Arrival off Newfoundland.--Singing of the Captain's Goldfinch previous
to the discovery of Land.--Gulf of St. Laurence.--Scenery of the River
St. Laurence.--Difficult navigation of the River.--French Fisherman
engaged as a Pilot.--Isle of Bic.--Green Island.--Gros Isle.--Quarantine
Regulations.--Emigrants on Gros Isle.--Arrival off Quebec.--Prospect of
the City and Environs.
Brig _Laurel_, River St. Laurence.
August 6, 1832.
I LEFT off writing, my dear mother, from this simple cause;--I had
nothing to say. One day was but the echo, as it were, of the one that
preceded it; so that a page copied from the mate's log would have proved
as amusing, and to the full as instructive, as my journal provided I had
kept one during the last fortnight.
So barren of events has that time been that the sight of a party of
bottle-nosed whales, two or three seals, and a porpoise, possibly on
their way to a dinner or tea party at the North Pole, was considered an
occurrence of great importance. Every glass was in requisition as soon
as they made their appearance, and the marine monsters were well nigh
stared out of countenance.
We came within sight of the shores of Newfoundland on the 5th of August,
just one month from the day we took our last look of the British isles.
Yet though the coast was brown, and rugged, and desolate, I hailed its
appearance with rapture. Never did any thing seem so refreshing and
delicious to me as the land breeze that came to us, as I thought,
bearing health and gladness on its wings.
I had noticed with some curiosity the restless activity of the captain's
bird some hours previous to "land" being proclaimed from the look-out
station. He sang continually, and his note was longer, clearer, and more
thrilling than heretofore; the little creature, the captain assured me,
was conscious of the difference in the air as we approached the land. "I
trust almost as much to my bird as to my glass," he said, "and have
never yet been deceived."
Our progress was somewhat tedious after we entered the gulf. Ninety
miles across is the entrance of this majestic river; it seems an ocean
in itself. Half our time is spent poring over the great chart in the
cabin, which is constantly being rolled and unrolled by my husband to
gratify my desire of learning the names of the distant shores and
islands which we pass.
We are without a pilot as yet, and the captain being a cautious seaman
is unwilling to risk the vessel on this dangerous navigation; so that we
proceed but slowly on our voyage.
August 7.--We were visited this morning by a beautiful little bird, not
much larger than our gold-crested wren. I hailed it as a bird of good
omen--a little messenger sent to bid us welcome to the New World, and I
felt almost a childish joy at the sight of our little visitor. There are
happy moments in our lives when we draw the greatest pleasure from the
most trifling sources, as children are pleased with the most simple toy.
From the hour we entered the gulf a perceptible change had taken place
in all on board. The captain, a man of grave, quiet manners, grew quite
talkative. My husband was more than usually animated, and even the
thoughtful young Scotchman became positively an entertaining person. The
crew displayed the most lively zeal in the performance of their duty,
and the goldfinch sung cheerily from dawn till sunset. As for me Hope
was busy in my heart, chasing from it all feelings of doubt or regret
that might sadden the present or cloud the future.
I am now able to trace distinctly the outline of the coast on the
southern side of the river. Sometimes the high lands are suddenly
enveloped in dense clouds of mist, which are in constant motion, rolling
along in shadowy billows, now tinted with rosy light, now white and
fleecy, or bright as silver, as they catch the sunbeams. So rapid are
the changes that take place in the fog-bank, that perhaps the next time
I raise my eyes I behold the scene changed as if by magic. The misty
curtain is slowly drawn up, as if by invisible hands, and the wild,
wooded mountains partially revealed, with their bold rocky shores and
sweeping bays. At other times the vapoury volume dividing, moves along
the valleys and deep ravines, like lofty pillars of smoke, or hangs in
snowy draperies among the dark forest pines.
I am never weary of watching these fantastic clouds; they recall to me
the pleasant time I spent in the Highlands, among the cloud-capped hills
of the north.
As yet, the air is cold, and we experience frequent squalls of wind and
hail, with occasional peals of thunder; then again all is serene and
bright, and the air is filled with fragrance, and flies, and bees, and
birds come flitting past us from the shore.
