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"BRACEBRIDGE HALL," WAS THE BOOK - WASHINGTON IRVING, THE AUTHOR, WAS THE ONE, GIVEN THE MEMORIAL TRIBUTE
MAKE NO MISTAKE, W.D. LESUEUR, WAS MAKING A STATEMENT WHEN HE NAMED BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO; A TOWN WITH A GRACE OF NATURE
TOMORROW A LOOK AT IRVING'S SLEEPY HOLLOW
NOTE: The video above, was put together this week, by son Robert, who provided most of the photographic work, companion sound, and composition. Son Andrew was kind enough to take some photographs, of Bracebridge, for me, on a trip to town this week. The opening images of Manitoba Street, observed from the Queen's Hill, looking onto the traditional downtown retail community, have been taken from a watercolor painting, done by Gravenhurst artist, and known print-maker, Frank Johnston, who painted hundreds of similar historic-themed art pieces, throughout Muskoka; there are also images in the video, of the workers of Bracebridge's Bird's Woollen Mill, taking a few minutes for a group photograph, and several graphics of landscapes done by Bracebridge's famous painting barber, William "Bill" Anderson, who had his barbershop, art studio, in the corner storefront, of the former Patterson Hotel, opposite the clock tower of the old federal building. The record cover, used in the video, is entitled "Washington Irving - The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," read by Hurd Hatfield, directed by Paul Kresh, and presented by Arthur Luce Klein, as released by Spoken Arts Records, of New York. The video, is a simply produced overview, that wraps up in only a minute or so, what it has taken me years to polish, as far as editorial content. (Robert has agreed to help me craft a similar video, to highlight some of the work, created by artist Frank Johnston; coming soon.)
I don't know what made me decide to shut-up our Manitoba Street, for the afternoon that fall day, grab-up a notepad, and head down to the brink of the Bracebridge Falls. The boys were with their grandparents, for an after-school visit, and seeing as there was no business at the shop, I just decided to close-up early, and see if I could find anything of interest to write about. It was in early November, just after Remembrance Day, probably in 1991 if I remember correctly. There had already been the first snowfall, and I remember my feet getting wet, passing through areas of slush, up and down the main street. I wasn't fully back into writing yet, at the end of a year's hiatus, after I gave-up on local newspapers, as the way to further hone my skills. So I left to pursue our antique business, which we opened in 1986. I sat on a rock above the rapids, just above the falls, and fascinated myself for an hour, watching the water pounding over the rocks for those final few yards, before the cataract, below the famous silver bridge. It has always been a compelling scene, watching the heavy water flow, thundering current, in the spring and fall of the year, etching deep through the rock walls, and then tumbling over the falls into Bracebridge Bay.
I sat there for the first half hour, just watching the black water, rushing down the canyon, looking like a cluster of intertwined serpents, wrestling each other, to get over the falls first. When I began making notes, I quickly went through all the pages of what was left of my reporter's notebook. It was the mirror of nature's power and spirit. Anyone falling into the river, at this point, would be taken, in only seconds, over the falls, to be broken on the rocks below. There would be no chance of rescue, until the calmer water of the bay below. When I looked at my notes, the next day, I knew it had been time well spent, down at the falls. I would soon begin writing "Sketches of Historic Bracebridge," for The Muskoka Advance, as a columnist. I would never agree to be a news staffer again. And yes, it was all about the freedom of the press; my freedom.
