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Impressions of Canada on travellers part 2 · Canadian Scenery

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Section nineteen of Canadian Scenery Volume one. This is a LibriVox recording. All
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LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
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please visit LibriVox dot org. Canadian Scenery Volume one by Nathaniel Parker. Willis,
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the Bishop of Canada, preached at the church I attended on Sunday,
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and as I was returning home, a veteran soldier of General Wolfe's army was
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pointed out in his scarlet uniform. I have had a few rides into the
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country in the neighborhood, which is very beautiful. I have also met most
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of the principal merchants at dinner during my stay. On these occasions, I
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am always gratified by the illusions I continually hear to home at home, we
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do so, and so mister Blank's carriage is just arrived from home. Here
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are some biscuits from home, fresh from Threadneedle Street, where I always get
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them in the streets. However, there were many peculiarities to remind us that
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we are not at home. More than three fourths of the inhabitants are said
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to be Catholics, and the bells of the cathedral are never at rest.
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The priests who are the sin yours of the island are very rich, but
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they are said to be charitable, moral, and by no means luxurious.
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Our young friends would be amused by the numerous dog carts, the dogs in
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gig or tandem harness in every part of the town, and by the collushes
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of the last century, which would serve as a foil for a north of
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England Shandon. A considerable number of Indians are usually walking the streets with moccasins
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for sale, and I saw several on the riverside a mile distant in Wigwams,
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of which their birch canoe formed a principal part. The town is most
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agreeably situated, and there was an air of industry and animation in the inhabitants.
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And yet occasionally the narrow streets and ironed window shutters excite a sensation of
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gloominess of which I cannot readily divest myself till I returned to our cheerful inn,
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where the arrival and departure of steamboats occasion a constant succession of guests.
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Our party at table, which dwindled to six rows two days since suddenly to
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sixty all fugitives, all those who are not on business, seldom a lot
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above two days to this part of their tour. As the friends with whom
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I am most intimate have been detained since their return from Quebec by want of
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a steamboat, I have been very well off having access to their three drawing
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wombs, with an agreeable female party in each. Our host, although a
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Londoner and adopting London hours, accommodates himself by pursuing their American plan of compelling
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us to eat at a common table. But the style of the house is
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admirable, and we can obtain private sitting rooms. One of those occupied by
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our party is that which Lord Selkirk usually occupied while here, and often recalls
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him to my recollection. All I hear, and I have conversed with many
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both parties on the subject has only served to confirm my previous impressions with respect
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to the treatment which he received in some instances too, in quarters where it
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was least excusable, and at the hands of those from whom every British subject
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was entitled to demand impartiality. In an hour, we are going to board
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the Swift Shore steamboat for Quebec and I am glad to find that several of
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my acquaintances will be of the party steamboat on the Saint Lawrence. August twenty
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eighth, eighteen twenty I began this letter at me Montreal, on board the
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Swift Shore steamboat. This is probably the finest steamboat which has been built,
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and I was proud to see her under the British flag. The Americans readily
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conceded her superior claims. The style of living in attendance is more like that
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of a good hotel at the West end of London than anything I have seen
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on this side of the Atlantic. Notwithstanding the handsome style of some of the
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American hotels and the comfort of some of the boarding houses. There is an
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ice house on board, and the owner supplies her table with grapes and peaches
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from his own garden. I often feel a strange sensation when gliding down the
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American rivers in these floating palaces, and have sometimes turned away, almost ashamed,
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when bearing down in all this ostentatious luxury on the poor half naked Indians
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in their birch canoes, struggling to reach the shores on which their fathers roamed,
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fearless and independent. We left Montreal about noon on the twenty second,
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and for sixty miles averaged thirteen miles an hour. The banks of the river,
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which is from one and a half to three miles broad, though too
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flat to be romantic till you approach within thirty miles of Quebec, are interesting
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from the white cottages, which seem to form one continued village, and the
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neat churches, of which two or three are often in sight at once.
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The spires are usually covered with tin and have a very dazzling appearance. The
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cottages have originally been placed at equal distances from each other, the farms having
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been laid off with the front of a given length to the river, but
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the Canadian custom of dividing the farm between the children of the deceased, more
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congenial with their indolence than striking deeper into the woods, has broken uniformity by
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repeated and often inconvenient subdivisions. A mass of deep woods usually bounds the farms
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at the distance of a few acres from the river. The navigation on Lake
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Saint Peter is so difficult that we were obliged to lie at anchor all night.