August 8.--Though I cannot but dwell with feelings of wonder and
admiration on the majesty and power of this mighty river, I begin to
grow weary of its immensity, and long for a nearer view of the shore;
but at present we see nothing more than long lines of pine-clad hills,
with here and there a white speck, which they tell me are settlements
and villages to the south; while huge mountains divested of verdure
bound our view on the north side the river. My admiration of mountainous
scenery makes me dwell with more interest on this side the river, and I
watch the progress of cultivation along these rugged and inhospitable
regions with positive pleasure.
During the last two days we have been anxiously looking out for a pilot
to take us up to Quebec. Various signals have been fired, but hitherto
without success; no pilot has condescended to visit us, so we are
somewhat in the condition of a stage without a coachman, with only some
inexperienced hand to hold the reins. I already perceive some
manifestations of impatience appearing among us, but no one blames the
captain, who is very anxious about the matter; as the river is full of
rocks and shoals, and presents many difficulties to a person not
intimately acquainted with the navigation. Besides, he is answerable for
the safety of the ship to the underwriters, in case he neglects to take
a pilot on board.
* * * * * * *
While writing above I was roused by a bustle on deck, and going up to
learn the cause was informed that a boat with the long looked-for pilot
had put off from the shore; but, after all the fuss and bustle, it
proved only a French fisherman, with a poor ragged lad, his assistant.
The captain with very little difficulty persuaded Monsieur Paul Breton
to pilot us as far as Green Island, a distance of some hundred miles
higher up the river, where he assured us we should meet with a regular
pilot, if not before.
I have some little difficulty in understanding Monsieur Paul, as he
speaks a peculiar dialect; but he seems good-natured and obliging
enough. He tells us the corn is yet green, hardly in ear, and the summer
fruits not yet ripe, but he says, that at Quebec we shall find apples
and fruit in plenty.
As we advance higher up the river the country on both sides begins to
assume a more genial aspect. Patches of verdure, with white cottages,
are seen on the shores and scattered along the sides of the mountains;
while here and there a village church rears its simple spire,
distinguished above the surroundings buildings by its glittering vane
and bright roof of tin. The southern shores are more populous but less
picturesque than those of the north, but there is enough on either side
to delight the eye.
This morning we anchored off the Isle of Bic, a pretty low island,
covered with trees and looking very pleasant. I felt a longing desire to
set my foot on Canadian ground, and must own I was a little disappointed
when the captain advised me to remain on board, and not attempt to make
one of the party that were preparing to go on shore: my husband seconded
the captain's wish, so I contented myself with leaning over the ship's
side and feasting my eyes on the rich masses of foliage as they waved to
and fro with the slight breeze that agitated them. I had soon reason to
be thankful that I had not followed my own wayward will, for the
afternoon proved foggy, and on the return of the boat I learned that the
ground was swampy just where the party landed, and they sunk over their
ankles in water. They reported the island to be covered knee-deep with a
most luxuriant growth of red clover, tall trees, low shrubs, and an
abundance of wild flowers.
That I might not regret not accompanying him, my husband brought me a
delightful bouquet, which he had selected for me. Among the flowers were
fragrant red roses, resembling those we call Scotch burnet-leaved, with
smooth shining leaves and few if any thorns; the blue flower called
Pulmonaria or Lungwort, which I gathered in the Highlands, a sweet pea,
with red blossoms and wreaths of lovely pale green foliage; a white
orchis, the smell of which was quite delicious. Besides these were
several small white and yellow flowers, with which I was totally
unacquainted. The steward furnished me with a china jar and fresh water,
so that I shall have the pleasure of a nosegay during the rest of the
voyage. The sailors had not forgotten a green bough or two to adorn the
ship, and the bird-cage was soon as bowery as leaves could make it.
Though the weather is now very fine, we make but slow progress; the
provoking wind seems determined to blow from every quarter but the
right. We float up with the flood tide, and when the tide fails cast
anchor, and wait with the best grace we can till it is time to weigh
anchor again. I amuse myself with examining the villages and settlements
through the captain's glass, or watching for the appearance of the white
porpoises tumbling among the waves. These creatures are of a milky
whiteness, and have nothing of the disgusting look of the black ones.