"Bracebridge is eminently the natural centre for tourists, who wish to see the Muskoka waterfalls, with a minimum expenditure of time and money. The three largest, and one of the smaller of these numerous falls, can be seen easily in one day by the tourist to whom economy of time is an object," wrote W.E. Hamilton, of what he witnessed of the early settlement of Bracebridge, Ontario. Not the least attractive cascade (60 feet in descent) is in the heart of the village of Bracebridge. The summer tourist, standing on the bridge which spans the cataract, sees, at one glance the Bracebridge Fall, and the two dark and smooth bodies of water, which precede and follow it. On one side of the bridge, the placid and unrippled water flows under a lofty and curving plateau, crowned with villas, and sloping down near the bridge to a little gem of green prairie, darkened by the shade of over-hanging pines. Perhaps a floating leaf may aid the stranger to realize, the treacherous swiftness of the current, as it approaches the upper side of the abutments of the bridge. Turning from this glimpse of lake-like placidity, let the tourist step to the south-western hand-rail of the bridge and find a transformation effected. Glassy stillness and gloomy darkness of water, are succeeded by white sparkling foam, and the turmoil of the fretted element, in all its tempestuous loveliness. Water in every conceivable shape, and contortion is here, sometimes thundering over some jutting crag, which has defied its power from century to century, or again striking against a hidden splinter of gneiss, and throwing up a fountain of foam and spray to sparkle in the summer sun. The graduation of color in the water, vary from the sombre and almost stygian tint of the Muskoka River, in its normal state, to absolute whiteness, according as it is more or less furiously pulverized, by its impact on the rocky bed of the torrent. The rocks, during a portion of the descent, show a smooth, sloping plane, while elsewhere they are irregular and shapeless crags. Everywhere the dark, and sometimes ferrunginous color gives a sombre setting, to the succession of white foaming leaps, by which the north branch of the Muskoka River, at length, gains the peaceful and oval basin, of the Bracebridge Harbor. The summer scene is often very striking from this side of the bridge. Beyond the basin of the harbor, on the left bank, lies a dark, pine forest, while the opposite side is rocky near the water's edge, and sandy beach. The blue curl of a smoke-wreath moves along and between the trees, tracing the course of the incoming steamer as she nears the harbor. "Steamer and river are alike invisible to the gazer from the bridge, till at length the graceful 'Nipissing' disgorges her living freight at the wharf. Other aspects are presented by the Bracebridge Falls, when butterflies and summer birds, have given way to snow-flakes, and when the white foam of the falls, is eclipsed by the yet more dazzling whiteness, of snow-clad ice banks, which, gradually growing as winter progresses, finally all but meet the water's edge. In spring, the water is at its highest, and thousands of logs come thundering over the basin, which is finally so filled, that an active man can walk across the floating floor, from bank to bank. Some idea of the terrific power of the water, forces itself on the spectator's mind, when he sees a huge log, which a yoke of oxen could scarcely move, dashed like a feather from rock to rock, and sometimes split into pieces, with the resistless thud of the concussion."
As a kid, I got used to hearing the roar of the town waterfalls. Sometimes, particularly in the spring, you could hear it from this bench, I am now sitting on, at Memorial Park, several blocks north on Manitoba Street. I have often noted of Bracebridge residents, that this marvelous flow of water, has imprinted on their souls. It is virtually a standard of local citizenry, to be influenced in subtle ways, by this watery heritage, that snakes black as night, through the middle of town. While we might hurry past, and ignore it, in the hustle and bustle of modern life, it has influenced generations of town residents, in one way or another; from our vantage points, of what can only be described as "the picturesque," as Hamilton refers, or the sound of its wash and roar, toward the cataract of the Bracebridge Falls, that steams high into the frozen atmosphere, on sub-zero mornings in January. It is the nature of the community. Me thinks William Dawson LeSueur, knew much about this place, before he decided to memorialize Washington Irving, by giving it the name of one of his famous story-themes, "Bracebridge Hall." I kind of think Washington Irving would have found this a fascinating place, as well, being a more northerly "Sleepy Hollow".
The following words, were afforded Washington Irving's character-traveller, "Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." in the opening of the second book, referencing Squire Bracebridge, and family, of England. The book is entitled "Bracebridge Hall," which followed the earlier release of "The Sketch Book," circa 1919. Now in the words of Washington Irving channeled through Mr. Crayon:
"The ancestral house, and the host for housekeeping, in this country, or the next; and though the master of it write, but squire, I know no lord like him." This opening is captioned, 'Merry Beggars'."
