In the gloom of this chamber Franklin no doubt uttered some of his wise sayings, gems of philosophy, which in his "Poor Richard's Almanac" had for years been familiar in every chimney corner of New England.
In the Montreal Gazette, which is still in circulation, the present voluminous and influential journalism of the Metropolis of the Dominion had here its origin in the setting up of this old hand printing-press, similar to if not the same which is now preserved in the Patent Office at Washington. For it Franklin sometimes made his own type and ink, engraved the wood cuts, and even carried in a wheelbarrow through the streets of Philadelphia the white paper required for the printing of his paper, the Pennsylvania Gazette. It is now called the Saturday Evening Post, and has about it a certain quaintness and originality suggestive of the great mind which gave such an impetus to the American and Canadian press of over a century ago.
"For nearly one hundred and seventy years there has been hardly a week, except only when a British army held Philadelphia, when this paper has not been sent to press regularly."
His identification with the history of letters in the United States and Canada was an epoch in the development of both. In the great army of newsboys in America Franklin was the first; he was also the first editor of a monthly magazine in the country, his having on its title page the Prince of Wales' Feathers, with the motto: 'Ich Dien.'
"He has never been surpassed in the editorial faculty, at the same time being apt as compositor, pressman, verse-maker, compiler and reporter; but as adviser, satirist and humorist he was perhaps at his best. His one and two line bits of comment and wisdom were models of pithiness, and few writers have equalled him in masterly skill in argument. He is spoken of by David Hume as the first great man of letters to whom England was beholden to America."
In addition to these qualifications, he founded the Library of Philadelphia, the American post-office system, made several valuable inventions for the improvement of heating, was the first to call practical attention to ventilation, and to attempt experiment with electricity. "He founded the American Philosophical Society, and led to the foundation of the High School system in the State of Pennsylvania, assisted in opening its first hospital, and helped to defend the city against an attack of Indians. He was a leading factor in securing the union and independence of the Colonies, being the principal mover in the repeal of the Stamp Act." He made valuable meteorological discoveries, improved navigation, and was an earnest advocate of the abolition of slavery; so that in sending Benjamin Franklin to Canada at this critical juncture, she was compelled to hold to her political convictions against one of the intellectual giants of the day. On discovering the patriotic obstinacy of the Canadians, he wrote to Congress, saying: —
"We are afraid that it will not be in our power to render our country any further service in this colony."
Perceiving the hopelessness of the situation, and that not even his matchless logic could win sympathy in his project, he left Montreal on May 11, and thus ended the efforts to coerce Canada into a struggle which was to try so sorely the energy and fortitude of the thirteen colonies – efforts which had cost them the life of one of their greatest generals – Richard Montgomery.
Franklin, when leaving, had under his escort some ladies who were returning to the United States. Of one of these he wrote to Congress, saying: —
"We left Mrs. Walker and her husband at Albany. They took such liberties in taunting us at our conduct in Canada that it came almost to a quarrel. We parted civilly, but coldly. I think they both have an excellent talent for making enemies, and I believe where they live they will never be long without them!"
Charles Carroll, who was associated with Franklin in trying to obtain the concurrence of the Canadians in revolt, was of a family which had always stood at the head of the colonial aristocracy, and which had owned the most ample estate in the country. His character was mild and pleasing, his deportment correct and faultless. By his eloquence everyone was charmed, and many were persuaded, but even his great and subtle powers in argument were abortive here. Through his daughter, Polly Carroll, he became associated afterwards with the most dignified circles of the British aristocracy. In the year 1809 two of his grand-daughters were celebrated beauties in the most exclusive social circles of Washington and Baltimore. The eldest, during a tour with her husband through Europe, formed a warm friendship with Sir Arthur Wellesley, afterwards the great Duke of Wellington. On becoming a widow and returning to London, he introduced her to his elder brother, the Marquis of Wellesley, whose wife she subsequently became. Her younger sister married Colonel Hervey, who acted as aide-de-camp to the hero of Waterloo on that momentous occasion. This family, therefore, was closely identified with that great struggle between the two nations who had fought on Canadian soil a few years before Carroll set foot upon it.
During the first Presidential court, many distinguished Frenchmen came to America; some in official capacities, others from curiosity, and many were driven into forced or voluntary exile by the French Revolution. Among these were M. de Talleyrand, the exiled Bishop of Autun, the Duke de Liancourt, the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, Louis Philippe d'Orleans and his two brothers, the Duke de Montpensier and the Count de Beaujolais.
Louis Philippe lodged in a single room over a barber's shop in Philadelphia. On one occasion, when entertaining some friends at dinner, he apologized with a courtly grace for seating one-half his guests on the side of a bed, saying he had himself occupied less comfortable places without the consolation of an agreeable company.
