Books: Nature and Human Nature

T >> Thomas Chandler Haliburton >> Nature and Human Nature

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35

"It was impossible to contemplate that fearful lake without a shudder.
They must leave the place soon and for ever. Oh, had Emily's life been
spared, she could have endured any and everything for her sake. Poor
thing! how little she knew what she was a talking about, as she broke
the seal of a letter in a well-known hand. Her life was spared; it
never was endangered. She had eloped with Tom Hodges--she had reached
Boston--she was very happy--Tom was all kindness to her. She hoped
they would forgive her and write to her, for they were going to
California, where they proposed to be married as soon as they arrived.
Who ever appealed to a mother for forgiveness in vain? Everything
appeared in a new light. The child had been neglected; she ought not
to have been suffered to spend so much of her time with that boy; both
her parents had strangely forgotten that they had grown up, and--it
was no use to say more. Her father had locked her out of his heart,
and thrown away the key for ever. He wished she had been drowned, for
in that case she would have died innocent; and he poured out such a
torrent of imprecations, that the poor mother was terrified lest, as
the Persians say, these curses, like fowls, might return home to
roost, or like prayers, might be heard, and procure more than was
asked.

"You may grieve over the conduct of a child, and lament its untimely
death, and trust in God for his mercy; but no human being can reverse
the order of things, and first mourn the decease of a child, and then
grieve for its disgraceful life; for there is a grave again to be dug,
and who knoweth whether the end shall be peace? We can endure much,
but there is a load that crusheth. Poor thing! you were right, and
your husband wrong. Woman-like, your judgment was correct, your
impulses good, and your heart in the right place. The child was not to
be blamed, but its parents. You could, if you thought proper, give up
society and live for each other; you had proved it, and knew how
hollow and false it was; but your children could not resign what they
never had, nor ignore feelings which God had implanted within them.
Nature has laws which must and will be obeyed. The swallow selects its
mate, builds its nest, and occupies itself in nurturing its young. The
heart must have something to love, and if it is restricted in its
choice, it will bestow its affections not on what it would approve and
select, but upon what it may chance to find; you are not singular in
your domestic affliction; it is the natural consequence of your
isolation, and I have known it happen over and over again.

"Now, Doctor, let us return, after the lapse of a few years, as I did,
to Epaigwit. I shall never forget the impression it made upon me. It
was about this season of the year I went there to fish, intending to
spend the night in a camp, so as to be ready for the morning sport:
'Why, where am I?' sais I to myself, when I reached the place. 'Why,
surely this ain't Cucumber Lake! where is that beautiful hanging wood,
the temptation in the wilderness that ruined poor Dechamps? gone, not
cleared, but destroyed; not subdued to cultivation, but reduced to
desolation.' Tall gaunt black trees stretch out their withered arms on
either side, as if balancing themselves against a fall, while huge
trunks lie scattered over the ground, where they fell in their fierce
conflict with the devouring fire that overthrew them. The ground is
thickly covered with ashes, and large white glistening granite rocks,
which had formerly been concealed by moss, the creeping evergreen, and
the smiling, blushing may-flower, now rear their cold snowy heads that
contrast so strangely with the funereal pall that envelopes all around
them. No living thing is seen there, nor bird, nor animal, nor insect,
nor verdant plant; even the hardy fire-weed has not yet ventured to
intrude on this scene of desolation, and the woodpecker, afraid of the
atmosphere which charcoal has deprived of vitality, shrinks back in
terror when he approaches it. Poor Dechamps, had you remained to
witness this awful conflagration, you would have observed in those
impenetrable boulders of granite a type of the hard, cold, unfeeling
world around you, and in that withered and blackened forest, a fitting
emblem of your blighted and blasted prospects.

"But if the trees had disappeared from that side of the lake, they had
been reproduced on the other. The fields, the lawn, and the garden
were over-run with a second growth of wood that had nearly concealed
the house from view. It was with some difficulty I forced my way
through the chaparel (thicket), which was rendered almost impenetrable
by thorns, Virginia creepers, honeysuckles, and sweet-briars, that had
spread in the wildest profusion. The windows, doors, mantle-pieces,
bannisters, and every portable thing had been removed from the house
by the blacks, who had squatted in the neighbourhood; even the
chimneys had been taken down for the bricks. The swallows were the
sole tenants; the barn had fallen a prey to decay and storms, and the
roof lay comparatively uninjured at some distance on the ground. A
pair of glistening eyes, peeping through a broken board at the end,
showed me that the foxes had appropriated it to their own use. The
horse-stable, coach-house, and other buildings were in a similar state
of dilapidation.

