Indians in the district, nor did I see many of them. While we were in
the delta, nine large boats loaded with Esquimaux from the coast passed
us on the way up to Fort McPherson to do their trading for the season,
in one of which I noticed a young woman devouring a raw musk-rat with
evident relish. These people come up from the coast in “skin” boats,
called _oumiaks_, made, it is said, of whale skin put round a wood
frame. These boats present a very neat appearance, and are capable
of carrying about two tons each. Whale oil is one of the principal
articles which they bring in for sale.
A few miles above the Narrows the banks change from rock to clay and
gravel, and continue generally steep and high as far as Fort Good
Hope. In a few places the bank recedes from the river for a short
distance, forming a low flat, on which generally grows some fair spruce
timber. No rivers of importance flow into the Mackenzie between Red and
Hare Indian Rivers. One hundred and thirty miles further on, Loon River
enters from the east, and, twenty miles above this Hare Indian River
also enters from the same side. The Indians report that Hare Indian
River rises in a range of hills on the north-west side of Great Bear
Lake, but about its navigability I could learn nothing.
We reached Fort Good Hope on Saturday, the 24th of July, and remained
over Sunday. The Fort is built on the east side of the Mackenzie, about
two miles above Hare Indian River, and two below the “Ramparts.” The
Hudson’s Bay Company has quite a large establishment at this point,
consisting of half a dozen houses and some stables. The Roman Catholic
Church has a flourishing mission here, and the church is said to
possess one of the best finished interiors in the country.
Two miles above the Fort we enter what is known in the vicinity as
the “Ramparts,” though in the more south-westerly it would be called
a “Cañon.” Here, for a distance of seven miles, the river runs
perpendicular and occasionally over hanging walls of rock. At the lower
end they rise one hundred and fifty feet above the water. But their
height decreases as we near the upper end, at which point they are
not more than fifty or sixty feet. The river, at the lower end of the
“Ramparts,” is nearly a mile wide, but its walls gradually converge
until, about three miles up, the width is not more than half a mile,
and this continues to the end. Sir Alexander Mackenzie, when passing
through, sounded at its upper end, and found three hundred feet of
water, which accounts for the fact that although the Cañon is so narrow
the current is not perceptibly increased.
When Mackenzie discovered and explored this river in 1789, he met some
Indians a short distance above this place. After confidence had been
established by means of presents, he prepared to start onward; and,
although his newly-made friends told him there was great danger ahead
in the form of a rapid or cataract which would swallow him and his
party without fail, he continued, the Indians following and warning
him of his danger. He advanced cautiously into the “Ramparts,” but
could hear or see nothing to verify their statements. At last, when
through, they admitted that the only bad weather to be encountered was
now passed, but that behind the island just below was a bad spirit or
monster which would devour the whole party: failing there, the next
island below would surely reveal him.
From this incident the two islands have received the names of Upper and
Lower Manitou, respectively.
Forty-eight miles from Fort Good Hope, Sans Sault Rapid is reached. It
is caused by a ledge of rocks extending partially across the river.
A ridge of hills here extend beyond the river from the Rocky Mountains,
occasional glimpses of which can be caught from the water.
Just above this the Mackenzie turns sharply to the east from its
southerly course, and skirts the base of the mountains for six miles.
Its course then curves a little to the south, when, what might be
termed a cañon, is entered, which extends for nine or ten miles. The
river here averages a mile in width, and is walled on both sides by
perpendicular limestone cliffs, rising from one to two hundred feet
above the water. On the south side, this wall terminates in what is
known as “Wolverine Rock,” which rises perpendicularly from the water
to a height of three hundred feet. The formation is limestone, the
strata of which stand almost on edge, and the water has worn through
them in several places, so that one can sail underneath. Above this
point the mountains again approach the river for a few miles, when they
suddenly drop almost to the level of the plain. The banks here are clay
and gravel, with an average height of from one hundred to one hundred
and fifty feet.
Six and one-half miles above Sans Sault Rapids, Carcajou River empties
its waters into the Mackenzie from the west. This river I believe to be
the largest tributary of the Mackenzie below the Laird.
