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Crossing and re-crossing the
Continent.—Writers on the North-west.—Mineral wealth behind Lake
Superior.—The "Fertile-belt."—Our fellow travellers.—The "Rainbow"of the
North-west.—Peace River.—Climate compared with Ontario- —Natural riches of
the Country. — The Russia of America. — Its army of construction. — The
pioneers.—Esprit de corps. — Hardships and hazards. — Mournful death-roll.
— The work of construction —Vast breadth of the Dominion.—Its varied
features. — Its exhaustless resources.—Its constitution.—Its Queen.
The preceding chapters are
transcribed -almost verbally— from a Diary that was written from day to
day on our journey from Ocean, Ocean-ward. The Diary was kept under many
difficulties. Notes had to be taken, sometimes in the bottom of a canoe
and sometimes leaning against a stump or a tree; on horseback in fine
weather, under a cart when it was raining or when the sun's rays were
fierce; at night, in the tent, by the light of the camp-fire in front; in
a crowded wayside inn, or on the deck of a steamer in motion. And they
were written out in the first few weeks after our return, as it was
desirable,—if published at all—that they should be in the printer's hands
at once.
As may be seen by a
reference to the Itinerary in the Appendix, our Diary commenced at Halifax
on the Atlantic coast on July 1st the sixth anniversary of the birth-day
of the Dominion, and closed at Victoria on the Pacific coast on October
nth. The aggregate distance travelled by one mode of locomotion or another
was more than five thousand miles, a great part of it over comparatively
unknown, and therefore supposed to be dangerous country. We recrossed the
Continent to our starting point by rail, the Secretary arriving at Halifax
on November 2nd, having thus accomplished the round trip of nine or ten
thousand miles in four months. None of us sufferred from Indians, wild
beasts, the weather, or any of the hardships incidental to travel in a new
and lone land. Every one looked, and was, physically better on his return
than when he had Set out. And yet there had been no playing on the road.
We cannot charge ourselves with having lost an hour on the way; and
Manitobans, Hudson's Bay Officers, and British Columbians all informed us
that we made better time between Lake Superior and the Pacific than ever
had been made before in these latitudes.
It is only fair to the
public to add that the writer of the Diary knew little or nothing of our
North-west before accompanying the expedition. To find out something about
the real extent and resources of our Dominion; to know whether we had room
and verge for an Empire or were doomed to be merely a cluster of Atlantic
Provinces, ending to the west in a fertile but comparatively insignificant
peninsula in Lake Huron, was the object that attracted a busy man from his
ordinary work, on what friends called an absurd and perilous enterprise.
All that is claimed for the preceding chapters is, that they record
truthfully what we saw and heard. And having read since the works of
Professor Hind, Archbishop Taché, Captain Palliser and others, we find,
that though these contain the results of much more minute and extended
enquiries and scientific information which renders them permanently
valuable, they bring forward nothing to make us modify our own
conclusions, or to lessen the impression as to the value of our
North-west, that the sight of it produced in our own minds.
We are satisfied that the
rugged and hitherto unknown country extending from the upper Ottawa to the
Red River of the north, is not, as it has always been represented on maps
executed by our neighbours, and copied by ourselves, impracticable for a
Railway; but entirely the reverse; that those vast regions of Laurentian
and Huronian rocks once pronounced worthless, are rich in minerals beyond
conception, rich in gold, silver, copper, iron, tin, phosphates of lime,
and—strange as the assertion may appear—probably coal; that in the iron
back-ground to the basin of the St. Lawrence, hitherto considered valuable
only for its lumber, great centres of mining and manufacturing industry,
shall in the near future, spring into existence; and that for the
development of all this wealth, only the construction of a Railway is
necessary.
Beyond those apparently
wilderness regions we came upon the fertile belt, an immense tract of the
finest land in the world, bounded on the west by coal formations so
extensive that all other coal fields are small in comparison. Concerning
this central part of the Continent, we have testified that which we have
seen, and as a summary it is sufficient to quote Hind's emphatic words,
Vol. II, p. 234
"It is a physical reality
of the highest importance to the interests of
"British North America that a continuous belt, rich in water, woods and
''pasturage can be settled and cultivated from a few miles west of the
lake
"of the Woods, to the passes of the Rocky Mountains; and any line of
"communication, whether by waggon road or railroad, passing through it,
"will eventually enjoy the great advantage of being fed by an
agricultural
"population, from one extremity to the other."
