MONTREAL
Following the course of the French explorers, I have come up the St.
Lawrence to the head of navigation, and am now in Montreal, the largest
city of Canada and the second port of North America. It is an outlet
for much of the grain of both the United States and Canada, and it
handles one third of all the foreign trade of the Dominion. Montreal is
the financial centre of the country and the headquarters for many of
its largest business enterprises. In a commercial sense, it is indeed
the New York of Canada, although totally unlike our metropolis.
In order to account for the importance of Montreal, it is necessary
only to glance at the map. Look first at the Gulf of St. Lawrence and
the broad mouth of the river! See how they form a great funnel inviting
the world to pour in its people and goods. Follow the St. Lawrence down
to Quebec and on by Montreal to the Great Lakes, which extend westward
to the very heart of the continent. There is no such waterway on the
face of the globe and none that carries such a vast commerce into the
midst of a great industrial empire.
Montreal is the greatest inland port in the world. It ships more grain
than any other city. It is only four hundred and twenty miles north of
New York, yet it is three hundred miles nearer Liverpool. One third of
the distance to that British port lies between here and the Straits of
Belle Isle, where the Canadian liners first meet the waves of the open
sea. The city is the terminus of the canal from the Great Lakes to the
St. Lawrence and of Canada’s three transcontinental railways. Vessels
from all over the world come here to get cargoes assembled from one of
the most productive regions on the globe. Although frozen in for five
months every winter, Montreal annually handles nearly four million tons
of shipping, most of which is under the British flag. It has a foreign
trade of more than five hundred million dollars. The annual grain
movement sometimes exceeds one hundred and sixty bushels for each of
the city’s population of almost a million.
In the modern sense, the port is not yet one hundred years old, though
Cartier was here nearly four centuries ago, and Champlain came only
seventy years later. Both were prevented from going farther upstream by
the Lachine Rapids, just above the present city. Cartier was seeking
the northwest passage to the East Indies, and he gave the rapids the
name La Chine because he thought that beyond them lay China.
At the foot of the rapids the Frenchmen found an island, thirty miles
long and from seven to ten miles wide, separated from the mainland by
the two mouths of the Ottawa River. It was then occupied by a fortified
Indian settlement. The presence of the Indians seemed to make the
island an appropriate site on which to lay the foundations of the new
Catholic “Kingdom of God,” and the great hill in the background, seven
hundred and forty feet high, suggested the name, Mont Real, or Mount
Royal.
Although the Indians seemed to prefer fighting the newcomers to
gaining salvation, the religious motive was long kept alive, and it was
not until early in the last century that the city began to assume great
commercial importance. During the first days of our Revolution, General
Montgomery occupied Montreal for a time, and Benjamin Franklin begged
its citizens to join our rebellion. It had then about four thousand
inhabitants. Even as late as 1830 Montreal was a walled town, with only
a beach in the way of shipping accommodations. The other day it was
described by an expert from New York as the most efficiently organized
port in the world.
I have gone down to the harbour and been lifted up to the tops of grain
elevators half as high as the Washington Monument. I have also been
a guest of the Harbour Commission in a tour of the water-front. The
Commission is an all-powerful body in the development and control of
the port. Its members, who are appointed by the Dominion government,
have spent nearly forty million dollars in improvements. This sum
amounts to almost five dollars a head for everyone in Canada, but the
port has always earned the interest on its bonds, and has never been a
burden to the taxpayers.
An American, Peter Fleming, who built the locks on the Erie Canal, drew
the first plans for the harbour development of Montreal. That was about
a century ago. Now the city has its own expert port engineers, and last
summer one of the firms here built in ninety days a grain elevator
addition with a capacity of twelve hundred and fifty thousand bushels.
A giant new elevator, larger than any in existence, is now being
erected. It will have a total capacity of fourteen million bushels of
grain.
[Illustration: Montreal’s future, like her present greatness, lies
along her water front. Here the giant elevators load the grain crop of
half a continent into vessels that sail the seven seas.]
[Illustration: On a clear day one may stand on Mt. Royal, overlooking
Montreal and the St. Lawrence, and see in the distance the Green
Mountains of Vermont and the Adirondacks of New York.]
