In Bernardo Bertolucci’s film, The Sheltering Sky, Kit and Port Moresby travel from New York to northern Africa, hoping to save their failing marriage. With a friend, George Tunner, they arrive at Tangier in 1947.

Port, Kit, and Tunner disembark. [1]

1. 1. TUNNER. We’re probably the first tourists they’ve had since the war.
      

   2. KIT. Tunner, we’re not tourists: we’re travellers.
      

   3. TUNNER. Oh? What’s the difference?
      

   4. PORT. A tourist is someone who thinks about going home the moment they arrive . . .
      

   5. KIT. Whereas a traveller might not come back at all. [1]
      

2. Through the years Nova Scotia has been a destination of (or at least a transit point for) many seasoned travellers. By way of example, in the summer of 1856 Frederic S. Cozzens travelled from New York to Halifax on his way to Bermuda for a convalescent holiday; apparently there were no direct connections to Bermuda from New York or Boston. Once in Halifax, “he discovered that his connecting boat for Bermuda had been cancelled. He decided to wait for the next sailing in a month’s time, and to spend the month in exploring this undiscovered province. Travel in Nova Scotia restored him to health and he returned to the States without visiting Bermuda.” [2, p. 24]
   

In 1859 Cozzens published a book on his travels in Nova Scotia. The following excerpt concerns a journey he made from Halifax to Louisbourg. He had been staying at the Hotel Waverley [3] and had just returned there from a day-trip to the Acadian community at Chezzetcook.

1. 1. “At the supper-table, while we were discussing, over the cheese and ale, the Chezzetcook settlement . . . there was a young English-Irish gentleman, well built, well featured, well educated: by name––I shall call him Picton. . . .
      

   2. “At eleven o’clock the gas is turned off at Hotel Waverley. We went to bed, and renewed the acquaintance at breakfast. Picton had travelled over-land from Montreal to take the Canada for Liverpool, and had arrived too late. Picton had nearly a fortnight before him in which to anticipate the next steamer. Picton was terribly bored with Halifax. Picton wanted to go somewhere––where?––”he did not care where.” The consequence was a consultation upon the best disposal of a fortnight of waste time, a general survey of the maritime craft of Halifax, the selection of the schooner Balaklava, bound for Sydney in ballast, and an understanding with the captain, that the old French town of Louisburgh was the point we wished to arrive at, into which harbor we expected to be put safely––three hundred and odd miles from Halifax, and this side of Sydney about sixty-two miles by sea, . . . and the result was, two berths in the Balaklava, several cans of preserved meats and soups, a hamper of ale, two bottles of Scotch whisky, a ramshackle, Halifax van for the luggage, a general shaking of hands at departure, and another set of white sails among the many white sails in the blue harbor of Chebucto. . . .
      

   3. “Picton was a traveller; anybody could see that he was a traveller, and if he had then been in any part of the habitable globe, in Scotland or Tartary, Peru or Pennsylvania, there would not have been the least doubt about the fact that he was a traveller travelling on his travels. He looked like a traveller, and was dressed like a traveller. He had a travelling-cap, a travelling-coat, a portable-desk, a life-preserver, a water-proof blanket, a travelling-shirt, a travelling green leather satchel strapped across his shoulder, a Minié-rifle, several trunks adorned with geographical railway labels of all colours and languages, cork-soled boots, a pocket-compass, and a hand-organ. As for the hand-organ, that was an accident in his outfit. The hand-organ was a present for a little boy on the other side of the ocean; but nevertheless, it played its part very pleasantly in the cabin of the Balaklava.” [4, pp. 69–71]
      

2. Cozzens and Picton landed at the great fortress of Louisbourg during a wild summer gale. Cozzens’ inspection of the ruins prompted these reflections.
   

1. “In the early part of the last century, just after the death of Louis XIV, these foundations were laid, and the town named in honour of the ruling monarch. Nova Scotia proper had been ceded, by recent treaty, to the filibusters of Old and New-England, but the ancient Island of Cape Breton still owed allegiance to the lilies of France. Among the beautiful and commodious harbours that indent the southern coast of the island, this one was selected as being most easy of access. . . .
   

2. “This cannon-studded harbour was the naval depot of France in America, the nucleus of its military power, the protector of its fisheries, the key of the gulf of St. Lawrence, the Sebastopol of the New World. . . .
   

3. “The first expedition against Louisburgh was only justifiable upon the ground that the wants of New England for additional territory were pressing, and immediate action, under the circumstances, indispensable. Levies of colonial troops were made, both in and out of the territories of the saints. The forces, however, actually employed came from Massachusetts, Connecticut and New Hampshire. . . . Governor Shirley [of Massachusetts] had a heart of lignum vitae, a rigid anti-papistical conscience, beetle brows, and an eye to the cod-fisheries. Higher authority than international law was pressed into the service. George Whitefield, then an itinerant preacher in New-England, furnished the necessary warrant for the expedition, by giving a motto for its banner: “Nil desperandum Christo duce”––Nothing is to be despaired of with Christ for leader. The command was, however, given to William Pepperel, a fish and shingle merchant of Maine. One of the chaplains of the filibusters carried a hatchet specially sharpened, to hew down the wooden images in the churches of Louisburgh. Everything that was needed to encourage and cheer the saints, was provided by Governor Shirley, especially a goodly store of New England rum, and the Rev. Samuel Moody, the lengthiest preacher in the colonies.” [4, pp. 104–108]
   

3. Louisbourg capitulated in June 1745 after six weeks of siege.
   

1. “In three years after its capture, Louisburgh was restored to the French by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle. Ten years after its restoration, a heavier armament, a greater fleet, a more numerous army, besieged its almost impregnable walls. Under Amherst, Boscawen and Wolfe, no less than twenty-three ships of war, eighteen frigates, sixteen thousand land forces, with a proportionable train of cannon and mortars, were arrayed against this fortress in the year 1758. . . .
   

