Kitabı oku: «Pictures of Canadian Life: A Record of Actual Experiences», sayfa 3
Indeed, Sir John’s admirers see in him a resemblance to the late Lord Beaconsfield, and that there is a slight resemblance the most superficial observer must admit. As a lad, Sir John seems to have specially distinguished himself in mathematics. His master also, we are told, frequently exhibited the clean-kept books of young Macdonald to some careless student for emulation, and as often selected specimens of the neat penmanship of the boy, to put to shame some of the slovenly writers of his class.
At sixteen young Macdonald commenced the study of law, to which he devoted three years. The gentleman to whom he was articled speaks of him as the most diligent student he had ever seen. Before he was twenty-one years of age he was admitted to the Bar, opened an office at Kingston, and at once began to practise his profession. ‘He was,’ says a fellow-student, ‘an exemplary young man, and had the goodwill of everybody. He remained closely at his business, never went about spreeing, or losing his time, with the young men of his own age and standing, did not drive fast horses, but was always to be found at his post in his office, courteous, obliging, and prompt.’ When Sir John commenced his legal career, the country was full of revolution, and every county in Canada had its Radicals ready to take up muskets or pitchforks against the oppressor. Sir John, though a Tory, was often the means of doing good service to his friends of the opposite party. In defending a rebel who was tried for murder, the future Premier gained his first legal success. It was a time of intense excitement, and crowds thronged to see the prisoners and hear the trials. Everyone was struck with the masterly character of Sir John’s defence; and though they knew it was not within the power of human tongue or brain to save the prisoner, they admired the skill with which he marshalled his arguments, the tact he displayed in his appeal to the judges, and, above all, the deep interest he displayed in the cause of his unfortunate client. This was in 1838; from that date Sir John was looked to as a rising man. In a little while afterwards he commenced his stormy political career.
In 1841 Kingston was made the seat of Government, and Sir John was returned to Parliament, in place of a politician who had lost his popularity. The assembly was an excited one, and everyone made furious speeches, with the exception of the new member, who sat unmoved at his desk while the fray went on, looking, says a gentleman who well remembers him there, half contemptuous and half careless. In 1844, he commenced his executive career by being appointed to the Standing Orders Committee. His first speech was delivered with an easy air of confidence, as captivating as it was rare. The time ripened rapidly. The old Tory Compact Party was being swiftly broken up, and when Lord Elgin arrived in Canada, a new Government was formed, with Sir John as Receiver-General. In a little while he was moved to the Office of Crown Lands, then the most important department in the public service, and one that in the past had been most shamefully, if not most criminally abused, but he was soon out of office, and a new Ministry came into force, pledged to a Bill for the indemnification of parties in Lower Canada whose property had been destroyed in the rebellion. There were awful riots. The Parliament buildings in Montreal were burned, and it seemed as if the old feud between Frenchman and Englishman had been roused, never more to die.
Lord Elgin was ready to return to England The reformers were strong, but Macdonald did not despair. The new Government, amongst other things, were pledged to increased parliamentary representation, the abolition of seignorial tenure, and the secularization of the Clergy Reserves. Of the Government that attempted to do this, Sir John was a bitter opponent, on the ground that they had hesitated about questions which had set the country in a blaze. The Government had to retire, and in the Liberal-Conservative Ministry which succeeded to office we find Mr. Macdonald Attorney General, and he held office till he was defeated in his Militia Bill. He returned to office, however, in time to carry a confederation of the Colonies, and to become Premier, when Lord Monck was Governor-General.
Since he has been at the head of affairs the Hudson Bay Company has handed over its gigantic territory in the North West to the Dominion. That great work, the Canada Pacific Railway, has nearly been brought to a successful termination, and Canada has taken a leap upwards and onwards to matured life and independence, of which not yet have we seen the end. It is a terrible scene of personal attack, political life in Canada. Even since Parliamentary Government has been established, the fight between the ins and the outs has been bitter and constant. No one can understand it, unless he is a native of the country; and it says much for Sir John that he has risen to the top, and kept himself there so long. To have done so, he must have possessed more merit than his enemies give him credit for.
