The House of Commons--Canadian gallantry--The constitution--Mr. Hincks--
The ex-rebel--Parties and leaders--A street-row--Repeated disappointments
--The "habitans"--Their houses and their virtues--A stationary people--
Progress and its effects--Montmorenci--The natural staircase--The Indian
summer--Lorette--The old people--Beauties of Quebec--The _John Munn_--Fear
and its consequences--A gloomy journey.
One of the sights of Quebec--to me decidedly the most interesting one--was
the House of Assembly. The Legislature were burned out of their house at
Montreal, and more recently out of a very handsome one at Quebec--it is to
be hoped this august body will be more fortunate at Toronto, the present
place of meeting. The temporary place of sitting at Quebec seemed to me
perfectly adapted for the purposes of hearing, seeing, and speaking.
It is a spacious apartment, with deep galleries, which hold about five
hundred, round it, which were to Quebec what the Opera and the club-houses
are to London. In fact, these galleries were crowded every night; and
certainly, when I was there, fully one half of their occupants were
ladies, who could see and be seen. The presence of ladies may have an
effect in preventing the use of very intemperate language; and though it
is maliciously said that some of the younger members speak more for the
galleries than the house, and though some gallant individual may
occasionally step up stairs to restore a truant handkerchief or boa to the
fair owner, the distractions caused by their presence are very
inconsiderable, and the arrangements for their comfort are a great
reflection upon the miserable latticed hole to which lady listeners are
condemned in the English House of Commons. I must remark, also, that the
house was well warmed and ventilated, without the aid of alternating
siroccos and north winds. The Speaker's chair, on a dais and covered with
a canopy, was facing us, in which reclined the Speaker in his robes. In
front of him was a table, at which sat two black-robed clerks, and on
which a huge mace reposed; and behind him was the reporters' gallery,
where the gentlemen of the press seemed to be most comfortably
accommodated. There was a large open space in front of this table,
extending to the bar, at which were seated the messengers of the house,
and the Sergeant-at-arms with his sword. On either side of this open space
were four rows of handsome desks, and morocco seats, to accommodate two
members each, who sat as most amiable Gemini. The floor was richly
carpeted, and the desks covered with crimson cloth, and, with the well-
managed flood of light, the room was very complete.
The Canadian Constitution is as nearly a transcript of our own as anything
colonial can be. The Governor can do no wrong--he must have a responsible
cabinet taken from the members of the Legislature--his administration must
have a working majority, as in England--and he must bow to public opinion
by changing his advisers, when the representatives of the people lose
confidence in the Government. The Legislative Council represents our House
of Peers, and the Legislative Assembly, or Provincial Parliament, our
House of Commons. The Upper House is appointed by the Crown, under the
advice of the ministry of the day; but as a clamour has been raised
against it as yielding too readily to the demands of the Lower House, a
measure has been brought in for making its members elective for a term of
years. If this change were carried, coupled with others on which it would
not interest the English reader to dwell, it would bring about an
approximation of the Canadian Constitution to that of the United States.
On one night on which I had the pleasure of attending the House, the
subject under discussion was the Romish holidays, as connected with
certain mercantile transactions. It sounds dry enough, but, as the debate
was turned into an extremely interesting religious discussion, it was well
worth hearing, and the crowded galleries remained in a state of
quiescence.
Mr. Hincks, the late Premier, was speaking when we went in. He is by no
means eloquent, but very pointed in his observations, and there is an
amount of logical sequence in his speaking which is worthy of imitation
elsewhere. He is a remarkable man, and will probably play a prominent part
in the future political history of Canada. [Footnote: This prognostication
is not likely to be realised, as the late Sir W. Molesworth has appointed
Mr. Hincks to the governorship of Barbadoes. If the new governor possesses
_ principle_ as well as _talent_, this acknowledgement of colonial merit
is a step in the right direction.] He is the son of a Presbyterian
minister at Cork, and emigrated to Toronto in 1832. During Lord Durham's
administration he became editor of the _Examiner_ newspaper, and entered
the Parliament of the United Provinces in 1841. He afterwards filled the
important position of Inspector-General of Finances, and finally became
Prime Minister. His administration was, however, overturned early in 1854,
and sundry grave charges were brought against him. He spoke in favour of
the abolition of the privileges conceded to Romish holidays, and was
followed by several French Canadians, two of them of the Rouge party, who
spoke against the measure, one of them so eloquently as to remind me of
the historical days of the Girondists.
