Arrive at Cornwall--The St. Lawrence--Gossip on India--Aspect
of the country--Montreal--The St. Lawrence Hall Hotel--Story
of a Guardsman--Burnside--Dinner--Refuse a banquet--Flags--Climate
--_Salon-à-manger_--Contrast of Americans and English--Sleighs--The
“Driving Club”--The Victoria Bridge--Uneasy feeling--Monument to
Irish emigrants--Irish character--Montreal and New York--The
Rink--Sir F. Williams--Influence of the Northerners.
It was noon ere we reached Cornwall, a place some seventy miles
from Montreal, where a rough _restaurant_ at the station enabled
us to make a supplement to the deficiencies of our simple repast.
The people who poured in and out of the train here were fine
rough-looking fellows, with big, broad, sallow faces and large
beards, wrapped up in furs, wearing great long boots,--men of a new
type. Several of them were speaking in French; but the literature
which travelled along with us was American, mostly New York, in the
matter of periodicals: it was of course English, and pirated, in
the more substantial forms. The frost still clung to the outside
of the windows; inside, the foliage and broad tracery of leaves,
and cathedral aisles, and plumes of knight and lady, tumbled down
in big drops, and by degrees the sun cleared away the crust on one
side, so that we could look out on the flat expanse of snow-covered
forest.
On our right, now and then glimpses could be caught of a pale blue
riband-like streak across the dazzling white plain. “That’s the St.
Lawrence you see there. Pitty it’s friz up so long. We wouldn’t
envy the Yankees anything they’ve got to show us if we had a port
open all the year,” quoth an honest Canadian beside me. For the
first time I began to feel sympathy for a country that “can’t get
out” for five mortal months, and that breathes through another
man’s nostrils and mouth. A horrible semi-suffocated sort of
existence. No wonder the Canadians look longingly over at that bit
of land which Lord Ashburton yielded to the United States and the
State of Maine.
A----n and I, by way of counteracting the influence of the
atmosphere and external scenery, talked of India. Some poor
creatures half the world’s girth away, whom we were speaking of at
that moment, would have given a good deal for some of the despised
ice and snow around us, groaning no doubt under that sun which
even in February knows no coolness in Central India in mid-day.
How oddly things turn up! I had ever firmly believed that a young
soldier friend of mine had slain many enemies in that great
rebellion, and had, Achilles-like, sent many souls of sepoys to
Hades, and so in that faith speaking, suddenly I was interrupted
by A----n. “What are you talking of? _He_ kill so _many_ budmashes
at Nulla-Nullah! Why, I don’t believe he ever fired a shot or made
a cut at a nigger in his life.” _My_ fierce little friend had done
both, and many a time and oft. And so, as he knew, away went a
reputation, within thirty miles of Montreal; thermometer 10°.
Hereabouts were seen many snug homesteads rising up through the
snow, with farmhouses, and outhouses--all clad in the same livery.
The country looked well cleared and settled; sleighs glided over
the surface, and were drawn up at the stations to carry passengers
and luggage. Anon we came upon a great frozen river, and crossed
it by a series of arches too great for a bridge; but this was
nevertheless the Ottawa itself rolling away under its ice coat,
as the blood flows through an artery, to rush unseen into the
cold embrace of the St. Lawrence. These two great bridges must
be worth visiting when they can be seen in the full exercise of
their functions. The river forms an island here which the ice now
continentalises.
About four o’clock, very much as land looms up in the ocean, we saw
the dark mass of Montreal rising up in contrast to the whitened
mountain at the foot of which it lies; the masts of vessels frozen
in, and funnels of steamers, mingled with steeples and domes; and
as the sun struck the windows a thousand flashes of glowing red
darted back upon us. Then the train ran past a “marine factory,”
whatever that may be, and a suburb of stone and wooden houses
intermixed, and a population of children whose faces looked
preternaturally pale, perhaps from the reflection of the snow,
and of women in pork-pie hats with thick veils over their faces,
and of men, mostly smoking, in great fur coats and boots; and at
last the train reached the terminus, where a great concourse of
sleigh-drivers, who spoke as though they had that moment left
Kingstown jetty, Ireland, claimed our body and property. These were
promptly routed by the staff of the St. Lawrence Hall, who carried
off our party to an omnibus without wheels, which finally bore us
off to the hotel so called.
The soldiers about the streets were all comfortably clad in dark
overcoats, fur caps with flaps for the ears, and long boots; but
the dress takes from their height, and does not conduce to a smart
soldier-like appearance.