The port handles at times as much as twenty-three hundred thousand
bushels of wheat in a day. It is not uncommon for a lake vessel to
arrive early in the morning, discharge its cargo, and start back to
the head of the lakes before noon. Rivers of wheat are sucked out of
the barges, steamers, and freight cars, and flow at high speed into
the storage bins. There are sixty miles of water-front railways, most
of which have been electrified. Every operation possible is performed
by machinery, and there are never more than a few workmen anywhere in
sight. Yet the grain business is a source of great revenue to the city,
and furnishes a living to thousands of people. One of the industries
it has built up is that of making grain sacks, of which one firm here
turns out two and one half millions a year.
But let me tell you something of the city itself--or, better still,
suppose we go up to the top of Mount Royal and look down upon it
as it lies under our eyes. We shall start from my hotel, a new
eight-million-dollar structure erected chiefly to accommodate American
visitors, and take a coach. As a concession to hack drivers, taxis are
not allowed on top of Mount Royal.
Our way lies through the grounds of McGill University, and past one
of the reservoirs built in the hillside to supply the city with water
pumped from the river. McGill is the principal Protestant educational
institution in the province of Quebec. Here Stephen Leacock teaches
political economy when he is not lecturing or writing his popular
humorous essays. Besides colleges of art, law, medicine, and applied
science, McGill has a school of practical agriculture. It also teaches
young women how to cook. It has branches at Victoria and Vancouver in
British Columbia. The medical school is rated especially high, and many
of its graduates are practicing physicians in the United States.
Now we are on the winding drive leading to the top of the hill. Steep
flights of wooden stairs furnish a shorter way up for those equal to
a stiff climb, and we pass several parties of horseback riders. All
this area is a public park, and a favourite spot with the people of
the city. See those three women dressed in smart sport suits, carrying
slender walking sticks. They seem very English. Over there are two
girls, in knickers and blouses, gaily conversing with their young men.
They have dark eyes and dark hair, with a brunette glow on their cheeks
that marks them as French.
Step to the railing on the edge of the summit. If the day were clear we
could see the Adirondacks and the Green Mountains of Vermont. Like a
broad ribbon of silver the St. Lawrence flows at our feet. That island
over there is called St. Helene, bought by Champlain as a present for
his wife. Since he paid for it out of her dowry, he could hardly do
less than give it her name.
That narrow thread to the right, parallel with the river, is the
Lachine Canal, in which a steamer is beginning its climb to the
level of Lake St. Louis. The canal has a depth of fourteen feet,
and accommodates ships up to twenty-five hundred tons. The shores
of the lake, which is really only a widening out of the river,
furnish pleasant sites for summer bungalows and cool drives on hot
nights. Nearer the city the canal banks are lined with warehouses and
factories. Montreal’s manufactures amount to more than five hundred
million dollars a year.
There below us is Victoria Jubilee Bridge, one and three quarters
miles long. Over it trains and motors from the United States come into
the city. Another railroad penetrates the heart of Montreal by a tunnel
under Mount Royal that has twin tubes more than three miles in length.
The Canadian Pacific Railroad has bridged the St. Lawrence at Lachine.
Most of Montreal lies between Mount Royal and the river, but the
wings of the city reach around on each side of the hill. The French
live in the eastern section. The western suburbs contain the homes
of well-to-do English Canadians. One of them, Westmount, is actually
surrounded by the city, yet it insists on remaining a separate
municipality.
Mark Twain said that he would not dare throw a stone in Montreal for
fear of smashing a church window. If he could view the city to-day he
would be even more timid. Almost every building that rises above the
skyline is a church, and the largest structures are generally Catholic
schools, colleges, hospitals, or orphanages.
In the heart of Montreal’s Wall Street is the huge Church of Notre
Dame. It seats twelve thousand people, and in its tower is the largest
bell in America, weighing about twenty-nine thousand pounds. That dome
farther over marks the location of the Cathedral of St. James. It is a
replica, on a reduced scale, of St. Peter’s at Rome. It seats several
thousand worshippers; nevertheless, when I went there last Sunday
morning hundreds were standing, and within fifteen minutes after one
service was concluded it was again filled to capacity for the next.