Concerning the country from
the Mountains to the sea, it is unnecessary to add anything here. The
mountains in British Columbia certainly offer obstructions to Railway
construction; but these obstacles are not insuperable, and, once overcome,
we reach the Canadian Islands in the Pacific, Vancouver and Queen
Charlotte,—in many respects the counter parts of Great Britain and
Ireland, the western out posts of Europe,—our western islands are rich in
coal, bitumenous and anthracite, and almost every variety of mineral
wealth, in lumber, fish, and soil, and blessed with one of the most
delightful climates in the world.
And now we might take
farewell of the reader who has accompanied us on our long journey, but
before doing so, it seems not unfitting to add a few words concerning the
routes of our fellow-travellers who parted from us at Forts Garry and
Edmonton ; concerning those men whom we found engaged on the survey, and
the general impressions left on our minds by all that we saw and
experienced.
The Colonel spent ten days
in Manitoba inspecting the military force on duty at Fort Garry, the Stone
Fort and Pembina. Leaving Fort Garry, he travelled rapidly to Edmonton by
the same trail that we had taken, in the hope of overtaking us before we
had left for the mountains. Finding on his arrival that we had started
seven days previously, he wisely decided to proceed 145 miles south-west
to the Rocky Mountain House; thence, through the country of the Blackfeet,
to cross the mountains by North Kootenay Pass; and thence into Washington
Territory, U. S., and via. Olympia to Victoria. He accomplished the
journey successfully, though detained for two or three days by a
snow-storm at the foot of the mountains; but as the delay enabled him to
shoot a large grizzley bear that approached within a few yards of his
camp, he had no reason to regret it much. His southerly march from
Edmonton gave him the opportunity of seeing the western curve of the
fertile belt—"the rainbow of the North-west"—and he speaks of it,
especially of that portion through the Blackfeet country, extending for
about 300 miles along the eastern bases of the Rocky Mountains towards the
international boundary line, with a varying breadth of from 60 to 80
miles, as the future garden of the Dominion; magnificent in regard to
scenery, with soil of surpassing richness; and in respect of climate, with
an average temperature during the winter months, 15° higher than that of
the western portion of the Province of Ontario.
But we are now able to
speak concerning a northwestern curve of the fertile belt as positively as
of the district to the south which the Colonel traversed. At Edmonton, the
Chief sent the Botanist and Horetzky northwards, with instructions to
proceed by Forts Assiniboine and Dunvegan and across the Rocky Mountains
by Peace River, the one to make then for the Upper Fraser, and the other
to go still farther north and reach the sea by the Skeena or Nasse River.
They also succeeded in their journey; and their reports more than confirm
the statements of previous writers with regard to the extraordinary
fertility of immense prairies along the Peace River, the salubrity, and
the comparative mildness of the climate. It is quite clear that
exceptional climatic causes are at work along the eastern flank of the
Rocky Mountains, north as well as south of Edmonton. Whether the chief
cause be warm moist winds from the Pacific or a steady current of warm air
under the lee of the mountains, analogous in the atmosphere, to the Gulf
stream in the ocean, or whatever the cause, our knowledge is too imperfect
to enable us to say. But the great salient facts are undoubted. At Fort
Dunvegan, six degrees north of Fort Garry, and nearly thirteen north of
Toronto, the winters are milder than at Fort Garry; and as for the seven
months, from April to October, the period of cultivation, according to
tables that have been carefully compiled, Dunvegan and Toronto do not vary
more than about half a degree in mean temperature, while as compared with
Halifax N. S., the difference is 1° 69' in favour of Dunvegan. Our two
fellow-travellers assured us also that they had seen nothing between the
Red River and Edmonton to compare with the fertility of soil and the
beauty of the country about Peace River. They struck the mighty stream
below Dunvegan and sailed on it up into the very heart of the Rocky
Mountains, through a charming country, rich in soil, wood, water, and
coal, in salt that can be gathered fit for the table, from the sides of
springs with as much ease as sand from the sea-shore; in bitumenous
fountains into which Sir Alexander McKenzie and Harmon both say that "a
pole of twenty feet in length may be plunged, without the least
resistance, and without finding bottom," and in every other production
that is essential to the material prosperity of a country.
