Up the Gatineau! Article
This article was first published in Up the Gatineau! Volume 5.
Record of a Summer
Barbara Benoit
“I am founding a small newspaper,” wrote Alphonse Lusignan in the first number of L'Echo de la Gatineau on July 6, 1889, "which will last the season”. It was an extraordinarily modest objective, but many things about the new newspaper were extraordinary. He would shun politics, social problems, and theology, he went on, “but not a cat will die in the village unbeknownst to the public.“ And the purpose of this whimsical literary endeavour was, quite simply, “to make my co-parishioners read — and to amuse myself." The founding of Lusignan‘s “jewel of a newspaper” sent ripples — small, but far-reaching — throughout the world of French Canadian letters. Congratulations came not only from Hull and Ottawa, from Montebello, Montreal, Three Rivers, Sorel, and St. Jerome, but even from Paris:
Paris, July 29, 1889
My dear Echo — I read you because your first two numbers reached me here, in the midst of the World Fair. What a pity that you don't have your own pavilion in this great assembly of odd things! All the French Canadians in Paris would buy you with glee. There are three thousand at the moment in M. Carnot’s city. Three thousand subscriptions that you are losing! — not to mention the immense renown which you would win on the banks of the Seine... (letter from “Tatouche”, L'Echo, No. 7, p. 2)
Lusignan, who had entered the federal civil service in 1874 at the age of thirty- one, was already a writer of some repute, known for the elegance of his style. A former editor of Le Pays in Montreal, he had published a collection of French and Canadian songs in 1859, a legal work in 1872, and a collection of essays, Coups d'Oeil ef Coups de Plume, in 1884. In the summer of 1889 he was installed in a house in Gatineau Point, eager to extol to the public at large the beauties of his adopted village and to suggest and encourage numerous improvements. His many friends stood ready to participate, among them the well-known historian, Benjamin Suite. The financing of the publication was a joke: Lusignan covered expenses by the simple expedient of buttonholing all his aquaintances and forcing them to pay fifty cents in advance for a subscription:
This new method of recruiting subscribers, this summary apostrophe in place of the sempiternal cajolery, so surprised people that the fifty centses fell into Lusignan‘s hand faster than change into a collection plate.
(Napoléon Champagne, “Bienvenue", L'Echo, No. 3, p. 2)
Good copy abounded. Village life was lively and gay, and the magnificent St. Jean Baptiste celebrations of that year cried out to be immortalized in print. But the great virtue of the writers of L'Echo was that they saw the village life not in isolation, but as part of a geographic, historic, and cultural whole. Gatineau Point was linked by its rivers to two worlds: to the vast, unexplored wilderness behind, and to the civilized world downstream, to Montreal, Quebec. and to Europe beyond. The river-presence is a leitmotif: boating excursions and boating accidents are ordinary daily experiences; the river is the hard fact that governs the lives of the shantymen who go up by the hundreds each fall; it is also the enchantment that draws summer residents from Ottawa:
The fresh air brought by pure waters coming from the north, a north which seldom fails to bring the scent of balsam, from the woods, above all the daily life among a people unpolished but basically honest, somewhat rough-spoken but brave, these must draw, for the sake of their health as for the satisfaction of their curiosity, neighbours from the city looking for repose. D0 as l have done for two seasons, and you will come back irresistibly. (Lusignan, “La Pointe-Gatineau", L'Echo, No. 1, p. 2)
Benjamin Sulte writes regularly on the history of the river and of the town. There are articles on the origin of the name “Gatineau”, on the nature of the early fur trade, on the implications of the word “voyageur", and on the vexing problem of the real name of Kettle Island. There is, as often in L'Echo, a touch of the opera bouffe in his descriptions:
Mr. Wright calculated that nothing during the year 1806 would interfere with his plans of operation, as the French Emperor would be concerned primarily with the French coasts threatened by the warships of his enemy. He was right. Our wood entered the Thames unhindered, and served to repair ships destined for the next campaign. Let me observe here that Napoleon never tried to blockade our river: possibly he never realized its importance. Mr. Wright continued his commerce at the height of the upheaval, and made a good profit. It was the act of a man of genius. He would certainly have stopped if he had observed the French keeping a watch on his movements, but Europe absorbed the attention of the conquering Frenchman...
