Part 15

Good-humour and cool temper are also indispensable requisites in a commander of volunteer cavalry here; for on this occasion I beheld two or three impatient carmen and restive jarveys very coolly charge upon the flank of the advance of cavalry whilst the troop was filing across the street out of the park, and persist in forcing the line, _malgré_ the civil remonstrance of the combined staff, who nevertheless yielded with the best possible humour.

Now in England I have invariably noted that your chaw-bacon, when once he buckles harness on, and has "the blast of war blown in his ears," becomes a very Tartar in his bearing, and is much less conciliating towards his fellow snobs than is your regular soldier, whose trade is war. With us, your yeomen whenever they have a chance, I have observed, most uncivilly poke about the lieges with but and bayonet, or thump and rump them with their chargers, and entice the ill-broken brutes with insidious prods of the spur to swish their tails, if tails they have, into the upturned phizes of their awe-stricken fellows.

Here, on the contrary, your volunteers "do their spiriting gently:" all is good-nature and good manners; and a front is diminished, or a column of companies in line of march is eased off to the right or left to make way for carts or coaches, as the case requires, with a promptness which is the more creditable from the fact that the execution of a change in movement is no light matter.

The persons who appeared least to enjoy the _éclat_ of this military _fête_ were the officers of the regular United States' army. They were readily distinguished by their upright, soldier-like air, together with a certain cold, half-proud expression, as though they discovered no fun in the thing, and moreover were insensible to the honour of the companionship they were admitted to. Added to the above characteristics which struck me, I perceived that not one of these gentlemen had so much as unsheathed his sword, or seemed aware of having such an appendage by his side; whereas, of the gallant volunteers, there was not a man, from the surgeon to the colonel, but had his iron out brightly flashing back the sunbeams, although to some of the mounted officers this must have been a matter of additional inconvenience, not to say considerable peril.

During the course of the procession a salute was fired from the battery by the mounted artillery corps; the bands played, and the bells of the different churches on the line of march tolled for the dead.

On the whole, this little affair was very well conceived, and better managed, than it would have been by any other citizen troops, excepting, perhaps, the French, who appear to adopt the air and habit of soldiers more perfectly than any other _bourgeoisie_ whatever.

On Friday, May 28th, I acted for the last time in the States, and so ended at the Park, where I began, and as I began, to a crowded audience. But the merry faces assembled here were no longer unknown to me; I was on my _debût_, a stranger amongst strangers: I now felt myself surrounded by personal friends, and by an audience which had frankly welcomed me; which had continued to cherish my efforts by increasing kindness and consideration, and which had now thronged here less perhaps to witness a performance so often repeated, than to take leave of an individual with whom the persons composing it had cultivated a close acquaintanceship, and for whose talent they had encouraged a preference.

I am not of those who look upon the bond linking audience and actor as a mercenary contract, for the hours during which the latter yields his quantum of strength and spirit to the former for so much coin, and there is an end. Were I, unhappily, possessed by such a morbid feeling, I could no longer act, the spell would be broken. It is true, I might constrain bone and sinew to administer to my necessities, and continue to barter these with the public for bread; but the inspiring spirit would be away, sunk past recall. Severed from the sympathies of those it wrought for, it would cease to lighten upon the scene, which the power of enlisting those sympathies alone redeems from contempt.

But it is not so, as every well-constituted mind will avouch. Preference, and a constant expression of favour from his auditory, necessarily beget a kind feeling in return: the actor is aware also that he is not always in a condition to fulfil his part of the bond; illness, low spirits, crosses, losses, or any of "the thousand ills that flesh is heir to," rob the mind of its elasticity, and the body of its power; yet rarely does the disappointed auditor turn on the favourite and act the clamorous creditor.

Even in very extreme cases, what a spirit of forbearance have we seen exhibited, what positive sympathy have we felt extended in our own time to cherished players! It is at such moments that, more exposed, as he is, to immediate censure, and more helpless than any other of the servants of the public, he also feels himself more especially, more kindly considered, and, if possessed of a kindly heart, cannot fail to be touched by the feeling.

After illness or prolonged absence too, it is in the electric burst of welcome, the enthusiastically prolonged cheer of gratulation, and in the genuine pleasure sparkling from hundreds of uplifted ardent eyes, that the man who devotes himself to win the player's meed receives his brief, his shadowy it may be, but his inspiring triumph, accompanied by the assurance that he is closely linked with the kindest feelings of those who for the scene are subject to his thrall.

And when at length the hour of farewell comes, it is in the anxious pause, the breathless attention, yet more impressive than all other species of homage, that "the poor player," about to be "heard no more," reads the assurance that on the many young fresh hearts now subject to his art he has indelibly engraven his name, often to be pleasantly recalled in after hours, perhaps of pain and worldly care.

