In 2008, the Historic Sites and Monuments Board of Canada selected Marie Marguerite Rose as a national historic person because of her unique role as a slave who managed to secure not only freedom, but also married a Native man and owned a business. Today the Fortress of Louisbourg is a popular national historic site in Nova Scotia, the largest reconstructed eighteenth-century French fortified town in North America. In 2009, Parks Canada launched a new Slavery Tour at the fortress — a tour that highlighted the historical significance of heroine Marie Marguerite Rose.
The Lady of Cataraqui
Madeleine de Roybon d’Allonne
circa 1646–1718
She became the first European woman in present-day Ontario to own land.
Madeleine de Roybon d’Allonne was among the more than 800 Filles du Roi shipped by Louis XIV as brides for the lonely men of New France. She was one of the few young women who didn’t marry in the colony,[1] presumably because she was romantically involved with a famous explorer. René-Robert Cavelier de La Salle, governor at Fort Frontenac and the man who claimed the Mississippi River basin for France, was murdered before they could marry.
Madeleine was born in France at Montargis. She was in Quebec by September 1678 when La Salle returned from a trip to France. Later that year she accompanied him to Fort Frontenac (now Kingston). Their love affair endured through his many trips and sent rumours flying as far as France.
Madeleine loaned La Salle 2,141 livres on August 24, 1681, to finance his explorations. As governor, he granted her a seigneury nearby at Cataraqui. Thirty-five-year-old Madeleine developed her property over the next six years, clearing the land, building a house and barns, acquiring farm animals, planting vegetables and grain, and establishing a trading post.
Madeleine de Roybon d’Allonne was among the Filles du Roi (Daughters of the King), depicted in this early-twentieth-century watercolour.
Library and Archives Canada/ Acc. No. 1996-371-1
After La Salle returned to the fort in 1683, Madeleine accompanied him to Quebec. He then sailed to France. Since he was still unable to pay back the loan, the adventurer signed a document ensuring that she would maintain possession of her house and property. She returned to Cataraqui, where she lived until receiving the shocking news that he’d been murdered in March 1687 during an expedition in Texas.
Throughout her years at Fort Frontenac, Madeleine witnessed the ongoing hostilities between the French and Iroquois. A few months after La Salle’s death, the commander at the fort, fearing Native attacks, pleaded with the seigneuress to seek safety at her home. She refused. More than 1,000 Iroquois warriors attacked the fort and a group of braves, led by Chief Black Kettle, descended on Madeleine’s land. They forced her to stand, wearing the chief’s headdress, on a stump and watch as they destroyed her home.
The Iroquois took Madeleine prisoner, transporting her to the village of Onondago (in New York). After nearly a year of captivity, she was finally freed thanks to negotiations by the English governor of New York. Mlle d’Allonne arrived safely in Montreal in July 1698. Now in her early fifties, she faced a life without the man she loved, the money she’d loaned, her land, and everything she’d worked so hard to build. She lived the remainder of her life in Montreal, despite repeated efforts to return to her seigneury.
After Montreal authorities challenged the legitimacy of her grant, the feisty lady (now sixty) set sail for France in 1706 to plead her case with the king. Though she returned to New France with a letter acknowledging her rights to the seigneury, the governor and intendant remained intent on keeping her out of business. She submitted an eloquent plea to the intendant in 1707, but he still refused to allow her to transport goods. Never giving up, Madeleine sent her final petition to France in 1717.
She died in Montreal in 1718 before receiving word that the Council of Marine in France had decided to grant her a pension. She was buried in an unmarked grave near the Notre-Dame de Montréal.
Madeleine de Roybon d’Allonne continues to be celebrated as an important figure in Franco-Ontarian heritage and the history of Kingston. A school was named after her, a provincial heritage sign recognizes her contributions to Ontario, and the former Township of Kingston’s coat of arms included her image. In 2009, officials at Fort Frontenac purchased a rare historic document that had turned up in New York — the deed by which La Salle had granted Madeleine her seigneury.