(Benjamin Sulte, “Les Hommes de Cages", L'Echo, No. 7, p. 2.
With its strong geographical and historical links to Europe, Gatineau Point had no need to be culturally bashful. It could boast of a gay social life, of benevolent institutions, of a beautiful church, and of the excellent corps de musique de St. Francois de Sales. The correspondent of the Echo did not hesitate to compare it with Paris:
The number of things exhibited here is incredible, but for all that it is not a World Fair. It lacks a reproduction of our St. Jean-Baptiste celebrations on the Gatineau and some piles of lumber, as in Hull, to astonish the Parisians. Instead of this, we have had the Bastille Day celebrations (nothing but rain) and went to see the Eiffel Tower (all iron for want of wood). It's thin, fora tower; and then, it is so high thatone is afraid to go up.
(letter from “Tatouche", L'Echo, No. 7, p. 2.)
But life was not altogether idyllic in Gatineau Point. Savage nature was pressing hard that July on the little outpost of civilized life — and with its heaviest artillery: the mosquito. “What a great blow we could strike, “mused Lusignan in the “Notes Locales" of the first issue, “if we could put them all in the kit bags of Bismark’s soldiers. I have three hundred thousand here waiting their turn to bite me." The mosquitoes contributed in their way to the picturesqueness of the village, for the children were kept busy each evening throwing handfuls of fresh grass and willow shoots on fires which smoked, one or two in front of each door along the river, to keep the mosquitoes away. The Echo suggested that the town's new policeman, who had no other business, should be put to exterminating them; but by the next week, its own stirring rhetoric had sufficed: “Seeing themselves denounced in the Echo, most of the mosquitoes have had the good taste to quit the country and flee to Ottawa.”
The St. Jean Baptiste celebrations were the highlight of the summer, and the mayor described them at length in the first two numbers of the Echo. The town was awakened by the voice of the cannon; the day was hot and sunny; flags — French andEnglish — lined the road for three miles; a dozen arches of greenery headed with crucifixes marked the parade route. At eight o‘clock the famous corps de musique de St. Francois de Sales went aboard the T. Mansfield and sailed to lronside, to return with a contingent of several hundred members of the St. Jean Baptiste society, playing fanfares all the way. The Société du Village was ready with its banner, and the solemn procession began. At ten o'clock they entered the church, hung by the “most likeable of curés" with banners and flags. The altar was covered with masses of flowers whose scent filled the building. Mgr. C.E. Tanguay of Ottawa celebrated mass and the Rev. P. Thomas Gauvreau of St. Jean Baptiste parish delivered the sermon: “Our language is beautiful, the most beautiful of spoken languages: let us conserve it; our religion is the only true one: let us be faithful to it; work is a necessity of our existence: let us make it the foundation of our greatness as a people." The Albani quartet sang Winter's mass, and Mlle. Ursula Smith of Gatineau, an Ave Maria.
Now the procession set off again, this time along the Ottawa shore, before doubling back to the town hall. Thanks were voted to the organizing committee, and the lighter part of the entertainment began. Boats were still arriving and the crowd, laughing and colourful, growing, as the picnic tables were spread under the great elms before the church. There were games, with prizes, in the afternoon, and still the T. Mansfield and the Laverdure came to the quay full and went back empty. There were families from Papineauville and Thurso, from Buckingham and Ange-Gardien, from East Templeton, Chelsea, and lronside; the mayor of Aylmer was present; and Hull and Ottawa turned out en masse. and when the winners of the rowing contest and of the fat men’s wheelbarrow race had been chosen, and the sun was declining, it was time for the speeches. L.P. Sylvain, president of the village‘s St. Jean Baptiste Society, thanked everyone who had come and then introduced the speakers: Elzébert Roy of the Department of Public Works, a well-known orator and a summer resident; Benjamin Suite, who recalled the first celebrations in Quebec, 253 years earlier; Joseph Foran, “lrish by birth but French Canadian at heart"; and Napoleon Champagne of the Post Office Department, famed for his brilliant improvisations. The speeches were lively, and the enthusiasm of the crowd made them long. And still there remained, when the sun had set behind the mountain of Old Chelsea, a grand torchlight procession and a fireworks display, before the last boat left the shore bedecked with a thousand Chinese lanterns and night finally fell on Gatineau Point.
