyes heavenward and behold hanging directly over his head a
mass of granite, apparently ready to totter and fall, and weighing
perhaps a million tons. Terrible and sublime, beyond the imagery of the
most daring poet, are these cliffs; and, while they proclaim the
omnipotent power of God, they at the same time whisper into the ear of
man that he is but as the moth which flutters in the noontide air. And
yet, is it not enough to fill the heart of man with holy pride and
unbounded love, to remember that the soul within him will but have
commenced its existence when all the mountains of the world shall have
been consumed as a scroll?
It is to the Saguenay that I am indebted for one of the most imposing
storm pictures that I ever witnessed. It had been a most oppressive day,
and, as I was passing up the river at a late hour in the afternoon, a
sudden gust of wind came rushing down the stream, causing my Indian
companion to bow, as if in prayer, and then to urge our frail canoe
towards a little rocky island, upon which we immediately landed.
Soon as we had surmounted our refuge, the sky was overcast with a pall
of blackness, which completely enveloped the cliffs on either side, and
gave the roaring waters a death-like hue. Then broke forth from above
our heads the heavy roar of thunder, and, as it gradually increased in
compass and became more threatening and impetuous, its volleys were
answered by a thousand echoes, which seemed to have been startled from
every crag in the wilderness, while flashes of the most vivid lightning
were constantly illuminating the gloomy storm-made cavern which appeared
before us. Down upon his knees again fell my poor Indian comrade, and,
while I sat by his side, trembling with terror, the thought actually
flew into my mind that I was on the point of passing into eternity.
Soon, however, the wind ceased blowing, the thunder to roar, and the
lightning to flash; and in less than one hour after its commencement,
the storm had subsided, and that portion of the Saguenay was glowing
beneath the crimson rays of the setting sun.
From what I have written, my reader may be impressed with the idea that
this river is incapable of yielding pleasurable sensations. Sail along
its shores on a pleasant day, when its cliffs are partly hidden in
shadow, and covered with a gauze-like atmosphere, and they will fill
your heart with images of beauty. Or, if you would enjoy a still greater
variety, let your thoughts flow away upon the blue smoke which rises
from an Indian encampment, hidden in a dreamy-looking cove; let your eye
follow an eagle swooping along his airy pathway near the summit of the
cliffs, or glance across the watery plain, and see the silver salmon
leaping by hundreds into the air for their insect food. Here, too, you
may always discover a number of seals, bobbing their heads out of water,
as if watching your every movement; and, on the other hand, a drove of
white porpoises, rolling their huge bodies along the waters, ever and
anon spouting a shower of liquid diamonds into the air. O yes, manifold
indeed, and beautiful beyond compare, are the charms of the Saguenay!
[Illustration: CAPE TRINITY.]
Although my description of this river has thus far been of a general
character, I would not omit to mention, as perfect gems of scenery,
Trinity Point, Eternity Cape, the Tableau, and la Tête du Boule. The
peculiarities of these promontories are so well described by their very
names, that I shall refrain from attempting a particular description of
my own.
The wilderness through which this river runs is of such a character that
its shores can never be greatly changed in their external appearance.
Only a small proportion of its soil can ever be brought under
cultivation; and, as its forests are a good deal stunted, its lumbering
resources are far from being inexhaustible. The wealth which it contains
is probably of a mineral character; and if the reports I hear are
correct, it abounds in iron ore. That it would yield an abundance of
fine marble, I am certain; for in passing up this stream, the observing
eye will frequently fall upon a broad vein of an article as pure as
alabaster.
How is it, many people are led to inquire, that so little has been known
of the Saguenay country until recently? This question is easily solved.
It is a portion of that vast territory which has heretofore been under
the partial jurisdiction of the Hudson’s Bay Company. I say partially,
for the rights of that powerful monopoly, as I understand the matter,
extended only to the protection and use of its wild animals; but it has
endeavoured to convince the would-be settler that it was the sole
proprietor of the immense domain, and that he had no right to live
thereon. Its posts on the Saguenay and St. Lawrence, so far as
collecting furs is concerned, are a dead letter, and the journeys of its
distinguished Governor are hereafter to be confined to the extreme
north.
The man who deserves the most credit for encroaching upon the so-called
possessions of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and proving to the world that
its power is not without limit, is William Price, Esq., of Quebec. All
the saw-mills situated on the Saguenay and the lower St. Lawrence, were
established by him, and are now conducted at his expense. He gives
employment to some two or three thousand men, and sends to England
annually about one hundred ship-loads of lumber, in the shape of deals.