The following extract from
the Journal of our Botanist gives a graphic description of what Peace
River itself is;—
"This
"afternoon we passed through the most enchanting and sublime
"scenery. The right bank of the River was clothed with wood-
"spruce, birch and aspen, except where two steep, or where
"there had been landslides. In many places the bank rose
"from the shore to the height of from 300 to 600 feet. Sand-
"stone cliffs, 300 feet high, often showed, especially above
"Green Island. The left bank was as high as the right, but
"instead of wood, grassy slopes met the view; but landslides
"always revealed sandstone. In places, the river had cut a
"passage through the sandstone to the depth of 300 feet and
"yet the current indicated little increase. The river was full
"from bank to bank, was fully 600 yards wide, and looked
"like a mighty canal cut by giants through a mountain. Up
"this we sped at the rate of four miles an hour, against the
"current, in a large boat belonging to the Hudson's Bay Co'y.;
"propelled by a north-east gale."
When we remember that the
latitude of this river and the richest part of the country it waters is
nearly a thousand miles north of the Lake Ontario, the language we have
used about it may sound exaggerated because the facts seem unaccountable.
But the facts have been long on record. The only difficulty was the
inaccessibility of the country. In Harmons Journal are such entries as the
following:—
"Peace River, April 18,
1809.—
This morning the ice in the river broke up.
"April 30th is shown by the
public records, to be the mean time of opening of navigation at Ottawa,
between 1832 and 1870. Daring that period, 38 years, April 17th was the
earliest and May 29th the latest days of opening.
"May 6.—The surrounding
plains are all on fire. We have planted our potatoes, and sowed most of
our garden seeds."
"July 21.—We have cut down
our barley; and I think it is the finest that I ever saw in any country."
"October 6.—As the weather
begins to be cold, we have taken our vegetables out of the ground, which
we find to be very "productive."
Another year we have the
following entry:—
"October 3.—We have taken
our vegetables out of the ground. We have 41 bushels of potatoes, the
produce of one bushel "planted the last spring. Our turnips, barley, etc.,
have produced "well."
In the journal of a
Hudson's Bay Chief-factor published last year by Malcolm McLeod, Ottawa,
is the following extract concerning the climate of Dunvegan, from the
records of the celebrated traveller and astronomer—Mr. David Thompson:—
"Only twice in the month of
May 1803,—on the 2nd and 14th, did the thermometer fall to 30°. Frost did
not occur in the fall till the 27th September."
"It freezes," says Mr.
Russell, "much later in May in Canada; and at Montreal, for seven years
out of the last nine, the first " frost occurred between 24th August and
16th September."
In Halifax, N. S., the
writer has seen a lively snow-storm on the Queen's birth-day; and almost
every year there is frost early in June.
Similar quotations could be
given from other writers, but they are unnecessary. We know that we have a
great North-west, a country like old Canada—not suited for lotus-eaters to
live in, but fitted to rear a healthy and hardy race. The late Hon. W. H.
Seward understood this when he declared that "vigorous, perennial,
ever-growing Canada would be a Russia behind the United States." Our
future is grander than even that conceived by Mr. Seward, because the
elements that determine it are other than those considered by him. We
shall be more than an American Russia, because the separation from Great
Britain to which he invites us is not involved in our manifest destiny. We
believe that union is better than disunion, that loyalty is a better
guarantee for true growth than restlessness or rebellion, that building up
is worthier work than pulling down. The ties that bind us to the
Fatherland must be multiplied, the connection made closer and politically
complete. Her traditions, her forms, her moral elevation, her historic
grandeur shall be ours forever. And if we share her glory, we shall not
shrink even at the outset from sharing her responsibilities.
