It was fortunate that Lord Elgin had arranged to leave his bride in England, to follow at a less inclement season; for he had an unusually stormy passage across the Atlantic—'the worst passage the ship had ever made.'
Writing on the 16th of January to Lady Grey he says:
Hitherto we have had a very boisterous passage. On the 13th we had a hurricane, and were obliged to lie to—a rare occurrence with these vessels. It was almost impossible to be on deck, but I crept out of a hole for a short time, to behold the sea, which was truly grand in its wrath; the waves rolling mountains high, and the wind sweeping the foam off their crests, and driving it, together with the snow and sleet, almost horizontally over the ocean. We lay thus for some hours, our masts covered with snow, pitching and tossing, now in the trough of the sea, and now on the summit of the billows, without anxiety or alarm, so gallantly did our craft bear itself through these perils.
The ship is very full, with half a million of specie, and a motley group of passengers: a Bishop, an ex-secretary of Legation and an ex-consul, both of the United States; a batch of Germans and of Frenchmen; a host of Yankees, the greater part being bearded, which is, I understand, characteristic of young America, particularly when it travels; some specimens of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Canada, and the Rocky Mountains, not to mention English and Scotch. Every now and then, at the most serious moments, sounds of uproarious mirth proceed from a party of Irish, who are playing antics in some corner of the ship. Considering that we are all hemmed in within the space of a few feet, and that it is the amusement of the great restless ocean to pitch us constantly into each other's arms, it is hard indeed if we do not pick up something new in the scramble.
[Sidenote: First impressions.]
On the 25th of January he landed at Boston, and proceeding next day by railway and sleigh, reached Montreal on the 29th. On the 31st he wrote from Monklands, the suburban residence of the governor, to Lady Elgin:—
Yesterday was my great day. I agreed to make my entrance to Montreal, for the purpose of being inaugurated. The morning was unpropitious. There had been a tremendous storm during the night, and the snow had drifted so much that it seemed doubtful whether a sleigh could go from hence to town (about four miles). I said that I had no notion of being deterred by weather. Accordingly, I got into a one-horse sleigh, with very small runners, which conveyed me to the entrance of the town, where I was met by the Mayor and Corporation with an address. I then got into Lord Cathcart's carriage, accompanied by the Mayor, and a long procession of carriages was formed. We drove slowly to the Government House (in the town), through a dense mass of people—all the societies, trades, &c., with their banners. Nothing could be more gratifying. After the swearing in, at which the public were present, the Mayor read another address from the inhabitants. To this I delivered a reply, which produced, I think, a considerable effect, and no little astonishment on some gentlemen who intended that I should say nothing. I have adopted frankly and unequivocally Lord Durham's view of government, and I think that I have done all that could be done to prevent its being perverted to vile purposes of faction.
Various circumstances combined to smooth, for the time, the waters on which Lord Elgin had embarked. The state of political parties was favourable; for the old Tories of the British 'Family Compact' party were in good humour, being in enjoyment of the powers to which they claimed a prescriptive right, while the 'Liberals' of the Opposition were full of hope that the removal of Lord Metcalfe's disturbing influence would restore their proper preponderance. Something also was due to his own personal qualities. Whereas most of his immediate predecessors had been men advanced in years and enfeebled by ill-health, he was in the full enjoyment of vigorous youth—able, if need were, to work whole days at a stretch; to force his way through a Canadian snow-storm, if his presence was required at a public meeting; to make long and rapid journeys through the province, ever ready to receive an address, and give an impromptu reply. The papers soon began to remark on the 'geniality and affability of 'his demeanour.' 'He is daily,' they said, 'making new 'friends. He walks to church, attends public meetings, 'leads the cheering, and is, in fact, a man of the people.' Before long it was added, 'Our new governor is 'the most effective speaker in the province;' and, thanks to his foreign education, he was able to speak as readily and fluently to the French Canadians in French as to the English in English. Added to this, his recent marriage was a passport to the hearts of many in Canada, who looked back to the late Lord Durham as the apostle of their liberties, if not as a martyr in their cause.
[Sidenote: Provincial politics.]
But though the surface was smooth, there was much beneath to disquiet an observant governor. It was not only that the Ministry was so weak, and so conscious of its weakness, as to be incapable even of proposing any measures of importance. This evil might be remedied by a change of administration. But there was no real political life; only that pale and distorted reflection of it which is apt to exist in a colony before it has learned 'to look within itself for the centre of power.' Parties formed themselves, not on broad issues of principle, but with reference to petty local and personal interests; and when they sought the support of a more widespread sentiment, they fell back on those antipathies of race, which it was the main object of every wise Governor to extinguish.