Quote:
“… she had started off with the intention of re-claiming her establishment, which she was prevented from doing, and arrested, and her effects seized.… In her present fear and just apprehension in which she finds herself, she has recourse to you.”[2]
Kate Ryan with her nephews.
Yukon Archives, E.J. Hamacher collection ACC78/28 #55
The Other Klondike Kate
Katherine Ryan
1869–1932
Among the first women to tackle the all-Canadian route to the Klondike, she became a special constable for the North-West Mounted Police.
If you’ve heard of Klondike Kate, you’re probably thinking of the seductive dance hall girl entertaining miners in Dawson City — a notorious American performer called Kitty Rockwell.
Katherine Ryan, the other Klondike Kate, grew up in the Irish community of Johnville, New Brunswick, where she farmed potatoes with her siblings. When the boy who was courting her suddenly announced that his mother had convinced him to become a priest, Kate immediately revealed she, too, had plans. She would head west.
In 1897, Kate was working as a nurse in Vancouver when the city went wild with gold fever: news had arrived of a major gold strike in the Klondike. She decided to go north to seek her fortune, choosing an all-Canadian route. To meet government requirements to carry enough supplies for a year in the North, Kate used most of her savings to purchase the long list of food and gear from the Hudson’s Bay Company. In addition to provisions such as 150 pounds of bacon and 400 pounds of flour, she purchased work boots, a mackinaw, and a Winchester rifle.
Kate Ryan joined the gold seekers in 1898. One of the first women to tackle the rough Stikine Trail, she took a steamer to the port of Wrangell, Alaska. On discovering the many challenges getting herself and her supplies to the Canadian boundary, the solitary adventurer shrewdly arranged to travel with the North-West Mounted Police in return for cooking their meals.
By early spring 1898, Kate was back in Canada at Dewdney Camp, where the NWMP had an outpost and customs station for the stampeders hoping to travel through northern British Columbia to the Klondike. Alone again, she continued her journey up the frozen Stikine River by dogsled. But Kate and thousands of other eager prospectors were stranded when they reached Glenora. The promised wagon road, narrow-gauge railway, and steamboats that were to provide easy transportation to the Yukon were not ready.
When a town appeared overnight to serve about 3,000 stampeders, Kate used a $5 gold piece to buy space for a restaurant in a new hotel. The Glenora Restaurant, her first business, prospered in 1898. After a nearby gold strike practically emptied the settlement, Kate sold her business and moved to Telegraph Creek. She hit the Teslin Trail on horseback in the fall.
Nearly six feet tall and sturdy, Kate Ryan cut a striking figure as she and her pack train made their way along the Stikine River. The young woman wore a type of culotte skirt she’d modified for riding and her favourite straw hat, adorned with blue flowers. When she reached the shores of Teslin Lake to catch a steamer to the Yukon, there were no boats running. Faced with the dismal prospect of spending the winter there, Kate went to Atlin where she knew her friend Reverend John Pringle was camped.
Kate wintered in Atlin. In the spring of 1899, she was finally able to continue north. By the time she reached Caribou Crossing, her final trek into the tent city at Whitehorse, Yukon, was a breeze after her wilderness travels. She was ready to settle down and moved into a twelve-by-sixteen-foot cabin, one of the first wooden buildings in town.
Kate became a successful businesswoman and pro
minent community leader. She opened a popular restaurant called Klondike Kate’s Café and obtained a Free Miner’s License, earning money through claims and
Kate Ryan (second from left) at her restaurant in Glenora, 1898.
Courtesy of Yukon Archives, Anton Vogee fonds #27
investments in mines. In 1900, Kate became the first NWMP “woman special” to assist with female prisoners. She was later appointed a special constable to the NWMP, and was responsible for searching female passengers and their luggage to ensure no gold was smuggled out of the Yukon. Kate once found two large gold nuggets hidden in a lady’s chignon.