2. “The siege continued for nearly two months. From June 8th until July 26th, the storm of iron and fire––of rocket, shot and shell––swept from yonder batteries, upon the castellated city. Then when the King’s, the Queen’s, the Dauphin’s bastions were lying in ruins, the commander, Le Chevalier de Drucour, capitulated, and the lilies of the Bourbon waved over Louisburgh no more.
   

3. “And here we stand nearly a century after, looking out from these war-works upon the desolate harbour. At the entrance, the wrecks of three French frigates, sunk to prevent the ingress of the British fleet, yet remain; sometimes visited by our still enterprising countrymen, who come down in coasters with diving-bell and windlass, to raise again from the deep, imbedded in sea-shells, the great guns that have slept in the ooze so long. Between those two points lay the ships of the line, and frigates of Louis; opposite, where the parapets of stone are yet visible, was the grand battery of forty guns; at Lighthouse Point yonder, two thousand grenadiers, under General Wolfe, drove back the French artillerymen, and turned their cannon upon these mighty walls. Here the great seventy-four blew up; there the English boats were sunk by the guns of the fortress; day and night for many weeks this ground has shuddered with the thunders of the cannonade. . . .
   

4. “A second time in possession of this stronghold, England had not the means to maintain her conquest; the fortification was too large for any but a powerful garrison. A hundred warships had congregated in that harbour: frigates, seventy-fours, transports, sloops, under the Fleur-de-lis. Although Louisburgh was the pivot-point of the French possessions, yet it was but an outside harbour for the colonies. So the order went forth to destroy the town that had been reared with so much cost, and captured with so much sacrifice. And it took two years of gunpowder to blow up these immense walls, upon which we now sadly stand, O gentle reader! Turf, turf, turf covers all! The gloomiest spectacle the sight of man can dwell upon is the desolate, but once populous, abode of humanity. Egypt itself is cheerful compared with Louisburgh!
   

5. “‘It rains,’ said Picton.” [4, pp. 111–113]
   

4. Cozzens and Picton spent the evening with fishermen in one of about a dozen huts on the beach outside the walls of the old town of Louisbourg.
   

1. “Before long, a fragrant rasher of bacon, fresh eggs, white bread, and a strong cup of bitter tea made us feel entirely happy. Then these viands being removed, there came pipes and tobacco; and as something else was needed to crown the symposium, Picton whispered a word in the ear of Bruce [mate of the Balaclava], who presently disappeared, to return again after a brief absence, with some of our stores from the schooner. Then the table was decked again, with china mugs of dazzling whiteness, lemons, hot water, and a bottle of old Glenlivet; and from the centre of this gallant show, the one great lamp of the hutch cast its mellow radiance around, and nursed in the midst of its flame a great ball of red coal that burned like a bonfire. Then, when our host, the old fisherman, brought out a bundle of warm furs, of moose and caribou skins, and distributed them around on the settles and broad, high-backed benches, so that we could loll at our ease, we began to realize a sense of being quite snug and cozy, and, indeed, got used to it in a surprisingly short space of time.” [4, p. 122]
   

5. As the end of the fortnight approached, Cozzens and Picton made the arduous overland trip from Louisbourg to Sidney, where Picton departed on a steamer bound for Liverpool, England. Cozzens proceeded by coach to Halifax, took the new Nova Scotia Railway train to Windsor, toured the Acadian lands at Grand Pré and, by now restored to full health and strength, returned by steamer from Windsor to New York City, to “‘Home, sweet Home!’ But I love this province!” [4, p. 313]
   

References and Notes

   [1] The Sheltering Sky, a drama film, directed by Bernardo Bertolucci, starring Debra Winger, John Malkovich, and Campbell Scott. Warner Bros., 1990. Based on a novel of the same name by Paul Bowles.

Image from The Sheltering Sky [1]

   [2] Marjory Whitelaw (ed.), Letters from Nova Scotia: William Scarth Moorsom. Oberon Press, Canada, 1986. 152 pp.

   [3] Hutchinson’s Nova Scotia Directory, for 1864–65, has an entry on page 218 for “WAVERLY HOUSE, John Romans, proprietor, 8 Barrington.” In the copy at the Argyle Township Court House and Archives that entry is emended, in small handwriting, by “Cor Blower St.” McAlpine’s Nova Scotia Directory, for 1868–69, has on page 436 an entry for “Waverley Hotel, John Romans, proprietor, 8 Barrington.” By 1876 Romans’ business was being run by his spinster daughters, Sarah and Jane, who relocated the hotel to a beautiful mansion farther west on Barrington Street, which today is operated as the Waverley Inn at 1266 Barrington; see the image, at the top, which is shown here with the permission of the Waverley Inn.

   [4] Frederic S. Cozzens, Acadia; or, A Month with the Blue Noses. Derby & Jackson, 119 Nassau Street, New York, 1859. 329 pp. Available on-line in an 1877 Hurd & Houghton edition.

“This, with the antique kirtle and picturesque petticoat, is an Acadian portrait.” [4, frontispiece]