Mr. Lyon Mackenzie, who led the rebellion which was so happily checked at
Toronto, and narrowly escaped condign punishment, followed, and diverged
from the question of promissory notes to the Russian war and other
subjects; and when loud cries of "Question, question, order, order!"
arose, he tore up his notes, and sat down abruptly in a most theatrical
manner, amid bursts of laughter from both floor and galleries; for he
appears to be the privileged buffoon of the House.
The appearance of the House is rather imposing; the members behave with
extraordinary decorum; and to people accustomed to the noises and unseemly
interruptions which characterise the British House of Commons, the silence
and order of the Canadian House are very agreeable. [Footnote: In justice
to the Canadian Parliament, I must insert the following extract from the
'_Toronto Globe_,' from which it will appear that there are very
disgraceful exceptions to this ordinarily decorous conduct:--
"Mr. Mackenzie attempted to speak, and held the floor for two or three
minutes, although his voice was inaudible from the kicking of desks,
caterwaulings, and snatches of songs from various parts of the house."]
The members seemed to give full attention to the debate; very few were
writing, and none were reading anything except Parliamentary papers, and
no speaker was interrupted except on one occasion. There was extremely
little walking about; but I observed one gentleman, a notorious exquisite,
cross the floor several times, apparently with no other object than that
of displaying his fine person in bowing profoundly to the Speaker. The
gentlemanly appearance of the members, taken altogether, did not escape my
notice.
Sir Allan M'Nab, the present Premier, is the head of a coalition ministry;
fortunately, it is not necessary to offer any remarks upon its policy; and
Canada, following the example of the mother-country, submits quietly to a
coalition. The opposition, which is formed of the Liberal party, is seated
opposite the Government, fronted by Mr. Lyon Mackenzie, who gives a
wavering adherence to every party in succession, and is often indignantly
disavowed by all. The Liberals of Upper Canada are ably led by Mr. George
Brown, who excels in a highly lucid, powerful, and perspicuous course of
reasoning, which cannot fail to produce an effect.
Then there is the Rouge party, led by the member for Montreal, which is
principally composed of very versatile and enthusiastic Frenchmen of
rather indefinite opinions and aims, professing a creed which appears a
curious compound of Republicanism and Rationalism. The word
Latitudinarianism defines it best. There are 130 members, divided into
numerous "ists" and "ites." Most of the members for Lower Canada are
French, and, consequently, the Romish party is a very powerful one in the
House. Taken as a whole, the members are loyal, and have proved their
attachment to England by a vote of 20,000_l._ for the Patriotic Fund.
I think that all who are in the habit of reading the debates will allow
that the speaking in the House will bear comparison with that in our House
of Commons; and if some of the younger members in attempting the sublime
occasionally attain the ridiculous, and mistake extravagance of expression
for greatness of thought, these are faults which time and criticism will
remedy. Canada is a great and prosperous country, and its Legislative
Assembly is very creditable to so young a community. Bribery, corruption,
and place-hunting are alleged against this body; but as these vices are
largely developed in England, it would be bad taste to remark upon them,
particularly as the most ardent correctors of abuses now reluctantly allow
that they are inseparable from popular assemblies. It is needless to speak
of the Upper House, which, as has been sarcastically remarked of our House
of Peers, is merely a "_High Court of Registry_"--it remains to be seen
whether an elective chamber would possess greater vitality and
independence.
The Speaker of the Legislative Assembly is a Frenchman, and French and
English are used indiscriminately in debate. Parliamentary notices and
papers are also printed in both languages.