The exiled Prince fell in love with the beautiful Miss Bingham, the reigning belle of the city. On her royal suitor's asking her fair hand from her father, the American citizen declined the alliance with the French Prince, saying to him: – "Should you ever be restored to your hereditary position you will be too great a match for her; if not, she is too great a match for you."
One year from the fall of Montgomery, the event was celebrated by special religious services and social functions in Quebec, the city he had never succeeded in entering. "At nine o'clock grand mass was celebrated by the Bishop in the Cathedral. On this occasion those who had shown sympathy with the Congress troops had to perform public penance. The officers of the garrison and the militia, with the British inhabitants, met at 10 o'clock, waited upon Carleton, and then proceeded to the English Church. After the service a parade took place when a feu de joie was fired. Carleton himself gave a dinner to sixty people, and a public fête was given at seven o'clock, which ended with a ball."
About fifty years later, at Montgomery Place, on the banks of the Hudson, an aged face, with eyes dimmed with the tears of long years of waiting, looked sadly at the vessel that was bringing back to her the dust of her young soldier husband, which had so long lain in the gorge, near the fatal bastion. Forty-three years before, he had buckled on his sword to fight for what he considered a righteous cause, at the command of his leader, Washington. Expecting a speedy return, he marched away as she listened to the drum beats growing fainter and fainter in the distance, and, after half a century had passed, he was still to her the young soldier in his brave, blue coat, who had kissed her for that long farewell. All that is left on Canadian soil to recall this gallant though luckless soldier is the low-ceiled cottage where his body was laid out, a small tablet on the precipice, which reads, "Here Montgomery fell, 1775," and another of white marble, in the courtyard of the military prison in the Citadel, recently erected by two patriotic American girls in memory of the volunteers who fell with him.
One hundred New Year's Eves came and passed away, and, on Dec. 31st, 1875,
"There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Canada's Capital had gathered there
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men."
It was with no desire to re-kindle the rancours and strifes of that distant period, but to properly celebrate an event of such importance, and commemorate that night of blustering storm, gallant attack and sore defeat a century before, that the Centennial Montgomery Ball was given. Soldiers and citizens, in the costumes of 1775, some in the identical dress worn by their ancestors in that memorable repulse; and the ladies in toilettes of the same period, received their guests as they entered the ball-room, the approaches to which were tastefully decorated. "Half way between the dancing and receiving rooms was a grand, double staircase, the sides of which were draped with the white and golden lilies of France, our Dominion Ensign, and the Stars and Stripes of the neighbouring Republic. On the other side of the broad steps were stacks of arms and warlike implements. Facing the guests as they ascended the stairs, among the huge banners which fell gracefully about the dark musketry, and parted to right and left above the drums and trumpets, there hung from the centre a red and black pennant – the American colours of 1775. Immediately underneath was the escutcheon of the United States, on which, heavily craped, was suspended the hero's sword – the weapon by which, one hundred years before, the dead, but honoured and revered hero had beckoned on his men, and which only left his hand when he like 'a soldier fell.'
"Underneath the kindly tribute to the dead General were the solemn prayerful initials of Requiescat in Pace.
"At the foot of the trophy were piled two sets of old flint-lock muskets and accoutrements, and in the centre a brass cannon, which was captured from the Americans in 1775, and which bore the 'Lone Star' and the figure of an Indian – the Arms of the State of Massachusetts. This military tableau vividly recalled the troublous times of long ago, and spoke of the patience and pluck, the bravery and sturdy manhood of a bygone century.
"On the stroke of the hour of midnight, the clear, clarion notes of a trumpet thrilled all hearts present. A panel in the wainscotting of the lower dancing-room flew open as if by magic, and out jumped a jaunty little trumpeter with a slashed and decorated jacket and the busby of a hussar. The blast he blew rang in tingling echoes far and wide, and a second later the weird piping and drumming of an unfamiliar music were heard in a remote part of the barracks.
"Nearer and nearer every moment came the sharp shrill notes of the fifes and the quick detonation of the drum-stick taps. The rattle of the drums came closer and closer, when two folding-doors opened, and through them stalked in grim solemnity the 'Phantom Guard,' led by the intrepid Sergeant Hugh McQuarters.
"Regardless of the festive decorations and the bright faces around them, the 'Guard' passed through the assembly as if they were not. On through salon and passage – past ball-room and conversation parlor – they glided with measured step, and halting in front of the 'Montgomery Trophy,' paid military honours to the memento of a hero's valiant, if unsuccessful act. Upon their taking close order, the Bombardier, who personated the dead Sergeant, and who actually wore the blood-stained sword-belt of a man who was killed in the action commemorated, advanced and delivered an address to the Commander of the Quebec Garrison, of which the concluding words were: —
'We ask of you to pay us now one tribute,
By firing from these heights one last salute.'