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On the twenty third, we passed the Three Rivers, a handsome town
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on the three mouths of a respectable river, and at five o'clock in the
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evening, arrived at Quebec, one hundred eighty miles from Montreal. As we
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approached the town, we passed close under the plains of Abraham and the precipitous
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frocks which our gallant hero scaled. After straining our eyes to reach the fortifications,
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which seemed to frown destruction to any hostile force which might have the temerity
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to approach, we were pleased on looking round us to find ourselves in the
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middle of British shipping. I cannot tell you with what satisfaction I renewed my
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acquaintance with old Cumberland Briggs, which in England I should not condescend to notice.
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As soon as we landed, an English friend and I procured a caleche
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and drove off to the falls of Montmorency, nine miles distant, which we
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reached just at sunset. Our beautiful summer evening closed in upon us before we
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had seen the falls. For the most favorable situation, the full moon,
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however, soon rose and threw her light upon the broken torrent, which precipitates
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itself from a height of two hundred twenty feet, while the dark shadow of
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the rocks and trees which overhang the waters below contributed greatly to heighten the grandeur
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of the scene. Our conductor was an interesting little peasant girl nine years of
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age, whose pretty French was most agreeable. The ride home was delightful,
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the full moon walking in brightness and throwing her horizontal rays across the river as
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she rose. The fortresses of Quebec were constantly in sight, and did indeed
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seem impregnable by human force. It would be difficult even to imagine a more
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commanding sight, and I could not help admiring the skill with which the French
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had chosen their northern post, which they evidently intended to connect with New Orleans
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by a series of intermediate forts, which might confine the British within a narrow
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strip of the Atlantic. Reflections on their system of policy were the most interesting
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to me, From having so lately visited the southern extremity of their Transatlantic dominions,
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and having in the interval passed through so many of the immense forests which
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lie between them. We stopped at Malrat's, the best inn in Quebec,
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but an unwillingness to intrude on the present occupiers of my bed decided me to
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prefer a chair, in which I sat till after three o'clock, looking on
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the beautiful moonlight prospect before me. At five o'clock we set out in a
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calesh on our way to Loretto, an Indian village of the Hurons, nine
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miles from Quebec. They have a neat Catholic church and speak French, but
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from what I could gather from the chief, they have no land and support
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themselves by fishing and hunting. In that case, they are not so well
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off as my friends the Choctaws and Cherokees, or the Chauhnahwagas, whom we
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saw nine miles from Montreal, who have a handsome Catholic church and cultivate the
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land. In the course of our ride, we were often reminded of home
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by the little, rich meadows and thick settled country on every side. The
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distant mountains were very fine. We reached our inn at nine o'clock, having
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accomplished after six o'clock the preceding night, but usually occupies two days. After
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breakfast, I devoted myself to business, and declining an invitation from Judge to
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accompany him to the military mess to dinner, I set off to the falls
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of Schadier, seven miles distant, intending to drink tea on a return with
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a gentleman who lives on the way. It was so dark, however,
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when we reached this house, five or six miles from Quebec, and I've
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begun to rain so heavily that we thankfully accepted as offer of a bed.
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The falls of the Shadier were highly interesting, even after Niagara. In the
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deep seclusion of a thick wood, the river, nearly two hundred fifty yards
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wide, precipitates itself a hundred feet into a rocky channel, which appears to
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have been rent asunder by some dreadful convulsion of nature, by which the rock
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has been broken into huge masses that combine with the surrounding objects to impart an
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air of the most magnificent wildness to this extraordinary scene. On our return we
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had several fine views of Quebec down the river. The next day, we
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went into town early, and I was again engaged in business till afternoon,
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when I walked round the fortifications with my old military friend and his wife.
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At five o'clock I went to dine at Judges, where I met several gentlemen,
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and where I stayed till it was nearly time to embark in the steamboat,
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which was set to sail at midnight for Montreal. I think you will
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be amused by the following extract from the journal of one of my fellow travelers,
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who left me at Montreal to visit Quebec, and on his return found
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on board the steamboat one of the Indian chiefs belonging to the village of Loretto,
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to which I have alluded. We have on board one of the Indian
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chiefs who walked in the procession at Loretto, and his daughter, a genteel
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young woman. He speaks to English language. He said he knew General Washington
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and had dined with him twice, and that the General had made him a
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present of a very good horse. I told General Washington, he said that
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your horse. He tell me to call one of his aides, and he
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say, Colonel Trumbull, write order for Vincent, not my name for that
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horse. So I keep him. He very good horse. The story of
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the horse was thus explained. Vincent commanded a body of Indians at the capture
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of Burgoyne, and was made a prisoner with that general. The horse had
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been taken by him from the Americans, and hence he called him not his
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own, but Washington's. This information I obtained from others on board. Taking
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me aside, he said, I saw you Loretto. See I was there
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and saw you walking at the head of the procession. V. Yes,
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I walk See what was that the priest carried? V What religion you see?
