THERE’S a flash of crimson about Kingston. At any moment you may see a Gentleman Cadet with his cape upon his arm and his cane in his hand. Motors rush through the prim streets, but the stamp, stamp of horses, the champ, champ of bridles, the clamp of soldiers, suits Kingston best—and a ship at the end of a street.
I go about and wonder who lives here and there, for the atmosphere awakens interest and curiosity. Old French families, British officers, men of letters and politicians have dwelt in this ancient seigneurie of Cataraqui, and traces of them persist.
Alwington House, lovely as I saw it set in a midsummer garden, was built by the fourth Baron Le Moyne, which links it with the ancestral fortress castle at Longueuil and with Alwington Manor on the Saint John river.
This Le Moyne was a Grant. His father, a Scotch captain, married Carolina de Longueuil. She became a baroness in her own right at her father’s death. In 1841, Alwington was the residence of three Governors-General. To two of them, it was an ill-fated house. Near its gates, Lord Sydenham’s horse swerved, and he died as a result of the fall. Sir Charles Bagot, who succeeded him, also died at [page 117] Alwington. He was followed by Sir Charles Metcalfe, who resided there until the seat of Government was moved to Montreal.
The Longueuil estate was really on Wolfe Island, which lies like a gold-green shoal at the point where the St. Lawrence flows out of Lake Ontario. This island was an Indian haunt centuries ago. Dark faces had peered out at stray white men who came up and down the river, long before Frontenace arrived at the wooden fort on the Cataraqui. France and England both craved its fertile meadowlands, hence Wolfe’s name for an old French holding.
Carolina Grant, Baroness de Longueil, lived here for years in a small house which is now used as a summer cottage. Her daughter, who had married an Irish clergyman of a literary turn, the Rev. Antisel Allan, built Ardath, a lovely limestone house, going almost sheer down to the water. People remember it in its zenith as “a dream of beauty.” There were terraced gardens and roses in summer, and great hearth fires in winter where men of letters travelling this way always received a welcome. The son of the house was a well-known novelist, Grant Allan.
On Rideau Street East, stands the house in which Sir John A. Macdonald spent most of his boyhood; and nearly opposite, across the river, is the little abode once occupied by Molly Brant, the sister of the Mohawk Chief. And there is the house where [page 118] Tom Moore boarded, and where Charles Sangster lived; but these are not easy to find. “The little, loyal rectory” of the Stuarts is linked with the story of Dundurn, linked with the manor house of the de Gaspés at St. Jean Port Joli, and with many families who are vital to the life of Canada.
In 1870 the late Sir Richard Cartwright built a pretty summer residence on the site of an old grant given to his grandfather by George III for service [page 119] to the state. It is a rocky point jutting into the St. Lawrence, but in spite of its arid soil it is well wooded. Hundreds of men were employed by Sir Richard to turn it into a small estate.
Miss A. M. Going, of Kingston, relates the story of “one of the oldest cab drivers”, who told a member of the Cartwright family that when he was young he often took Sir Richard down to see how the work was progressing, and once saw the workmen roasting a sheep whole for their dinner.
Here are lake views and tall pine trees, and a screen of maples from which the house takes its name. It is a place which so successfully evades the passerby that it might be called Hidden House.
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And about ten miles from Kingston, motorists travelling westward on the old Indian Trail, which skirts the northern shore of the Bay of Quinte to the Carrying Place, must pass one of the most interesting of the Loyalist houses to be seen in Ontario—The White House, the home of the Fairfield family for five generations. There is something of the south about the lovely old place, white painted, vine-hung, not at all venerable in appearance despite the fact that it is the first two-storey house and the oldest of its size in Ontario still retained by the family who built it.
The Fairfields, of English descent, came up from [page 120] Vermont with the Michael Grass expedition of Loyalists. The brought with them negro slaves, and lived in log huts until they could build the “big house.” Months were spent in its erection, for it was intended to resist time and weather. Its thick brick walls, the deep basement and huge chimneys were protected by wood. The wide centre hall, and winding staircase with banisters of black walnut and mahogany, the hard oak floors and windows set just in the right places—all speak of care and comfort and beauty. And when at last, in 1793, the house was completed, records show that “from far and near came the United Empire Loyalists over the corduroy roads, or blazing a trail through the unbroken forest” to a house warming, where wine flowed like water and great roasts were cooked before the huge fireplace which took an eight foot back log. The log was placed with a chain fastened to a team of oxen outside the window. They pulled it slowly while men guided the log across the floor to its place at the back of the hearth. [page 121]
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