"The grave, sonorous words of the martial request were hardly uttered, ere through the darkness of the night the great cannon boomed, – a soldier's welcome and a brave man's requiem, – which caused women's hearts to throb and men's to beat exultingly." While the whole air trembled with the sullen reverberations, which echoed from crag to crag, the glare of rockets lit up the path of Près-de-Ville, as the signal lights had done one hundred winters before.
At the suggestion of the American Consul, the old house on St. Louis street, in which the body of Montgomery was laid out January 1st, 1776, was decorated with the American flag, and brilliantly illuminated, in honour of him who had so nobly tried to do what he considered his duty.
And thus the years of the century, as they rolled around, have in a great measure smoothed away the animosities which marked those days that tried men's souls, when the sons of those who had played around the same old English hearths fought to the death for liberty or loyalty. That the angry strifes are forgotten, leaving only the memory of the bravery which distinguished the star actors in the great drama, needs no further proof than can be found on a green hill near the Palisades, in the State of New York, where one hundred and twenty years ago a warm young heart, beating beneath the soldier's red coat, was stilled by American justice. The granite shaft on the spot tells its sad and sombre story: —
Here died, October 2nd, 1780, Major John André, of the British Army, who, entering the American lines on a Secret Mission to Benedict Arnold for the Surrender of West Point, was taken prisoner, tried and condemned as a spy.
His death, though according to the stern code of war, moved even his enemies to pity, and both armies mourned the fate of one so young and so brave. In 1821 his remains were removed to Westminster Abbey.
A hundred years after his execution this stone was placed above the spot where he lay, by a citizen of the States against which he fought; not to perpetuate a record of strife, but in token of those better feelings which have since united two nations, one in race, in language and religion, with the earnest hope that this friendly union will never be broken.
"He was more unfortunate than criminal,
An accomplished man and a gallant officer."
– George Washington.
An American visitor to Quebec was recently shown the cannon used in the trophy, which the British Corporal proudly explained had been taken at Bunker Hill.
"Ah! yes, friend," the stranger replied, "you have the cannon, but we have the hill."
On the top of the monument, near Boston, which marks the spot on which this battle took place, are two guns similar to this one, the inscription on which corroborates the soldier's statement; it reads: —
"Sacred to Liberty."
This is one of the four cannon which constituted the whole train of field artillery possessed by the British Colonies of North America, at the commencement of the War on the 19th of April, 1775. This cannon and its fellow belonged to a number of citizens of Boston.
The other two, the property of the Government of Massachusetts, were taken by the enemy.
With the failure of the American expedition, and the return of the British troops to Montreal, the Château again became Government headquarters and was called Government House.
When internal and international tranquillity were completely restored, and the people were permitted to return to their ordinary avocations of life, Sir Guy Carleton established himself at Quebec with his wife, the Lady Maria, and their three children, one of whom had been born in Canada. She had joined him at Montreal, being the bearer of the decoration of the Order of the Bath, which she had received from the hands of the King to present to her husband. Sir Guy Carleton or Lord Dorchester was one of those men "who, during a long and varied public life, lived so utterly irreproachably, that his memory remains unstained by the charge of any semblance of a vice."
On the occasion of his last appearance in an official character he arrived to make his final inspection of the troops. After general parade the officers waited upon him to pay their last respects to one who had been the bulwark of Canada through her greatest vicissitudes. The leave-taking of their old General, whom they never expected to see again, was marked by the deepest feelings of regard and regret. His connection with Canadian history covered a period marked by events of a nature the most critical, the results of which will colour the entire future of the Dominion.
Between the years eighteen thirty-seven and forty, when Canada was torn by internal rebellion, the Earl of Elgin, who was then Governor-General, drove in hot haste to the Château, where had sat the special council during the suspension of the Constitution. After giving the Queen's sanction to what was called by a certain party "The Rebel Indemnity Bill," he rushed into one door and out of another, when this Peer of the Realm, in all the dignity of coach and four, postillions and outriders, was pelted with rotten eggs and other unpleasant missiles. Then, in the dark of night, at the instance of some so-called politicians, the mob moved on to the Parliament buildings, and, most unfortunately for Montreal, deliberately set them on fire; which act resulted ultimately in the removal of the seat of government to Ottawa and the decline of the glory of the old Château.