Kate was one of the first directors of the North Star Athletic Club, the meeting place for many social and sporting events in Whitehorse. The popular young lady befriended a quiet bank clerk who secretly wrote poetry. His name was Robert Service. Kate and other locals shared their gold rush stories with the aspiring writer. Occasionaly, Kate borrowed a typewriter so she could help him with his work.
The warm-hearted, affable, and efficient Kate also generously provided her nursing skills at no charge. During the First World War, she raised more money for the war effort than any other individual in the Yukon, and the prime minister sent her a letter of thanks. Kate was also a political activist with the Yukon Women’s Protective League, which demanded voting rights for women. She was a busy single parent and raised some of her nephews after their mother died. When Kate made a visit to her hometown in 1901, she was astounded to learn that people on the outside were fascinated by her exploits and knew her as Klondike Kate.
After several decades in the Yukon, she moved to Stewart, a small mining town on the coast of British Columbia. In 1922 Maclean’s interviewed her for a story they titled “The Woman Called Klondike Kate.” She died in 1932. Katherine “Klondike Kate” Ryan was buried in Vancouver. The RCMP provided an honour guard at her funeral, with the RCMP providing an honour guard in tribute to her service with the NWMP. In 1990, author T. Ann Brennan published a book about a woman she called The Real Klondike Kate.[1]
Quote:
“I gradually became more and more obsessed with the desire to live and have my being where things were made by God. In other words I had a hunger to make my abode where the works of Nature, and not that of man, abounded.”[2]
Catherine Schubert.
Image A-03081 courtesy of Royal BC Museum, BC Archives
Lady Overlander
Catherine Schubert
1835–1918
by Emily Zheng, Winner of the Dundurn essay contest for students
She walked across Canada, becoming the first European woman to enter British Columbia over land.
When the group of Overlanders first realized that a woman was coming on their journey, they were outraged. Shopkeepers, craftsmen, and merchants alike, they had all left their families behind to cross Canada. Their destination? The Cariboo, in search of gold.
This was no trip for any woman, let alone the three kids in tow. But Catherine Schubert was not just any woman. She was determined to accompany her husband, and keep the family together, no matter how far they had to go.
Catherine was no stranger to hard work. She was born in Ireland, the youngest of nine children. At sixteen, she sailed across the Atlantic to the United States. She worked as a maid until she met and married Augustus Schubert, a German carpenter, in 1855. Upon their marriage, Catherine opened a grocery store. However, an economic depression forced the family to move north. They settled in Fort Garry.
In 1858, miners discovered gold in Cariboo, British Columbia. A pack of gold-seeking men were bent on following the overland route to the West. Augustus Schubert decided to join them. Catherine refused to be left behind.
Many of the men, who were initially shocked that a woman was coming along, eventually warmed to Catherine. Her hard work, determination, and loving nature won them over. Plus, she provided a much-needed woman’s touch to the group of rough men.
Over the prairies, they walked on: hundreds of men and one woman. The hardships they faced were almost unimaginable. They had to carry months of provisions, as well as mining equipment. They camped out in the open air, rain or shine, and feared for their lives whenever a far-off howl could be heard. The sea of prairie seemed like it would never end.
However, the monotonous prairie was a vacation compared to what was about to cross the Overlanders’ path: the Rocky Mountains. The travellers had to leave their pack animals at the foot of the mountains, carrying only the essentials on their backs. They crept over treacherous tracks and floated down dangerous rivers. Some men were lost to the elements. It’s hard to picture how Catherine could have done it, holding onto three small children.
When the team of Overlanders decided to split up upon entering British Columbia, the Schuberts joined the group going down the Thompson River. It was safer than the Fraser. This proved to be a wise choice, because they had a secret. Catherine was pregnant. She was already in her fourth month when they set out from Fort Garry, thinking that the baby wouldn’t come until they reached the Cariboo. However, the journey had taken longer than anticipated.