CHAPTER V.
TORONTO – THE TOWN – THE PEOPLE – CANADIAN AUTHORS – THE LEADER OF THE OPPOSITION
Toronto, or the Queen City of the West, as she loves to call herself, stands upon the north shore of Lake Ontario, and has not only achieved a great success, but may be said, in spite of all the moving to the North-West of which we hear so much, to have a great future before it, on account of its position with regard to railways, which alone in this great country decide the fate of towns and cities. Immediately in front is a broad bay, from which you get an imposing view of the city, while its forest of spires and factory chimneys gives evidence of prosperous and busy life. I have never been in a city where the Sabbath was more strictly observed. The omnibus ceases to run on a Sunday, the cab is locked up, and even the cigar-store is closed. At seven on Saturday evening all the liquor-shops are shut, and in Toronto, as in all the Province, no one can buy a drop of whisky, or wine, or beer, till a decent hour on Monday morning. It is true, I was invited one Sunday to go and have a glass of whisky and water – an offer which, it is needless to say, I refused; but then, had I accepted the offer, I should have had to go into a club of which my friend was a member. In Canada, as in England, the club-member may indulge his taste, however strictly the abstinence of his less fortunate brother may be enforced by law. But the Sunday quiet of Toronto is remarkable. There are few people but church-goers in the streets, and the churches of all religious denominations are quite as numerous and quite as handsome as any we have in England. They are all built on a larger scale, and are all well-filled. On Sunday evening I had to light my way into the Congregational church, of which Dr. Wild is the minister. He hails from America, and is quite the sensation of the hour. There was no standing-room anywhere, and as I made to the door I met many coming away. However, I had made up my mind to hear the Doctor, and hear him I did. It seems that the subscribers have a door to themselves; I made for it, and luckily found a chair, which I wedged in under the platform. As I entered, the Doctor was making the people laugh by answering questions that had been sent to him in writing. Then we had quite a service of song. The choir behind him performed, a lady sang a solo, the congregation joined in a well-known English hymn. The Doctor prayed, and then we had a sermon about Revelation, containing much that was very effective, if not about his text, at any rate about that mysterious part of Scripture from which the text was taken. The Doctor is now in the prime of life, and his preaching powerful and effective. The audience consisted chiefly of men; perhaps that may be considered in the Doctor’s favour. One thing did surprise me, and that was to see seated at a table right under the pulpit platform a reporter coolly taking notes. Our English reporters in a place of worship on a Sunday are certainly more modest, and prefer to blush unseen.
Toronto rises up, with its grand public buildings, proudly from the shore. The site of the city was very marshy, and at one time it was known as Muddy York. Only yesterday a lady was telling me how her mother was near losing her life in the mud of the chief street, leaving behind her the English pattens of which she was so proud. The further from the lake, the more the land rises, till you reach where, as Tom Moore wrote —
‘The blue hills of old Toronto shed
Their evening shadows o’er Ontario’s bed.’
In 1812 the population of the place was under 1,000. It is now, including the suburbs, where some of the wealthiest citizens live in houses as well-built and as luxuriously fitted up as any in London, about 116,000. King Street, the principal one, is built up with substantial brick and stone buildings, many of which are equal to any on the American Continent. Forty years since, it was completely composed of wooden structures, and was barely passable to pedestrians. Now, it is adorned with stately stores, where the latest novelties of the Old World and the New are ostentatiously displayed. The public buildings are quite an ornament to the place, and the offices of the leading newspaper, The Toronto Mail, are one of the sights of the city. The yearly civic income and expenditure is over 2,000,000 dollars, and the assessed value of property last year was 61,942,581 dollars. The streets are spacious, well laid out, and regularly built. The two main arteries of the city are King and George Streets, which, crossing each other at right angles, divide the city into four large sections. I don’t think house-rent is cheap. I have been in one or two private houses, the rents of which seemed to me certainly dearer than would be the rents of similar houses in London. But, then, in Toronto – think of it, O respected Paterfamilias! – the best cuts of meat are about eightpence a pound, and prime butter is not much more, and – Sir Henry Thompson will rejoice to hear this – there is a plentiful supply of fish. The city also boasts of fine theatres, and halls, and colleges; while the Episcopalian Cathedral in James Street possesses the celebrated chimney and illuminated clock which took the first prize at the Vienna Exhibition, and which was purchased by the citizens, and presented to the Dean and churchwardens of the place on Christmas-eve, 1876. They tell me, however, that the strongest body of Christians in the city is that of the Wesleyans. I am staying at Walker House, the most comfortable place which I have discovered thus far. Toronto itself offers few opportunities to the emigrant, and the citizens are not enthusiastic in his favour. I met a reverend gentleman from England here, who, the other night, at a meeting of mechanics, vainly endeavoured to say a word in favour of emigration, and had to desist under the threat that if he did not they would knock off his head. The mechanics here are very much afraid that if more of their own class come out, wages will be lowered. Nor are Irish emigrants in much favour here, as they stop in the city instead of going into the country in search of work, and have to be supported by the charitable and humane. Only a few days since a large batch of Irish arrived. Work had been found for them which they agreed to accept, and they were on the point of being forwarded, when they were got at by the Irish already in the city, and now they refuse to budge.