It is in the hope of gaining this living record he seeks consolation for the absence of all other less perishable fame: expecting, hoping nothing from posterity, he has a stronger claim upon the kindness of his contemporaries, for whom alone he lives, and the feeling is reciprocal: hence it is that these repay him with a superabundance of present regard, to soften to him the consciousness of the oblivion to which his memory is inevitably consigned, however great his genius, and however ardent its longings "after immortality."

JOURNAL

OF A VISIT TO QUEBEC, VIA LAKE CHAMPLAN AND MONTREAL.

_Saturday, May 30th._--Went on board the De Witt Clinton steam-boat about six P.M. and in the brightest possible night sailed up the most beautiful of rivers. We were not crowded; my excellent friend C----e was in company, on his way to take unto him a wife, and consequently the trip was to me unusually agreeable. We kept pacing the deck until we had passed through the deep shadows of the highlands, and floated over the silvery expanse of Newburg Bay.

_Sunday, 31st._--Before six A.M. we were set ashore at Albany. Breakfasted at the Eagle, and at nine A.M. left for Saratoga by the railroad; thence by stage to Whitehall. The day was fine, the roads rough enough to be sure. To the north lay the mountain State of Vermont, and to the south a ridge of bold well-wooded heights. At Glenfalls we passed the Hudson by a wooden bridge thrown over the very foot of the cataract: luckily, whilst in the act of crossing, a trace came unhitched, and we pulled up to order matters, just at the centre of the misty abyss. Thus were we afforded ample leisure to look on the wild fall, which, when in the wilderness, must have been a glorious scene; for, disfigured as it now is by a mill or two of the ordinary kind, it is still magnificent.

Our ride from this place to Whitehall reminded me much of some part of North Wales: the enclosures are small, irregularly shaped, and surrounded by walls of stone; many rills of clear water are crossed, making their way to the Hudson through rough courses bestrewn with fragments of rock: close on the left the river is itself visible every now and then, whilst in the distance rise a confused heap of wild mountains.

Numerous comely-looking pigs, together with groups of round-faced fat children, barefooted and bareheaded, complete the resemblance.

For the last seven miles the road was of the roughest kind; but our coachman rattled along merrily, getting us to Whitehall by ten P.M.

_Monday, June 1st._--At about one we quitted the comfortable inn here, and the busy little town of Whitehall; and in the fine steamer Phoenix thridded our way out of the swampy harbour formed by the head-waters of the lake.

The hills about us rose boldly, and were covered with a variety of trees now clothed in their freshest leaves, therefore beautiful to look on. For many miles the channel continues narrow, at times confined by a steep wall of marble surmounted by rich flowering shrubs; then, for a short distance, laving the edge of some rich meadow slope. At last, the lake expanded gloriously, reminding me, at a first glimpse, of the Trossachs, save that here was less grandeur and deep shadow, the outlines of the mountains were softer and the valleys more fertile.

The green mountains of the State of Vermont now bounded the lake upon the north, and on the south rose the Giant-mountains of the State of New York. These were for ever changing in form, as we crossed and re-crossed the lake in order to land or receive passengers from stated points. This circumstance also brought us acquainted with several very lovely locations. Beneath the old fort of Ticonderago we halted for a few minutes; and at Crown-point our stay was long enough to allow a rough sketch to be taken of the roofless barracks and the ruined works.

In the course of our progress we ran into two or three of the sweetest bays imaginable, where the calm lake was shadowed by steep mountains, down whose sides leaped little tributary streams that rushed sparkling and foaming into its turbid bosom.

It is most certain that, had these beauties been given to England or to Scotland, they would each and all have been berhymed and bepainted until every point of real or imaginable loveliness had been exhausted: for myself, I have looked on many lakes, and by none have been more delightfully beguiled than by a contemplation of this during some nine hours of sunshine, sunset, and twilight, the last alone too brief. Atmosphere, I am aware, does much; and this was one of those lovely days whose influence expands the heart and takes the reason prisoner.

After quitting Burlington, where we encountered the returning steam-boat, and received a large accession of force, I retired to my berth, and enjoyed the soundest possible sleep.

_Tuesday, 2nd._--On deck at six A.M.: found the lake had assumed a river-like appearance; the channel narrow, the banks low and swampy. The day, too, was as much changed as the scene from yesterday, for a drizzling rain was falling, and the clouds looked heavy and threatening.

As we neared St. John's, we had a slight custom-house visitation; and, soon after landing, were served with an excellent breakfast; after which came the bustle of departure. A string of carriages, of the same build used throughout the States, occupied half the little street, all loading heavily with baggage and bipeds, till by nine we got in motion, forming quite a caravan.