It was a cold, gloomy October morning, a cold east wind rustled the russet
leaves, and a heavy, dry fog enveloped Point Diamond, when I left the
bustle of Quebec for a quiet drive to Montmorenci in a light waggon with a
very spirited little horse, a young lady acting as charioteer. The little
animal was very impetuous, and rattled down the steep, crowded streets of
Quebec at a pace which threatened to entangle our wheels with those of
numerous carts driven by apathetic _habitans_, who were perfectly
indifferent to the admonitions "_Prenez garde_" and "_Place aux dames_,"
delivered in beseeching tones. We passed down a steep street, and through
Palace-gate, into the district of St. Roch, teeming with Irish and dirt,
for I fear it is a fact that, wherever you have the first, you invariably
have the last. Beyond this there was a space covered with mud and sawdust,
where two _habitans_ were furiously quarrelling. One sprang upon the other
like a hyena, knocked him down, and then attempted to bite and strangle
him, amid the applause of numerous spectators.
Leaving Quebec behind, we drove for seven miles along a road in sight of
the lesser branch of the St. Lawrence, which has on the other side the
green and fertile island of Orleans. The houses along this road are so
numerous as to present the appearance of a village the whole way.
Frenchmen who arrive here in summer can scarcely believe that they are not
in their own sunny land; the external characteristics of the country are
so exactly similar. These dwellings are large, whitewashed, and many-
windowed, and are always surrounded with balconies. The doors are reached
by flights of steps, in order that they may be above the level of the snow
in winter. The rooms are clean, but large and desolate-looking, and are
generally ornamented with caricatures of the Virgin and uncouth
representations of miracles. The women dress in the French style, and wear
large straw hats out of doors, which were the source of constant
disappointments to me, for I always expected to see a young, if not a
pretty, face under a broad brim, and these females were remarkably ill-
favoured; their complexions hardened, wrinkled, and bronzed, from the
effects of hard toil, and the extremes of heat and cold. I heard the hum
of spinning-wheels from many of the houses, for these industrious women
spin their household linen, and the gray homespun in which the men are
clothed. The furniture is antique, and made of oak, and looks as if it had
been handed down from generation to generation. The men, largely assisted
by the females, cultivate small plots of ground, and totally disregard all
modern improvements. These French towns and villages improve but little.
Popery, that great antidote to social progress, is the creed universally
professed, and generally the only building of any pretensions is a large
Romish church with two lofty spires of polished tin. Education is not much
prized; the desires of the simple _habitans_ are limited to the attainment
of a competence for life, and this their rudely-tilled farms supply them
with. Few emigrants make this part of Canada even a temporary resting-
place; the severity of the climate, the language, the religion, and the
laws, are all against them; hence, though a professor of a purer faith may
well blush to confess it, the vices which emigrants bring with them are
unknown. These peasants are among the most harmless people under the sun;
they are moral, sober, and contented, and zealous in the observances of
their erroneous creed. Their children divide the land, and, as each
prefers a piece of soil adjoining the road or river, strips of soil may
occasionally be seen only a few yards in width. They strive after
happiness rather than advancement, and who shall say that they are
unsuccessful in their aim? As their fathers lived, so they live; each
generation has the simplicity and superstition of the preceding one. In
the autumn they gather in their scanty harvest, and in the long winter
they spin and dance round their stove-sides. On Sundays and saints' days
they assemble in crowds in their churches, dressed in the style of a
hundred years since. Their wants and wishes are few, their manners are
courteous and unsuspicious, they hold their faith with a blind and
implicit credulity, and on summer evenings sing the songs of France as
their fathers sang them in bygone days on the smiling banks of the rushing
Rhone.
The road along which the dwellings of these small farmers lie is
macadamised, and occasionally a cross stands by the roadside, at which
devotees may be seen to prostrate themselves. There is a quiet, lethargic,
old-world air about the country, contrasting strangely with the bustling,
hurrying, restless progress of Upper Canada. Though the condition of the
_habitans_ is extremely unprofitable to themselves, it affords a short
rest to the thinking and observing faculties of the stranger, overstrained
as they are with taking in and contemplating the railroad progress of
things in the New World.
