When Rob and I visited Cape Spears, I didn’t expect to find a middle class life in a nineteenth century lighthouse. This remote workplace and dwelling is just outside of St. John’s, Newfoundland—at the most eastern part of North America.
When I think about lighthouses, I think about loneliness, not comfort. And yet, the Cantwell family, for generations made themselves a comfortable home in a harsh environment. A middle class one at that.
I recall standing there, trying to understand how anyone could’ve managed in this remote place, for at the time, it was very remote.
How The Cantwells Did It
The Cantwells only got two shipments of supplies a year. With books for the family, needlepoint for the females of the house, and enough food to weather any storm, and there were many, the family got by with little complaint. When I think about how connected we are today through social media, I can’t imagine the isolation.
Rob and I bundled in front of Cape Spears Lighthouse
Having been a family therapist, I also wondered where any of the Cantwells would go when tensions were high. I assume the outdoors, the only logical place of escape.
And yet, how would they manage with the snow blowing outside or with the wind picking up waves and slamming them at their door? This is a lighthouse, not some mansion with tens of rooms. And there’s no car or roads to take them any distance.
There must’ve been times when they felt very trapped. Or is that just me putting my own spin on it?
We visited it in early June and were surprised at how cold it was even then. My husband, Rob, and I both wore long johns, toques and gloves. With the extra clothing, the site was bearable but this was June, a time when the weather should be improving.
A Little History
I learned that in 1845, James Cantwell, a St. John’s harbour pilot, aided a Dutch ship through the narrows.
Rob walking to the Cape Spear Lighthouse (the new one in background)
The Prince of the Netherlands happened to be on board and out of gratitude asked James what he would like in return. James said he wanted to be the lighthouse keeper at Cape Spears. The deal was signed on pigskin parchment paper.
The story gets even better. James and his wife had 11 children, who themselves had many more.
Again, I ask, where did any of them go when there was strife? I assume they were able to escape any tension through long walks on rough terrain no matter the harsh elements. By the time they weathered whatever was blowing at the time, they would’ve cooled down.
Because the family kept growing, James and his descendants built many additions to the Cape Spear lighthouse, additions which are no longer there. James also had
The Cantwell House where the signal flags were kept
an assistant which meant yet another addition. The site now holds the lighthouse as it was in 1839, before James took charge.
The Job Was As Harsh As The Climate
The work was demanding. The lighthouse keeper had to stay awake all night to make sure the light kept turning.
The reflectors and lanterns had to be freed of soot, which accumulated with the burning of whale oil. And because of the ice and snow that built up on the exterior windows, James and his assistant had to brave the exterior catwalk high off the ground to clean them. Otherwise, the ships would not be able to see their signal.
Cantwells’ Living Room
Questioning Their Middle-Class Life
The guide at the Cape Spears Lighthouse said the Cantwells lived a middle class life. If this is middle class, it certainly would not be the kind that people are looking for today. Nor the kind they’d be content with.
Could you survive if you were transplanted back to the nineteenth century and given the job of lighthouse keeper on the eastern coast of Newfoundland? I know I couldn’t. It’s not the simplicity that would bother me; it’s the isolation. How about you?
The isolation would be rough. I suspect I’d like it though.
Julia, I wonder about that. Maybe writers as a whole would do better in situations like that, given that our minds and imagination make for good company. ?
Some days running away from civilizations sounds good but I don’t know long I would last being this isolated. And this location would be too cold for me even in summer. I do enjoy visiting lighthouses and learning how the lightkeeper would live and manage. The wife must have been kept busy and with 11 children and they must have found some way to pass the long nights! I enjoyed the post very much as I learned a bit of the history of another lighthouse.
Glad you enjoyed it, Jo. I’ve been so blessed. Have traveled many places. Newfoundland is one of the 10 provinces we didn’t get to when we took our kids in the early 70s. At that time, we had motored with our girls from Winnipeg to the Maritimes: Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island. The car ferry to Newfoundland was $50 and that just seemed too much for us at the time. (Today, it’s over $800 return). So, very pleased that we finally got there.
The Newfies are wonderful Canadians but also have their own way of looking at the world. Of course, there’s also all those dialects. And do you remember how they opened their homes to Americans when a plane carrying Americans homeward bound was diverted and ended up in Gander during 9/11 and its aftermath? I would love to visit again. And the lighthouse was such an eye opener.
I can’t imagine living in such isolation, or in unwelcoming weather. But I’d love to visit! There is something majestic about lighthouses. They intrigue me. Thanks for sharing your visit.
Jo-Anne, you’re welcome. Yes, I think you and I are just too social, even though we enjoy a lot of solitude. 🙂