The road lay for a time along the bank of the new canal destined to unite the head-waters of the lake with the St. Lawrence, and was a pleasant succession of ditch and bog-hole. It got better after a few miles' jolting, but was nowhere tolerable, or creditable to his Majesty's dominions.

On entering La Prairie, at noon, we found the good people annoyed by a visitation which had not yet reached St. John's, namely, myriads of a winged insect called the shad-fly; these covered and crowded every building, filled the water and the air; they lodged on your clothes, rendered sight difficult, and speaking impracticable, except with closed teeth. Luckily, these flies neither sting nor bite; so that, setting aside their appearance, and a certain tickling they inflict upon the neck and face, they are easily borne with. At half-past one P.M. the steamer Britannia quitted the port of La Prairie to cross the wide St. Lawrence, to where our Land of Promise, Montreal, lay glittering in sunshine some nine miles distant.

Half an hour landed us, and I received the pleasure of a grip of welcome from my old friend W----w, who, with two or three of his brother-officers, was on the look-out for me. Leaving my baggage to the care of Sam, I stepped into the boat, and at once accompanied W----w to St. Helen's, lying about half a mile from the main land.

In ten minutes more we were treading the verdant sod of the island, when my first movement was to walk round it. I found it to possess every variety of country in perfect miniature proportions: here were wood-crowned steeps, shady glades, and open meadows, all offered in as many changes as might well be managed on so small a surface. Viewed from this, the city too looked very attractive, scattered over the southern side of the great mountain.

This little island was the latest possession of the French in Canada. Above a fort now in ruins was last elevated the white standard, which at one time fluttered from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi: thus girdling, as it were, the British colonies, France one day looked to sweep into the Atlantic.

Upon the westernmost point of the island, the tree still stands fresh and vigorous beneath which the articles for the final cession of the Canadas were agreed upon, and the last portion of the vast empire contemplated for France by the genius of Richelieu for ever abandoned.

The present garrison is composed of a company of the Royal Artillery. Here is an extensive depôt for stores, an armoury, two great magazines containing not less than six thousand barrels of gunpowder and all the other munitions of war.

In the afternoon I re-crossed the channel and surveyed Montreal, which has an air completely French. The streets are irregular, narrow, ill-paved, and moreover rejoice universally in a fishy savour in no way detracting from their Gallic characteristics.

Here is a large building in progress, or at least standing in an unfinished state, called the Cathedral, but, saving the size, putting forth externally small claim to notice; whilst the interior might serve as a model of ill-taste, both as to arrangement and colour, for the especial enlightenment of all future building committees. The convents appear well built; and many of the private dwellings are large, and of a goodly aspect.

_Thursday, 4th._--Having fully made up my mind on this day to ride over the race-course, visit the Rapids of _La Chine_, and make a complete circuit of the mountain, I was resolute, my time being meted, to carry out my plan despite a thunderstorm of the most violent kind, which began as we were setting forth and continued all day, with one or two short intervals of sunshine.

I found in the beauty of the country as seen from the Rapids, and from the different points of the mountain, ample compensation: what my complaisant companions felt I am not so sure of. We of a certainty returned in the afternoon three of the most thoroughly soaked and dirtiest gentlemen within the wide range of his Majesty's dominions. On the whole, it was agreed that, having to choose between a ducking or a dusting, we were better off served up soused in rain and only parboiled, than we should have been smothered in dust and wholly roasted.

Dined at the hospitable mess of the 32nd, and quitted it late for St. Helen's.

The lightning was frequent and very vivid during our row across the rapid; and it was a curious speculation to narrowly watch an occasional flash descending the tall conducting rods, and gambol along the roof of the great magazine, as though prying for a sly crevice by which to enter. It afforded a subject for consideration to calculate the next possible resting-place of our little isle, should the ignition of six thousand barrels of gunpowder treat us with an ascension by moonlight.

The soldiers' wives were in great alarm, poor souls! and some of the chubby regimental urchins, destined to live on gunpowder, were now crying their eyes out for very fear, as they clung to their mothers' petticoats, where they gathered in little knots to watch the fantastic course of the wild fluid.

Fatigue had prepared me for sleep, and my rest was undisturbed, excepting that I conceived the sentry's quarterly cry of "All's well!" sounded louder than usual, or that I heard it oftener than was my wont, as it rose distinctly above the fitful roar of the storm.

_Friday, 5th._--All is perfectly calm, and gladness and increase of beauty are spread over the newly-renovated field and forest. "What a delicious spot is this same St. Helen's!"