THE FUR KINGS
It was to the French explorers whose names stand "conspicuous on the pages of half-savage romance," and to their successors the Scotch fur-kings, that we owe much of the geographical knowledge of the northern part of the Continent. There is some uncertainty as to who was the discoverer of the Mackenzie River, which carries its waters to the ice-fields of Polar seas, but it bears the name of one claimant to the distinction, Sir Alexander Mackenzie.
Of the other waterways of the region much valuable information was obtained by Alexander Henry in his intercourse with the native tribes. To Sir William Alexander was given the honour of being the first Scotchman to cross the Rocky Mountains. Like his fellow countrymen, he was distinguished by the same characteristics which made their fathers in tartan and kilt foemen "worthy of any man's steel," and themselves fit successors of the bearers of such honourable names as duLuth, Joliet and de La Vérandrye. A few rods from the gate of the Château de Ramezay is a tall warehouse which bears on its peaked gable the date 1793. It was in this old building that the early business years of John Jacob Astor, the New York millionaire, were spent. It was the property of the North-West Fur Company, which was the centre of so much that was romantic and captivating. This Company was an association of Scottish and Canadian merchants, who, in the political changes which had taken place, had supplanted those purely French. In energy and enterprise they did not exceed their predecessors, but had more capital and influence at their command.
In consequence of their more lavish measures, they were called the "Lordly Nor' Westers." Full justice has been done them by the pen of Washington Irving, who, in writing the tale of "Astoria," that Northwestern "Utopia," so splendid in its conception, but so lamentable in its failure, became familiar with their life in all its phases. He says: – "To behold the North-West Company in all its grandeur it was necessary to witness the annual gathering at Fort William. On these occasions might be seen the change since the unceremonious time of the old French traders, with their roystering coureurs des bois and voyageurs gaily returning from their adventurous trading in the pathless regions of the West. Then the aristocratic character of the Briton, or rather the feudal spirit of the Highlander, shone out magnificently. Every partner who had charge of an inferior post felt like the chieftain of a Highland clan. To him a visit to the grand conference at Fort William was a most important event, and he repaired thither as to a meeting of Parliament. They were wrapped in rich furs, their huge canoes being freighted with every luxury and convenience. The partners at Montreal were the lords of these occasions, as they ascended the river, like sovereigns making a progress. At Fort William an immense wooden building was the council chamber and also the banqueting hall, decorated with Indian arms and accoutrements, and with trophies of the fur trade. The great and mighty councils alternated with feasts and revels." These old days of primitive bartering are gone forever from the St. Lawrence, but to-day as it flows in majesty to the ocean, carrying with it one-third of the fresh water of the world, it is a great highway for the commerce of the globe.
The University of McGill stands on what was once, in part, the ancient village of Hochelaga, which was visited by Jacques Cartier, and was later the domain belonging to old "Burnside Hall." Its cheerful fire many a time shone out under the shadow of Mount Royal, when were gathered around its board Simon McTavish, Duncan McGillivray, Sir John Franklin and Joseph Frobisher. With them was frequently seen Thomas Douglas, Earl of Selkirk, who formulated the scheme of populating the prairies of the North-West with poverty-stricken and down-trodden tenants from older lands, many of whom lie in the old grave-yard of the Kildonan settlement on the Red River of the North, a few miles from the City of Winnipeg. Their descendants with their Scotch thrift form the backbone of that progressive province of such magnificent possibilities. Their weary journeys overland, toilsome portages and struggles with want and isolation are now mere matters of history, for the overflow population of the crowded centres of Europe are carried in a few days from sea to sea with every possible convenience and even luxury. The great Canadian transcontinental line has spanned the valleys and crossed the mountains, literally opening up a highway for the thousands who from the ends of the earth are yearly crowding into these vast fertile plains and sub-arctic gold fields.
Franklin lies in an unknown grave among Northern snows, lost in his attempt, at the age of sixty, to find the North Pole. He was last seen moored to an iceberg in Baffin's Bay, apparently waiting for a favourable opportunity to begin work in what is known as the Middle Sea. The problem of his fate long baffled discovery, although many an earnest searching party, in the Polar twilight, has sought him in that region of ice and snow, in a silence broken only by the howl of the arctic blast, the scream of sea-fowl or the thundering report of an ice-floe breaking away from the mainland.
One party sent out by the Hudson Bay Co. in 1853 found traces of the expedition in some bits of metal and a silver plate engraved with the name Franklin. Another, fitted out partly by Lady Franklin, and partly by public subscription, and commanded by McClintock, afterwards Sir Leopold McClintock, learned from an Eskimo woman that she had heard of a party of men, whom it was said "fell down and died as they walked." With the exception of these faint traces, their fate is still wrapped in obscurity.