While we admire and wonder at the vast material progress of Western Canada
and the North-western States of the Union, considerations fraught with
alarm will force themselves upon us. We think that great progress is being
made in England, but, without having travelled in America, it is scarcely
possible to believe what the Anglo-Saxon race is performing upon a new
soil. In America we do not meet with factory operatives, seamstresses, or
clerks overworked and underpaid, toiling their lives away in order to keep
body and soul together; but we have people of all classes who could obtain
competence and often affluence by moderate exertions, working harder than
slaves--sacrificing home enjoyments, pleasure, and health itself to the
one desire of the acquisition of wealth. Daring speculations fail; the
struggle in unnatural competition with men of large capital, or
dishonourable dealings, wears out at last the overtasked frame--life is
spent in a whirl--death summons them, and finds them unprepared. Everybody
who has any settled business is overworked. Voices of men crying for
relaxation are heard from every quarter, yet none dare to pause in this
race which they so madly run, in which happiness and mental and bodily
health are among the least of their considerations. All are spurred on by
the real or imaginary necessities of their position, driven along their
headlong course by avarice, ambition, or eager competition.
The Falls of Montmorenci, which we reached after a drive of eight miles,
are beautiful in the extreme, and, as the day was too cold for picnic
parties, we had them all to ourselves. There is no great body of water,
but the river takes an unbroken leap of 280 feet from a black narrow
gorge. The scathed black cliffs descend in one sweep to the St. Lawrence,
in fine contrast to the snowy whiteness of the fall. Montmorenci gave me
greater sensations of pleasure than Niagara. There are no mills, museums,
guides, or curiosity-shops. Whatever there is of beauty bears the fair
impress of its Creator's hand; and if these Falls are beautiful on a late
October day, when a chill east wind was howling through leafless trees
looming through a cold, grey fog, what must they be in the burst of spring
or the glowing luxuriance of summer?
We drove back for some distance, and entered a small _cabaret_, where some
women were diligently engaged in spinning, and some men were
superintending with intense interest the preparation of some _soupe
maigre_. Their _patois_ was scarcely intelligible, and a boy whom we took
as our guide spoke no English. After encountering some high fences and
swampy ground, we came to a narrow rocky pathway in a wood, with bright
green, moss-covered trees, stones, and earth. On descending a rocky bank
we came to the "natural staircase," where the rapid Montmorenci forces its
way through a bed of limestone, the broken but extremely regular
appearance of the layers being very much like wide steps. The scene at
this place is wildly beautiful. The river, frequently only a few feet in
width, sometimes foams furiously along between precipices covered with
trees, and bearing the marks of years of attrition; then buries itself in
dark gulfs, or rests quiescent for a moment in still black pools, before
it reaches its final leap.
The day before I left Quebec I went to the romantic falls of Lorette,
about thirteen miles from the city. It was a beauteous day. I should have
called it oppressively warm, but that the air was fanned by a cool west
wind. The Indian summer had come at last; "the Sagamores of the tribes had
lighted their council-fires" on the western prairies. What would we not
give for such a season! It is the rekindling of summer, but without its
heat--it is autumn in its glories, but without its gloom. The air is soft
like the breath of May; everything is veiled in a soft pure haze, and the
sky is of a faint and misty blue.
A mysterious fascination seemed to bind us to St. Roch, for we kept
missing our way and getting into "streams as black as Styx." But at length
the city of Quebec, with its green glacis and frowning battlements, was
left behind, and we drove through flat country abounding in old stone
dwelling-houses, old farms, and large fields of stubble. We neared the
blue hills, and put up our horses in the Indian village of Lorette.
Beautiful Lorette! I _must_ not describe, for I _cannot_, how its river
escapes from under the romantic bridge in a broad sheet of milk-white
foam, and then, contracted between sullen barriers of rock, seeks the deep
shade of the pine-clad precipices, and hastens to lose itself there. It is
perfection, and beauty, and peace; and the rocky walks upon its forest-
covered crags might be in Switzerland.
Being deserted by the gentlemen of the party, my fair young companion and
I found our way to Lorette, which is a large village built by government
for the Indians; but by intermarrying with the French they have lost
nearly all their distinctive characteristics, and the next generation will
not even speak the Indian language. Here, as in every village in Lower
Canada, there is a large Romish church, ornamented with gaudy paintings.
We visited some of the squaws, who wear the Indian dress, and we made a
few purchases. We were afterwards beset by Indian boys with bows and
arrows of clumsy construction; but they took excellent aim, incited by the
reward of coppers which we offered to them. It is grievous to see the
remnants of an ancient race in such a degraded state; the more so as I
believe that there is no intellectual inferiority as an obstacle to their
improvement. I saw some drawings by an Indian youth which evinced
considerable talent: one in particular, a likeness of Lord Elgin, was
admirably executed.