This fête set the tone for the summer. There were, of course, simpler amusements. Fishing was popular, and the Echo was generous in sharing with its readers its knowledge of the best spots — while reminding them of the provincial fishing regulations. But Lusignan was at his liveliest in describing the cultural events of the village, and worked, indeed, to improve the cultural tone by printing amusing and informative articles on many subjects — on numismatics, on the habits of ants, of lizards, and of Parisian vegetable vendors, on the strange dialect of the Acadians of Labrador. Poetry he solicited warmly. The main summer pastimes, however, were musical. The newly formed Kazoo Band serenaded the village. The corps de musique, too, had a serenade, and collected thirty dollars, passing from house to house and playing wherever it found an audience. Emboldened by this success, it chartered the Mansfield for an evening of music and dancing on the river enjoyed by nearly two hundred people. Lusignan in August, organized a comic and musical charity concert. The corps de musique was there, with its instructor, M. Barrett, who played a solo. Mlle U. Smith sang, and “our great artist", Boucher, played the violin. The hall was packed. Many stood outside the door to listen, and many more were forced to turn away.
Such were the pleasures of the villagers in the summer of 1889, but, as Father Gauvreau had reminded them in his sermon, work was the real basis of their lives. Farmers grew and harvested bumper crops of hay, grain, and—a new experiment — tobacco. A federal government exploring party set out on a five month, nine hundred mile trip to study the big lakes of the Gatineau region and the tributaries of the Ottawa. The Gatineau Railway continued to make slow progress. Surveying had been completed as far as Riviére Désert (100 miles); ten miles of rails were lying ready; and work had begun on the difficult stretch between Chelsea and lronside. The company advertised for eight hundred men to work between Hull and Eaton Falls in the hope of finishing that much by the first of January; in September, it was obliged to look abroad for labour, and three hundred Italians were brought in from New York for wages of $1.50 a day. Another project of more immediate benefit to the residents of Gatineau Point was undertaken that summer as well: the bridge to Hull. It was to be an iron bridge, with four spans each two hundred feet long. M. Gerard Macquet, engineer, chose the site, and the town of Gatineau Point voted $3000 towards the cost of construction.
But the benefit of these projects lay still in the future. More immediately important was the improvement in the ferry service. The P. Mansfield replaced the Express. The new 30 h.p. steamboat was able to make the crossing in six or seven minutes. It could take eight loaded carriages and 120 people. In addition to its regular daily runs from 6:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. it began to operate on Sundays between 9:00 and 2:00, making a stop at Kettle Island. This was indeed competition for the widow Séguin, who continued to operate the old bac, which took one carriage and twenty passengers, from sunrise to sunset. But Mme, Séguin was noted for her obliging service: day or night, she never refused a crossing. There was progress in the village, too. A barber opened shop. Both M. Valve and M. Osborne had their hotels painted, and new signs made. Lusignan announced that he himself had just completed a book, but made a secret of the subject. It must, however, have been his most famous work, Fautes a corriger: une chaque /‘our, a collection of articles on French style which was published in 1890. L.P. Sylvain, another regular contributor to the Echo, was kept busy with his public duties, as mayor, as school commissioner, and as president of the village St. Jean Baptiste Society.
