December 1857
William Kingsford (1819–1898) is assumed to be the author of Impressions, which was published anonymously, first as letters in a Toronto newspaper. Born in London, Kingsford first went to Canada in 1837 as a private in the dragoon guards, where he participated in quelling a rebellion and then terrorizing the patriot party. He was a well-built six-footer who always relished the active life. When the fighting was over, the cavalry lost its attraction, and he refused the offer of a commission by his colonel. In military service, he had learned surveying and began his career as a civil engineer as Montreal’s city surveyor. Subsequently, he worked in various engineering positions in Canada, New York, and Panama. By 1865, he had returned to England and used his fluency in French, German, Italian, and Spanish to facilitate his advice on railroad construction on the Continent. In 1867, he returned to Canada where he continued to work in railroad engineering—sometimes in an official government patronage position (when the conservatives were in power) and other times as a freelance engineer and consultant. In 1879, he was finally dismissed from government service, partially because of patronage and partly because professionalism was replacing the old amateurism.
Kingsford wrote most of his adult life. In 1844, he founded the Montreal Times, a very conservative periodical. In fact, he participated as a vigilante in the election riots of 1844, leading the conservatives to take control of a polling station. Two years later, reform party adversaries took their revenge, almost killing Kingsford. He wrote political commentary for several newspapers, and served as Canadian correspondent for a London newspaper. He wrote about engineering, and he even wrote theater and music reviews. In 1879, his engineering career effectively over, he began writing on Canadian history, completing his ten-volume History of Canada in 1898. Although it was received with public acclaim in both Canada and England, he again ran afoul of growing professionalism. The academic historians criticize his history for a number of faults. These faults—conventional commonplaces, uninspiring prose, and digressions—can be applied to Impressions. Kingsford, who loved the active life and was devoted to building the British Empire in Canada, was not one to appreciate subtleties, or even notice them.
Kingsford, who lived the life of a self-taught amateur when professionalism and specialization were beginning to prevail, was a founder of the Canadian Society of Civil Engineers and a fellow of the Royal Society of Canada.
William Kingsford, Impressions of the West and South During a Six Weeks’ Holiday (Toronto: A. H. Armour and Co., 1858, 66–72.
I drove over Mobile, and felt like Goethe’s friend Beirich, that so far as it went, after all one’s experience there was in reality nothing to experience, and made my preparations for starting, having determined to take the land route. By it you do not pass up the Alabama river, but you enter one of its forks—the Tansaw which runs parallel to the former, some six miles or so from it—the two embonchures being but a trifling distance apart. It is a winding stream through a flat country, in some parts narrow, with alligator swamps on each side, but beyond the reeds and rushes there is a rich foliage. The season was not opportune, to meet any of these not too graceful saurians, but some twenty miles up we did see a small fellow, of some three or four feet long swimming inshore, which could hardly have been expected, for the day was cold and raw. In summer, I am told they are plentiful enough, and as all sportsmen wage unrelenting war against them, no few of them are shot. About five we arrived at Stockton, where we saw the stages ready for us, and I soon learned that I was the only passenger. On the boat there were but four passengers, and two of them left us at the first miserable landing to take the stage for Florida, while the third came on to Stockton. It is a place of about nine houses, yet its name is on the map, and one would imagine by seeing it there, that it was a thriving and bustling town. Generally, however, there is but little travel in this direction, and the route is maintained purely as a mail route. Even we may wonder what sustains the small village. I could learn nothing beyond that the stage company had stables there, and indeed every twenty miles of the distance to Montgomery there are similar establishments for the horses; otherwise it is almost a wilderness. The main route is by the Alabama river from Mobile to Montgomery, and when there is plenty of water in the stream, the first class boats make the trip in about three days, the distance three hundred and forty miles, being in no small degree increased by the undulations of the river. In seasons when the water is low there is great risk of detention. The mail, however, is bound by contract to make the distance in 40 hours to connect with the Railways running east, so at least 48 hours are saved by the land route which runs traversely in a direct line between the two points. A Railway is now being constructed from Montgomery, some twenty-five miles of which are in operation towards Pensacola, and possibly a branch may be carried to a point opposite Mobile. Evidently such a scheme would insure all the travel between New Orleans and Washington; but there is difficulty in getting the stock taken up. The design for the present is to construct only the main line, and by all accounts to do so will be no easy task, for the country is but poorly settled. I sat on the box with the driver of one of the stages who was very intelligent; and as we started about six or so, I thought it would be no great harm to enquire where we could get some supper. I learned, however, that it was a meal not in fashion on the western part of the road, for the proprietor of the establishment, finding that there were no travellers to eat supper, had retired from the business. I enquired accordingly if something could not be had where we changed horses, which would be about ten, the distance being twenty miles; but I learned that the horse-keepers boarded some two miles from the stable, and the driver added that where he himself stopped, it would be equally impossible; however he was good enough to tell me, that he would divide what he had brought for himself. Fortunately I had something which I could add towards the supper, so we did the best we could with cold broiled fish and some biscuits. It now came on to rain, so I retired from my seat to the monotony of the inside; and certainly although the rain poured in torrents, and the roads were as bad as they could be, no time