Downtown Montreal is built largely of limestone. It has a massive
look, but skyscrapers are barred by a city ordinance. Erection of
modern steel and concrete office buildings is now under way, and they
stand out conspicuously against the background of more old-fashioned
structures. Big as it is and important commercially, Montreal seems
a city without any Main Street. St. Catherine Street has the largest
retail stores and the “bright lights” of theatres and cafés, but I have
seen more impressive thoroughfares in much smaller places at home. This
is essentially a French city, though less so than Quebec. The French
do not naturally incline toward “big business.” They seem content
with small shops, which since the days of their grandfathers have
grown in numbers rather than in size. They are by nature conservative,
and though they make shrewd business managers, they care little for
innovations in either public or private affairs.
I have visited the biggest market, the Bonsecours. It is quite as
French as those I have seen in southern France. This market takes up a
wide street running from the heart of Montreal down to the wharves. The
street is the overflow of the market proper, which fills a church-like
building covering an acre of ground. When I arrived the open space was
crowded with French farmers, who in the early morning had driven their
cars and light motor trucks loaded down with fruits and vegetables into
the city. Fully half of the wagons were in charge of women, who looked
much like those in the Halles Central in Paris. As I pressed my way
through the throng many of them called out to me in French and some
thrust their wares into my face and urged me to buy.
The mayor of Montreal is always a French Canadian, and he is usually
reëlected for several terms. I talked with His Honour and found him a
most pleasant gentleman. Discussing his city, he said:
[Illustration: In the French market one feels he is indeed in a foreign
land, and among a people of alien tongue. When he buys, however, he
discovers that the farmers understand perfectly when money does the
talking.]
[Illustration: Kipling did not endear himself to Montreal when he
called Canada “Our Lady of the Snows,” yet the people are really proud
of their facilities for winter sports, which include a toboggan slide
down Mt. Royal.]
“Montreal is thriving as never before. Our population is rapidly
increasing and we expect soon to have more than a million. We have
taken in some of the suburbs, as your great cities have done, and our
increasing opportunities are constantly attracting new people.
“I believe we are one of the most cosmopolitan communities on the
continent,” continued the Mayor. “About seventy per cent. of us are
French, and a large part of the balance are English Canadians. We have
also Americans, Germans, Belgians, Italians, and Chinese, besides large
numbers of Irish and Scotch, and some of the peoples of southeastern
Europe. We are the Atlantic gate to Canada, so that a large portion of
our immigrants pass through here on their way west. Many of them go no
farther, as they find employment in our varied industries.
“It costs us more than twenty million dollars a year to run Montreal,
but we feel that we can afford it. The value of our taxable buildings
amounts to nearly seven hundred and fifty millions, and is increasing
at the rate of fifteen millions a year. We have more than one million
acres of public parks, or in excess of an acre for every man, woman,
and child in the city.”
Montreal is one of the great sport centres of Canada. In the warm
months, the people play golf, baseball, football, and lacrosse. The
latter is a most exciting game, borrowed from the Indians, with more
thrills and rough play than our college football. It is a cross between
hockey and basketball. A light ball is tossed from player to player by
means of a little net on the end of a long curved stick, the object of
each side being to get the ball into the opponents’ goal. In the game I
saw, the players were often hit on the head and shoulders, and before
the afternoon was over there had been a good deal of bloodshed from
minor injuries. I was told, however, that this match was exceptionally
rough.
In the winter, hockey is the great game of Canada. Every large city has
its hockey rink, and, where there are many Scotch, curling rinks as
well. In curling, great round soapstones are slid across a designated
space on the ice toward the opponents, who stand guard with brooms. By
sweeping the ice in front of the approaching stone, they try to veer it
out of the course intended by the player who started it toward their
goal.
As far as the masses of the people are concerned, skiing, snowshoeing,
and coasting are the chief winter sports, and in them nearly everybody
takes part. In Montreal, toboggan slides are built on the sides of
Mount Royal, and its slopes are covered with young men and women on
snowshoes and skis.
Montreal used to build an ice palace every winter. Then the business
men feared the city was acquiring an antarctic reputation that would
discourage visitors. Consequently, organized exploitation of winter
sports fell off for a time, but this fall a fund of thirty thousand
dollars is being subscribed to finance them on a large scale.