The genesis of the Rideau Canal: A poem by John Morrison.
The Rideau Canal
The curtain does fall so majestic and proud
Such a natural wonder, so gracious a shroud
As if a powerful train of glory descends
As a continuous fall at the Outaouais end
A fire alights from the south it did spread
To the north like a plague through its heart it has bled
With a mawkish like cry for freedom and joy
But freedom’s best chance was a fraudulent ploy
From a flicker of flame to a firestorm bred
Death escalates through a life cycle of dread
And taming this shrew with its penchant for blood
Was a foolish man’s bait for poor Madison’s club
Yet the fire would spread in its harrowing scene
From a spark it would roar with a devilish scream
From Niagara on east, to a Forty Mile Creek
To a nondescript farm and a Chateauguay sneak
From Queenstown to Lundy, Detroit and the Thames
The Boxer and Enterprise, surrender of Maine
Through Ohio and Plattsburg, to a Moravian town
The war it did rage for Miss Liberty’s crown
Cities would fall and the towns they would burn
First Newark then York; it was Washington’s turn
War’s firebrand eyes thrust farther to yield
And finally burn in an Orleans field
What came but a draw in this foolish man’s quest
For power and glory are such meaningless guests
Whatever the gain from the lives that were lost
For the hawkish bent men who lied at great cost
And the curtain still fell, so majestic and proud
As if sensing the chaos, so soothing its sound
Like the rapturous strains of a torrent, transcends
To emerge as a call at the Outaouais end
***
The years fell away and the anger did wane
Rush-Baggot had calmed such a petulant strain
An American age brought prosperity’s peace
As a confidant pace of change was unleashed
But the land to the north so upright and proud
Was paranoid still to the south’s freedom sound
A country that cried for security’s calm
Yet stands all alone ‘gainst a threatening psalm
But this land full of lakes and rivers and streams
Was a natural course for a military dream
For fear set in stride a magnificent quest
To build a canal that was strategically blessed
While the mighty St Laurence was a natural draw
It was fraught with real danger from its rapid rock falls
And upstream it ran from a thunderous roar
Too close to the south with its threatening core
And the Ottawa ran to St Laurence’s call
To strike from the north and a western landfall
An historical route that opened the west
Where the traders would meet at the curtain for rest
Yet two rivers did run from a common high ground
To the south and the north from Lake Rideau their sound
From the shallows and falls through the marshes and swamps
From King’s town to Wright’s town, two rivers as one
To build a canal through this wilderness screams
Of a madness and curse of the military’s dream
A task so immense, so daunting and brash
That only the British could fathom this task
But the British did find a man of the Corp
A Wellington man from the Peninsular War
A man who had held the Canadian Shield
So right for this task with indefatigable zeal
John By was a Colonel and a leader of men
Ahead of his time and a genius, well bred
An engineer’s man with a passionate streak
For simplicity’s beauty with its functional speak
With orders to build a navigable course
From the Outaouais south to St Laurence’s source
To rise from a bay named the Entrance – way crept
Up flight after flight, like some nautical step
A plan was developed and contracts were signed
Engineering so simple with symmetrical lines
Pure genius at work with a heavenly hand
To guide and instruct a magnanimous man
With Drummond and Redpath, Phillips, MacKay
Canadian contractors, strong men of their day
These artists of stone were men of their word
So forthright and loyal to the Colonel’s accord
The sappers and miners and mason’s stones lay
Stonecutters and woodmen, all of the trades
For comfort, their spirit; their love of the crown
Romantic and colourful, these men of the realm
But the marvelous work that was soon to unfold
Was dependent upon the poor labourer’s code
The back wrenching work to clear out the land
And dig such a ditch with just spades in their hands
Such men from hard times, forever were cursed
To fight for survival and work through their thirst
Through backbreaking strains as their calloused hands scream
As they toiled and they toiled for this military dream
The Frenchmen held sway with their skill and savvy
So noble these men and their role as navvies
Independent of mind with a will to succeed
Just pride in their work and their songs and their deeds
But an Irishman’s fate to arrive at this place
To rescue one’s life from some wretched like fate
The scourge of the earth in the Englishman’s eye
Forgotten at home, they severed all ties
For a pestilence spread to drive them afar
From an emerald isle to this devil’s back yard
Though beauty may rest on the eye from beyond
A hellish nightmare was reality’s song
Just rags on their backs with their wives by their side
With children so weak from starvation and pride
A thousand would fall from a dengueish like hue
And die from this work’s laborious flu
Poor brothers would cry as their graves had been marked
So blind to the danger and the peril from sparks
As the powder was set with a magical link
Their lives were extinguished from the death blast’s cruel drink
And the lakes and the streams, swift water, rock falls
Were captured and tamed by this engineer’s call
Magnificent feats what By had achieved
In this harsh, hellish wilderness was hard to conceive
The entrance way blessed by a protestant prayer
The first stone was set by John Franklin with care
Not mindful as yet that his greatness was cast
To die in the north from the Arctic’s cold blast
The curse of Hog’s Back; an Isthmus scourge
The tranquility of Chaffey’s; Long Island was purged
At Burritt’s and Black, these rapids were tamed
And Merrickville’s beauty, a religious refrain
With names like Poonamalie, with its cedar incense
An Indian aura in a wilderness sense
Opinicon’s names and a Cranberry fog
The curse of the labourer to die in this bog
The dam at the falls known locally as Jones
Is a testament still to its magnificent stone
Block upon block in a crescent like stance
Like a rampart of genius or an engineer’s dance
The work underway, six years to progress
The locks were completed and the dams were well dressed
Through steamy hot summers, through sweat and death’s fear
Through winter’s ice jams; hell’s nightmare those years
The locks and the dams, wastewater and weirs
The cut at the entrance, eight steps to the piers
The breadth of this work remains unfathomable, sealed
As a masterpiece set in the Canadian Shield
***
The threat from the south was all but contained
For the status quo boundary was all that was gained
From the firestorm set in those years long ago
Extinguished for good as a friendship would grow
Poor tragedy’s mark on this cornerstone lay
On the heart of a man who held the Rideau at bay
Called back by a King who questioned his deed
A question of funds from some zealot to heed
An inquiry would set the tone through the years
To diminish By’s feats; he was ignored by his peers
His spirit would die from his countrymen’s chill
And not from the bog or the Isthmus ills
Yet his legacy flows for our nation to see
A wonderment still, a magnificent deed
To balance such beauty with a functional stream
Through a Canadian wilderness with just minimal means
But the jewel in the crown of this engineer’s quest
Was not the canal or his technical best
For a town had been born in the Outaouais scene
In this land full of lakes and rivers and streams
By the Barracks Hill shanty near the Sapper’s stone bend
A magnificent tower of peace would ascend
From a lower town swamp to an upper town’s view
A great city would grow with great values imbued
For this capital’s crown of achievement remains
From the peaceful green flow of the Rideau, contained
The seeds of a city and a national theme
To build a great country with the freedom to dream
And the curtain still falls, so majestic and proud
Like a sentinel’s call or a passionate bow
For the genius who toiled on the Outaouais scene
And left such a mark with this beautiful stream
Copyright John Morrison 2005
This song by the recently passed Canadian musical icon, Gordon Lightfoot, tells the tail of another national project that became the lifeline and foundation of the modern Canadian nation.
Kurofune and other books I have written. Good reads with great reviews.
Check them out at: www.johnmorrisonauthor.com of click on the links at the top of this page.
