Lady Sarah Maitland herself cannot be called a fixed member of society here, but having been for so long a time a resident, it seems now, in the retrospect, as if she had been really a development of the place. Her distinguished style, native to herself, had its effect on her contemporaries of the gentler sex in these parts. Mrs. Dunn, also, and Mrs. Wells, may likewise be named as special models of grace and elegance in person and manner. In this all-influential portion of the community, a tone and air that were good prevailed widely from the earliest period.
It soon became a practice with the military, and other temporary sojourners attached to the Government, to select partners for life from the families of York. Hence it has happened that, to this day, in England, Ireland and Scotland, and in the Dependencies of the Empire on the other side of the globe, many are the households that rise up and call a daughter of Canada blessed as their maternal head.
Local aspirants to the holy estate were thus unhappily, now and then, to their great disgust, baulked of their first choice. But a residue was always left, sufficient for the supply of the ordinary demand, and manifold were the interlacings of local connections; a fact in which there is nothing surprising and nothing to be condemned: it was from political considerations alone that such affinities came afterwards to be referred to, in some quarters, with bitterness.
Occasionally, indeed, a fastidious young man, or a disappointed widower, would make a selection in parts remote from the home circle, quite unnecessarily. We recall especially to mind the sensible emotion in the congregation on the first advent amongst them of a fair bride from Montreal, the then Paris of Canada; and several lesser excitements of the same class, on the appearance in their midst of aerial veils and orange blossoms from Lobo, from New York, from distant England. Once the selection of a "helpmeet" from a rival religious communion, in the town of York itself, led to the defection from the flock of a prominent member; an occurrence that led also to the publication of two polemical pamphlets, which made a momentary stir; one of them a declamation by a French bishop; the other, a review of the same, by the pastor of the abandoned flock.
The strictures on the intelligence and moral feeling of the feminine, as well as the masculine portion of society at York, delivered by such world-experienced writers as Mrs. Jameson, and such enlightened critics as were two or three of the later Governors' wives, may have been just in the abstract, to a certain extent, as from the point of view of old communities in England and Germany; but they were unfair as from the point of view of persons calmly reviewing all the circumstances of the case. Here again the maxim applies: Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner.
We have said that the long pew on the west side of the Governor's seat was allotted to the military. In this compartment we remember often scanning with interest the countenance and form of a youthful and delicate-looking ensign, simply because he bore, hereditarily, a name and title all complete, distinguished in the annals of science two centuries ago—the Hon. Robert Boyle: he was one of the aides-de-camp of Sir Peregrine Maitland. Here, also, was to be seen, for a time, a Major Browne, a brother of the formerly popular poetess, Mrs. Hemans. Here, too, sat a Zachary Mudge, another hereditary name complete, distinguished in the scientific annals of Devonshire. He was an officer of Artillery, and one of Sir John Colborne's aides-de-camp; for some unexplained reason he committed suicide at York, and his remains were deposited in the old military burying-ground. In this pew familiar forms were also—Major Powell, Capt. Grubbe, Major Hillier, Capt. Blois, Capt, Phillpotts, brother of the Bishop.
The compartment on the east side of the Governor's pew, was as we have said, appointed for the use of the members of the Legislature, when in session. Here at certain periods, generally in mid-winter, were to be observed all the political notabilities of the day; for at the period we are glancing at, non-conformists as well as conformists were to be seen assisting, now and again, at public worship in St. James' Church.
In their places here the outward presentments of Col. Nichol (killed by driving over the precipice at Queenston), of Mr. Homer (a Benjamin Franklin style of countenance), of Dr. Lefferty, of Hamnet Pinhey, of Mahlon Burwell, of Absalom Shade, of other owners of old Canadian names, are well remembered. The spare, slender figure of Mr. Speaker Sherwood, afterwards a judge of the King's Bench, was noticeable. Mr. Chisholm, of Oakville, used facetiously to object to the clause in the Litany where "heresy and schism" are deprecated, it so happening that the last term was usually, by a Scotticism, read "Chisholm." Up to the Parliamentary pew we have seen Mr. William Lyon McKenzie himself hurriedly make his way, with an air of great animation, and take his seat, to the visible, but, of course, repressed disconcertment of several honourable members, and others.
Altogether, it was a very complete little world, this assemblage within the walls of the old wooden church at York. There were present, so to speak, king, lords, and commons; gentle and simple in due proportion, with their wives and little ones; judges, magistrates and gentry; representatives of governmental departments, with their employés; legislators, merchants, tradespeople, handicraftsmen; soldiers and sailors; a great variety of class and character.
All seemed to be in harmony, real or conventional, here; whatever feuds, family or political, actually subsisted, no very marked symptoms thereof could be discerned in this place. But the history of all was known, or supposed to be known, to each. The relationship of each to each was known, and how it was brought about. It was known to all how every little scar, every trivial mutilation or disfigurement, which chanced to be visible on the visage or limb of any one, was acquired, in the performance of what boyish freak, in the execution of what practical jest, in the excitement of what convivial or other occasion.