Part 26

I am not of those who look upon the bond linking audience and actor as a mercenary contract, for the hours during which the latter yields his quantum of strength and spirit to the former for so much coin, and there is an end. Were I, unhappily, possessed by such a morbid feeling, I could no longer act, the spell would be broken. It is true, I might constrain bone and sinew to administer to my necessities, and continue to barter these with the public for bread; but the inspiring spirit would be away, sunk past recall. Severed from the sympathies of those it wrought for, it would cease to lighten upon the scene, which the power of enlisting those sympathies alone redeems from contempt.

But it is not so, as every well-constituted mind will avouch. Preference, and a constant expression of favour from his auditory, necessarily beget a kind feeling in return: the actor is aware also that he is not always in a condition to fulfil his part of the bond; illness, low spirits, crosses, losses, or any of "the thousand ills that flesh is heir to," rob the mind of its elasticity, and the body of its power; yet rarely does the disappointed auditor turn on the favourite and act the clamorous creditor.

Even in very extreme cases, what a spirit of forbearance have we seen exhibited, what positive sympathy have we felt extended in our own time to cherished players! It is at such moments that, more exposed, as he is, to immediate censure, and more helpless than any other of the servants of the public, he also feels himself more especially, more kindly considered, and, if possessed of a kindly heart, cannot fail to be touched by the feeling.

After illness or prolonged absence too, it is in the electric burst of welcome, the enthusiastically prolonged cheer of gratulation, and in the genuine pleasure sparkling from hundreds of uplifted ardent eyes, that the man who devotes himself to win the player's meed receives his brief, his shadowy it may be, but his inspiring triumph, accompanied by the assurance that he is closely linked with the kindest feelings of those who for the scene are subject to his thrall.

And when at length the hour of farewell comes, it is in the anxious pause, the breathless attention, yet more impressive than all other species of homage, that "the poor player," about to be "heard no more," reads the assurance that on the many young fresh hearts now subject to his art he has indelibly engraven his name, often to be pleasantly recalled in after hours, perhaps of pain and worldly care.

It is in the hope of gaining this living record he seeks consolation for the absence of all other less perishable fame: expecting, hoping nothing from posterity, he has a stronger claim upon the kindness of his contemporaries, for whom alone he lives, and the feeling is reciprocal: hence it is that these repay him with a superabundance of present regard, to soften to him the consciousness of the oblivion to which his memory is inevitably consigned, however great his genius, and however ardent its longings "after immortality."

JOURNAL

OF A VISIT TO QUEBEC, VIA LAKE CHAMPLAN AND MONTREAL.

Saturday, May 30th.--Went on board the De Witt Clinton steam-boat about six P.M. and in the brightest possible night sailed up the most beautiful of rivers. We were not crowded; my excellent friend C----e was in company, on his way to take unto him a wife, and consequently the trip was to me unusually agreeable. We kept pacing the deck until we had passed through the deep shadows of the highlands, and floated over the silvery expanse of Newburg Bay.

Sunday, 31st.--Before six A.M. we were set ashore at Albany. Breakfasted at the Eagle, and at nine A.M. left for Saratoga by the railroad; thence by stage to Whitehall. The day was fine, the roads rough enough to be sure. To the north lay the mountain State of Vermont, and to the south a ridge of bold well-wooded heights. At Glenfalls we passed the Hudson by a wooden bridge thrown over the very foot of the cataract: luckily, whilst in the act of crossing, a trace came unhitched, and we pulled up to order matters, just at the centre of the misty abyss. Thus were we afforded ample leisure to look on the wild fall, which, when in the wilderness, must have been a glorious scene; for, disfigured as it now is by a mill or two of the ordinary kind, it is still magnificent.

Our ride from this place to Whitehall reminded me much of some part of North Wales: the enclosures are small, irregularly shaped, and surrounded by walls of stone; many rills of clear water are crossed, making their way to the Hudson through rough courses bestrewn with fragments of rock: close on the left the river is itself visible every now and then, whilst in the distance rise a confused heap of wild mountains.

Numerous comely-looking pigs, together with groups of round-faced fat children, barefooted and bareheaded, complete the resemblance.

For the last seven miles the road was of the roughest kind; but our coachman rattled along merrily, getting us to Whitehall by ten P.M.

Monday, June 1st.--At about one we quitted the comfortable inn here, and the busy little town of Whitehall; and in the fine steamer Phoenix thridded our way out of the swampy harbour formed by the head-waters of the lake.

