LITMIR.BIZ

      Coleridge

AT THE CLOSE OF THE FRENCH PERIOD IN CANADA

       Table of Contents

      When the flag of France departed from Canada, it left a people destined to find under the new rule a fuller freedom, an ampler political development, a far more abundant prosperity. It left a people destined to honour their new allegiance by loyalty and heroic service in the hour of trial.

      This people, which thus became British by a campaign and a treaty, was destined to form the solid core around which should grow the vast Confederation of Canada. But for them there would now, in all likelihood, be no Canada. By their rejection of the proposals of the revolted colonies, the northern half of this continent was preserved to Great Britain. The debt which the empire owes to the French Canadians is immeasurably greater than we at present realize. Let us examine the characteristics of the small and isolated people which was to exercise such a deep influence on the future of this continent.

      The whole population of Canada when she came under the British flag was about sixty thousand. This hardy handful was gathered chiefly at Quebec, Three Rivers, and Montreal. The rest trailed thinly along the shores of the St. Lawrence and the Richelieu. The lands about the Great Lakes, and the western country, were held only by a few scattered forts, buried here and there in the green wilderness. At Detroit had sprung up a scanty settlement of perhaps one thousand souls. In these remote posts the all-important question was still that of the fur-trade with the Indians. The traders and the soldiers, cut off from civilization, frequently took wives from the Indian tribes about them, and settled down to a life half barbarous. These men soon grew as lawless as their adopted kinsfolk. They were a weakness and a discredit to the country in time of peace, but in war their skill and daring were the frontier's best defence.

      Quebec had seven thousand inhabitants. Most of them dwelt between the water's edge and the foot of the great cliff whose top was crowned by the citadel. Where the shoulder of the promontory swept around toward the St. Charles, the slope became more gentle, and there the houses and streets began to clamber toward the summit. Streets that found themselves growing too precipitous had a way, then as now, of changing suddenly into flights of stairs. The city walls, grimly bastioned, ran in bold zigzags across the face of the steep in a way to daunt assailants. Down the hillside, past the cathedral and the college, through the heart of the city, clattered a noisy brook, which in time of freshet flooded the neighbouring streets. Part of the city was within walls, part without. Most of the houses were low, one-story buildings, with large expanse of steep roof, and high dormer windows. Along the incline leading down to the St. Charles stretched populous suburbs. On the high plateau where now lies the stately New Town, there was then but a bleak pasture-land whose grasses waved against the city gates.

      Montreal, after its childhood of awful trial, had greatly prospered. Its population had risen to about nine thousand. The fur-trade of the mysterious Northwest, developed by a succession of daring and tireless wood-rangers, had poured its wealth into the lap of the city of Maisonneuve. The houses, some of which were built of the light gray stone which now gives dignity to the city, were usually of but one story. They were arranged in three or four long lines parallel to the river. The towers of the Seminary of St. Sulpicius and the spires of three churches, standing out against the green of the stately mountain, were conspicuous from afar to voyagers coming up the river from Quebec. The city was inclosed by a stone wall and a shallow ditch, once useful as a defence against the Indians, but no protection in the face of serious assault. At the lower end of the city, covering the landing-place, rose a high earthwork crowned with cannon.

      The houses of the habitants, tillers of the soil, were small cabins, humble but warm, with wide, overhanging eaves, and consisting at most of two rooms. The partition, when there was one, was of boards. Lath and plaster were unknown. The walls within, to the height of a man's shoulders, were worn smooth by the backs that leaned against them. Solid wooden boxes and benches usually took the place of chairs. A clumsy loom, on which the women wove their coarse homespuns of wool or flax, occupied one corner of the main room; and a deep, box-like cradle, always rocking, stood beside the ample fireplace. Over the fire stood the long, black arms of a crane, on which was done most of the cooking; though the "bake-kettle" sometimes relieved its labours, and the brick oven was a standby in houses of the rich habitants, as well as of the gentry. For the roasting of meats the spit was much in use; and there was a gridiron with legs, to stand on the hearth, with a heap of hot coals raked under it. The houses even of the upper classes were seldom two stories in height. But they were generally furnished with a good deal of luxury; and in the cities they were sometimes built of stone.

      A typical country mansion, the dwelling of a seigneur on his own domain, was usually of the following fashion. The main building, one story in height but perhaps a hundred feet long, was surmounted by lofty gables and a very steep roof, built thus to shed the snow and to give a roomy attic for bed-chambers. The attic was lighted by numerous, high-peaked dormer windows, piercing the expanse of the roof. This main building was flanked by one or more wings. Around it clustered the wash-house (adjoining the kitchen), coach house, barns, stable, and woodsheds. This homelike cluster of walls and roofs was sheltered from the winter storm by groves of evergreen, and girdled cheerily by orchard and kitchen-garden. On one side, and not far off, was usually a village with a church-spire gleaming over it; on the other a circular stone mill, resembling a little fortress rather than a peaceful aid to industry. This structure, where all the tenants of the seigneur were obliged to grind their grain, had indeed been built in the first place to serve not only as a mill, but as a place of refuge from the Iroquois. It was furnished with loopholes, and was impregnable to the attacks of an enemy lacking cannon.

      The dress of the upper classes was like that prevailing among the same classes in France, though much less extravagant. The long, wide-frocked coats were of gay-coloured and costly material, with lace at neck and wristbands. The waistcoat might be richly embroidered with gold or silver. Knee-breeches took the place of our unsightly trousers, and were fastened with bright buckles at the knee. Stockings were of white or coloured silk, and shoes were set off by broad buckles at the instep. These, of course, were the dresses of ceremony, the dresses seen at balls and grand receptions. Out-of-doors, and in the winter especially, the costumes of the nobility were more distinctly Canadian. Overcoats of native cloth were worn, with large, pointed hoods. Their pattern is preserved to the present day in the blanket coats of our snow-shoers. Young men might be seen going about in colours that brightened the desolate winter landscape. Gay belts of green, blue, red, or yellow enriched the waists of their thick overcoats. Their scarlet leggings were laced up with green ribbons. Their moccasins were gorgeously embroidered with dyed porcupine quills. Their caps of beaver or martin were sometimes tied down over their ears with vivid handkerchiefs of silk. The habitants were rougher and more sombre in their dress. A black homespun coat, gray leggings, gray woollen cap, heavy moccasins of cowhide—this grave costume was usually brightened by a belt or sash of the liveliest colours. The country-women had to content themselves with the same coarse homespuns, which they wore in short, full skirts. But they got the gay colours which they loved in kerchiefs for their necks and shoulders.

      In war the regulars were sharply distinguished from those of the British army by their uniforms. The white of the House of Bourbon was the colour that marked their regiments, as scarlet marked those of the British. The militia and wood-rangers fought in their ordinary dress—or, occasionally, with the object of terrifying their enemies, put on the war-paint and eagle-quills of the Indians. The muskets of the day were the

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