A great future beckons us
as a people onward. To reach it, God grant to us purity and faith,
deliverance from the lust of personal aggrandizement, unity, and
invincible steadfastness of purpose. The battles we have to fight are
those of peace, but they are not the less serious and they are surely
nobler than those of war. The victories we require to gain are over all
forms of political corruption, the selfish spirit of separation, and those
great material obstacles in the conquest of which the spirit of patriotism
is strengthened. It is a standing army of engineers, axemen and brawny
labourers that we require, men who will not only give "a fair day's work
for a fair day's wage," but whose work shall be ennobled by the thought
that they are in the service of their country and labouring for its
consolidation. Why should there not be a high esprit de corps among men
who are doing the country's work as well as among those who do its
warfare? And why should the country grudge its honours to servants on
whose faithfulness so much depends? "There is many a red-coat who is no
soldier," said the Duke of Wellington. Conversely, there are true soldiers
who wear only a red shirt.
This thought leads us to
make mention of the men who have been engaged for the last two years in
connection with the Canadian Pacific Railway Survey, the pioneers of the
great army that must be engaged on the construction of the work and on
whom has devolved the heavy labour that commonly falls to the lot of an
advance-guard. On our journey we met several of the surveying parties, and
could form some estimate of the work they had to do. We could see that
continuous labour for one or two years in solitary wilderness or mountain
gorges as surveyor, transit-man, leveller, rodman, commissary, or even
packer, is a totally different thing from taking a trip across the
continent for the first time, when the perpetual novelty, the spice of
romance, the risks and pleasures atone for all discomforts. Here are one
or two instances of the spirit that animates the body.
The gentleman now at the
head of party X had commenced work in charge of another party between Lake
Superior and the Upper Ottawa. He remained out during the whole summer and
winter in that trackless rugged region, previously untrodden by white men
and rarely visited by Indians. After a severe winter campaign, he
completed the difficult and hazardous service entrusted to him. On his
return in the spring, he was told that it was desirable that he should go
to British Columbia without delay; and, though he had not spent two weeks
with his family in as many years, he started at once.
Near the end of the year
just closed, the Chief was called upon to send a party to explore the
section of country between the North Saskatchewan, above Edmonton, and the
Jasper valley. It was deemed advisable to examine this wild and wooded
district in the winter season, on account of the numerous morasses and
muskegs which rendered it next to impassable at any other season. The
party most available for this service had been engaged during the summer
and winter of 1871 and the whole of 1872 in the lake region east of
Manitoba, and had returned to Fort Garry after completing satisfactorily
their arduous work. The Chief asked, by telegraph, the Engineer in charge
if he was prepared to start at short notice for the Rocky Mountains on a
prolonged service. Almost immediately after sending this message, the
following telegram was received from the gentleman referred to. " May I
have leave of absence to return home for a few weeks on urgent private
business ?" This was at once followed by another; "Your message received.
I withdraw my application for leave. I am prepared to start for the Rocky
Mountains with my party. Please send instructions." It was evident that
the first two telegrams had crossed. The members of party M,
notwithstanding what they had gone through, away from friends and the
comforts of society, were ready to undertake a march of a thousand miles
still farther away, in the dead of a Canadian winter.
And what was the journey?
They knew that it implied hardships such as Captain Butler encountered,
and which he so graphically describes in "The Great Lone Land." They knew
that it meant a great deal more. The journey over, they were only at the
beginning of their work, and the work would be infinitely more trying than
the journey itself.
These are only two
instances out of many of that 'Ready, aye Ready' spirit, which the British
people rightly honour as the highest quality in their soldiers, from the
lowest to the highest grades. With respect to the ordinary everyday work
that has to be done, our own little experience gave us some idea of its
discomforts. Among the mountains, there is hardly a day without rain,
except when it snows. Leather gives way under the alternate rotting and
grinding processes that swamps and rocks subject it to. Mocassins keep out
the wet about as well as an extra pair of socks. Clothes are patched and
re-patched until lock-stock-and-barrell are changed. At night you lie down
wet, lucky if the blanket is dry. In the morning you rise to a rough
breakfast of tea, pork and beans. When relations at home are just enjoying
the sweet half-hour's sleep before getting up, you are off into the dark
silent woods, or clambering up precipices to which the mists ever cling,
or on the rocky banks of some roaring river, the sound of which has become
positively hateful; getting back to camp at night tired and hungry, but
still thankful if a good day's work has been accomplished. And this same
thing goes on from week to week,—working, eating, sleeping. Books are
scarce for they are too bulky to carry; no newspapers and no news—unless
fragments from three to six months old, strangely metamorphosed by Packers
and Indians, can be dignified by the name of news. Nothing occurs to break
the monotony save rheumatism, festered hands or feet, or a touch of
sickness, perhaps scurvy if the campaign has been long : the arrival of a
pack-train with supplies, or some such interesting event as the following,
which we found duly chronicled on a blazed tree, between Moose Lake and
Tete Jaune Cache:—
"BIRTH,
"Monday, 5th August 1872.