The streets through which we passed were lined with well-built
lofty houses. It might scarce be fancy which made me think that
Montreal was better built than American cities of the same size.
In the great cold hall of the hotel there was excessive activity:
befurred officers of the regiments sent to Canada during the Trent
difficulty, before Mr. Seward had made up his mind and persuaded
the President to give up the Southern envoys, were coming in, going
out, or were congregated in the passage. Orderlies went to and fro
with despatches and office papers. In fact the general-in-chief,
Sir Fenwick Williams of Kars, and staff, the commanding officer
of the Guards, Lord G. Paulet, and staff, were quartered here,
and carried on their office business; and the Commissary-General,
Power, and the Principal Medical Officer, Dr. Muir, were also
lodging in the hotel, with a host of combatant officers of inferior
grade.
There was no rush to the _table-d’hôte_, after the American
fashion, but the dinner itself was very much in the American style.
I was much amused at the distress of a Guardsman who made his
appearance at the doorway during dinner, with a letter in his hand
for one of the officers. He halted stiffly at the threshold, and
stood staring at the brilliancy of the splendid ormolu ornaments,
and the array of lacquered chandeliers and covers. In vain the
waiters pointed out to him the officer he sought; he would not
intrude on the gorgeous scene, nor would he trust his missive to
another hand. At last, after gazing in a desperate manner on space,
and balancing from one leg to another, he took a maddening resolve,
put his hand to his cap, held the other out with the letter in it
as his dumb apology and in mitigation of punishment, and marching
straight to his mark, trampling crowds of waiters in his way, only
halted when he came up to the table he sought, where, with eyeballs
starting, he put the missive to the level of the captain’s nose,
saluted, and ejaculated, “By order of Colonel Jones, sir.” “All
right.” With a wheel round and a salute, the perturbed warrior
countermarched and escaped into the prosaic outward world. A
Frenchman would have come in with the most perfect self-possession,
and possibly with some little grace. An American would probably
have turned his chew, have addressed some remarks to the waiters
on his way, have given the captain a tap on the back or a nudge of
the elbow, and would rather have expected a drink. And which of the
three, after all, is to be preferred?
I met a whole regiment of men I knew, and after dinner adjourned
with some of them to my rooms. They all growled of course, found
fault with Canada and abused the Government, and seemed to think it
ought not to snow in winter.
I received a most interesting letter from a friend of mine with
the Burnside expedition, which revealed as large an amount of bad
management as could well be conceived. Burnside, personally, has
enough ingenuity, but is quite wanting in self-reliance, presence
of mind, and vigour. The expedition from which so much was
expected did more than might have been thought possible at one time
under the circumstances.
A telegram from Toronto informed me that it was in contemplation to
invite me to a public banquet, and desired me to state my wishes.
Very much as I appreciated such an honour from my countrymen
and fellow-subjects, it was inconsistent, as I conceived, with
my position, as it certainly was with my sense of the merits
attributed to me, to accept the very great compliment offered to
me. It came all the more agreeably as it was in such contrast to
the manner in which I had been received in the United States for
the last few months; and it touched me very sensibly, more than my
friends at Toronto could have imagined.
A----n came in rather wroth about a matter of flags. He had been
to see some Frenchmen, whether real or true Zouaves of the Crimea
I know not, who gave out on tremendous posters that they were the
identical children of the Beni Zoug Zoug, who had acted before us
all in that theatre on the Woronzow Road once so charming and well
filled; and he had been seized with indignation because they, in
that Canadian city, under the British flag, had dared to perform
under the folds of the tricolor, and the stars and stripes of the
United States. I explained that the British flag was metaphorically
and properly supposed to float above both; all which much comforted
him, and so to bed--cold enough, in despite of stoves and open
fire. The servants here are Irish men and women, with a sprinkling
of free negroes.
Next day the weather was not at all warmer. In winter time the cold
is by no means unbearable in this Canadian clime, when one is well
furred and clad; to the poor it must be very trying, for furs and
fuel are dear, and even clothing of an ordinary kind is not cheap.
The emigrant, in his rude log hut open in many chinks, must shrink
and shiver and suffer in the blast. What do they, who follow, not
owe to the hardy explorer who has opened up wood and mountain, and
laid down paths on the sea for them?
A thick haze had now settled down on all things, a cold freezing
rime, which clung and crept to one, and almost sat down on the very
hearth. Descending the stairs, which were in a transition state
and in the hands of carpenters, to the long “salon-à-manger,” I
found the tables well filled by guardsmen, riflemen, and members
of the staff, military and civil, who gave the place the air of a
mess-room under disorderly circumstances.