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I'm a Protestant. V. Then you, very good man, priest
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carry image Virgin Mary. This is all nonsense, he tell us, poor
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Indian, means we must believe or be condemned that Virgin Mary was taken up
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into heaven, soul and body. You believe that? See, I do
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not understand it. What is your opinion? V. I do not believe.
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I do not read that in scripture. Priests tell us, poor ignorant
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Indians, that we must worship her and saints and images. I do not
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find it in scripture neither, But I read thou shalt worship the Lord,
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thy God, and him only shalt thou worship. Thou shalt make no graven
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image, no worship them. That my belief. I think it wicked to
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worship images, but God is merciful. Priests tell us ignorant Indians, we
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must have mass fetch out purgatory. Our fathers dead hundred years ago, and
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we pay sometimes one, sometimes two dollars each mass. Brother, you believe
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there is a purgatory. See, I have no knowledge of such a place.
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What is your opinion? V I don't believe, and tell you my
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opinion. I believe if our heart be not purge in this life, it
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will never purge. On my assenting to his doctrine, he asked, where
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do you think is hell? I told him I did not know, then
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added he, I'll tell you where I think it is. It is in
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the sun. I felt some surprise at all this, and asking him where
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he had been educated. He replied at Hampshire. He then asked me to
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drink a glass of grog, and on my declining, he bid me goodbye
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and walked to the forecastle to sip it by himself. On observing a young
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Indian on board, very attentive to the chief's daughter, I told Vincent,
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I suppose this man was courting her, on which he replied with much warmth,
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no him Mohawk. I do not know why he regarded a connectionon with
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the Mohawks as degrading, for they were members of the celebrated confederation of the
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six Nations, the Iroquois Confederation. The other members were the Oneidas, the
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Onondagas, the Cayugas, the Senecas, and the tusc Auroras. It is
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our wish to assemble pictures of Canada by as many different classes of observers,
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and during as many different seasons as is possible. Here are some winter sketches
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which are not unentertained. Nothing could be more Siberian than the aspect of the
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Canadian frontier. A narrow road choked with snow led them through a wood in
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which patches were occasionally cleared on either side to emit the construction of a few
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log huts, round which a brood of ragged children, a starved pig,
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and a few half broken rustic implements formed an accompaniment more suited to an Irish
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landscape than to the thriving scenes we had just quitted. The Canadian peasant is
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still the same unsophisticated animal whom we may suppose to have been imported by Jacques
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Cartier. The sharp, unchangeable lineaments of the French countenance, set off with
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a blue or red nightcap, over which has drawn the hood of a grag
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apote fashioned like a monkst cowl, a red worsted girdle, hair tied in
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a greasy leather cue, brown moccasins of undressed hide, and a short pipe
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in his mouth give undeniable testimony of the presence of Jean Baptiste. His horse
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seems to have been equally solicitous to shame neither his progenitors nor his owner by
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any mixture with a foreign race, but exhibits the same relationship to the horses
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as his rider. To the subjects of Louis the Thane thirteenth now two.
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The frequent cross by the roadside, thick studded with all the implements of crucifixional
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torture, begin to indicate a Catholic country. Distorted virgins and ghastly saints decorate
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each in room, while the light spires of the parish church, covered with
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plates of tin, glitter across the snowy plain. At l Prairie, we
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crossed the ice to Montreal, whose isolated mountain forms a conspicuous object at the
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distance of some leagues. From Thence to Quebec. The road follows the course
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of the Saint Lawrence, whose banks present a succession of villages, many of
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them delightfully situated, but all form and feature were absorbed in the snowy deluge
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which now deepened every league, add to which the sleigh track, by frequently
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running on the bed of the river, placed us below prospect of every kind.
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We found the inn's neat, and the people attentive French politess began to
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contrast with American bluntness. It is curious to observe that this characteristic of the
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Americans, which so frequently offends the polished feelings of English travelers, is exactly
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what was formerly objected by the French to ourselves. The rudesse of the English
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character was long a standing just with our refined neighbors. But we have now
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it seems so far shaken off this odious remnant of uncourtly habits as to regard
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it with true French horror. In our transatlantic cousins. It was Sunday when
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we arrived at Saint Anne's. Mass was just finished, and above a hundred
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slaves were rapidly dispersing themselves up the neighboring heights and across the bed of the
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river to the adjacent villages. The common country sleigh is a clumsy box shaped
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machine raised at both ends, perhaps not greatly unlike the old heroic car.