The other day I met Dr. Barnardo’s agent, who has come out with some of his trained boys to settle them in Peterborough, where Mr. G. A. Cox, the Mayor of the place, has kindly given a commodious house for their use. Already, I believe, the Doctor has sent out 780 boys and about 470 girls, who have all been planted out. Mr. W. Williams, of the Chichester and Arethusa, has sent many more, and so have others, of whom I hope to hear tidings in the course of my travel. The manager of Dr. Barnardo’s home at Peterborough, in answer to inquiries from the farmers and others, writes that boys from seven to twelve years of age are usually sent out on terms of adoption, to be treated in every respect as children of the household, and to receive, on attaining their twenty-first birthday, a sum of not less than one hundred and fifty dollars. Boys of thirteen and over are hired as ‘helps,’ at wages varying from thirty-five to ninety-five dollars per annum, with lodging, food, and medical attendance. Girls are sent out at ages ranging from four to sixteen years. Those of eleven and under are usually adopted into families; while those of twelve and upwards are hired at wages from two dollars to nine dollars a month, with board, lodging, washing, and medical attendance. The utmost care is taken that these children should be placed in good hands. The applicant for a child has to get his letter recommended by a clergyman or magistrate; then he has to give his Christian name and surname in full, his address, his occupation; to say if he hires his farm, or if it is his own; whether he is a member of a Christian Church; what work the child will have to perform; on what terms the child comes into the family; what length of engagement is desired; what church the child will attend; and so on.
Moreover, Dr. Barnardo’s system provides for the regular and frequent visitation of every young emigrant at his or her place of employment; the girls by a lady of great experience, the boys by a gentleman. By this means the children are never lost sight of, and trustworthy reports of their progress and whereabouts are periodically furnished to the heads of the institution in England.
Now, I call attention to this plan, not merely to increase confidence in the labours of philanthropists who are sending out children to Canada, but in order to raise the question, why it is only the children of the destitute and the wild arabs of the street that are to have this advantage. There must be many poor people in England who have sons, perhaps a little too plucky for home, who could pay to send out their lads, and would be glad to do so, if they saw a chance of their being placed in good hands. There are many boys who would be glad to leave the somewhat overcrowded house, and who would rejoice to fight the battle of life in the New World under such advantageous conditions. Why should they not have a chance? Why should the destitute only be looked after? Why should not some one in the same way lend a helping hand to the honest son of the honest working man? It may be that his father may be too old to emigrate. It may be that he is doing fairly well at home, and that it is not worth his while to emigrate. But why should not his son have a chance, and be sent out under a system as excellent as that to which I have referred? Assuredly that is a question to be asked by others.
But Dr. Barnardo says in his magazine, Night and Day, that much injury to the work of emigration has been effected by supposing that boys who have committed grave moral faults can do well, if only shipped off to Canada. He contends that a number of young fellows of that sort sent to Canada, would seriously prejudice the prospects of emigration generally; and he urges in very strong terms that none but boys and girls of thoroughly good physique, industrious, honest, and of good general character, should be encouraged to emigrate upon any pretext whatever.