"I returned to the camp, and learned that Mrs Dechamps was reposing in
peace in the village church-yard, the children had been sent to
England to their relatives, and the captain was residing in California
with his daughter and Tom Hodges, who were the richest people in St
Francisco."

"What a sad picture!" said the doctor.

"Well, it's true though," said I, "ain't it?"

"I never was at Cucumber Lake," said he, smiling, "but I have known
several similar failures. The truth is, Mr Slick, though I needn't
tell you, for you know better than I do, our friend Steele began at
the right and Dechamps at the wrong end. The poor native ought always
to go to the woods, the emigrant or gentleman never; the one is a
rough and ready man; he is at home with an axe, and is conversant as
well with the privations and requirements as with the expedients and
shifts of forest life; his condition is ameliorated every year, and in
his latter days he can afford to rest from his labours; whereas, if he
buys what is called a half-improved farm, and is unable to pay for it
at the time of the purchase, the mortgage is almost sure to ruin him
at last. Now a man of means who retires to the country is wholly unfit
for a pioneer, and should never attempt to become one; he should
purchase a farm ready made to his hands, and then he has nothing to do
but to cultivate and adorn it. It takes two generations, at least, to
make such a place as he requires. The native, again is one of a class,
and the most necessary one too in the country; the people sympathise
with him, aid and encourage him. The emigrant-gentleman belongs to no
class, and wins no affection; he is kindly received and judiciously
advised by people of his own standing in life, but he affects to
consider their counsel obtrusive and their society a bore; he is
therefore suffered to proceed his own way, which they all well know,
as it has been so often travelled before, leads to ruin. They pity,
but they can't assist him. Yes, yes, your sketch of 'Epaigwit' is so
close to nature, I shouldn't wonder if many a man who reads it should
think he sees the history of his own place under the name of 'the
Cucumber Lake.'"

CHAPTER XXV.

THE RECALL.

In compiling this Journal, Squire, my object has been less to give you
the details of my cruise, than to furnish you with my remarks on men
and things in general. Climate, locality, and occupation form or vary
character, but man is the same sort of critter everywhere. To know him
thoroughly, he must be studied in his various aspects. When I learned
drawing, I had an India-rubber figure, with springs in it, and I used
to put it into all sorts of attitudes. Sometimes it had its arms up,
and sometimes down, now a-kimbo, and then in a boxing posture. I stuck
out its legs or made it stand bolt upright, and put its head every way
I could think of, and so on. It taught me to draw, and showed me the
effect of light and shade. So in sketching human character, feelings,
prejudices, and motives of action, I have considered man at one time
as a politician, a preacher, or a trader, and at another as a
countryman or a citizen, as ignorant or wise, and so on. In this way I
soon learned to take his gauge as you do a cask of spirits, and prove
his strength or weakness by the bead I could raise on him.

If I know anything of these matters, and you seem to consait I do, why
I won't act "Peter Funk"1 to myself, but this I will say, "Human natur
is my weakness." Now I think it best to send you only such portions of
my Journal as will interest you, for a mere diary of a cruise is a
mere nothing. So I skip over my sojourn at Canzeau, and a trip the
doctor and I took to Prince Edward's Island, as containing nothing but
a sort of ship's log, and will proceed to tell you about our sayings
and doings at that celebrated place Louisburg, in Cape Breton, which
was twice besieged and taken, first by our colony-forefathers from
Boston, and then by General Wolfe, the Quebec hero, and of which
nothing now remains but its name, which you will find in history, and
its harbour, which you will find in the map. The French thought
building a fortress was colonization, and the English that blowing it
up was the right way to settle the country. The world is wiser now.

1 At petty auctions in the States, a person is employed to bid up
articles, in order to raise their price. Such a person is called a
Peter Funk, probably from that name having frequently been given when
things were bought in. In short, it is now used as a
"puffer."--BARTLETT.