Sometimes a seal pops its droll head up close beside our vessel, looking
very much like Sinbad's little old man of the sea.
It is fortunate for me that my love of natural history enables me to
draw amusement from objects that are deemed by many unworthy of
attention. To me they present an inexhaustible fund of interest. The
simplest weed that grows in my path, or the fly that flutters about me,
are subjects for reflection, admiration and delight.
We are now within sight of Green Island. It is the largest, and I
believe one of the most populous we have passed. Every minute now seems
to increase the beauty of the passage. Far as the eye can reach you see
the shore thronged with villages and farms in one continuous line. On
the southern side all are gay and glittering with the tin roofs on the
most important buildings; the rest are shingles, whitewashed. This I do
not like so well as the plain shingled roofs; the whiteness of the roofs
of the cottages and homesteads have a glaring effect, and we look in
vain for that relief to the eye that is produced by the thatched or
slated roofs. The shingles in their natural state soon acquire the
appearance of slates, and can hardly be distinguished from them. What
would you say to a rose-coloured house, with a roof of the same gaudy
hue, the front of the gay edifice being garnished with grass green
shutters, doors, and verandah. No doubt the interior is furnished with
corresponding taste. There is generally one or more of these _smart_
buildings in a Canadian village, standing forth with ostentatious
splendour above its more modest brethren.
August 11.--Just below Green Island we took on board a real pilot, who,
by the way, I do not like half so well as Monsieur Paul. He is a little
bit pragmatical, and seems evidently proud of his superior knowledge of
the river. The good-natured fisherman relinquished his post with a very
good grace, and seems already excellent friends with his more able
rival. For my part I was very sorry when the new pilot came on board;
the first thing he did was to hand us over a pamphlet, containing
regulations from the Board of Health at Quebec respecting the cholera,
which is raging, he tells us, like a fearful plague both at that place
and Montreal.
These regulations positively forbid the captain and the pilot to allow
any person, whether of the crew or passengers, to quit the vessel until
they shall have passed examination at the quarantine ground, under the
risk of incurring a severe penalty.
This was very annoying; as the captain, that very morning, had proposed
taking us on shore at a lovely spot called Crane Island, to spend the
afternoon, while we waited for the return of the tide, at the house of a
Scotch gentleman, the owner of the prettiest settlement I had yet seen,
the buildings and grounds being laid out with great taste.
The situation of this island is of itself very beautiful. Around it are
the waters of the St. Laurence, bearing on its mighty current the
commerce of several nations: in the foreground are the populous and
lively settlements of the southern shores, while behind and far, far
above it rise the lofty range of mountains to the north, now studded
with rural villages, pleasant farms, and cultivated fields. The island
itself showed us smooth lawns and meadows of emerald verdure, with
orchards and corn-fields sloping down to the water's edge. After a
confinement of nearly five weeks on board, you may easily suppose with
what satisfaction we contemplated the prospect of spending a few hours
on this inviting spot.
We expect to reach the quarantine ground (Gros Isle) this evening, where
the pilot says we shall be detained three days. Though we are all in
good health, yet, having sailed from an infected port, we shall be
detained on the quarantine ground, but not allowed to land.
August 12.--We reached Gros Isle yesterday evening. It is a beautiful
rocky island, covered with groves of beech, birch, ash, and fir-trees.
There are several vessels lying at anchor close to the shore; one bears
the melancholy symbol of disease, the yellow flag; she is a passenger-
ship, and has the smallpox and measles among her crew. When any
infectious complaint appears on board, the yellow flag is hoisted, and
the invalids conveyed to the cholera-hospital or wooden building, that
has been erected on a rising bank above the shore. It is surrounded with
palisadoes and a guard of soldiers.
There is also a temporary fort at some distance from the hospital,
containing a garrison of soldiers, who are there to enforce the
quarantine rules. These rules are considered as very defective, and in
some respects quite absurd, and are productive of many severe evils to
the unfortunate emigrants.
