At once it became a haven for the distressed. No sooner was it opened than a great strike in one of the largest textile factories of Tokyo threw hundreds of girls out of work. Over a hundred of them banded together for mutual help and came to Macdonald San to ask if they might use her settlement house for their meetings. She gave them a warm welcome and from those meetings grew her famous night schools. She established evening classes with competent teachers for factory girls; and not only in the “House of Friendliness,” but in four other factory districts of the city night schools were opened for these little girls to whom all advantages were closed.
And now every moment of Caroline’s life was crowded with labors of love: visiting the prisons, succoring the families of men condemned to death, toiling to get better wages and shorter hours for the oppressed little girls of her night classes, — it seemed as if she never rested. No wonder the people she served gave her such a beautiful name.
“Do you happen to know Miss Caroline Macdonald?” a Canadian gentleman asked of a Japanese student at Toronto University.
“Macdonald San!” The young man’s face became radiant. Of course he knew her. Who didn’t? “Why, we call her the White Angel of Tokyo!” he cried.
And indeed it must have seemed to the throngs of hungry and despairing and friendless folk who came to her for help, and were never turned away that angel wings hovered over those hospitable portals of the House of Friendliness, for they always found them open.
“Aren’t you going to lock up, Carrie?” asked a nervous Canadian visitor one night as they prepared to retire with doors and windows all left unfastened.
“Well, what would be the use?” Carrie asked, laughing. “There are five burglars in bed upstairs right now, and we would only be locking them in. No, the doors of the House of Friendliness are never locked.”
Even the Japanese Government came to recognize her great influence. It was borne in upon the authorities that behind this bright, laughing, fun-loving little Canadian girl of the “House of Friendliness” was a strong force making for righteousness and law and order. Honors poured upon her from a grateful people. She was decorated by the Emperor, a signal honor for a foreigner. In recognition of her prison work the Department of Justice presented her with an exquisite gold cup bearing the Imperial crest, a golden chrysanthemum. And when the present Emperor was crowned a silver cup was sent to each of six foreigners, “For distinguished service” and one of the six came to the little lady of the “House of Friendliness.”
Her native land rejoiced in her honors and a cable of congratulation was sent through Lord Willingdon, the Governor General. It was her homecoming year soon after this and her Alma Mater, Toronto University, seized the opportunity to do her honor. So far no woman had ever received the title of LL.D. from this university; it was conferred upon Caroline Macdonald, and surely no graduate had ever brought higher honor to her college.
The visit home had to be shortened this time for the Labor Delegate from Japan to the International Labor Conference in Geneva asked that she be sent to accompany him to act as interpreter and advisor. The little climber of the old Ontario school days had surely reached great heights!
And then when she was established once more at the head of the “House of Friendliness,” and all her blessed work was going forward and upward, there came a new call; this one a summons to far unknown heights. It seemed when she came home to her dear ones in Canada, apparently smitten with an incurable disease, that she could not possibly be spared, that she must get better. How could the scores of despairing men in prisons, the hundreds of friendless little girls in dreary factories, and all the other needy folk who clamored daily at the door of the “House of Friendliness,” face their desperate problems without her? But this illness was not one of the difficulties over which she could climb with a gay laugh as she had always done. And so, one summer day, in London, Canada, surrounded by her devoted family, the White Angel of Tokyo took her flight to join that radiant throng that are always “before the throne of God and serve Him day and night in His Temple.”
In Caroline’s London home, where a brother, a sister and a silver-haired mother guard lovingly the many trophies of her glorious life, there stands a large cabinet filled with gifts from Japanese friends and admirers. Conspicuous among them is a tall, exquisitively wrought silver vase, sent, shortly before her death by the Japanese Government through the Canadian Government as a “Sick bed gift.” It stands in the centre of a collection of rare works of Japanese art outshining them all in its lovely soft radiance. Over its gleaming surface is traced the Imperial crest: — the Golden Chrysanthemum again. In its shining perfection this beautiful thing seems a type of Caroline Macdonald’s lovely selfless life, that radiant life of love and laughter that brought beauty and joy where ever it went. And it too was stamped with a golden royal emblem — the shining Crest of the King of Kings.