"The reader, if he has perused the volumes of the 'Sketch Book,' will probably recollect something of the Bracebridge family, with which I once passed a Christmas. I am now on another visit at the Hall, having been invited to a wedding which is shortly to take place. The Squire's second son, Guy, a fine, spirited young captain in the army, is about to be married to his father's ward, Julia Templeton. A gathering of relations and friends has already commenced, to celebrate the joyful occasion; for the old gentleman is an enemy to quiet, private weddings. 'There is nothing,' he says, 'like launching a young couple gayly, and cheering them from the shore; a good outset is half the voyage.'
"Before proceeding any further, I would beg that the Squire might not be confounded with that class of hard-riding, fox-hunting gentlemen, so often described, and, in fact, so nearly extinct in England. I use this rural title partly because it is his universal appellation, throughout the neighborhood, and partly because it saves me the frequent repetition of his name, which is one of those rough old English names, at which Frenchmen exclaim in despair.
The Squire is, in fact, a lingering specimen of the old English country gentleman; rusticated a little by living almost entirely on his estate, and something of a humourist, as Englishmen are apt to become when they have an opportunity of living in their own way. I like his hobby passing well, however, which is, a bigoted devotion to old English manners and customs; it jumps a little with my own humor, having as yet, a lively and unsaited curiosity about the ancient and genuine characteristics of my 'father-land.' There are some traits about the Squire's family, also, which appear to me to be national. It is one of those old aristocratical families which, I believe, are peculiar to England, and scarcely understood in other countries; that is to say, families of the ancient gentry, who, though destitute of titled rank, maintain a high ancestral pride; who look down upon all nobility of recent creation, and would consider it a sacrifice of dignity to merge the venerable name of their house with a modern title."
The fact that "Bracebridge Hall," and the Bracebridge family, are thoroughly examined, in Irving's "Sketch Book," before the second book, "Bracebridge Hall," literally means that Postal Authority, William Dawson LeSueur, could have taken the name from the reference to "Bracebridge Hall," as he admitted, from either the first or second of Crayon's overviews from England. It has long been held, that it was the book, "Bracebridge Hall," of 1822, that inspired the literary critic, by night, civil servant by day, W.D. LeSueur, to use the name for the new post office, in the pioneer hamlet of "North Falls." You can archive back three blogs to read more about the true dimensions of Dr. LeSueur. The point is, LeSueur could have taken the name from "The Sketch Book," as well, because Bracebridge Hall is mentioned, and the reason this is important, is that it would clearly suggest, he was making a memorial recognition to Washington Irving, but not based on one book, or one title. Irving had died shortly before the naming of the new post office, and as a budding literary critic, and bibliophile, he would have been aware of any memorial re-prints of the author's work. Thus, it can be said with some accuracy, that rather than just naming a struggling hamlet, after a book's title, he was doing so as a memorial to the author, Irving, himself. It's one thing to be named after a book, but another to be named as a tribute to the body of work, written by an author; who just happens to be one of the best known in the world, even after all these years.
"The feeling is very much fostered by the impression which they enjoy on their hereditary domains. The family mansion is an old manor-house, standing in a retired and beautiful part of Yorkshire. Its inhabitants have been always regarded, through the surrounding country, as 'the great ones of the earth;' and the little village near the Hall looks up to the Squire with almost feudal homage. An old manor-house, and an old family of this kind, are rarely to be met with at the present day; and it is probably the peculiar humor of the Squire that has retained this secluded specimen, of English house-keeping, in something like the genuine old style.
"I am again quartered in the panelled chamber, in the antique wing of the house. The prospect from my window, however, has quite a different aspect from that which it wore on my winter visit. Though early in the month of April, yet a few warm, sunshiny days have drawn forth the beauties of the spring, which, I think, are always most captivating on their first opening. The parterres of an old fashioned garden are gay with flowers; and the gardener has brought out his exotics, and placed them along the stone balustrades. The trees are clothed with green buds and tender leaves. When I throw open my jingling casement, I smell the odor of mignonette, and hear the hum of bees from the flowers against the sunny wall, with the varied song of the throstle, and the cheerful notes of the tuneful little wren.