When the passengers and crew of a vessel do not exceed a certain number,
they are not allowed to land under a penalty, both to the captain and
the offender; but if, on the contrary, they should exceed the stated
number, ill or well, passengers and crew must all turn out and go on
shore, taking with them their bedding and clothes, which are all spread
out on the shore, to be washed, aired, and fumigated, giving the healthy
every chance of taking the infection from the invalids. The sheds and
buildings put up for the accommodation of those who are obliged to
submit to the quarantine laws, are in the same area as the hospital.
[* It is to be hoped that some steps will be taken by Government to
remedy these obnoxious laws which have repeatedly entailed those very
evils on the unhappy emigrants that the Board of Health wish to avert
from the colony at large.
Many valuable lives have been wantonly sacrificed by placing the healthy
in the immediate vicinity of infection, besides subjecting them to many
other sufferings, expenses, and inconvenience, which the poor exile
might well be spared.
If there must be quarantine laws--and I suppose the evil is a necessary
one--surely every care ought to be taken to render them as little
hurtful to the emigrant as possible.]
Nothing can exceed the longing desire I feel to be allowed to land and
explore this picturesque island; the weather is so fine, and the waving
groves of green, the little rocky bays and inlets of the island, appear
so tempting; but to all my entreaties the visiting surgeon who came on
board returned a decided negative.
A few hours after his visit, however, an Indian basket, containing
strawberries and raspberries, with a large bunch of wild flowers, was
sent on board for me, with the surgeon's compliments.
I amuse myself with making little sketches of the fort and the
surrounding scenery, or watching the groups of emigrants on shore. We
have already seen the landing of the passengers of three emigrant ships.
You may imagine yourself looking on a fair or crowded market, clothes
waving in the wind or spread out on the earth, chests, bundles, baskets,
men, women, and children, asleep or basking in the sun, some in motion
busied with their goods, the women employed in washing or cooking in the
open air, beside the wood fires on the beach; while parties of children
are pursuing each other in wanton glee rejoicing in their newly-acquired
liberty. Mixed with these you see the stately form and gay trappings of
the sentinels, while the thin blue smoke of the wood fires, rising above
the trees, heightens the picture and gives it an additional effect. On
my husband remarking the picturesque appearance of scene before us to
one of the officers from the fort who had come on board, he smiled
sadly, and replied, "Believe me, in this instance, as in many others,
'tis distance lends enchantment to the view." Could you take a nearer
survey of some of those very picturesque groups which you admire, I
think you would turn away from them with heart sickness; you would there
behold every variety of disease, vice, poverty, filth, and famine--human
misery in its most disgusting and saddening form. Such pictures as
Hogarth's pencil only could have pourtrayed, or Crabbe's pen described.
August 14.--We are once more under weigh, and floating up the river with
the tide. Gros Isle is just five and twenty miles below Quebec, a
favourable breeze would carry us up in a few hours; as it is we can only
make a little way by tacking from side to side when we lose the tide. I
rather enjoy this way of proceeding, as it gives one a close view of
both sides the river, which narrows considerably as we approach nearer
towards Quebec. To-morrow, if no accident happens, we shall be anchored
in front of a place rendered interesting both by its historical
associations and its own native beauty of situation. Till to-morrow,
then, adieu.
I was reckoning much on seeing the falls of Montmorenci, which are
within sight of the river; but the sun set, and the stars rose
brilliantly before we approached within sound of the cataract; and
though I strained my eyes till they were weary of gazing on the dim
shadowy scene around me, I could distinguish nothing beyond the dark
masses of rock that forms the channel through which the waters of the
Montmorenci rush into the St. Laurence.
At ten last night, August the 15th, the lights of the city of Quebec
were seen gleaming through the distance like a coronet of stars above
the waters. At half-past ten we dropped anchor opposite the fort, and I
fell asleep dreaming of the various scenes through which I had passed.