Catherine went into labour while riding a raft down the Thompson River. Once ashore, she successfully delivered a baby girl. The Schuberts called their baby Rose. She was the first girl of European heritage to be born within British Columbia.
The Schuberts eventually made it to the gold rush. Augustus never struck it rich, though. In 1881, he gave up hopes of gold. Instead, the family bought a farm in their newfound homeland and prospered there. Catherine had two more children.
Augustus died in 1908. His widow moved to Armstrong, British Columbia. She was an important part of the community there until her death in 1918.
Catherine Schubert had accomplished something great, and her name is forever etched in the books of history. But it was not her exceptional courage or wit that got her there. It was simply determination, endurance, and the ultimate love for her family.
May Sexton.
Courtesy of Dalhousie University
A Foremother of Equality
May Sexton
1880–1923
How could it be such a big deal to demand technical education for women? She wasn't seeking their right to become engineers or scientists — just classes to learn sewing and home economics.
New Brunswick–born May Best belonged to the class of 1902, receiving a B.Sc. from the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology. A student of “striking intellectual ability,”[1] she graduated with high honours in chemistry and began working as a researcher at General Electric in Schenectady, New York.
If she had aspirations of a scientific career, May’s hopes and dreams died with her. Aside from one blurry photograph printed in her obituary, all her personal papers, photos, and memorabilia seem to have been destroyed.[2] The life of May Best Sexton — prominent social activist, feminist, and war worker — can only be pieced together from public sources.
Edna May Williston Best was born in Shediac, New Brunswick, in 1880. After her father died, she moved to Boston in 1892 with her sister and mother. After graduating from high school in Boston, May enrolled at MIT, where she began dating an American student, Frederic H. Sexton. They married on her twenty-fourth birthday, and soon moved to Halifax where he’d accepted a position teaching mining engineering and metallurgy at Dalhousie University.
In 1907, Frederic Sexton received an appointment as founding principal of the Nova Scotia Technical College and became director of technical education for the province. May’s career took second fiddle. She gave birth to their son, Whitney, in 1906, and daughter, Helen, in 1908. Devoted to improving women’s lives, she became active in many organizations in Halifax, including the Ladies Music Club, Local Council of Women, Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire, Red Cross, Nova Scotia Equal Franchise League, and Halifax Playgrounds Commission.
Recognized as “a born leader, magnetic, full of enthusiasm in all good,”[3] May was skilled at project management,
fundraising, and public advocacy. She gave presentations to legislators, delivered lectures, and wrote newspaper articles. May also worked for improvements to public health, care of the mentally handicapped, inclusion of “edifying moving pictures” in schools,[4] classes on food preparation and nutrition, the enfranchisement of women, and their right to sit on school boards.
She challenged male legislators who saw no need to include women:
Frankly, we think it partakes of the nonsensical for women to claim that there are any points, hygenic or otherwise, connected with the management of children in schools which the men of the Board … cannot understand and appreciate as well as these would-be lady members.[5]
One of May’s major preoccupations was technical training for women, including establishing an industrial school. She lobbied unsuccessfully for a facility that would enable females to enter the workforce as dressmakers, seamstresses, milliners, and domestics. However, a few classes were introduced in Halifax to educate women in various trades. During May’s lifetime, the notion of women in fields such as engineering was a distant possibility at the Technical College, where it was not until 1958 that a woman graduated (in chemical engineering).
At the outbreak of the First World War, she proposed a province-wide agency to coordinate the provision of hospital supplies by the Red Cross. As chair of the work committee, May supervised work parties where women assembled and packaged everything from surgical dressings and bandages to pneumonia jackets. Articulate and charming, she gave patriotic lectures throughout the province to finance the Red Cross initiatives — and made a significant contribution to raising $1 million.
100 More Canadian Heroines Page 25