As we approached the place the Doctor said, "You see, Mr Slick, the
entrance to Louisburg is pointed out to voyagers coming from the
eastward, by the ruins of an old French lighthouse, and the lantern of
a new one, on the rocky wall of the north shore, a few minutes after
approaching which the mariner shoots from a fretful sea into the
smooth and capacious port. The ancient ruins display even yet the most
attractive object to the eye. The outline of these neglected mounds,
you observe, is boldly marked against the sky, and induces a visit to
the spot where the fortress once stood. Louisburg is everywhere
covered with a mantle of turf, and without the assistance of a native
it is not easy to discover even the foundations of the public
buildings. Two or three casemates still remain, appearing like the
mouths of huge ovens, surmounted by a great mass of earth and stone.
These caverns, originally the safeguards of powder and other
combustible munitions of war, now serve to shelter the flocks of sheep
that graze upon the grass that conceals them. The floors are rendered
nearly impassable by the ordure of these animals, but the vaulted
ceilings are adorned by dependent stalactites, like icicles in shape,
but not in purity of colour, being of a material somewhat similar to
oyster shells. The mass of stone^1 and brick that composed the
buildings, and which is now swept so completely from its site, has
been distributed along the shores of America, as far as Halifax and
Boston, having been successively carried away for the erections in
those places and the intermediate coast, which contains many a chimney
bearing the memorials of Louisburg. The remains of the different
batteries on the island and round the harbour are still shown by the
inhabitants, as well as of the wharves, stockade, and sunken ships of
war. On gaining the walls above the town, they are found to consist of
a range of earthen fortifications with projecting angles, and
extending as already mentioned from the harbour to the sea,
interrupted at intervals by large pits, said to have been produced by
the efforts of the captors to blow up the walls. From these heights,
the glacis slopes away to the edge of the bog outside, forming a
beautiful level walk, though now only enjoyed by the sheep, being,
like the walls, carpeted by short turf. At the termination of this
line of fortification on the sea-shore, is a huge and uncouth black
rock, which appears to have been formerly quarried for building stone,
large quantities ready hewn being still scattered round it, and
gathered in masses as if prepared for that use.

1 See Haliburton's "History of Nova Scotia."

"The prospect from the brow of the dilapidated ramparts is one of the
most impressive that the place affords. Looking to the south-west over
the former city, the eye wanders upon the interminable ocean, its blue
rolling waves occupying three-fourths of the scene, and beyond them,
on the verge of the horizon, a dense bank of fog sweeps along with the
prevailing S.W. wind, precluding all hopes of discerning any vista
beyond that curtain. Turning landwards towards the south-west, over
the spacious bog that lies at the foot of the walls, the sight is met
by a range of low wood in the direction of Gabarus, and can penetrate
no further. The harbour is the only prospect to the northward, and
immediately in its rear the land rises so as to prevent anymore
distant view, and even the harbour appears dwindled to a miniature of
itself, being seen in the same picture with the mighty ocean that
nearly surrounds the beholder. The character of the whole scene is
melancholy, presenting the memorials of former life and population,
contrasted with its present apparent isolation from the natives of the
earth. The impression is not weakened by the sight of the few
miserable huts scattered along the shores of the port, and the little
fishing vessels, scarcely perceptible in the mountain-swell of the
ocean; they serve but to recall painfully the images of elegant
edifices that once graced the foreground, and of proud flags that
waved upon the face of that heaving deep.

"It is not easy to give a reason for the continued desolation of
Louisburg. A harbour opening directly upon the sea, whence egress is
unobstructed and expeditious, and return equally convenient at all
seasons; excellent fishing grounds at the very entrance; space on
shore for all the operations of curing the fish; every advantage for
trade and the fisheries is offered in vain. The place would appear to
be shunned by tacit consent. The shallops come from Arichet and St
Peter's Bay to fish at its very mouth, but no one sets up his
establishment there. The merchants resort to every station in its
vicinity, to Main-a-Dieu, the Bras d'Or, St Anne, Inganish, nay, even
Cape North, places holding out no advantage to compare with those of
Louisburg, yet no one ventures there. The fatality that hangs over
places of fallen celebrity seems to press heavily on this once valued
spot."

"Massa Doctor," said Sorrow, when he heard this description, "peers to
me, dem English did gib de French goss widout sweetenin', most
particular jess dat are a nateral fac. By golly, but dey was strange
folks boff on 'em. Ki dey must been gwine stracted, sure as you born,
when dey was decomposed (angry) wid each other, to come all de way out
here to fight. Lordy gracious, peers to me crossin' de sea might a
cooled them, sposin' dar hair was rumpled."