Previous to my leaving Toronto I had the pleasure of an interview with the Hon. Edward Blake, the head of the Opposition, whose utterances are watched and waited for by all parties in the State with breathless interest. Travelling from Winnipeg, I had listened to a conversation on that gentleman’s merits by two young gentlemen – who were a little incoherent in their language, owing to the quantity of refreshment they had on board – which certainly somewhat raised my expectations. Nor was I disappointed on my personal interview with the subject of their praise.
The Hon. Edward Blake is a man in the prime of life, of fresh complexion, of more than average height and build, with a keen and intellectual face. He was born in Canada, was educated at the University, followed his father in the profession of the bar, and as a cross-examiner, especially of an unwilling witness, and in the art of turning a man inside out, may claim to have no equal in Canada at the present time. He has visited Europe more than once – at one time in an official capacity – has mixed with our public men as well as with those of the Continent, has been in office, and, it is believed, will soon be in office again. He received me with great courtesy, and talked on things in general in a lively and interesting manner. On the Province of Ontario as a home for the British farmer he had much to say.
Taking me to the map hanging up in his office, and pointing to the district between Toronto and Detroit, he affirmed that there was no finer land to be found anywhere in the United States. His first constituency was a very poor one – consisting of English settlers and others who had gone there with very little, if any, money, and they had all done well, and their children were now mostly wealthy men. He did not approve of the Government plan of emigration; but he did think there was a fine field in Canada for the British farmer and his men. As to mechanics, he thought the look-out was poor. The mechanic in that part of the world leads a very migratory life. Such was the facility offered by railways, which ran in all directions, that a slight rise in the rate of wages would send him wherever that rise was to be found. At the present time there was a depression of trade in the United States, and wages were low. In Canada the wages were a little higher, and he looked to an emigration from the United States; and then the wages in Canada would go down.
The British mechanic would thus have to face a double difficulty – the competition of the Canadian and the American mechanic alike. I must add, however, that this was not the view of an English mechanic who had been settled in Toronto some years, and with whom, subsequently, I had some chat. His opinion was that any first-class English mechanic who came out would do well, while he frankly admitted that an inferior hand would have no chance whatever.
But to return to Mr. Blake. It is evident, though he and his party are supposed to be in favour of Free Trade – and it is a matter of fact that they were driven from place and power by a Protectionist outcry – that he does not consider the question of Free Trade from an English standpoint at all. It will be long ere Canada will lift up her voice in favour of Free Trade. In Canada there is no such thing as direct taxation, and as money has to be raised for the support of Government, it is felt it is easier to do that by means of a duty on foreign manufactures than by taking it directly out of the pockets of the people.
Just now there is a feeling growing up in favour of Free Trade with America; but that will not aid the British manufacturer one jot. The system of duties between Canada and America is an enormous nuisance, when one thinks of the daily personal and commercial intercourse between the two countries. For instance, I lost by changing English money into Canadian dollars; and then again, when I had to change Canadian dollars into American greenbacks, I had to submit to a further loss. This was not pleasant, especially when you remember that every time you cross the frontier – and people are doing it daily – you have to submit to a disagreeable examination on the part of Custom House officers. Surely Canada and America will before long have to come to a better understanding than that which at present exists. Of course, I write under correction. I am an outsider.
‘Can you tell me,’ I said to the Hon. E. Blake, ‘how I am to get to a knowledge of Canadian politics?’
His reply, and it was delivered with a smile, was:
‘By living in the country some five or six years.’
Under such circumstances I feel, with the poet, that ‘where ignorance is bliss ’tis folly to be wise.’
On one thing Mr. Blake was silent – nor did I allude to it: that was the question of Canadian independence. It is raised in many quarters, it is almost daily discussed in the Canadian newspapers. People are waiting to hear what Mr. Blake has to say on it. At present the oracle is dumb. When the question is settled you may be sure sentiment will have little to do with it; on this side of the Atlantic, at any rate, that sort of thing goes a very little way when the almighty dollar is at stake. But the question to be asked is, How long Canadian independence will stand the cry for annexation with the United States that will then be raised?