The hills about us rose boldly, and were covered with a variety of trees now clothed in their freshest leaves, therefore beautiful to look on. For many miles the channel continues narrow, at times confined by a steep wall of marble surmounted by rich flowering shrubs; then, for a short distance, laving the edge of some rich meadow slope. At last, the lake expanded gloriously, reminding me, at a first glimpse, of the Trossachs, save that here was less grandeur and deep shadow, the outlines of the mountains were softer and the valleys more fertile.

The green mountains of the State of Vermont now bounded the lake upon the north, and on the south rose the Giant-mountains of the State of New York. These were for ever changing in form, as we crossed and re-crossed the lake in order to land or receive passengers from stated points. This circumstance also brought us acquainted with several very lovely locations. Beneath the old fort of Ticonderago we halted for a few minutes; and at Crown-point our stay was long enough to allow a rough sketch to be taken of the roofless barracks and the ruined works.

In the course of our progress we ran into two or three of the sweetest bays imaginable, where the calm lake was shadowed by steep mountains, down whose sides leaped little tributary streams that rushed sparkling and foaming into its turbid bosom.

It is most certain that, had these beauties been given to England or to Scotland, they would each and all have been berhymed and bepainted until every point of real or imaginable loveliness had been exhausted: for myself, I have looked on many lakes, and by none have been more delightfully beguiled than by a contemplation of this during some nine hours of sunshine, sunset, and twilight, the last alone too brief. Atmosphere, I am aware, does much; and this was one of those lovely days whose influence expands the heart and takes the reason prisoner.

After quitting Burlington, where we encountered the returning steam-boat, and received a large accession of force, I retired to my berth, and enjoyed the soundest possible sleep.

Tuesday, 2nd.--On deck at six A.M.: found the lake had assumed a river-like appearance; the channel narrow, the banks low and swampy. The day, too, was as much changed as the scene from yesterday, for a drizzling rain was falling, and the clouds looked heavy and threatening.

As we neared St. John's, we had a slight custom-house visitation; and, soon after landing, were served with an excellent breakfast; after which came the bustle of departure. A string of carriages, of the same build used throughout the States, occupied half the little street, all loading heavily with baggage and bipeds, till by nine we got in motion, forming quite a caravan.

The road lay for a time along the bank of the new canal destined to unite the head-waters of the lake with the St. Lawrence, and was a pleasant succession of ditch and bog-hole. It got better after a few miles' jolting, but was nowhere tolerable, or creditable to his Majesty's dominions.

On entering La Prairie, at noon, we found the good people annoyed by a visitation which had not yet reached St. John's, namely, myriads of a winged insect called the shad-fly; these covered and crowded every building, filled the water and the air; they lodged on your clothes, rendered sight difficult, and speaking impracticable, except with closed teeth. Luckily, these flies neither sting nor bite; so that, setting aside their appearance, and a certain tickling they inflict upon the neck and face, they are easily borne with. At half-past one P.M. the steamer Britannia quitted the port of La Prairie to cross the wide St. Lawrence, to where our Land of Promise, Montreal, lay glittering in sunshine some nine miles distant.

Half an hour landed us, and I received the pleasure of a grip of welcome from my old friend W----w, who, with two or three of his brother-officers, was on the look-out for me. Leaving my baggage to the care of Sam, I stepped into the boat, and at once accompanied W----w to St. Helen's, lying about half a mile from the main land.

In ten minutes more we were treading the verdant sod of the island, when my first movement was to walk round it. I found it to possess every variety of country in perfect miniature proportions: here were wood-crowned steeps, shady glades, and open meadows, all offered in as many changes as might well be managed on so small a surface. Viewed from this, the city too looked very attractive, scattered over the southern side of the great mountain.

This little island was the latest possession of the French in Canada. Above a fort now in ruins was last elevated the white standard, which at one time fluttered from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi: thus girdling, as it were, the British colonies, France one day looked to sweep into the Atlantic.

Upon the westernmost point of the island, the tree still stands fresh and vigorous beneath which the articles for the final cession of the Canadas were agreed upon, and the last portion of the vast empire contemplated for France by the genius of Richelieu for ever abandoned.

The present garrison is composed of a company of the Royal Artillery. Here is an extensive depot for stores, an armoury, two great magazines containing not less than six thousand barrels of gunpowder and all the other munitions of war.