"You are right, Sorrow," said I; "and, Doctor, niggers and women often
come to a right conclusion, though they cannot give the right reasons
for it, don't they?"

"Oh, oh, Mr Slick," said he, "pray don't class ladies and niggers
together. Oh, I thought you had more gallantry about you than that."

"Exactly," sais I, "there is where the shoe pinches. You are a so far
and no further emancipationist. You will break up the social system of
the south, deprive the planter of his slave, and set the nigger free;
but you will not admit him to your family circle, associate with him,
or permit him to intermarry with your daughter. Ah, Doctor, you can
emancipate him, but you can't emancipate yourself. You are willing to
give him the liberty of a dog; he may sleep in your stable, exercise
himself in the coachyard, and may stand or run behind your carriage,
but he must not enter the house, for he is offensive, nor eat at your
table, for the way he devours his food is wolfish; you unchain him,
and that is all. But before the collar was unfastened he was well and
regularly fed, now he has to forage for it; and if he can't pay for
his grub, he can and will steal it. Abolition has done great things
for him. He was once a life-labourer on a plantation in the south, he
is now a prisoner for life in a penitentiary in the north, or an idle
vagrant, and a shameless, houseless beggar. The fruit of cant is
indeed bitter. The Yankees emancipated their niggers because it didn't
pay to keep slaves. They now want the southern planters to liberate
theirs for conscience sake. But here we are on the beach; let us
land."

After taking a survey of the scene from the sight of the old town, we
sat down on one of the eastern mounds, and the doctor continued his
account of the place. "It took the French twenty-fire years to erect
Louisburg," he said, "and though not completed according to the
original design, it cost not less than thirty millions of livres. It
was environed, two miles and a half in circumference, with a stone
wall from thirty to thirty-six feet high, and a ditch eighty feet
wide. There was, as you will see, six bastions and eight batteries,
with embrasures for 148 cannon. On the island at the entrance of the
harbour, which we just passed, was a battery of thirty twenty-eight
pounders, and at the bottom of the port another mounting thirty-eight
heavy guns. In 1745, a plan for taking it was conceived by a
colonial-lawyer, a Governor of Massachusetts, and executed by a body
of New England volunteers, led on by a country trader. History can
hardly furnish such another instance of courage and conduct in an
undisciplined body, laying siege to a regular constructed fortress
like this. Commodore Warren, when first applied to for assistance,
declined to afford it, as well because he had no orders as that he
thought the enterprise a rash one. He was however at last instructed
from home to co-operate with the Yankee troops, and arrived in season
to witness the progress of the siege, and receive the whole of the
honour which was so exclusively due to the Provincials. This act of
insolence and injustice on the part of the British was never forgotten
by your countrymen, but the memory of favours is short-lived, and a
similar distribution of rewards has lately surprised and annoyed the
Canadians. The colonist who raised the militia and saved Canada, as
you have justly remarked elsewhere, was knighted, while he who did no
more than his duty as an officer in the army, was compensated for two
or three little affairs in which the soldiers were engaged by a
coronet and a pension."

"Exactly," sais I, "what's sauce for the goose ought to be sauce for
the gander; but it seems English geese are all swans."

"Well, in 1758, it was again taken by the English, who attacked it
with an immense and overpowering armament, consisting of 151 sail, and
14,000 men. Profiting by the experience of the Provincials, they soon
reduced the place, which it is astonishing could have made any
resistance at all against such an overwhelming force. Still, this
attack was mostly an English one; and though it dwindles into utter
insignificance when compared with the previous capture by the
colonists, occasioned a great outbreak of national pride. The French
colours were carried in pompous parade, escorted by detachments of
horse and foot-guards, with kettle-drums and trumpets, from the palace
of Kensington to St Paul's Cathedral, where they were deposited as
trophies, under a discharge of cannon, and other noisy expressions of
triumph and exultation. Indeed, the public rejoicings for the conquest
of Louisburg were diffused through every part of the British
dominions; and addresses of congratulation were presented to the king
by a great number of flourishing towns and corporations."

"Twenty-five years afterwards the colonists, who were denied the
credit of their gallant enterprise, made good their claim to it by
conquering those who boasted that they were the conquerors
themselves."