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It holds two persons, with the driver, who stands before them. One
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horse is commonly sufficient, but two are used in posting. When the leader
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is attached by cords tandemwise and left to use his own discretion without the restraint
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of rain or impulse of whip. Should, however, the latter stimulus become
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indispensable, the driver jumps from the sleigh, runs forward, applies his pack,
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thread lash, and regains his seat without any hazard from extraordinary increase of
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impetus. The runners of these slaves are formed of twos, use slips of
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wood so low that the shafts collect the snow into a succession of wavy hillocks,
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properly christened cahos, for they almost dissocate your limbs five thousand times in
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a day's journey. An attempt was once made to correct this evil by prohibiting
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all low runners, as they are called, from coming within a certain distance
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of quebec, meaning thereby to force the country people into the use of high
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runners in the American fashion. Jean Baptiste, however, sturdily and effectually resisted
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this heretical innovation by halting with his produce without the limits, and thus compelling
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the townsfolk to come to him to make their purchases. The markets both of
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Montreal and Quebec exhibit several hundred market slaves daily. They differ from the pleasure
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or traveling sleigh and having so sides, that is, they consist merely of
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a plank bottom with a kind of railing. Hay and wood seem the staple
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commodities at this season, both of which are immoderately dear, especially at Quebec,
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even though the States the common charge for one horse's hey for a night
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was a dollar. Provisions are brought to market frozen, in which state they
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are preserved during the winter. Codfishes brought from Boston a land carriage of five
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hundred miles, and then sells at a reasonable rate. The American commonly speculating
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on a cargo of smuggled goods back to make up as profit, a kind
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of trade extremely brisk betwixt the Frontier and Montreal. As we approached Quebec,
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snow lay to a depth of six feet from the heights of Abraham, The
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eye rested upon what seemed an immense lake of milk. All smaller irregularities of
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ground fences, boundaries and copse woods had disappeared, The tops of villages and
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scattered farmhouses, with here and there, dark lines of pinewood, and occasionally
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the mast of some ice locked schooner marking the bed of the Charles River were
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the only objects peering about it. A range of mountains sweeping round from west
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to north until it meets the Saint Lawrence bounds the horizon. No herald of
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spring had yet approached this dreary outpost of civilization. We had observed a few
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blue thrushes in the neighborhood of Albany, but none had yet reached Canada.
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Two only of the feathered dry brave the winter of this inclement region, the
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cosmopolic crow and the snow bird, a small white bird reported to feed upon
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snow. Because it is not very clear what else it can find. It
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would be acting unfairly to Quebec to describe it as I found it on my
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arrival, choked with ice and snow, which one day flooded the streets with
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a profusion of dirty kennels, and the next case them with a sheet of
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glass cloth or carpet. Boots, galoshes with spikes to their heels, iron
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pointed walking sticks are the defensive weapons perpetually in employ on these occasions. The
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direction of the streets, too, which are most of them built up a
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precipice, greatly facilitates any inclination one may entertain for tumbling or neck breaking.
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The falls of Montmorenci are formed by a little river of that name, near
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its junction with the Saint Lawrence, about five miles north of Quebec. They
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have a peculiar interest in winter from the immense cone of ice formed at their
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foot, which was unimpaired when I visited them in the second week of April.
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After winding up a short but steep ascent, the road crosses a wooden
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bridge beneath which the Montmorency rushes betwixt its dark gray rocks and precipitates itself in
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a broken torrent down the wooded glen on the right. It is not until
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you have wound round to the edge of this glen, which is done by
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quitting the road at the bridge foot that you obtain a view of the falls,
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nor was there effect lessened by this approach. A partial thaw succeeded by
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a frost, had spread a silvery brightness over the waist of snow. Every
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twig and branch of the surrounding pine trees, every waving shrub and brier was
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encased in crystal and glittering to the sunbeams, like the diamond forest of some
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northern Elfland. You are now on the edge of a precipice, to which
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the fall itself, a perpendicular of two hundred twenty feet, seems diminutive.
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It is not until you descend and approach its foot that the whole majesty of
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the scene becomes apparent. The breadth of the torrent is about fifty feet.
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The waters, from their prodigious descent seem snowy, white with foam, and
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enveloped in a light drapery of gauzy mist. The cone appears about one hundred
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feet in height, mathematically regular in shape, with its base extending nearly all
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across the stream. Its sides are not so steep, but that lay have
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ascended to the top of it. The interior is hollow. I regret to
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add that a mill is constructing on this river, which will, by diverting
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the stream, destroy this imperial sport of nature, or at least reduce it
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to the degradation of submitting to be played off at the miller's discretion, like
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a Versailles Fountain. End of Section nineteen