"While sojourning in this stronghold of old fashions, it is my intention to make occasional sketches of the scenes and characters before me. I would have it understood, however, that I am not writing a novel, and have nothing of intricate plot nor marvelous adventure to promise the reader. The Hall, of which I treat has, for aught I know, neither trap-door, nor sliding-panel, nor donjon-keep; and indeed appears to have no mystery about it. The family is a worthy, well-meaning family, that, in all probability, will eat and drink, and go to bed, and get up regularly, from one end of my work to the other; and the Squire is so kind-hearted, that I see no likelihood of his throwing any kind of distress, in the way of the approaching nuptials. In a word, I cannot foresee a single extraordinary event, that is likely to occur in the whole term of my sojourn at the Hall.
I tell this honestly to the reader, lest, when he finds me dallying along, through every-day English scenes, he may hurry ahead, in hopes of meeting with some marvelous adventure further on. I invite him, on the contrary, to ramble gently on with me, as he would saunter out into the fields, stopping occasionally to gather a flower, or listen to a bird, or admire a prospect without any anxiety to arrive at the end of his career. Should I, however, in the course of my wanderings about this old mansion, see or hear anything curious, that might serve to vary the monotony of this everyday life, I shall not fail to report it for the reader's entertainment."
Today, the first day of August, 2014, marks the 150th anniversary, of the naming of the Town of Bracebridge, Ontario, by William Dawson LeSueur, after the work of American author, Washington Irving. It has never been a celebrated union, of namesake and its host community. While it has been known, and the provenance understood, at least by historians, for some unknown reason, it has never fully been acknowledged as something special, a name to be proud of, or a literary distinction to promote. In fact, as we have seen in the past few years, it would seem the elected officials, would rather bury the provenance in historical obscurity, than sacrifice what a consultant put forward, several years ago (after public consultation) as positive branding. If the continuous learning theme, obviously connected to the new university and college presence in town, had even one course, or one mention per term, of Washington Irving, relevant to the host town's heritage, then I could at least, partially stomach, the purpose of the branding exercise. Now a new initiative, by an opposing side of the branding debate, wants to commission a large brass sculpture of Santa Claus, at a potential expense of $40,000, to then be set down on a concrete slap, somewhere in downtown Bracebridge. It's hard for a long serving historian, to validate such a venture, as being historically prudent. All the while, a provenance that has been with the town for 150 years, and that carries international recognition, with the entire body of work by Washington Irving, is seen as nothing more than an inconvenient truth.
Possibly, a new council, one day down the road, will look at this whole "branding" issue, and finally decide, to capitalize on the wonderful relationship we were awarded, in August, 1864, when William Dawson LeSueur, one of Canada's great intellectuals of the period, aligned us with a most talented author, Washington Irving, a writer given great praise by Charles Dickens.
Thanks so much for joining this short series, to commemorate, on a tight budget I might add, this anniversary, which I believe is an uncut jewel; with so much potential for development into something of international acclaim. One can hope, at the very least!