He is a thorough-going business man, and, did I not know the fact to be
otherwise, I should set him down (with regard to his enterprise) as a
thorough native of the Union. Many of the ships alluded to ascend the
Saguenay to obtain lumber, as far as Chicoutimi; and it struck me as
singularly paradoxical to see ships winding up that river, whose
legitimate home would seem to be the broad ocean. The current of the
Saguenay flows in some places at the rate of seven miles per hour; but
when there is any wind at all, it blows heavily directly from the north
or south, so that, with the assistance of the tide, the upward-bound
ships or brigs, manage to get along without much difficulty. The only
steam-boat which navigates this river is the Pocahontas, and is the
property of Mr. Price. She is commanded by a gentleman who understands
his business; and I can assure the lovers of scenery everywhere, that a
sail up the Saguenay, in this steamer, would be an event they could not
easily forget. For the benefit of summer tourists, I would here mention
the fact, that for about three months in the year a Quebec steamer makes
an occasional trip to the mouth of the Saguenay, by the way of the river
Du Loup, which is on the Canadian route to Halifax.
In speaking of the Saguenay, I must not omit to mention its original
proprietors, a tribe of Indians who are known as the Mountaineers. Of
course, it is the duty of my pen to record the fact, that where once
flourished a large nation of brave and heroic warriors, there now exists
a little band of about one hundred families. Judging from what I have
heard and seen, the Mountaineers were once the very flower of this
northern wilderness, even as the Chippeways were once the glory of the
Lake Superior region. The Mountaineers of the present day are
sufficiently educated to speak a smattering of French, but they know
nothing of the true God, and are as poor in spirit, as they are indigent
with regard to the necessaries of life. The men of this nation are
rather short, but well-formed, and the women are beautiful. They are
proud in spirit, intelligent, and kind-hearted; and many of them, it is
pleasant to know, are no longer the victims of the baneful fire-water.
For this blessing they are indebted to the Romish priesthood, which fact
it gives me pleasure to record. The Mountaineers are a particularly
honest people, and great friends to the stranger white-man. They are
also distinguished for their expertness in hunting, and take pleasure in
recording the exploits of their forefathers. And their language,
according to a Catholic Missionary, Pierre de Roche, is one of the
oldest and purest Indian languages on the continent. It abounds in Latin
words, and is capable of being regularly constructed and translated. The
qualities, in fine, which make the history of this people interesting
are manifold, and it is sad to think of the rapidity with which they are
withering away, even as the leaves of a premature autumn.
But it is time that I should give you a brief description of Tadousac,
where I have been spending a few days, and whence I date my chapter. The
meaning of that word is a French corruption of the Indian word Saguenay.
It is situated directly at the mouth of the Saguenay, and commands a
fine prospect of that river, as well as of the St. Lawrence, which is
here nearly thirty miles in width. Immediately at the base of the hill
upon which the hamlet stands, is a beautiful bay, hemmed in with
mountains of solid rock. The place is composed of houses belonging to an
Indian trading-post, and another dwelling occupied by a worthy Scotchman
named Rivington, who is a pilot by profession. The door of my friend’s
cabin is always open to the admission of the tourist; and if others who
may chance to stop here are treated as kindly as I was, they will be
disposed to thank their stars. In front of the trading-post are planted
a few cannon, and directly beyond them, at the present time, is a small
Indian encampment.
In a rock-bound bay, about half a mile north of my temporary residence,
is an extensive lumbering establishment, belonging to William Price.
This spot is the principal port of the Saguenay, and the one where
belongs the Pocahontas steam-boat. About a dozen paces from the table
where I am now writing, is the ruin of a Jesuit religious establishment,
which is considered the great curiosity of this region. The appearance
of the ruin is not imposing, as you can discover nothing but the
foundations upon which the ancient edifice rested; but it is confidently
affirmed, that upon this spot once stood the first stone and mortar
building ever erected on the continent of North-America. And this
statement I am not disposed to question, for, from the very centre of
the ruin have grown a cluster of pine trees, which must have been
exposed to the wintry blasts of at least two hundred years. The fate and
the very names of those who first pitched their tents in this
wilderness, and here erected an altar to the God of their fathers, are
alike unknown. Who—who can tell what shall be on the morrow?