Again I was destined to be disappointed in my expectations of going on
shore. The visiting surgeon advised my husband and me by no means to
land, as the mortality that still raged in the town made it very
hazardous. He gave a melancholy description of the place. "Desolation
and woe and great mourning--Rachel weeping for her children because they
are not," are words that may well be applied to this city of the
pestilence.
[Illustration - Falls of Montmorenci]
Nothing can be more imposing than the situation of Quebec, built on the
sides and summit of a magnificent rock, on the highest point of which
(Cape Diamond) stands the fortress overlooking the river, and commanding
a most superb view of the surrounding scenes. I did, indeed, regret the
loss of this noble prospect, the equal of which I suppose I shall never
see. It would have been something to have thought on and recalled in
after years, when buried in the solitude of the Canadian woods.
The opposite heights, being the Point Levi side, are highly picturesque,
though less imposing than the rock on which the town stands. The bank is
rocky, precipitous, and clothed with trees that sweep down to the
water's edge, excepting where they are cleared away to give place to
white cottages, gardens, and hanging orchards. But, in my opinion, much
less is done with this romantic situation than might be effected if good
taste were exercised in the buildings, and on the disposal of the
ground. How lovely would such a spot be rendered in England or Scotland.
Nature here has done all, and man but little, excepting sticking up some
ugly wooden cottages, as mean as they are tasteless. It is, however,
very possible there may be pretty villas and houses higher up, that are
concealed from the eye by the intervening groves.
The river is considered to be just a mile across from Point Levi to the
landing-stairs below the custom-house in Quebec; and it was a source of
amusement to me to watch the horse ferry-boats that ply between the two
shores. The captain told me there were not less than twelve of these
comical-looking machines. They each have their regular hours, so that
you see a constant succession going or returning. They carry a strange
assortment of passengers; well and ill-dressed; old and young; rich and
poor; cows, sheep, horses, pigs, dogs, fowls, market-baskets,
vegetables, fruit, hay, corn, anything and everything you will see by
turns.
The boat is flat, railed round, with a wicker at each end to admit the
live and dead stock that go or are taken on board; the centre of the
boat (if such it can be called) is occupied by four lean, ill-favoured
hacks, who walk round and round, as if in a threshing machine, and work
the paddles at each side. There is a sort of pen for the cattle.
I am told there is a monument erecting in honour of Wolfe, in the
governor's garden, looking towards the St. Laurence, and to be seen from
Point Levi: the inscription has not yet been decided upon*.
--------------------
[* Since the period in which the author visited Quebec, Wolfe's monument
has been completed. Lord Dalhousie, with equal good feeling and good
taste, has united the names of the rival heroes Wolfe and Montcalm in
the dedication of the pillar--a liberality of feeling that cannot but
prove gratifying to the Canadian French, while it robs the British
warrior of none of his glory.
The monument was designed by Major Young of the 97th Regiment. To the
top of the surbase is fourteen feet from the ground; on this rests a
sarcophagus, seven feet three inches high, from which rises an obelisk
forty-two feet eight inches in height, and the apex is two feet one
inch. The dimensions of the obelisk at the base are six feet by four
feet eight inches. A prize medal was adjudged to J.C. Fisher, LL.D. for
the following inscription on the sarcophagus:--
Mortem virtus communem
Famam Historia
Monumentum Posteritas
Dedit.
On the surbase is an inscription from the pen of Dr. Mills, stating the
fact of the erection of the monument at the expense of Lord Dalhousie,
Governor of Lower Canada, to commemorate the death of Wolfe and
Montcalm, Sept. 13 and 14, 1759. Wolfe fell on the field; and Montcalm,
who was wounded by the single gun in the possession of the English, died
on the next day after the battle.]
--------------------
The captain has just returned from the town. He very kindly brought on
board a basket of ripe apples for me, besides fresh meat, vegetables,
bread, butter, and milk. The deck is all bustle with custom-house
officers, and men unloading a part of the ship's freight, which consists
chiefly of rum, brandy, sugar, and coals, for ballast. We are to leave
Quebec by five o'clock this evening. The _British America_, a superb
steam-vessel of three decks, takes us in tow as far as Montreal. I must
now say farewell.