Four hundred and forty-four miles from Fort McPherson brought us to
Fort Norman, which is situated on the east bank of the Mackenzie just
above the entrance of Great Bear River. I arrived here on Saturday, the
28th of July.
About three and a half miles above Fort Norman on the east bank of
the river, two extensive exposures of lignite occur. The upper one
is overlaid by about fifty feet of clay and a few feet of friable
sandstone, and is about fifteen feet thick. The other seam is of about
the same thickness, and probably forty feet lower. When I was there, it
was nearly all under water.
The upper seam _has been on fire for over a hundred years_, as it was
burning when Sir Alexander Mackenzie passed in 1789, and according to
Indian tradition, it must have been burning much longer. The place is
locally known as “Le Boucan,” from the fact that the Indians hereabout
smoke and cook large quantities of meat or fish in these convenient
fire pits. The fire extends at present about two miles along the river,
not continuously, but at intervals; when I passed, it was burning in
three or four places. After it has burned a certain distance into
the seam, the overlaying mass of clay falls in, and, to some extent,
suppresses the fire. This clay is, in time, baked into a red coloured
rock, in which are found innumerable impressions of leaves and plants.
About a hundred miles above Fort Norman, on the west side, a river
discharges a large volume of clear, black water, which rushes bodily
half-way across the Mackenzie, and preserves its distinctive character
for several miles before it mingles with the main stream. The name
applied to this river by the people at Fort Wrigley was “_La rivière
du vieux grand lac_.” It is said to flow out of a lake of considerable
extent, lying not far from the Mackenzie. Many peaks can be seen up its
valley.
Six hundred and twenty-four miles from Fort McPherson brings us to
Fort Wrigley. This post was formerly known as “Little Rapid,” but has
received the name it now bears in honour of Chief Commissioner Wrigley,
of the Hudson’s Bay Company. Just above the Fort there is a swift rush
of water over some limestone rock which appears to extend across the
river. On the west side two small islands confine a part of the stream
in a funnel-like channel, which, being shallow, causes a slight rapid,
and gives rise to the former name of the post.
At Fort Wrigley, some slight attempts had been made at cultivation,
but I do not consider them a fair test of the capabilities of the
place. When I was there, the people were gathering blueberries, then
fully ripe, and as large and well-flavoured as they are in Ontario.
Ripe strawberries were found on the 9th of August ninety miles below
this, and a few raspberries soon afterwards. Above Fort Wrigley, wild
gooseberries, and both red and black currants were found in abundance;
some of the islands being literally covered with the bushes.
For about sixty miles below Fort Wrigley a range of mountains runs
parallel to the river on its east side. Above Fort Wrigley the east
bank is generally low and swampy, but the west (although low near the
river) gradually rises to a height of seven or eight hundred feet.
Fifty-eight miles above Fort Wrigley this hill terminates in a bold,
high point, and the ridge turns off to the south-west, enclosing a
deep, wide valley between it and the mountains, which here approach the
river. This range continues south-eastward out of sight. The positions
and heights of some of the peaks were determined by triangulation. One
of them was found to rise 4,675 feet above the river.
We arrived at Fort Simpson on Friday, the 24th of August, and remained
until the following Tuesday.
We arrived at Fort Providence on Saturday, the 8th of September. Wild
gooseberries and currants were plentiful along the banks, but at this
season somewhat over-ripe. At the fort, where we remained over Sunday,
the usual collection of buildings at a Hudson Bay Company’s post is to
be found. The Roman Catholic Church has also a mission here.
Forty-six miles from Fort Providence we enter Great Slave Lake. The
south shore of the lake, between the Mackenzie and Great Slave Rivers,
is so low and flat that most of it was submerged when I passed. Fish
are numerous in the Mackenzie. The principal species is that known as
the “Inconnu.” Those caught in the lower river are very good eating,
much resembling salmon in taste, being also firm and juicy.
THE LOIRE
VICTOR HUGO
I have some recollection of having already said so elsewhere: the Loire
and Touraine have been far too much praised. It is time to render
justice. The Seine is much more beautiful than the Loire; Normandy is a
much more charming “garden” than Touraine.