Such, involuntarily, was my exclamation as I this morning thrust aside the jalousies from my open window, and felt the pure air rush within my little chamber, and saw the sunbeams dancing down the passing rapid, and flashing from the bright roofs and spires of the more distant city. One might have fancied the tales of El Dorado realized, and that the precious metals were here devoted to cover the humblest dwellings.

I should like greatly to have a history of this sweet spot since the first bold savage braved in his canoe the perilous rapid, and found security beneath the shadow of these spreading trees.

In the winter, by the way, the passage is simple enough,--a natural high road of ice unites it to Montreal; and last season, my friends inform me, they drove their light _carioles_ over a finer way than Mac Adam ever dreamed of, for full thirteen weeks.

Independent of the garrison, the population of St. Helen's is limited to three or four families in the civil employ of the government, together with the holder of a fine farm, a scion of the Green Isle, who bears the unquestionable name of Mister Dolan; a man of little labour but much Latin, whose humanities are at his finger-ends whilst his toes are out of his brogues.

In right of a small rental paid to government, this worthy carefully superintends the dilapidations performing by time and the climate upon the neat cottage, and a couple of rustic pavilions erected by the taste of Lady Dalhousie whilst her lord commanded here, together with an inclosed garden, which would, if decently cultivated, supply Montreal with fruit and vegetables, all of which, under the inspection of my friend Mister Dolan, is fast retrograding into its primitive condition.

I this morning, at eleven, met my company at the theatre, a very neat one; and, what with those already mustered, together with a windfall just landed from Waterford, in the shape of a pretty woman and her husband, in search of an engagement, I fancy my friend B----y and I may manage to get up one night's fun for Montreal, though, for my own part, I would rather idle than play.

Same night acted a couple of interludes to a full house, and an exceedingly merry-humoured one; although the only really good thing was the orchestra, composed of the excellent band of the 32nd regiment, which had been kindly placed by the commanding officer at the disposal of "the Lessee."

At a late hour took to the skiff for our quiet retreat, which rose, in this time of moonlight, above the shining waters like some fairy garden resting on a bed of mother-of-pearl. We sung Moore's Boat-song, and not a sound except the appropriate soft plash of the oars came between us and the echo that faintly repeated our chorus.

The echo from the island, by the way, is very distinct, and oft repeated; and, on such a night as this, to stand beside the nine-o'clock gun, listening to its bellow as it reverberates amongst the opposite heights, is one of the things of these parts worth doing.

_Saturday, 6th._--Again, what sunshine! and how invigorating is the wind, now breathing sweet music through the trees as their thick leaves rustle above the swift river!

Two or three large rafts are in sight, their hardy crews straining on the huge oars as they cross the rapids for the city. At measured intervals their wild cry fills the air; whilst the notes of our island bugles, together with the drums of the city, reply merrily and boldly, as though flinging back the challenge of some approaching horde of savage invaders.

And verily no beings can look more wild of aspect or attire than the crews working the huge rafts which navigate these waters. Europeans, Indians, and _Bois-brules_, as the half-breed is denominated, are all found in this employ, but so much alike in equipment and complexion, that, only for the round Saxon face, light hair, and blue eyes, here and there distinguishable, it would be difficult to conceive them of different lineage.

A pair of loose trousers of coloured serge or flannel, a sash of scarlet worsted or wampum girt about the loins over a shirt of indescribable hue, moccassins on the feet, and a red cap or bonnet of fox-skin, or not unfrequently a shock of hair that despises any covering, and alike defies the force of sun and storm, forms the common costume of these sons of toil, whose lives, commonly of short duration, are wasted in quick alternations of perilous labour and wild debauch.

Their rough mates, the boatmen of old Mississippi and the lakes, have nearly disappeared; and how much longer steam and railway will yet leave this calling open to the Tartar-spirits of the North, it is impossible to say. At present they are evidently in full employ, for there is hardly a reach of the rivers flowing about the isles of Montreal but is, at some time or other throughout the day, laden by these cumbrous rafts, often measuring one hundred feet in length by ten in width.

These masses are rafted from vast distances; and, during their course of perhaps fifty days, their crews look for no covering: the rain descends upon them, and the waves of the rapids rise over them, but they abide both without shade or shelter; subsisting principally upon pork, dressed or raw, as may be, and having for their beverage the stream whereon they may chance to float, except during an occasional halt at some stated point where whisky invites them to hold a deep but brief carouse.

At ten A.M. crossed to the city according to appointment, to meet three friends in whose good company I was to visit

THE SAULT AU RECOLLECT.

I procured the stout charger whose quality of endurance I had well tested on a former occasion. True to our time, we took the road, such as it was, and, after an hour's hard riding, reached the river at the point where several fine mills and a fishery bring constant grist to the worthy monks of St. Sulpice, who are here the lords paramount of soil and stream.