FROM THE ARCHIVES
WHY WE SHOULD BE PROUD TO RECOGNIZE DR. WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR - THE MAN WHO NAMED OUR TOWN
AS A POSTAL AUTHORITY HE WAS FUTURE-MINDED - TO WRITERS LIKE STEPHEN LEACOCK - HE WAS AN UNWELCOME MEDDLER
THIS PAST SUMMER, I WROTE A SIGNIFICANT FEATURE SERIES ON THE 150TH ANNIVERSARY, OF THE NAMING OF OUR TOWN, IN AUGUST 1862, AFTER THE TITLE OF A BOOK, WRITTEN BY BRITISH AUTHOR, WILLIAM HENRY SMITH. HIS BOOK, PUBLISHED SHORTLY BEFORE THE OPENING OF OUR POST OFFICE, IN THE FORMER MCCABE'S LANDING, WAS ENTITLED "GRAVENHURST; OR THOUGHTS ON GOOD AN EVIL." I'M SURE YOU'RE GETTING TIRED OF READING ABOUT THIS, BUT TODAY I HAVE A RARE PIECE OF EDITORIAL MATERIAL, THAT PROFILES THE CHARACTER OF DR. WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, CIVIL SERVANT BY DAY, LITERARY CRITIC AND HISTORIAN AFTER HOURS. HE BECAME A HIGHLY RESPECTED LITERARY CRITIC AND AN ACCOMPLISHED CANADIAN HISTORIAN. AND HE DECIDED THAT MCCABE'S LANDING JUST DIDN'T SUIT OUR HAMLET, IN 1862, BUT HE WAS THINKING WELL PAST THIS POST OFFICE OPENING. AS I HAVE REITERATED ABOUT LESUEUR, IN 1862, HE WAS KNOWN IN INTELLECTUAL CIRCLES, AS ONE OF THE FLEDGLING NATION'S BRIGHTEST MINDS. HE WOULDN'T HAVE SELECTED A NAME FROM A BOOK HE DIDN'T APPROVE. HE WASN'T KNOWN TO BE A PRACTICAL JOKER. IF HE HAD ONE GLARING FAILURE, IT WAS THAT HE FORGOT TO TELL THE FINE FOLKS OF "GRAVENHURST, ONTARIO," WHY HE SELECTED THE TITLE OF A BOOK, BY A BRITISH PHILOSOPHER, TO ADORN OUR NEW POST OFFICE. TO THIS DAY, IT'S THE ONE THING THAT STANDS IN THE WAY, OF THE TOWN'S ACCEPTANCE OF THIS CHAPTER OF LOCAL HISTORY……AND FROM ATTACHING ANY REAL SIGNIFICANCE TO THE RESPECTIVE PARTIES INVOLVED. WHICH IS A SHAME, BECAUSE LESUEUR WAS AN INCREDIBLY TALENTED WRITER AND HISTORIAN, AND SMITH WAS A HUGELY ACCOMPLISHED AUTHOR / PHILOSOPHER, AND IN FACT, THE BOOK WE ARE NAMED AFTER, IS STILL IN DEMAND TO THIS DAY, IN COLLEGES AND UNIVERSITIES AROUND THE WORLD.
A LITTLE BIT OF UNKNOWN HISTORY ABOUT W.D. LESUEUR
Why would we make a big deal out of a career civil servant? Would we be the first community in Canada, to erect a statue of a postal authority. For us, right next to Dr. Norman Bethune, in front of the Opera House? How weird would that be? Well, LeSueur was not as colorful and well known as Dr. Bethune, and it would be hard to relate even his historical authordom, to what Bethune was accomplishing on the battlefront. Field surgeon, surgical innovator, martyr? LeSueur, a Federal postal authority responsible for naming hamlet post offices, colleague to some of the best known philosophers of his time, and a Canadian historian who wasn't afraid of any one, including the future Prime Minister of Canada, Mackenzie King, grandson of the firebrand, William Lyon Mackenzie King. Mackenzie King was so pissed-off at LeSueur, for writing an expose, of his grandfather, that diminished his stature as a key player in the 1830's Rebellion in Upper Canada, that he lobbied his publisher to kill the project. When LeSueur dusted himself off, and went to another publisher, they too got a message that it wasn't a good idea to publish this particular biography. In fact, Mackenzie King was so determined to stop LeSueur, that protracted litigation kept LeSueur's book from being published until the late 1960's. Now it is an accepted and welcome edition to the study of William Lyon Mackenzie, and the rebellion of 1837 I believe. LeSueur had found information on Mackenzie, that determined him to have been nothing more than a Scottish pain in the ass, and that he caused more problems with the course of events, than if he had just followed the leadership of others. LeSueur was a big believer in the critical approach, and he was very interested in examining every possible source of information, before he compiled such a biography. What he found, with this in-depth research, was that history had been way too kind to Mr. Mackenzie, and he was intent on exposing the differences of opinion. His grandson, quite happy with the Mackenzie legend, didn't feel it was LeSueur's responsibility to change history, because of a few recollections of his grandfather, he hadn't heard before.