A broad, yellow strip of water, flat banks, and poplars
everywhere--that is the Loire. The poplar is the only tree that is
stupid. It masks all the horizons of the Loire. Along the river and
on the islands, on the edge of the dyke and far away in the distance,
one sees only poplars. In my mind there is a strangely intimate
relationship, a strangely indefinable resemblance, between a landscape
made up of poplars and a tragedy written in Alexandrines. The poplar,
like the Alexandrine, is one of the classic forms of boredom.
It rained; I had passed a sleepless night. I do not know whether that
put me out of temper, but everything on the Loire seemed to me cold,
dull, methodical, monotonous, formal, and lugubrious.
From time to time one meets convoys of five or six small craft
ascending or descending the river. Each vessel has but one mast with
a square sail. The one that has the biggest sail precedes the others
and tows them. The convoy is arranged in such a fashion that the sails
grow smaller in size from one boat to the other, from the first to the
last, with a sort of symmetric decrease unbroken by any unevenness,
undisturbed by any vagary. One involuntarily recalls the caricature
of the English family; one might imagine one saw a chromatic scale
sweeping along under full sail. I have seen this only on the Loire; and
I confess that I prefer the Norman sloops and luggers, of all shapes
and sizes, flying like birds of prey, and mingling their yellow and red
sails with the squall, the rain, and the sun, between Quillebœuf and
Tancarville.
The Spaniards call the Manzanares “the viscount of waterways”; I
suggest that the Loire be called “the dowager of rivers.”
The Loire has not, like the Seine and the Rhine, a host of pretty towns
and lovely villages built on the very edge of the river and mirroring
their gables, church-spires, and house-fronts in the water. The Loire
flows through a great alluvion caused by the floods and called La
Sologne. It carries back from it the sand which its waters bear down
and which often encumber and obstruct its bed. Hence the frequent
risings and inundations in these low plains which thrust back the
villages. On the right bank they hide themselves behind the dyke. But
there they are almost lost to sight. The wayfarer does not see them.
Nevertheless, the Loire has its beauties. Madame de Staël, banished
by Napoleon to fifty leagues’ distance from Paris, learned that on
the banks of the Loire, exactly fifty leagues from Paris, there was
a _château_ called, I believe, Chaumont. It was thither that she
repaired, not wishing to aggravate her exile by a quarter of a league.
I do not commiserate her. Chaumont is a dignified and lordly dwelling.
The _château_ which must date from the Sixteenth Century, is fine in
style; the towers are massive. The village at the foot of the wooded
hill presents an aspect perhaps unique on the Loire, the precise aspect
of a Rhine village--of a long frontage stretching along the edge of the
water.
[Illustration: THE LOIRE]
Amboise is a pleasant, pretty town, half a league from Tours, crowned
with a magnificent edifice, facing those three precious arches of the
ancient bridge, which will disappear one of these days in some scheme
of municipal improvement.
The ruin of the Abbey of Marmontiers is both great and beautiful. In
particular there is, a few paces from the road, a structure of the
Fifteenth Century--the most original I have seen: by its dimensions
a house, by its machicoulis a fortress, by its belfry an _hôtel de
ville_, by its pointed doorway a church. This structure sums up,
and, as it were, renders visible to the eye, the species of hybrid
and complex authority which in feudal times appertained to abbeys in
general, and, in particular, to the Abbey of Marmontiers.
But the most picturesque and imposing feature of the Loire is an
immense calcareous wall, mixed with sandstone, millstone, and potter’s
clay, which skirts and banks up its right shore, and stretches itself
out before the eye from Blois to Tours, with inexpressible variety and
charm, now wild rock, now an English garden, covered with trees and
flowers, crowned with ripening vines and smoking chimneys, perforated
like a sponge, as full of life as an ant-hill.
Then there are deep caves which long ago hid the coiners who
counterfeited the E. of the Tours mint, and flooded the province with
spurious _sous_ of Tours. To-day the rude embrasures of these dens are
filled with pretty window-frames coquettishly fitted into the rock,
and from time to time one perceives through the glass the fantastic
head-dress of some young girl occupied in packing aniseed, angelica,
and coriander in boxes. The confectioners have replaced the coiners.