"This morning at about 5
o'clock. 'Aunt Polly,' bell-mare to
"the Nth. Thompson-trail parties pack-train, was safely delivered
"of a Bay Colt, with three white legs and white star on forehead.
"This wonderful progeny of a C. P. R. Survey's pack-train, is
"in future to be known, to the racing community of the Pacific
"slope, as Rocky Mountain Ned."
The Sunday rest and the
next meal, are almost the only pleasures looked forward to; and the
enjoyment of eating arises, generally, not from the delicacies or variety
of the fare, but from the appetite brought to it; for luxuries, as we had
considered fat pork, porridge, good bread, and coffee, after three weeks
on pemmican, they need all the zest that hard work and mountain air can
supply, in order to be thoroughly enjoyed three times a day, week in and
week out.
In addition to all the—not
ordinary but—extraordinary discomforts attending this class of work there
are the dangers to life, inseparable from the great extent of the work
undertaken ; the rapidity with which it was begun and pushed forward;
extensives fires in the forest; drowning, while endeavouring to make the
passage of some lake or river in a frail canoe or on a raft; to say
nothing of starvation, which, notwithstanding the utmost care and
forethought, might, nay in some instances did very nearly, occur, in
consequence of accidents, like the two last named, befalling some of the
Commissariat department.
But this survey work
implies more than hardships and hazards. Already it has connected with its
history a mournful death-roll. At the outset, some tribes of Indians were
expected to give trouble. On the contrary, they have for the most part
been friendly and helpful. When nearly a thousand men were engaged
directly or indirectly on the work, and scattered over pathless regions
over a whole continent, it would not have been wonderful had supplies
failed to reach some parties, and death by starvation occurred. In no case
has such a disaster yet happened. But there are forces that can neither be
organized nor bribed. Fourteen men have been destroyed by the elements;
seven by fire, and seven by water; destroyed so completely that no trace
has been found of the bodies of ten.
One party,—seven in
number,—engaged in carrying provisions north of Lake Superior, was
surprised by the wide-spread forest fires that raged over the west in the
autumn of 1871. The body of only one of its number could be discovered.
In the spring of 1872, a
party that had finished its work well, after an arduous winter campaign
far up the Ottawa beyond Lake Temiscamang, prepared to return home. The
gentleman in charge and one of his assistants separated from the rest, to
take on board their canoe two others who had been previously left at a
side post prostrated with scurvy. The four were known to have then started
down the river. That was the last seen of them, though the upturned canoe
was found, and it told its own tale of an upset by rock or rapid or
awkward movement of the sick men into ice-cold lake or river.
In the autumn of 1872,
three others, on their way to begin their winter's work, were shipwrecked
and drowned in the Georgian Bay.
All those men died in the
service of their country as truly as if they had been killed in battle.
Some of them have left behind wives and little children, aged parents,
young brothers or sisters, who were dependent on them for support. Have
not those a claim on the country that ought not to be disregarded?
That this work is too
seldom looked at from any other save the "wages" point of view, is our
excuse for putting the real state of the case warmly. Who are the men
whose disciplined enthusiasm enables them to manifest the self-sacrifice
we have alluded to? Many of them are men of good birth and education, who
have chosen the profession of Engineering as one in which their talents
can be made in a marked degree subservient to the material prosperity of
mankind. Others have chosen it because of its supposed freedom from
routine, and the prospect it is thought to offer of novelty, adventure,
and such a roving life as every young Briton or Canadian, with any of the
old blood in his veins, longs for.
