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To the early settlers of
Western Canada a volume on pioneer life requires no introduction. We paint
in glowing language the courage of the soldier who made long marches and
endured hardships to maintain the honor of his country, or to advance her
interests either for conquest or defence; and yet we forget that similar
qualities were exercised, even under less favorable circumstances, by the
pioneers who entered the forests of Ontario within the present century. The
soldier had the stimulus of his companions, the flaunting of flags, the
beating of drums, the example of his officers, and all that sentiment could
do to urge him forward even at the peril of his life. The pioneer had no
such stimulus. He often went single-handed into the deep forest; he had to
separate himself from friends and neighbors, to endure perils by night and
by day, to live on the scantiest fare and in the most depressing isolation;
and yet in spite of all these disadvantages he never relaxed in his
determination to make himself self-sustaining, or even more, if a kindly
Providence would only so favor him.
The early settler was no
knight-errant, no speculator in margins, no waiter upon Providence, but, as
a rule, a man of indomitable energy, courage, physical endurance, and with
confidence that seed-time and harvest would in due time bring him reasonable
prosperity. No better stuff stood beside Nelson on board the Victory. No
better stuff climbed the heights of Alma, or charged the dervishes at
Khartoum.
The Ontario pioneers (and I
am speaking now particularly of those who settled the western counties) left
the old home as a matter of choice, except perhaps a few who might have been
evicted because their landlords wanted the paddocks they occupied for other
purposes. The great majority of them, however, felt that in the land of
their fathers their sphere was circumscribed, and if their position was to
be improved at all, and provision made for their families, they must seek
homes abroad. This was particularly the case with the settlers from
Scotland. True, they may not have expected the hardships they subsequently
endured; but what were hardships to them so long as they had a free home,
their families around them, and the prospect of independence within their
reach? In the old land they were tenants; in the land of their adoption they
were landlords—owners in fee simple of the soil they tilled. It was theirs
to improve; it was theirs to bequeath to their children after them; and this
one fact was a silver lining to the darkest cloud that hung over them.
Notwithstanding this, it is
almost impossible to over-estimate the hardships endured by the early
pioneers. There is a great deal of romance cast around the log house of the
settler, with its open, glowing fire-place, generous hospitality, and its
unsophisticated simplicity of manners. The novelist likes to speak of the
hollyhocks that nodded lazily beneath the window, as if to remind one that
hope still blossomed within; of the wild rose or honeysuckle that climbed
over the unhewn walls, as if to show the sympathy of nature with the
plainness of the architecture. That is the romantic view of the pioneer's
first home. But to those who know some of the realities of pioneer life, the
log house too often furnished but scant shelter from the pitiless rains of
autumn or the tempests of winter. Its hospitality was frequently taxed far
beyond the comforts of its owner, and its open fire-place was too often
insufficient for the fullest enjoyment of life, either by night or by day.
Sixty years ago a thousand or
more such homes could have been seen amid the forests of the west. How came
it about that the same district is now dotted with homes—one might almost
call them mansions, so beautiful are they in design and so attractive in
appearance? How came it about that the forest path over which the settler
carried supplies to his family on his back, is now an easy highway for the
traveller and pleasure-seeker? How came it about that the ploughshare and
the reaping machine now move freely where once stood the giants of the
forest? How came it about that happy villages occupy the camping ground of
the Indian? Is it not because the pioneer stretched forth his strong arms
against the natural obstacles of those early times, and with a stout heart
resolved to bring them under the influence of intelligence and civilization?
And can it be possible that we, who see the changes wrought at such
tremendous cost of energy and toil, can forget the sturdy qualities of those
by whom these changes were brought about?
It is said that the Pilgrim
Fathers of New England were the sifted wheat of the early colonists, and
that to them the United States owes the vigor of its national character. In
many senses of the term the pioneers of Ontario were chosen men—sifted
wheat. As a rule, they were men with a fair education; but even where this
was denied them, they had a high sense of the value of education as a
preparation for the duties of life. Accordingly, we find that wherever there
was a settlement, were it ever so small, there was a school house; and
although the school master of those days would not rate very high, judged by
the standards of modern education, he was honored because of his calling and
the responsibilities of his office. Being obliged to accept the hospitality
of his patrons in lieu of the full wages to which he was entitled, he had
the opportunity of carrying the torch of learning, flickering though its
light may have been, from house to house, and no doubt often stimulated the
pioneer to a greater interest in the education of his children. Though books
were few in number they were eagerly read, and when a newspaper found its
way, by a weekly mail, to the homes of those who could afford such a luxury,
the work of of the school master was still further strengthened and the
interest of the pioneer quickened. As years went by, some member of the
family would venture out into the world to seek a professional career. His
example became the object of admiration far and near, and so the native
ambition, sometimes of many fathers, but more frequently of the mothers, was
aroused to see that the honor of the family was similarly maintained. In
many a home luxurious ease and ordinary comforts were abandoned that the
nascent genius of some embryonic Mansfield, or Candlish, or Simpson, might
be developed.