THE LOIRE
HONORÉ DE BALZAC
The banks of the Loire, from Blois to Angers, have been high in favour
with the two last branches of the royal race that occupied the throne
before the House of Bourbon. This beautiful basin so richly deserves
the honours paid to it by royalty that this is what one of our most
elegant writers has said of it:
“There exists in France a province that has never been sufficiently
admired. Perfumed like Italy, flowered like the banks of the
Guadalquiver, and beautiful in addition with its individual
physiognomy, and entirely French, having always been French, in
contrast to our northern provinces, corrupted by German contact, and
our southern provinces that have lived in concubinage with the Moors,
Spaniards and all races that desired to;--this province pure, chaste,
brave and loyal is Touraine! Historic France is there! Auvergne is
Auvergne; Languedoc is only Languedoc, but Touraine is France; and for
us the most national river of all is the Loire that waters Touraine.
Hence, we should not be so astonished at the quantity of monuments
found in the Departments that have taken the name and derivatives
of the name of the Loire. At every step we take in this land of
enchantment, we discover a picture the frame of which is a river or a
tranquil oval sheet that reflects in its liquid depths a castle with
its turrets, woods and springing waters. It was only natural that
where royalty abode by preference and established its court for such
a long period the great fortunes and distinctions of race and merit
should group themselves and raise palaces there grand as themselves.”
Is it not incomprehensible that Royalty did not follow the advice given
by Louis XI. indirectly to make Tours the capital of the kingdom?
There, without much expenditure, the Loire could have been made
accessible to trading vessels and to ships of war of light draught.
There, the seat of government would have been secure from the surprise
of an invasion. The northern strongholds would not then have demanded
so much money for their fortifications, as costly to themselves as
the sumptuousness of Versailles. If Louis XIV. had listened to the
advice of Vauban, who wanted to build a residence for him at Mont
Louis, between the Loire and the Cher, perhaps the Revolution of 1789
would not have occurred. Still, here and there, those lovely banks
bear the marks of the royal affection. The castles of Chambord, Blois,
Amboise, Chenonceaux, Chaumont, Plessis-lez-Tours, all those which
the mistresses of our kings, and the financiers and great lords built
for themselves at Véretz, Azay-le-Rideau, Ussi, Villandri, Valençay,
Chanteloup, Duretal (some of which have disappeared but the majority
still exist) are admirable monuments that are redolent with the marvels
of that epoch that is so ill comprehended by the literary sect of
Mediævalists. Among all these castles, that of Blois is the one on
which the magnificence of the Orleans and the Valois has set its most
brilliant seal; and is the most interesting of all for the historian,
the archæologist, and the Roman Catholic.
THE POTOMAC
ESTHER SINGLETON
The Potomac was an important river from the earliest period of the
country’s history. Explorers followed its route to the interior of the
country, and as early as 1784 The Potomac Company was chartered with
Washington as its president for the purpose of connecting the Potomac
Valley with the west by means of a canal for general land improvement.
This was succeeded by the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Company, whose
canal runs parallel with and near to the river all the way from
Georgetown to Cumberland.
The first attempt to explore the Chesapeake Bay and its tributary
rivers was made in 1608 by Captain John Smith, who speaks of the
Patawomeke as six or seven miles broad and navigable for 140 miles.
Another Indian name was Cohonguroton (River of Swans). No less than
forty tribes of the warlike Algonquins lived upon its banks and held
their councils at the point of land now occupied by the Arsenal.
In 1634, Henry Fleet with some of Calvert’s people visited the Falls
of the Potomac; and early in the Seventeenth Century several tracts
of land on the river banks were granted to settlers. Among these was
one Francis Pope, gentleman, who in 1663 had four hundred acres laid
out which he called Rome, on the east side of the Anacostian River and
to the mouth of the Tiber, for so this little arm of the Potomac was
called more than a century before Washington was founded, there being
a tradition that on its banks would rise a capital greater than Rome.
The Tiber has now disappeared beneath the streets of Washington, but
it once flowed below the hill on which the Capitol now stands between
forest-lined banks and was noted for its shad and herring.
The Potomac is formed by the junction of two rivers on the boundary
between Maryland and West Virginia. The North Branch rises in the
Western Alleghanies and the South Branch in the Central; and, flowing
north-east, they unite about fifteen miles south-east of Cumberland.