I have understood that there is scarcely a greater difference between
these half-breeds and the warlike tribes of Central America, than between
them and the Christian Indians of the Red River settlements. There are
about fourteen thousand Indians in Canada, few of them in a state of great
poverty, for they possess annuities arising from the sale of their lands.
They have no incentives to exertion, and spend their time in shooting,
fishing, and drinking spirits in taverns, where they speedily acquire the
vices of the white men without their habits of industry and enterprise.
They have no idols, and seldom enter into hostile opposition to
Christianity, readily exchanging the worship of the Great Spirit for its
tenets, as far as convenient. It is very difficult, however, to arouse
them to a sense of sin, or to any idea of the importance of the world to
come; but at the same time, in no part of the world have missionary
labours been more blessed than at the Red River settlements. Great changes
have passed before their eyes. Year, as it succeeds year, sees them driven
farther west, as their hunting-grounds are absorbed by the insatiate white
races. The twang of the Indian bow, and the sharp report of the Indian
rifle, are exchanged for the clink of the lumberer's axe and the "g'lang"
of the sturdy settler. The corn waves in luxuriant crops over land once
covered with the forest haunts of the moose, and the waters of the lakes
over which the red man paddled in his bark canoe are now ploughed by
crowded steamers. Where the bark dwellings of his fathers stood, the
locomotive darts away on its iron road, and the helpless Indian looks on
aghast at the power and resources of the pale-faced invaders of his soil.
The boat by which I was to leave Quebec was to sail on the afternoon of
the day on which I visited Lorette, but was detained till the evening by
the postmaster-general, when a heavy fog came on, which prevented its
departure till the next morning. The small-pox had broken out in the city,
and rumours of cholera had reached and alarmed the gay inhabitants of St.
Louis. I never saw terror so unrestrainedly developed as among some ladies
on hearing of the return of the pestilence. One of them went into
hysterics, and became so seriously ill that it was considered necessary
for her to leave Quebec the same evening. In consequence of the delay of
the boat, it was on a Sunday morning that I bade adieu to Quebec. I had
never travelled on a Sunday before, and should not have done so on this
occasion had it not been a matter of necessity. I am happy to state that
no boats run on the St. Lawrence on the Sabbath, and the enforced sailing
of the _John Munn_ caused a great deal of grumbling among the stewards and
crew. The streets were thronged with people going to early mass, and to a
special service held to avert the heavy judgments which it was feared were
impending over the city. The boat was full, and many persons who were
flying from the cholera had slept on board.
I took a regretful farewell of my friends, and with them of beautiful
Quebec. I had met with much of kindness and hospitality, but still I must
confess that the excessive gaiety and bustle of the city exercise a
depressing influence. People appear absorbed by the fleeting pleasures of
the hour; the attractions of this life seem to overbalance the importance
of the life to come; and among the poor there is a large amount of sin and
sorrow--too many who enter the world without a blessing, and depart from
it without a hope. The bright sun of the Indian summer poured down its
flood of light upon the castled steep, and a faint blue mist was diffused
over the scene of beauty. Long undulating lines showed where the blue
hills rose above the green island of Orleans, and slept in the haze of
that gorgeous season. Not a breath of wind stirred the heavy folds of the
flag of England on the citadel, or ruffled the sleeping St. Lawrence, or
the shadows of the countless ships on its surface; and the chimes of the
bells of the Romish churches floated gently over the water. Such a morning
I have seldom seen, and Quebec lay basking in beauty. Surely that
morning's sun shone upon no fairer city! The genial rays of that autumn
sun were typical of the warm kind hearts I was leaving behind, who had
welcomed a stranger to their hospitable homes; and, as the bell rang, and
the paddles revolved in the still deep water, a feeling of sorrow came
over my heart when I reflected that the friendly voices might never again
sound in my ear, and that the sunshine which was then glittering upon the
fortress-city might, to my eyes, glitter upon it no more.