One of the pleasures attending my visit to Toronto was the finding out Mrs. Moodie – whose ‘Roughing It in the Bush’ did so much to help English people to understand the hardships of Canadian life some forty years ago. She was the youngest sister of Agnes Strickland; and, like her, wrote books for children, and tales and poems for the annuals, then the rage. She then married a Major Moodie, and went out to Canada, and I had not seen her since I was a raw lad; but of her kindness and her talent I had a distinct impression, and it was with real pleasure that I found her living at an advanced age – but in peace and comfort – at her son’s, a gentleman connected with the Inter-Colonial Railway. The sprightly lady of 1834, eager and enthusiastic, had become an elderly one in 1884; yet time had dealt gently with her, and her youth seemed to me to revive as she talked of her old Suffolk home, and of men and women long since gone over to the majority.
I was glad to find that she had made her mark in Canadian literature. An intelligent Canadian critic, Mr. J. E. Collins, whose acquaintance I was privileged to make – as well as that of his friend, Mr. Charles Robins, a poet of whom Canada may well be proud – writes of Mrs. Moodie: ‘So perfect a picture is Mrs. Moodie’s book of the struggles, the hopes, the dark days, and the sun-spots of that obscure life that fell to her lot in the forest depths, that its whisperings form a delightful music to the memory. The style is limpid as a running brook, picturesque, and abounding with touches that show a keen insight into character, and an accurate observation of external things. There is no padding or fustian in the book, and no word is squandered, Mrs. Moodie regarding the mission of language to be to convey thought, not to put on a useless parade.’
Mrs. Moodie has been living in Canada now fifty years, and loves to talk of the old country, especially of the people with whom she associated when, as Susannah Strickland, she used to stay in London with Pringle, the Secretary of the Anti-Slavery Society, whose beautiful poem, ‘Afar in the desert I love to ride,’ is still a favourite with the English public. But she has no wish to come back to England – her family are all well settled in Canada. She lives with one of her sons, and her daughter, Mrs. Chamberlain, of Ottawa, has won deserved fame by her beautiful illustrations of Canadian flowers and lichens.
English readers who may remember Mrs. Moodie as one of the gifted Strickland sisters will be glad to learn that she is regarded as one of the pioneers of Canadian literature, and although born near the beginning of the present century, possesses a mental vigour and active memory rare in one so aged. She told me anecdotes of myself when a boy that I had quite forgotten, and retains in old age the enthusiasm for which she was remarkable when young. Some of her ghost-stories were capital. For instance, one night, when her sister Agnes was lying sick, in the old hall at Reydon, Suffolk, and was being nursed by her sister Jane, there came to them a tall, stately figure in white, with long garments trailing behind her. Of course, Agnes and her sister were very much frightened at the apparition, which stood at the door, pointed her finger at Agnes, hissed at her, and then disappeared. Other stories followed, equally interesting, in which Mrs. Moodie, it was evident, firmly believed.
It was during her long and lonely residence in the woods that Mrs. Moodie performed most of her literary work. While her husband was away crushing the Rebellion, she wrote her ‘Roughing It in the Bush,’ which did more to establish her fame in Canada and in England than any of her previous productions. It is probably the best picture we have of Canadian life at that time, and written in a style of composition charming, if only on account of its ease. Undisturbed by household cares, she wrote no less than fifteen books for children; a larger work, ‘Life in the Clearings,’ and in addition contributed a mass of matter to the old Canadian Literary Garland, sufficient to fill several large volumes. ‘I remember seeing Carlyle once,’ she said, ‘but he was such a crabbed-looking man that I did not care to make his acquaintance. In fact, his appearance was quite the reverse of pleasing, but he was an honest, close-fisted man, I dare say.’ She had a good deal to say of Cruikshank, who lived next door to Pringle. ‘I went to hear Dan O’Connell,’ she continued, ‘on the Anti-Slavery question. He was completely dressed in green – green coat, green vest, green pants – everything green but his boots. I was greatly amused at his opening remark, “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “England reminds me in this great question of a large lion that has been sleeping a good many years, commencing to rouse itself, stretch, yawn, and wag its tail.” For days after, that lion, with its wagging tail, came visibly before me.’ She also remembered Shiel, who began his speech in Exeter Hall, then quite a new building, by saying that he was afraid he would not be able to make himself heard, and then roared so that he might have been heard at Somerset House. She saw the man in armour proclaim King William in Cheapside, and it touched her to tears when all the people cried: ‘God save the King!’ ‘At one time,’ she said, ‘I helped Pringle to edit one of his annuals. Proctor sent in his poem on “The Sea, the Sea,” and after reading it I recommended it for publication, but Pringle rejected it. However, afterwards he found out his mistake when the poem, published in another channel, brought fame to its author.’