CHAPTER XI. A LOYAL PIONEER OF THE WEST: ELIZABETH LOUISE MAIR
Elizabeth MAIR was a prisoner in Fort Garry. She had begged her rough, half-breed gaolers to allow her to join her husband, who was also imprisoned, but they were obdurate in their refusal. Only twice, during the weeks she was detained there, did she have an opportunity of speaking with him.
It was on the second meeting of these two, who had been so rudely separated on their return from their honeymoon trip, that Charles Mair told his wife how Louis Riel had marked him for death and had told him he was to be shot.
“To be shot,” gasped Mrs. Mair. “Oh, it cannot be true!”
“Yes,” was the reply, “that is his intention, and I believe he will carry it out if I do not make my escape first.”
This was dreadful news to the young bride but she knew the character of the men who were heading the rebellion and realized the truth of her husband’s statement.
“You,” he continued, “must leave before I get away. Riel will keep you as a hostage for me if I am successful.”
There was, among the loyalists in Winnipeg, a family upon whose friendship and fidelity the Mairs knew they could depend, so, in their need, they turned to Mr and Mrs. Drever who did their best to obtain Mrs. Mair’s release from prison. Finally they were granted permission to have her reside with them in their home.
One night, not long after her removal from Fort Garry, Mrs. Mair was startled by her husband’s appearance at the Drever’s house. She ran to greet him, questioning how he had managed to escape.
“We filed one of the window bars,” he told her, as he warmed his chilled fingers, “and when the guard was being changed at midnight several of us got away.”
There was only a small opening between the bars and a man could not wiggle through without help. One by one the prisoners had been shoved and pushed by their companions until they had scraped through, falling headlong on to the snow beneath. There was a picket loose in the stockade and this gap was the goal of the fugitives as soon as they picked themselves up.
Charles Mair had been the third to make the attempt and when he had left the walls of the fort behind him he headed for Main Street, and Clover Cottage, the home of the Drevers. This was a risky thing to do but it was a bitterly cold night in January and few were abroad at that hour. Everyone who could had sought shelter and the warmth of the firesides and none heeded the solitary figure that, coatless and hatless, rushed along the deserted street.
Quickly he donned the overcoat, cap and mittens brought him. There was no time to lose. Already lights were bobbing up and down at Fort Garry, indicating that the flight of the prisoners had been discovered. Any minute the pursuers might be on his track and he must be away before they came to search Clover Cottage. He took an affectionate farewell of his wife and hurried out. Mr. Drever had supplied him with a horse and sled and during the intense cold of the winter night he drove and drove until he reached the loyal settlement of Portage la Prairie, some sixty miles away.
When he arrived at the Portage he found the men there planning an expedition against Fort Garr
y. At once he attached himself to this party and when they set out for Red River he was one of their number.
Unfortunately a terrible blizzard, such as occasionally visits the prairies, broke suddenly upon them and for three or four days they were obliged to remain in the Headingly Mission church. They went on, as soon as walking was possible, but the expedition was not successful owing to a chain of circumstances that proved disastrous.
Mair and four others did not wait while the rest of the Portage party, tired out with the trip, were having a sleep before setting out on the return journey, but started at once. At first, as they had no snowshoes, they took turns in breaking the trail but they managed to secure these valuable assets to winter travel at Headingly and reached their destination safely. The remainder of the party, trusting to the good faith of the rebels who invited them to come into Fort Garry for a parley, were disarmed and imprisoned.
Elizabeth Louise MacKenney, since leaving her home in Amherstburg, Ontario, to go with her aunt and uncle, Dr and Mrs. Schultz, for a visit to Manitoba, had had an eventful year. She had met Charles Mair, an officer in the employ of the Canadian government, and the previous September they had been married. When they began their honeymoon trip from Winnipeg to St. Paul they little knew what dangers the near future held for them.