was lost. As I had been told, there was evidently no doubt but that I would arrive at the hour named, for no obstacle seemed to retard the driver, and we dashed along without the least regard either to the roughness or bad condition of the road. I was not sorry to see daylight, for it was a dreary ride that wet night, besides it gave promise of breakfast, which came in due time. The rain had now passed over and I took my old seat, but my benevolent friend who had shared his supper with me was not there. I must confess that I was disappointed in the appearance of the forest trees. Compared to a Canadian wood scene they were insignificant. Nothing was there equal to our noble pines, if we except the magnolia and the evergreen oak. Both, however, were of rare occurrence. There is the well known Georgia pine, but it is by no means so fine a tree as its northern brother, and generally the timber has, what one of our lumberers would call a dwarfish look. As we approached Montgomery the country becomes more settled, and we took dinner at a farm house which had some pretensons to comfort. Small settlements succeed each other, but generally the buildings had a delapidated look, and there was an air of poverty over the whole route. Now and then, in new northern settlements we come to spots where city comforts are unknown, and those who dwell in towns know nothing of the hardships which early settlers undergo. But in these cases, although the house is merely a log hut, and there is but one room in it, you never meet misery and squalor. Rather, if you put out of mind the blessings of pavements and gas lights, and the cheerful association with cultivated and genial minds, a few weeks not only will reconcile you to the life, but the free air of the forest will give you a sense of independence and manhood which leads you to deem the obstacles before you but slight. No man lives in communion with nature in vain, unless depressing cares bear him down in his own despite. But as I passed by these places, there was a weary spirit-broken look about them, which impressed me that those whose days were cast in this spot hoped for no change—that they had accepted their destiny—and I could not but ask myself—is this a consequence of slavery? For to my mind it is the white man placed in indifferent circumstances in the south, who deserves the sympathy of his race. As we advanced the road became worse. It has been my lot to pass over many roads—on shanty roads—roads cut for the first time through bush land, which ran round every tree—on mule tracks—on broken plank roads—on paths unpassable half the year—but I do not think that there is such a road in existence as the last thirty miles of this route. So long as we were on the sandy soil of the high land, spots here and there were only objectionable; but we had descended to a lower level where the soil was of clay. It was now quite dark and raining fast. Literally—one more passenger had now joined us—we had to make a purchase with our legs and back to prevent us being pitched up to the roof of the stage. But on the drivers went, the time had to be made, or a heavy forfeit paid. One of the reasons why the road is in such a bad condition is, that the railway was near completion, and, perhaps, before this letter is in type, the engine will pass over half of the distance. But the night I was there, I may pronounce it to be the worst road that I ever saw, heard, or dreamed off. It turned, too, quite cold, and when we stopped at a plantation where supper was prepared, and where we were to take the railway in the morning for Montgomery, I felt as if I was leaving purgatory. We were unusually late on arriving; indeed, they had been looking out for us two hours. Hence we had many apologies for our half-cold meal, but there was a blazing fire, and there were beds on which we could sleep for an hour, such was the time allotted. So we sat down while the poor sleepy negroes ran round us to supply our wants, which fortunately were moderate enough. At the time appointed the stage came to drive us one more mile to meet the railway, and we sat for about half an hour in the grey of the morning until the cars came up. In them we eagerly took our seats, knowing that for the next two hours we were safe from such inflictions as we had been subjected to, and without further difficulty we came into Montgomery.
“View of the Capitol, Montgomery, Alabama” from Ballou’s Pictorial Drawing-Room Companion, 21 November 1857. View up Market Street (today’s Dexter Avenue) from the artesian basin to the Capitol. Artist: Kilburn.
The last named city on the Alabama River, is the capital of the State. It is not marked by any peculiarity. The capital stands prominently on high ground, and there is nothing to note, as differing from other cities of its size. There are two artesian wells, which supply the city with water, and the basins stand in the public streets, perfectly easy of access. It was Sunday when I arrived, so I had to wait for the train at five. The main streets in the afternoon were thronged with the negro population, who are generally slaves, for I learned that there are very few free blacks in the State. There are two routes which lead to Charleston, and there is little choice between them. But I was determined by the desire to pass over the Macon and Millen route, the scene of that extraordinary series of duels, the account of which found its way in the London Times. I, therefore, chose the southern route, by Columbus to Macon. Being composed of many lines, we change cars sufficiently often, but the connection being made by omnibuses, the annoyance is but trifling, for the baggage is checked through, and the extent of your labor is to pass from one coach seat to another. On starting, the train was composed of two parts, and according to your destination you took your seat. At Opalika, some seventy miles from Montgomery, one set of cars was borne away north to Atalanta, while the remainder was taken on to Columbus. Certainly despatch is not an element in the management of Southern Railways, and it seemed strange to me, whose Railway education, such as it is, had taught, that not a second should be wasted, to see the engine of the passenger train shunting cars at stations with as much deliberation, as if to do so constituted its whole duty. But the time table gives only about fifteen miles an hour, and hence in some instances we delayed twenty and thirty minutes at a station. We arrived in Columbus by night, and were driven through the City to take the Macon Road. At Macon there is an excellent station where the lines meet, and there are all the conditions of comfort in the shape of a good hotel, in the building.