But now and again, amid the bustle and activity, and the merrymaking, there were grim accidents. A boy, ten, drowned at lronside. The postmaster of L‘Ange-Gardien had a miraculous escape when he, his horse, and his wagon plunged twenty feet into the Rivière LaBlanche amid the debris of the collapsing bridge. An old woman was thrown from her carriage and run over on the bumpy road. Hailstones fell, as big as snowballs, and a cow was killed by lightning. A mill worker lost an arm, which was buried in the churchyard. Octave Lemieux, a farmer eighteen miles up the river, saw three boys adrift in the rapids. One jumped out and tried to swim; the others were left clinging to a rock for an hour after their boat broke up. All would have drowned but for the courage and perseverance of M. Lemieux, who rescued them. On August 24, Eugene Dion drowned. He and a party of friends, rowing back to Ottawa, tried to overtake and pass in front of a tug bringing seven barges up the river. When they failed, they foolishly decided to cut between the barges, ducking under the cable. The suction around the barge pulled the boat under. Three passengers were saved, but a Mme. Duquette was pinned to her seat and drowned, and Dion’s body was found only some days later, at St. Joseph Orléans.
But despite its sorrows, the summer was generally a happy time; and the Echo reported regularly on a group of youths passing it in carefree indolence on Kettle island. They began to come at the end of June, in groups of four and five. By the beginning of August, there were over sixty people camped in eighteen tents and four temporary wooden shelters. They were not roughing it in the bush, but enjoying every civilized pleasure. Early in the season Edouard Aube, as a representative of the Echo, was invited to attend a birthday dinner given by the campers’ newly formed club, the Roger Bontemps, for one of its members. He was overwhelmed:
What a dinner it was! The head waiter of the Russell would have been green with envy if he had seen or, more to the point, had tasted the dishes prepared by the gentlemen of the Roger Bontemps, who are also chefs — and very good ones — when the fancy takes them. The menu was extremely select, considering that they are camping. We had bouillon a la Reine as an appetizer, a thick cabbage soup, lamb with petits pois accompanied by beans and bacon, a savory beef steak, and ham and tongue in plenty. Dessert consisted of plum pudding with hard sauce and vanilla sauce, every sort of biscuit, apple jelly, and jam tarts. When, to all this, one adds exquisite wines and a lager actually made on the island, one can easily form an idea of the joyous life our friends lead at the Kettle Island camp.
(Ed. Aubé, “Dans l'lle", L'Echo, No.3, p. 1.)
The name “Kettle island" came into dispute in August, when the curé told Lusignan that, as the island belonged to his parish, he had baptized it some years earlier “Ile St. François. The Echo accepted this name provisionally, but called on Suite to see whether any historical precedent was being violated. Suite took the task seriously: he examined two hundred maps dating from 1615 to 1800 and found — nothing. The island appeared, nameless, on a French map of 1664, and disappeared on all subsequent maps, even the great map of 1830 produced by the Surveyor General, Bouchette. it was only while leafing in desperation through the 1815 edition of Bouchette’s book that Suite found what he sought: “Kettle island, in the River Ottawa, lies... a little more than two miles below the mouth of River Rideau." The name Kettle Island was therefore resumed in the last issue.
In that issue, on September 7, the Echo vanished forever in a burst of poetic splendour. Some of French Canada‘s best authors, among them Lusignan’s good friend, Louis Fréchette, contributed poems. William Chapman and Benjamin Suite exchanged complimentary sonnets. The paper ends with a cleverly devised tribute by Edouard Aubé to its many collaborators.
But the final tribute must be to Lusignan himself, for the Echo was his idea; and it was his fondness for his adopted village, his industry and devotion to journalism, and the irresistible gaiety of his style which produced this delightfully readable record of the summer of 1889 in Gatineau Point.
Footnote
A complete series of L'Echo de la Gatineau (July 6, 1889 — Sept. 7, 1889) is available at the National Library, Ottawa.
The essay by Barbara Benoit of Ottawa, of which the above article is a somewhat condensed and modified version, was awarded First Prize in the seventh annual Essay Contest sponsored by The Historical Society of the Gatineau — 1978.