The first intimation they had of impending trouble was at Pembina where one of the party, Hon. William McDougall, recently appointed governor of Manitoba, was stopped by order of Louis Riel who, heading an uprising of Metis and Irish-Yankee Fenians, was in control of Fort Garry.
The Mairs had been permitted to leave Pembina but were arrested and detained four days at St. Norbert. At the end of that time they were released and continued their journey to Winnipeg where they found the rebels in command.
Loyal Canadians could not stay with folded arms and do nothing while the half-breeds revolted against law and constituted authority. Seventy loyalists gathered in Dr. Schultz’s house and held it against the rebels until the supply of food gave out and they were forced to surrender. Imprisonment in Fort Garry followed. Once Mrs. Mair had tried to get away but was brought back by the half-breed guards. It was only after persistent urging by Mrs. Drever that Riel had given permission for her to leave the fort. It was fortunate for her that her friends had been able to effect her liberty before her husband escaped from his cell.
Mair’s first thought, after his return from the ill-fated expedition, was how to bring his wife to a place of safety. It was dangerous for her to remain at Red River because Riel, if he knew of her whereabouts, would likely vent his venom at Mair on her innocent head.
She could not walk the sixty miles that lay between Winnipeg and Portage la Prairie. Some sort of conveyance must be found so Mair got the fastest team of horses that could be procured and sent them with a driver to Red River.
The next difficulty was for Elizabeth Mair to leave her place of hiding and avail herself of this means of escape. A woman would, most certainly, be stopped by Riel’s guards and her identity then be ascertained.
How could she disguise herself? After much thought she decided to dress as a man in the costume of the Metis — capote, sash and cap. Thus accoutred she passed the rebel outposts, who saw nothing unusual in a half-breed leaving the confines of the village, and was swiftly driven to the Portage where she was reunited to her husband.
Shortly after this Mr. Mair made up his mind to go back to Ontario. It was not feasible for Mrs. Mair to accompany him so she remained at Portage la Prairie while he and a companion set off by snow-shoe with two guides and two dog-trains.
When, not long after, Louis Riel sent men to the Portage to search for Mair they, of course, could not find him as he had already left on the adventurous trip across the Assiniboine River and over the vast, untrodden plains of Dakota and from there on until he reached Toronto. Not being able to apprehend their intended victim the rebels were going to take Mrs. Mair as prisoner instead. She was in great peril and if it had not been for the clever manœuvering of a friend, Mrs. Henry George, they would have carried out their base design. Happily she was safely concealed in her friend’s home and this scheme was frustrated. Elizabeth Mair did not have to go again to Fort Garry as their prisoner.
She did, however, return to Winnipeg in March of that same year, because there were certain papers of her husband’s that had been lost and she wished to look for them. It took a good deal of courage for her voluntarily to enter the district controlled by Louis Riel and his followers but Elizabeth Mair was not one to be turned aside, by fear of consequences, from what she considered her duty.
The day she arrived at the Red River settlement, the fourth of March, was one never-to-be-forgotten by the little band of loyalists there. It was the day that Thomas Scott, that fearless patriot who had roundly denounced the actions of the rebels, was shot by Riel’s order.
During this visit to Winnipeg Mrs. Mair’s daughter, Maude Louise, was born, the first baby in the Red River district after the passing of the Manitoba Act, whose parents were Canadians of British birth.
The papers and manuscripts belonging to Charles Mair were never found, in spite of all her efforts. This was a great disappointment since among them were manuscripts in the original which had been ready for publication.
Elizabeth Louise MacKenney was born in Amherstburg, Ontario, and received her education in that town. In 1862 her father, Augustus MacKenney, went to Manitoba, taking his family with him.