I had before this seen many such rooms in American hotels in cities
filled with soldiery, and I am bound to say the difference between
the two sets of men was remarkable. The noise, gaiety, and life of
these grave English were exuberant when compared to the silence of
American gatherings of the same kind, which are, indeed, disturbed
by the clatter of plates and dishes, and the horrible squeaking
of chair legs over the polished floors, but otherwise are quiet
enough. Here, men laughed out, talked loud, shouted to the waiters,
aired their lungs in occasional scoldings and objurgations,
having reference to chops and steaks and tardy-coming dishes;
“old-fellowed” their friends; asked or told the news. I don’t know
that the Englishmen were better looking, taller, or in any physical
way had the advantage of the men of the continent, except in
ruddier cheeks perhaps, and in frames better provided with cellular
tissue; but the distinction of style and manner was marked.
The Americans usually came into the salon singly; each man, with
a bundle of newspapers under his arm, took a seat at a vacant
table, ordered a prodigious repast, which he gobbled in haste, as
though he was afraid of losing a train, and then rushed off to the
bar or smoked in the passages, never sitting for a moment after
his breakfast. The Englishmen came in little knots or groups,
exhibited no great anxiety about newspapers, ordered simple and
substantial feasts, enjoyed them at their ease, chattered much, and
were in no particular hurry to leave the table. The taciturnity
of the American was not well-bred, nor was the good humour of the
Briton vulgar. It may be said the comparison is not just, because
the Americans were engaged in a fearful war, which engrossed all
their thoughts; whilst the English officer was merely sent out on
a tour of duty. But in the bar-room, _restaurants_, or streets,
the American did not maintain the same aspect: he put on what is
called a swaggering air, and was not at all disposed to let his
shoulder-straps or his sword escape notice.
The good people at home would have been greatly surprised to hear
the way in which the officers spoke of their exile to the snows of
Canada; but though they growled and grumbled when breakfast was
over, probably till dinner time, they would have fought all the
better for it. Indeed there was not much else to do.
The streets were piled with snow; and at the front of the hotel,
sleighs, driven by Irishmen, such as are seen managing the Dublin
hacks, wrapped up in fur and sheepskins, were drawn up waiting
for fares, to the constant jingle of the bells, which enlivened
the air. It was too early and too raw and cold for many of the
ladies of Montreal to trust their complexions to the cruelties
of the climate, thickly veiled though they might be; but now and
then a sleigh slid by with a bright-eyed freight half-buried in
_fourrures_, and some handsome private vehicles of this description
reached in their way as high a point of richness and elegance as
could well be conceived. The horses were rarely of corresponding
quality. The guardsmen and other soldiers, “red” and “green,”
strode about in cold defiant boots, and seemed to like the town and
climate better than their officers. Mr. Blackwell, the amiable and
accomplished chief of the Grand Trunk Railway, called for me, and
drove me out to an early dinner.
It was a matter of some ceremony to set forth: a fur cap with
flaps secured over the ears and under the chin, a large fur cloak,
and a pair of moccasins for the feet, had to be put on; and then
we climb the sides of the boat-like sleigh, and started off at a
rapid pace, which produced a sea-sick sensation--at least what I
am told is like it--in very rough places where the runners of the
sleighs have cut into the snow. On our way we were rejoiced by the
sight of the “Driving Club” going out for an excursion, Sir Fenwick
Williams leading. All one could see, however, was a certain looming
up of dark forms through the drift gliding along to the music of
the bells, which followed one after the other, and were lost in
the hazy yet glittering clouds tossed up by the horses’ hoofs from
the snow. In the afternoon the rime passed off, and the day became
clearer, but no warmer.
At about three o’clock, we sleighed over by rough roads to the
terminus of the railway, close to the Victoria Bridge, where a
party of the directors and some officers--Colonel Mackensie,
Colonel Wetherall, Colonels Ellison and Earle of the Guards, and
others recently arrived--were assembled to view the great work
which would stamp the impress of English greatness on Canada, if
her power were to be rooted out to-morrow. The royal carriage--a
prettily decorated long open waggon, with the Prince of Wales’s
coat of arms, plume, and initials still shining brightly--was in
readiness; and as cold makes one active, or very lazy, as the case
may be, we lost no time in starting to explore the bridge, which
threw its massive weight in easy stretches across the vast frozen
highway of the St. Lawrence--so light, so strong, so graceful, for
all its rigid lines, that I can compare the impression of the thing
to nothing so much as to that of the bounds of a tiger.