Mrs. Moodie seemed to think that it was a great privilege to have been in London while the Catholic Emancipation Act and the Reform Bills were carried, and still in her comfortable house in Toronto loves to talk of the bustle and excitement of the time. I was privileged twice to see her, and then we parted, never more to meet – in this world, at least.
Near Peterborough, about a hundred and fifty miles from Toronto, I found another far-famed Canadian authoress, Mrs. Traill, whose ‘Backwoods of Canada,’ published when I was a lad by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge, and now, I believe, by Messrs. Routledge and Sons, was a delight to me in my young days. I remember her well as a young woman, tall and stately, with a wonderful flow of talk – enthusiastic as a worshipper of nature – ever ready to write of Suffolk lanes, with all their richness of floral and animal life; of Suffolk copses, where the birds sang, and the partridge and the pheasant and the timid hare found shelter; of farmers, then merry, and of peasants, then contented with their humble lot.
In person she was attractive, the most so, to my mind, of all the Strickland family, and she was very stately in manner, for was not her maiden name Katherine Parr Strickland, and had she not some of the blood of that family allied to royalty in her veins? The Stricklands came of an ancient and honoured line, and besides that, there is a great deal in names, as the reader of ‘Tristram Shandy’ and ‘Kenelm Chillingly’ perfectly understands. What could you expect of a Katherine Parr Strickland but queenly manner, as assuredly the young lady who bore that name had?
When I was a lad, she married a Major Traill, and accompanied her sister, Mrs. Moodie, to Canada. I cannot think how ladies thus tenderly nursed could have done anything of the kind – or, having done it, how they could have survived the hardships they were called to endure. The lot in their case was by no means cast in pleasant places. Mrs. Moodie, in her delightful book, ‘Roughing It in the Bush,’ says: ‘A large number of the immigrants were officers of the army and navy, with their families – a class perfectly unfitted by their previous habits and standing in society for contending with the stern realities of emigrant life in the backwoods. A class formed mainly from the younger scions of great families, naturally proud, and not only accustomed to command, but to receive implicit obedience from the people under them, are not men adapted to the hard toil of the woodman’s life.’
Yet it was to such a life Major Traill took his handsome and accomplished wife; but Mrs. Traill in her backwoods settlement was not forgetful of the literary vocation to which she had dedicated her early youth. I have already referred to her ‘Backwoods of Canada’; that was in due time followed by a volume equally worthy of public favour, under the title of ‘Ramblings in a Canadian Forest.’ Indeed, she and her sister may claim to have been the pioneers of Canadian literature; and their brother, Lieutenant-Colonel Strickland, may also claim to be placed in that category by his work, ‘Twenty-seven Years in Canada West,’ a record of his own experiences, abounding with numerous realistic touches. He settled his family near his sister; and at Lakefield, near Peterborough, the residence of Mrs. Traill, there is quite a colony of Stricklands, who have all done well, so people tell me, at the lumber trade.
I am glad I paid Mrs. Traill a visit. It was a long and wearisome ride, but I was well repaid by a short interview with one with whom I was familiar half a century back. Lakefield is a charming spot, and Mrs. Traill’s wooden but picturesque cottage overlooks a lovely scene of trees and hills, and water and grass. At any rate, in the early spring it has a neat little garden; in new countries neat little gardens are rare.