This was the year of the noted Sioux massacre in Minnesota and travelling was extremely hazardous owing to the ferocity of the Sioux Indians. The MacKenneys’ route to Manitoba took them through part of Minnesota and here the party had many thrilling experiences. The travellers, with true bravery, met each fresh danger with resource and courage. The young girl never forgot that journey and the intrepid spirit that never failed her in later years may well have been engendered during those weeks as she watched the dauntless men and women face the dangers of the trail.
When Mr. MacKenney’s health failed, after a few years, and he was obliged to give up the fur trade in which he was engaged, Elizabeth Louise went with him on his return to Ontario. However, soon after, she once more made the trip to the West, this time with her aunt and uncle and it was then she met, and subsequently married, Charles Mair.
After the Rebellion was quelled Mr and Mrs. Mair lived for five years at Portage la Prairie where Mr. Mair conducted a general business combined with the fur trade. In 1877 they moved to Prince Albert, remaining there until 1882 when they settled for a while in Windsor, in which place the poet wrote his famous poem, Tecumseh. They stayed in Ontario until after Louis Riel had been executed, then they returned to Prince Albert.
Elizabeth Mair was one of the pioneer women of the West. Her experiences, day by day, were such as were common to the lot of the brave women of that time. Heroism, courage, endurance, resourcefulness and a cheerful spirit were characteristics of those fearless men and women who carried their lives and their fortunes in their hands as they travelled through sparsely settled country to make homes for themselves in the newly opened land of the West.
She began an account of the early settlement of Red River and her pioneer life and these memoirs were to have been published when finished. What fascinating tales of adventure she could have related and how interesting would have been the story of a woman in the stirring years of the beginnings of the West. Unfortunately, her death in Victoria, B. C., intervened and the manuscript was never completed.
CHAPTER XII. CARING FOR INDIANS: ANNA J. GAUDIN
EARLY one morning, before Anna Gaudin had eaten her breakfast, two Cree women came to the door, the older carrying a month-old baby.
“Very sick,” said the young mother, pointing to the babe.
“Very sick,” echoed the grandmother, “him die.”
Breakfast was forgotten while Mrs. Gaudin made preparations to give the sick child a hot bath. Then, after dressing the baby in clean clothes from her own diminished stor
e, she applied suitable remedies. The grandmother and mother had implicit faith in the white woman or they would not have come to her in their need. The Crees used to say, “White man’s medicine for white man and Indian medicine for Indians.” The bath was considered by the superstitious natives as most undesirable, especially in illness, and many believed death would be the certain result. However, Indian medicine failed in most cases and the people turned for aid to the Mission House.
Once a sick child was brought for whom the medicine man, an uncle of the mother, had done all he could. He had put up a conjuring tent inside the dwelling and had repeated incantation after incantation. In spite of these charms the patient had grown steadily worse and at last, in despair, the father and mother sent for Mrs. Gaudin. Under her care the child improved and ultimately recovered.
For many years after Anna Gaudin went to Nelson House as a bride she did not see another white woman. Mr and Mrs. Gaudin lived at this isolated post of the Hudson’s Bay Company, in the unsettled part of Canada far north of Winnipeg, in a log house with Cree Indians as neighbors.
At that time the nearest doctor was in Winnipeg, a distance of six hundred and fifty miles; as Mrs. Gaudin was a trained nurse the medical work over an extensive area fell to her lot. The Indian homes were unsanitary and dirty and there was no hospital where patients could be attended so the missionary and his wife took into their home as many as they could accommodate, or more.
When Mrs. Gaudin’s eldest daughter was born the Indians were greatly interested in the first white child in that part of the country. A Hudson’s Bay brigade, on its way southward, asked permission to visit the little two-day old baby. “Little Irene was duly enthroned on pillows on the dining-room table, and two score, dusky Indians filed past, in their bare feet, some reverently pressing their lips to the little pink hands and feet.”
The Complete Works of L M Montgomery Page 780