The entrance, in the limestone rock, is grandly simple; but ere we
could well admire its proportions the car ran into the darkness of
the great tube. The light admitted by the neatly designed windows
in the iron sides of the aërial tunnel was not enough to enable
us to pierce through the smoke and the fog which clung to the
interior. The car proceeded to the end, the thermometer marking
6°. Statistics, though I have them all by me, I am not about to
give, as the history of the bridge is well known; but Mr. Blackwell
showed me a table which indicated that the monster suffers or
rejoices like a living thing, and contracts and expands and swells
out his lines wondrously, just in proportion as the temperature
alters.
From this end of the magnificent bridge one could see, nearly a
hundred feet below him, the rugged surface of the ice, beneath
which was rolling the St. Lawrence. It was distinguished from the
snowy expanse covering the land by the bluish glint of the ice, and
by the torn glacier-like aspect of the course of the stream, where
the frozen masses had been contending fiercely with the current and
with each other till the frost-king had clutched them and bound
them in the midst of the conflict. You could trace the likeness
of spires, pinnacles, castles, battlements, and alpine peaks in
the wild confusion of those serried heaps, which were tilted up
and forced together; but the haze did not permit us to follow the
course of the stream for any great distance. It was too cold for
enthusiastic enjoyment, and we got into the car and backed into the
darkness till we reached the centre of the bridge.
I confess, when it occurred to me that great cold makes iron
brittle, the uneasy feeling I experienced of suspense, _malgré
moi_, in passing over any of these great engineering triumphs, was
aggravated so far that it required a good deal of faith in the
charming diagram of the effects of temperature on the bridge, to
make me quite at ease. I suppose it is only an engineer who can be
quite above the thought, “Suppose, after all, the bridge does go at
this particular moment.” And then the iron did crackle and bang and
shriek most unmistakeably and demonstratively.
At the centre of the bridge we got out, and had another look at the
river, some sixty feet below. Remarked the _thinness_ of the iron;
was informed it was on purpose, every plate being made specially
for its place. Examined carefully a bolt driven in by the Prince
of Wales; rather liked its appearance, as it was well hammered and
seemed sound. Then the car received us, and we were drawn through
this ghastly cold gallery once more, and were divulged at the
railway station among a crowd of furred citizens.
Thence through the city over the rough road in our carrioles and
sleighs. On our way I remarked a stone obelisk standing out of the
snow close to the railway, in a low patch of ground near the river.
“That,” said my companion, “is a memorial to six thousand Irish
emigrants who died here of ship fever.” What a history in those few
words--a tale of sorrow and woe unutterable--I hope, not of neglect
and indifference too! The railway engineers have thoughtfully
erected the monument of the nameless dead, and so far rescued their
fate from oblivion.
I am not so philosophic as to witness the desolating emigrations
which leave the homes of a country waste, and fill the lands of
future kingdoms and possible rivals with an alienated population,
without regret. Above all, I pity the fate of the poor pioneers
whose hapless lot it is to labour unthanked and despised, to build
up the stranger’s cities, to clear his forests, and make his roads,
to found his power and greatness, and then to sit at his gate
waiting for alms when the hour cometh that no man can work.
It is most strange, indeed, and yet too true, that a race which,
above all others, ought to seek the material advantages and the
substantial results of hard work, should be the most readily led
astray by windy agitators and by political disputes and passions.
Here we are driving through the streets of Montreal, which owes
much of its existence to Irish labour, and the labourer lives in
filth and degradation, in the back slums of the city, intensely
interested in elections and clerical discussions, little better
cared for or regarded than the dogs thereof till his vote is
required.
The city is now in its winter mantle, but it shows fair
proportions. The Roman Catholic chapels are well placed and
handsome, and excel in size and numbers the Protestant churches.
The Quarter-master-General, who has had to hire one of the Catholic
colleges to serve as barracks for the troops, says the priests are
remarkably keen practitioners at a bargain: good Churchmen always
were in old times. The metal-covered domes and spires, the roofs of
houses sheeted with tin, now began to glisten in the sun, and gave
a bright look to the place which did not make it all the warmer.
Montreal is a much finer-looking place than I had expected. The
irregularity of the streets pleased the eye, wearied by straight
lines and regular frontage. The houses of stone with double windows
have plain bare fronts, and do not present so good an appearance
as the best of New York; but the character of the residences as
a whole is better, and the effect of the city, to compare small
things with great, very much more interesting and picturesque.