And what 'wages' do these
men, who deserve so well of their country, receive? Simply their pay by
the month! They do not know whether they will have the satisfaction—that
every man interested in his work has the right to look forward to—of
seeing their work finished by themselves. Even after the preliminary
surveys are completed, and the work placed under contract, the tenure of
office is insecure. Sometimes a clamour is raised, against the presumed
extravagance of the Government, when the newspapers have nothing more
stirring to write about, or when some reporter fancies he has not received
due attention. At other times, some unfeeling and unprincipled contractors
conspire to effect the removal of men, whose only fault is that they have
performed their duty faithfully. From these or other similar causes,
engineers in the public service are sometimes most unjustly sacrificed.
And, if remonstrance is made, the answer is ready.—'They received their
pay for the time they were employed, and others, quite as competent, are
ready and willing to take their places.'—Yes, and the same might be said
of the officers and men of the British army, but they are treated very
differently. The work performed on one of the military expeditions, such
as the Abyssinian or Red River, about which so much has been written, and
which are said to have shed such lustre on the British name, is really not
more arduous than theirs The heaviest part of a soldier's duty on such
expeditions it is well known is the long laborious marching. The work of
engineers on the survey is a constant march ; their shelter, even in the
depth of winter, often only canvas; they have sometimes to carry their
food for long distances, through swamps and over fallen trees, on their
backs; and run all the risks incidental to such a life, without medical
assistance, without notice from the press, without the prospect of plunder
or promotion, ribands or pensions. To be sure theirs is the work of
construction only, and the world has always given greater prominence to
the work of destruction.
To construct is "the duty
that lies nearest us." "We therefore will rise up and build." Our young
Dominion in grappling with so great a work has resolutely considered it
from a national and not a strictly financial point of view; knowing that
whether it 'pays' directly or not, it is sure to pay indirectly. Other
young countries have had to spend, through long years, their strength and
substance to purchase freedom or the right to exist. Our lot is a happier
one. Protected "against infection and the hand of war" by the might of
Britain, we have but to go forward, to open up for our children and the
world what God has given into our possession, bind it together,
consolidate it, and lay the foundations of an enduring future.
Looking back over the vast
breadth of the Dominion when our journeyings were ended, it rolled out
before us like a panorama, varied and magnificent enough to stir the
dullest spirit into patriotic emotion. For nearly 1,000 miles by railway
between different points east of Lake Huron; 2,185 miles by horses,
including coaches, waggons, pack, and saddle-horses; 1,687 miles in
steamers in the basin of the St. Lawrence and on Pacific waters. and 485
miles in canoes or row-boats; we had travelled in all 5,300 miles between
Halifax and Victoria, over a country with features and resources more
varied than even our modes of locomotion.
From the sea-pastures and
coal-fields of Nova Scotia and the forests of New Brunswick, almost from
historic Louisburg up the St. Lawrence to historic Quebec; through the
great Province of Ontario, and on lakes that are really seas; by copper
and silver mines so rich as to recall stories of the Arabian Nights,
though only the rim of the land has been explored; on the chain of lakes,
where the Ojibbeway is at home in his canoe, to the great plains, where
the Cree is equally at home on his horse; through the prairie Province of
Manitoba, and rolling meadows and park-like country, equally fertile, out
of which a dozen Manitobas shall be carved in the next quarter of a
century; along the banks of
A full-fed river winding
slow
By herds upon an endless plain,
full-fed from the
exhaustless glaciers of the Rocky Mountains, and watering 'the great lone
land;' over illimitable coal measures and deep woods; on to the mountains,
which open their gates, more widely than to our wealthier neighbours, to
lead us to the Pacific ; down deep gorges filled with mighty timber, and
rivers whose ancient deposits are gold beds, sands like those of Pactolus
and channels choked with fish ; on to the many harbours of mainland and
island, that look right across to the old Eastern Thule 'with its rosy
pearls and golden-roofed palaces,' and open their arms to welcome the
swarming millions of Cathay; over all this we had travelled, and it was
all our own.