The Potomac thus forms an irregular boundary between Maryland and
West Virginia and Maryland and Virginia throughout its entire course
of four hundred miles. Its chief tributaries are the Shenandoah from
Virginia and the Monocacy from Maryland. At Harper’s Ferry the Potomac
breaks through the Blue Ridge meeting the Shenandoah--“Daughter of the
Stars”--which has cut its way through the mist-wreathed mountains,
laved the Luray Caverns and watered a lovely valley. These rivers
winding around Loudon Heights, Bolivar Heights and Maryland Heights are
picturesque in the highest degree, and the scenery is rendered more
interesting by the associations with John Brown’s raid and capture and
other thrilling incidents of the Civil War.
Twelve miles below is Point of Rocks and below this the Monocacy joins
the main stream.
[Illustration: THE POTOMAC]
A number of falls mark its course through the mountains; and about
fifteen miles above Washington it descends rapidly until it reaches
Great Falls, at which point it breaks through the mountain in a
channel narrowing to a hundred yards in width and bounded on the
Virginia side by perpendicular rocks seventy feet high. Cedars, oaks,
willows and other forest trees contribute beauty to this wild spot,
where cherries and strawberries abound, and which is the haunt of the
rattlesnake and other venomous reptiles. The water falls in a series
of cascades. Not far from this point Cabin-John Bridge is reached, a
bridge formed of large blocks of granite 420 feet long and twenty feet
wide, which springs the chasm of Cabin-John Creek at a height of 101
feet in a single arch of 220 feet. This is the largest stone arch in
the world, the second being the Grosvenor Bridge (with a span of 200
feet), over the Dee.
At a distance of four miles below Great Falls, the stream widens and
flows quietly for ten miles; and then descends thirty-seven feet in
a second series of cascades known as Little Falls, about three miles
above Georgetown. The Potomac, thus released from the hills above
Georgetown, expands into a broad lake-like river, and receives the
Anacostia at Washington, where it meets the tide. About twenty-five
miles below Washington, it becomes an estuary from two to eight miles
wide, and enters the Chesapeake Bay, after having made a journey of
four hundred miles.
The chief places of interest on the banks of the Potomac are, of
course, Washington, _Arlington House_, _Mount Vernon_, and the sleepy
old town of Alexandria founded in 1748 and once a rival of Annapolis
and Baltimore. It is full of associations with Washington, whose
estate, _Mount Vernon_, is but a few miles below. _Mount Vernon_, in
Washington’s time, an estate of two thousand acres, belonged originally
to his half-brother, Lawrence, who named it for Admiral Vernon under
whom he had served.
_Arlington House_, the residence of the adopted son of General
Washington, George Washington Parke Custis, came into possession of
Gen. Robert E. Lee through his wife who was the daughter of Mr. Custis.
The house, built from drawings of the temple at Pæstum, near Naples,
stands on a bluff two hundred feet above the river about four miles
from Washington. The building with its two wings has a frontage of
140 feet and the portico sixty feet long is surmounted by a pediment
resting on eight Doric columns twenty-six feet high and five feet in
diameter. On the south were the gardens and greenhouses, and in the
rear the kitchens, slave quarters and stables. In 1863 _Arlington
House_ and the estate of 1,000 acres was sold under the Confiscation
Act and taken possession of by the National Government; and in 1867 the
grounds were appropriated for a National Cemetery.
The Potomac was the scene of skirmishes in 1814, when Alexandria
surrendered to the British; and in this connection it is interesting
to learn what Admiral Napier, who commanded the fleet, has to say
regarding the ascent of the river:
“The river Potomac is navigable for frigates as high up as Washington,
but the navigation is extremely intricate and nature has done much for
the protection of the country by placing one-third of the way up, very
extensive and intricate shoals, called the ‘Kettle Bottoms.’ They are
composed of oyster banks of various dimensions, some not larger than a
boat, with passages between them.
“The best channel is on the Virginia shore; but the charts gave us
mostly very bad directions and no pilots could be procured. A frigate
had attempted some time before to effect a passage, and, after being
frequently aground, gave it up as impossible. The American frigates
themselves never attempted it with their guns in, and were several
weeks in the passage from the naval yard at Washington to the mouth of
the Potomac.