Our destination in this drive was the Rink, or covered
skating-ground, which is the fashionable sporting resort of
Montrealese in the winter time. The crowd of sleighs and
sleigh-drivers around the doors of a building which looked like a
Methodist chapel, announced that the skaters were already assembled.
Anything but a Methodist-looking place inside. The room, which was
like a large public bath-room, was crowded with women, young and
old, skating or preparing to skate, for husbands, and spread in
maiden rays over the glistening area of ice, gliding, swooping,
revolving on legs of every description, which were generally
revealed to mortal gaze in proportion to their goodness, and
therefore were displayed on a principle so far unobjectionable.
The room was lighted with gas, which, with the heat of the crowd,
made the ice rather sloppy; but the skating of the natives was
admirable, and some hardened campaigners of foreign origin had
by long practice learned to emulate the graces and skill of the
inhabitants.
It was a mighty pretty sight. The spectators sat or stood on the
raised ledge round the ice parallelogram like swallows on a cliff,
and now and then dashed off and swept away as if on the wing over
the surface, in couples or alone, executing quadrilles, mazurkas,
waltzes, and tours de force, that made one conceive the laws of
gravitation must be suspended in the Rink, and that the outside
edge is the most stable place for the human foot and figure. Mercy,
what a crash! There is a fine stout young lady sprawling on the
ice, tripped up by Dontstop of the Guards, who is making a first
attempt, to the detriment of the lieges. How delighted the ladies
are, and pretend not to be; for the fallen fair one is the best
contortionist in the place! She is on her legs again--has shaken
the powdered ice and splash off her dandy jacket and neat little
breeches,--yes, they wear breeches, a good many of them,--and is
zigzagging about once more like a pretty noiseless firework.
The little children skate, so do most portentous mammas. A line
of recently arrived officers, in fur caps and coats, look on, all
sucking their canes, and resolving to take private lessons early
in the morning. Some, in the goose-step stage, perform awful first
lines with their skates, and leave me in doubt as to whether they
will split up or dash out their brains. The young ladies pretend to
avoid them with unanimity, but sail round them still as seagulls
sweep by a drowning man. And if a fellow should fall--and be saved
by a lady? Well! It may end in an introduction, and a condition of
“muffinage.” And what that is we must tell you hereafter. I can’t
answer your question as to whether the women were pretty; eyes dark
generally, and good complexions. The Rink is a bad place to judge
of that point.
I paid my respects to Sir Fenwick Williams, who has his quarters
in the hotel. The general has plenty of work to do at present, and
did not seem quite so well as when I saw him after his return from
Kars. There is a general impression that the Federals will keep
their armies in good humour at the end of the war, by annexing
Canada, if they can. No one asks what they will do with them when
that work has been accomplished. Dined at the house of the Hon.
John Rose, member for Montreal, and formerly a member of the
Government. He had, after his hospitable wont, some young officers
to dine also; and, after an agreeable evening, I slid home in a
bitter snow drift to the hotel, and so to bed. Here is a page from
my diary.
_February 6._--The severe cold makes the head ache, and stupefies
me _ultra modum_. I wrote to Mr. Hope, stating my reasons for
declining the great compliment of a public dinner intended for me
at Toronto. As I move about here, I feel that society is much under
the influence of the unruly fellow, our next neighbour. There is
no great love for him; but his prodigious kicks and blows, his
threats, his bad language, his size and insolence, frighten them
up here. There is great anxiety for the American news; and I am
bound to say, the Northern Americans must have done something to
make the Canadians dislike them, as there is little love for them
even where little is felt for England. I saw a great many of the
principal personages _to-day_. Called on the Bishop, whose sweet,
benevolent face is an index of his mind. He spoke in high terms
of his Roman Catholic coadjutor; indeed, it would be difficult to
quarrel with Dr. Mountain. In education, they work harmoniously
together. Mr. D’Arcy M’Ghie called on me. He is now a member of the
Canadian Parliament, and is giving his support to the authority of
the British Crown. His loyalty is, of course, stigmatised by some
as treason to what they call the cause of Ireland; but I believe
the atmosphere of Canada is found to have a vapour-dispelling,
febrifuge character about it which works well on the mind of
the Irish immigrant. A most entertaining, witty, well-informed
barrister, also an Irishman, paid me a visit, and gave some
admirable sketches of Canadian society, of the bar, of the working
of parties, as well as his own ideas on all points, in a peculiarly
terse and pleasant way.