The religious character of
the pioneer was also an important factor in strengthening his arm as he
grappled with the difficulties of early settlement. He had not left his own
land because he mistrusted Providence, but because he believed Providence
was specially directing him as to his future course. The God that watched
over him and his fathers in the land of his birth, he believed was present
in the forests of Canada; and so with an unbounded faith he entered upon his
daily labors. Until he was able to erect a church for public worship, he
placed his humble dwelling at the disposal of his neighbors, and by his
daily life and his devotion showed that he believed religion had its
obligations as well as its comforts.
In maintaining his religious
life, the pioneer was greatly aided (and I only speak of the Presbyterians)
by the character of the early Presbyterian missionaries. With nearly all the
ministers mentioned in this volume I was personally acquainted. I have heard
them preach, sometimes in the forest, where parallel ranges of logs were the
only pews, and the overshadowing trees the only shelter from the sun;
sometimes in a barn, when no church was available; sometimes in a log church
as primitive as the log house of the pioneer. I have heard some of them
conduct an English service and others a Gaelic service. It is but natural,
having regard to the emotional character of one's early life, that I should
recall with more than ordinary enthusiasm the personality of the men and the
vigor of their discourses. Even making due allowance for this, I think I am
safe in saying that some of them were endowed with apostolic fervor, and
with more than the usual gifts of eloquence. I fancy I can now hear the Rev.
John Ross, in his peculiar penetrating voice, depict the future terrors of
the unregenerate, till the blood was chilled with horror; and then in tones
soft and soothing as a zephyr plead for the acceptance of the story of the
cross. To hear him was to feel that he had lived near the Master, and that
no life was worth living unless permeated with a sense of the great
hereafter.
The Rev. Donald Mackenzie, of
Zorra, was one whose personality I can also recall most vividly. I remember
distinctly a sermon preached by him—it must have been in the early
fifties—from that sublime passage in Isaiah: "They that wait upon the Lord
shall renew their strength," etc., and I think I can still hear the
tumultuous eloquence with which he set forth the glory of that strength and
the overwhelming power it gave to those who possessed it. Mr. Mackenzie's
delivery had one peculiarity. While in his exordium he was
argumentative—speaking quietly and apparently hesitatingly—as he proceeded
he gained strength as a river does in the multitude of waters that are
poured into it. Step by step the volume became stronger as he approached the
peroration—a peroration that was sometimes almost terrific in its
earnestness and elocutionary force. When he reached the climax he suddenly
ceased, as a Roman candle seems to explode when it has reached its maximum
height, and then, in the quietest tones, as if exhausted nature could do no
more, he uttered a short prayer.
The Rev. Lachlan McPherson
was for many years minister of the congregation at which my father and
family worshipped. He received the greater part of his education in Canada,
and was, I think, licensed to preach by a Canadian Presbytery. Mr. McPherson
was usually of a very calm temperament. He wore a sadly sobered look, and
had the expression of one who gave himself much to meditation of a very
solemn character. His disposition was by no means morose, however, for he
enjoyed a joke and could tell a good story; but his manner was ordinarily
reserved and serious. He was, moreover, a good Gaelic scholar, and as Gaelic
was his mother-tongue, he had special aptitude as a preacher in the Gaelic
language. His delivery was often characterized by those undulating cadences
peculiar to the Gaelic and Welsh languages, and when he fell into this
rapturous oratory he was very impressive. He was, however, in many respects
more of a theologian than a pastor, and had a special affection for the
doctrines of John Calvin and his disciples. Predestination and the formula
of the Shorter Catechism were frequently his theme, and, as a consequence,
he touched the hearts of his people less than he otherwise might.
Nevertheless his sermons were stimulating and did much to keep alive the
intellectual life of the people whom he served.
Of the others mentioned in
this volume I need not speak in detail, though all partook more or less of
the character of the men to whom I have already referred. Several of them
served as superintendents of public schools as well as ministers of the
gospel. All of them commanded the deepest respect of those to whom they
ministered, and left on the generation they served the impress of their own
religious constancy and earnestness. But they, too, like the pioneers among
whom they labored, endured hardships, travelling on foot through the deep
forests, and accepting, without a murmur, the scanty comforts of the
pioneer's home. Their labors may not be recorded in large biographies, as is
the work of such men as Guthrie and Chalmers and Wesley and Spurgeon; but
their work is recorded in the lives they have comforted, the churches they
have founded, and the example they gave to the community in which they
lived. Well will it be for the religious character of future generations if
they have many disciples.
In view, therefore, of the
character of the pioneers whose early lives Dr. MacKay has here so vividly
depicted, and particularly in view of the character of the missionary
pioneers whose work like a golden thread runs throughout the narrative, I
would commend this book to the people of Canada.
"Prominence is not necessary
to true greatness." The pioneer had no prominence—he had, nevertheless, the
elements of true greatness. The qualities which enabled him to establish a
home for himself and his family, in the face of so many difficulties, are
the qualities by which nations are built, good government established, and
prosperity and peace made possible. To follow in his footsteps is a
guarantee that Canada will grow in influence and power as one generation
follows another.
GEO. W. Ross.
TORONTO, August 2nd, 1899. |