"I am glad to hear you say so, Doctor," said I, "for I concur in it
all. The English are liberal, but half the time they ain't just.
Spendin' money in colonies is one thing, but givin' them fair play is
another. The army complains that all commendation and promotion is
reserved for the staff. Provincials complain of similar injustice, but
there is this wide difference, the one has the 'Times' for its
advocate, the other is unheard or unheeded. An honest statesman will
not refuse to do justice--a willy poilitician will concede with grace
what he knows he must soon yield to compulsion. The old Tory was a man
after all, every inch of him."

"Now," sais the doctor, "that remark reminds me of what I have long
intended to ask you if I got a chance. How is it, Mr Slick, that you,
who are a republican, whenever you speak of England are so
conservative? It always seemed to me as if it warn't quite natural. If
I didn't know you, I should say your books were written by a colonist
who had used your name for a medium for giving his own ideas."

"Well," sais I, "Doctor, I am glad you asked me, for I have thought
myself it wasn't unlikely some folks would fall into that mistake.
I'll tell you how this comes, though I wouldn't take the trouble to
enlighten others, for it kinder amuses me to see a fellow find a
mare's nest with a tee-hee's egg in it. First, I believe that a
republic is the only form of government suited to us, or practicable
in North America. A limited monarchy could not exist in the States,
for royalty and aristocracy never had an original root there. A
military or despotic one could be introduced, because a standing army
can do anything, but it couldn't last long. Liberty is too deeply
seated, and too highly prized, to be suppressed for any length of
time.

"Now, I like a republic, but I hate a democracy. The wit of man never
could have devised anything more beautiful, better balanced, and more
skilfully checked, than our constitution is, or rather was; but every
change we make is for the worse. I am therefore a conservative at
home. On the other hand, the English constitution is equally well
suited to the British. It is admirably adapted to the genius,
traditions, tastes, and feelings of the people. They are not fitted
for a republic. They tried it once, and it failed; and if they were to
try it again it would not succeed. Every change they make is also for
the worse. In talking therefore as I do, I only act and talk
consistently, when I say I am a conservative abroad also.

"Conservatism, both in the States and in Great Britain, when rightly
understood, has a fixed principle of action, which is to conserve the
constitution of the country, and not subvert it. Now, liberalism
everywhere is distinguished by having no principle. In England it
longs for office, and sacrifices everything to it. It does nothing but
pander. It says religion is a matter of taste, leave it to itself and
it will take care of itself; now that maxim was forced on us by
necessity, for at the Revolution we scarcely had an Episcopal church,
it was so small as hardly to deserve the name. But in England it is an
unconstitutional, irrational, and monstrous maxim. Still it suits the
views of Romanists (although they hold no such doctrine themselves),
for it is likely to hand over the church revenues in Ireland to them.
It also suits Dissenters, for it will relieve them of church rates;
and it meets the wishes of the republican party, because they know no
church and no bishop will soon lead to no monarch. Again, it says,
enlarge the franchise, so as to give an increase of voters; that
doctrine suits all those sections also, for it weakens both monarchy
and aristocracy. Then again, it advocates free-trade, for that weakens
the landed interest, and knocks from under nobility one of its best
pillars. To lower the influence of the church pleases all political
Come-outers, some for one, and some for another reason. Their views
are not identical, but it is for their interest to unite. One
advocates it because it destroys Protestantism as a principle of the
constitution, another because the materials of this fortress, like
those of Louisburg, may be useful for erecting others, and among them
conventicles.

"Then there is no truth in liberalism. When Irish emancipation was
discussed, it was said, Pass that and you will hear no more
grievances, it will tend to consolidate the church and pacify the
people. It was no sooner granted, than ten bishopricks were
suppressed, and monster meetings paraded through and terrified the
land. One cardinal came in place of ten Protestant prelates, and so
on. So liberalism said Pass the Reform Bill, and all England will be
satisfied; well, though it has not worked well for the kingdom, it has
done wonders for the radical party, and now another and more extensive
one is promised. The British Lion has been fed with living raw meat,
and now roars for more victims. It ain't easy to onseat liberals, I
tell you, for they know how to pander. If you promise power to those
who have none, you must have the masses with you. I could point you
out some fellows that are sure to win the dead^1 heads, the dough2
boys, the numerous body that is on the fence,3 and political
come-outers.4 There is at this time a postponed Reform Bill. The
proposer actually cried when it was deferred to another session. It
nearly broke his heart. He couldn't bear that the public should have
it to say, 'They had seen the elephant.'"

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35