In the Public Archives of Canada, the "W.D. LeSueur Papers," contain an interesting critique of the historical writing of well known Canadian author, Stephen Leacock. LeSueur was not at all impressed by the popular histories, of which Leacock had penned a timely version. On October 26, 1906, the man who afforded us the name "Gravenhurst," challenged Stephen Leacock, via letter, offering his opinion of the writer's version of what constituted important Canadian history. Here is how the challenge commences, in words from a fellow who factored heavily in our municipal history, here in South Muskoka. He named Bracebridge's post office, in 1864, after the titled of a book, written by American author, Washington Irving….."Bracebridge Hall."
In the words of Dr. LeSueur, in a letter penned to Stephen Leacock, (in regards to the history he wrote, that didn't quite measure up); "A few words now on the question of Responsible Government. I quite recognize that a book can be written on the lines of yours that will give satisfaction, to a large section of the public, but my feeling was that in dealing with Baldwin, Lafontaine and Hincks, an opportunity was afforded for doing something a little better, than repeating that twice told tale, however, skillfully, the retelling might be done," argued LeSueur, as diplomatically as he could, under the circumstances of reading a work he believed was shallow and complacent with accepted, convenient fact.
"I was hoping for a book that would make, or, if that is impossible, would at least invite people to think dispassionately and unconventionally on the course of Canadian history." He reports to Leacock, that "Considering the point at which we have arrived in our political development, and the many evils which have fastened themselves on our political system, the time is ripe for very critical treatment of our political conventions and catch words. The note of your book, on the other hand, is the one of finality. It is finished. We have Responsible Government.
"Yes we have 'Responsible Government,' and corruption has so enlarged itself that witnesses in the book almost jeer at the magistrate who enquires into their inequities, and a horrible cynicism in regard to every profession of political virtue, has taken solid possession of a very large portion of the community. Is this the time to persuade people that their welfare is accomplished, and that they may sit down in peace under Responsible Government, as under a combination vine and fig tree? I do not say you distinctly say so in your book, but I do say that you have done it negatively by missing a great opportunity of presenting certain questions, as open questions instead of as eternally settled ones. It is the note of enquiry, that not of what Balfour calls, 'philosophical doubt,' that I miss in a book that gave exceptional advantage - for more than the book I am writing - for introducing it."
If there is one opinion of W.D. LeSueur, that I have adopted as my own mantra, in the study of regional history, and the examination of politics, it is this statement: "Criticism should be the voice of impartial and enlightened reason. Too often what passes for criticism is the voice of hireling adulation or hireling enmity. Illustrations of this will occur to everyone, but there is no use blaming criticism, which, as has been said, is an intellectual necessity of the age: the foregoing remarks have been made in the hope that it may help to clear away some prevalent misconceptions, by showing the organic connection, so to speak, that exists between criticism as a function, or as a model of intellectual activity, and the very simplest intellectual processes. Such a mode of regarding it should do away with the odium that in so many minds attaches to the idea of criticism. Let us all try to be critics according to the measure of our abilities and opportunities. Let us aim at seeing all we can, at gaining as many points of view as possible. Let us compare carefully and judge impartially; and we may depend upon it; we shall be the better for the very effort."
The above biographical material was taken from the book by A.B. McKillop, Carleton University, and the biography, "A Critical Spirit - The Thought of William Dawson LeSueur." In McKillop's observation, "LeSueur deserves, then, the attention of anyone interested in the intellectual and cultural history of Canada."
We should of course, be proud in this town, of our inherent association with this Canadian scholar, William Dawson LeSueur, and author William Henry Smith. We got two historical legends in one simple act of naming a hamlet post office. Do you think one day, the Town administration will ever come to believe this is a story worth investing in……and promoting? An historian can always hope!
Or will they remember me, the badgering historian, who just now, as if an act of providence, wrote down the quotation, "Stop trying to explain the meaning of life….and just live it!" Let LeSueur's and Smith's reputations fend from their own ranking of distinction. God's telling me, you see, that there are bigger fish to fry…..in a proverbial sort of way!
Thank you for spending some time with me today. It's always as pleasure.
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