"Where's the coward that
would not dare
To fight for such a land?"
Thank God, we have a
country. It is not our poverty of land, or sea, of wood or mine that shall
ever urge us to be traitors. But the destiny of a country depends not on
its material resources. It depends on the character of its people. Here,
too, is full ground for confidence. We in everything "are sprung, of
earth's first blood, have titles manifold." We come of a race that never
counted the number of its foes, nor the number of its friends, when
freedom, loyalty, or God was concerned.
Two courses are possible,
though it is almost an insult to say there are two, for the one requires
us to be false to our traditions and history, to our future, and to
ourselves. A third course has been hinted at; but only dreamers or
emasculated intellects would seriously propose "Independence" to four
millions of people, face to face with thirty-eight millions. Some one may
have even a fourth to propose. The Abbe Sieyes had a cabinet filled with
pigeon-holes, in each of which was a cut-and-dried Constitution for
France. Doctrinaires fancy that at any time they can say, 'go to, let us
make a Constitution,' and that they can fit it on a nation as readily as
new coats on their backs. There never was a profounder mistake. A nation
grows, and its Constitution must grow with it. The nation cannot be pulled
up by the roots,—cannot be dissociated from its past, without danger to
its highest interests. Loyalty is essential to its fulfilment of a
distinctive mission,—essential to its true glory. Only one course
therefore is possible for us, consistent with the self-respect that alone
gains the respect of others; to seek, in the consolidation of the Empire,
a common Imperial citizenship, with common responsibilities, and a common
inheritance.
With childish impatience
and intolerance of thought on the subject, we are sometimes told that a
Republican form of Government and Republican institutions, are the same as
our own. But they are not ours. Besides, they are not the same in
themselves; they are not the same in their effects on character. And, as
we are the children even more than we are the fathers and framers of our
national institutions, our first duty is to hold fast these political
forms, the influences of which on national character have been proved by
the tests of time and comparison to be the most ennobling. Republicanism
is one-sided. Despotism is other-sided. The true form should combine and
harmonize both sides.
The favourite principle of
Robertson, of Brighton, that the whole truth in the realm of the moral and
spiritual consists in the union of two truths that are contrary but not
contradictory, applies also to the social and political. What two contrary
truths then lie at the basis of a complete National Constitution?
First, that the will of the
people is the will of God. Secondly, that the will of God must be the will
of the people. That the people are the ultimate fountain of all power is
one truth. That Government is of God, and should be strong, stable, and
above the people is another. In other words, the elements of liberty and
of authority should both be represented. A republic is professedly based
only on the first. In consequence, all popular appeals are made to that
which is lowest in our nature, for such appeals are made to the greatest
number and are most likely to be immediately successful. The character of
public men and the national character deteriorate. Neither dignity,
elevation of sentiment, nor refinement of manners is cultivated. Still
more fatal consequences, the very ark of the nation is carried
periodically into heady fights ; for the time being, the citizen has no
country; he has only his party, and the unity of the country is constantly
imperilled. On the other hand, a despotism is based entirely on the
element of authority.
To unite those elements, in
due proportions, has been and is the aim of every true statesman. Let the
history of liberty and progress, of the development of human character to
all its rightful issues, testify where they have been more wisely blended
than in the British Constitution.
We have a fixed centre of
authority and government, a fountain of honour above us that all
reverence, from which a thousand gracious influences come down to every
rank; and, along with that fixity, representative institutions, so elastic
that they respond within their own sphere to every breath of popular
sentiment, instead of a cast-iron yoke for four years. In harmony with
this central part of our constitution, we have an independent judiciary
instead of judges—too often the creatures of wealth, adventurers on the
mere echoes of passing popular sentiment.— And, more valuable than even
the direct advantages, are the subtle, indirect influences that flow from
our living in unbroken connection with the old land, and the dynamical if
imponderable forces that determine the tone and mould the character of a
people.
"In our halls is hung
armoury of the invincible knights of old." Ours' are the old history, the
misty past, the graves of forefathers. Ours the names 'to which a thousand
memories call.' Ours is the flag; ours the Queen whose virtues transmute
the sacred principle of loyalty into a personal affection.
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