The _John Munn_ was a very handsome boat, fitted up with that prodigality
which I have elsewhere described as characteristic of the American
steamers; but in the course of investigation I came upon the steerage, or
that part of the middle floor which is devoted to the poorer class of
emigrants, of whom five hundred had landed at Quebec only the day before.
The spectacle here was extremely annoying, for men, women, and children
were crowded together in an ill-ventilated space, with kettles, saucepans,
blankets, bedding, and large blue boxes. There was a bar for the sale of
spirits, which, I fear, was very much frequented, for towards night there
were sounds of swearing, fighting, and scuffling, proceeding from this
objectionable locality.
A day-boat was such a rare occurrence that some of the citizens of Quebec
took the journey merely to make acquaintance with the beauties of their
own river. We passed the Heights of Abraham, and Wolfe's Cove, famous in
history; wooded slopes and beautiful villas; the Chaudière river, and its
pine-hung banks; but I was so ill that even the beauty of the St. Lawrence
could not detain me in the saloon, and I went down into the ladies' cabin,
where I spent the rest of the day on a sofa wrapped in blankets. A good
many of the ladies came down stairs to avoid some quadrilles which a
French Canadian lady was playing, and a friend of mine, Colonel P----,
having told some one that I had had the cholera, there was a good deal of
mysterious buzzing in consequence, of which I only heard a few
observations, such as--"How very imprudent!" "How very wrong to come into
a public conveyance!" "Just as we were trying to leave it behind too!" But
I was too ill to be amused, even when one lady went so far as to remove
the blanket to look at my face. There was a very pale and nervous-looking
young lady lying on a sofa opposite, staring fixedly at me. Suddenly she
got up, and asked me if I were very ill? I replied that I had been so.
"She's had the cholera, poor thing!" the stewardess unfortunately
observed. "The cholera!" she said, with an affrighted look; and, hastily
putting on her bonnet, vanished from the cabin, and never came down again.
She had left Quebec because of the cholera, having previously made
inquiries as to whether any one had died of it in the _John Munn_; and
now, being brought, as she fancied, into contact with it, her imagination
was so strongly affected that she was soon taken seriously ill, and brandy
and laudanum were in requisition. So great was the fear of contagion,
that, though the boat was so full that many people had to sleep on sofas,
no one would share a state-room with me.
We were delayed by fog, and did not reach Montreal till one in the
morning. I found Montreal as warm and damp as it had been cold and bracing
on my first visit; but the air was not warmer than the welcome which I
received. Kind and tempting was the invitation to prolong my stay at the
See House; enticing was the prospect offered me of a visit to a seigneurie
on the Ottawa; and it was with very great reluctance that, after a sojourn
of only one day, I left this abode of refinement and hospitality, and the
valued friends who had received me with so much kindness, for a tedious
journey to New York. I left the See House at five o'clock on the last day
of October, so ill that I could scarcely speak or stand. It was pitch-
dark, and the rain was pouring in torrents. The high wind blew out the
lamp which was held at the door; an unpropitious commencement of a
journey. Something was wrong with the harness; the uncouth vehicle was
nearly upset backwards; the steam ferryboat was the height of gloom,
heated to a stifling extent, and full of people with oil-skin coats and
dripping umbrellas. We crossed the rushing St. Lawrence just as the yellow
gas-lights of Montreal were struggling with the pale, murky dawn of an
autumn morning, and reached the cars on the other side before it was light
enough to see objects distinctly. Here the servant who had been kindly
sent with me left me, and the few hours which were to elapse before I
should join my friends seemed to present insurmountable difficulties. The
people in the cars were French, the names of the stations were French, and
"_Prenez-garde de la locomotive_!" denoted the crossings. How the
_laissez-faire_ habits of the _habitans_ must he outraged by the clatter
of a steam-engine passing their dwellings at a speed of thirty-five miles
an hour! Yet these very _habitans_ were talking in the most unconcerned
manner in French about a railway accident in Upper Canada, by which forty-
eight persons were killed! After a journey of two hours I reached Rouse's
Point, and, entering a handsome steamer on Lake Champlain, took leave of
the British dominions.
Before re-entering the territory of the stars and stripes, I will offer a
few concluding remarks on Canada.