The Canadian Revolution of 1837-38—Causes that led to it—Searching of Daniel Conant’s house—Tyrannous misrule of the Family Compact—A fugitive farmer—A visitor from the United States in danger—Daniel Conant a large vessel owner—Assists seventy patriots to escape—Linus Wilson Miller—His trial and sentence—State prisoners sent to Van Diemen’s Land.
The Canadian Revolution of 1837-38—Causes that led to it—Searching of Daniel Conant’s house—Tyrannous misrule of the Family Compact—A fugitive farmer—A visitor from the United States in danger—Daniel Conant a large vessel owner—Assists seventy patriots to escape—Linus Wilson Miller—His trial and sentence—State prisoners sent to Van Diemen’s Land.
Thatuprising of 1837-38 in Canada is now generally termed the Canadian Revolution. Most worthily does it deserve to be called arevolution, for the people who were its supporters afterwards got all they asked for. It was not arebellionbut a revolution, and it did great good for this country in the end. The fact of the very narrow and selfish rule of the Family Compact again comes to us, for having goaded the people to resort to extraordinary measures, they also persecuted persons who came, or whose fathers came, from the United States. All hail to those who, in a prominent or lesser way, took part in this rising on the side of the patriots. It is an honor to-day for any Canadian to be descended from one who took part and bore the burden and danger of service in the Canadian Revolution of 1837-38. It is not to be argued but that the patriots went rather too far, but no less could be expected when the peopleonce were aroused for such just causes. Those who fought on the other side were equally as brave, and did their duty manfully and bravely as they then saw the light. It was, nevertheless, the efforts of the few patriots (whose fortunes we shall follow in part) that gave us our liberties in Canada, and likewise brought about constitutional government. Likewise were the effects of this revolution good for the Motherland, for every colony since that time has been free to carry on its own domestic concerns at will, which Canadians could not possibly do before the Canadian Revolution. The day is now here when those alive are proud of the part their forefathers took in the struggle, and the disposition of many writers to try to gloss the disturbances over, and make them appear small and puny in the way of concerted efforts, are not pleasant to us nor true in their spirit. In a word, no one can be found in Canada to-day who would dare to champion the cause of the Royalists and the Family Compact on that occasion, and assert that the patriots had not sufficient causes for their uprising. Only recently has this been the case, for it has been fashionable heretofore for every one to make light of the Revolution and to disclaim any connection with it.
The patriots were only trying to get wrongs redressed and a constitutional government inaugurated. They had no wish to uprise against Great Britain. Particularly is it true that the great bulk of the patriots were not uprising against the Motherland, for the author’s forbears, who knew well from actualcontact with the patriots, have frequently told him so. The rule of the Family Compact they would not endure longer. They were goaded to exasperation by the infamous acts of that clique, and they were careless of what consequences might follow.
It was “Junius” who said, “The subject who is truly loyal will neither advise nor submit to arbitrary acts.” In accordance with that sentiment the patriots sought only to have the wrongs redressed, andnot to take up arms against Great Britain in any sense. In the following pages some of the terribly arbitrary acts of the Family Compact will be given, for but very few Canadians to-day have the least inkling of the high-handed manner which this tyrannous power made use of in venting its private hatred on the patriots, both individually and collectively. It is, however, a matter of strong congratulation that though the Family Compact was victorious in the revolution, its rule was but short after it. The patriots secured all the privileges they asked for, and the Family Compact shrunk into nothingness.
The hanging of Lount and Matthews was really judicial murder, and the exportation of 232 Canadians to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania), where nearly all of them lost their lives, was an infamous deed; also the persistence with which the Compact pursued the patriots is enough to bring tears to the eyes of every thinking Canadian to-day who really loves his country. When the Southern States revolted and fought from April, 1861, to April, 1865, and brought about the most terrible war on record,wherein more men were killed than in any war the world has ever known, no one was hanged at its close. Nor was any leader imprisoned or exported, nor was the private property of the leaders confiscated, save that only of Jefferson Davis, the leader, and only a part of his private property withal. Whereas, here in Canada, because our patriots had the manliness to be men and stand up for their rights, though committing no overt acts, they were hanged, imprisoned, driven to the United States, or transported for life. In the case of the author’s own grandfather and parents he can bring out some features exactly. One Colonel Ferguson, who lived a mile and a quarter north of Whitby, considering his measure of loyalty to be so far in excess of that of all others about, took it upon himself to pay domiciliary visits to the homes of many with the troops under his command. He had the command of a few militiamen whose homes were in the locality of his visits. There were no overt acts being committed during the winter months of 1837-38, but it made no sort of difference to Colonel Ferguson. As a tool of the Family Compact he never ceased to annoy his neighbors. Very vivid impressions come to the author from the tales of his own father of Colonel Ferguson coming at midnight of a winter night with his men, surrounding the family residence and turning all the inmates out in the snow while he ransacked and searched at will. Many times during that memorable winter was the search repeated, but the author could never learn what Colonel Ferguson expected to find as a result of his
THE OLD CONANT HOMESTEAD AT PORT OSHAWA, BUILT IN 1811.Here United States prisoners from General Hull’s army, which surrendered at Detroit, were fed while proceeding on their way by boats under guard to Quebec. Here also domiciliary visits were paid on several occasions during the Canadian Revolution of 1837-38, the house being surrounded by troops at midnight, and my people turned out in the snow while the house was being searched.
THE OLD CONANT HOMESTEAD AT PORT OSHAWA, BUILT IN 1811.Here United States prisoners from General Hull’s army, which surrendered at Detroit, were fed while proceeding on their way by boats under guard to Quebec. Here also domiciliary visits were paid on several occasions during the Canadian Revolution of 1837-38, the house being surrounded by troops at midnight, and my people turned out in the snow while the house was being searched.
THE OLD CONANT HOMESTEAD AT PORT OSHAWA, BUILT IN 1811.
Here United States prisoners from General Hull’s army, which surrendered at Detroit, were fed while proceeding on their way by boats under guard to Quebec. Here also domiciliary visits were paid on several occasions during the Canadian Revolution of 1837-38, the house being surrounded by troops at midnight, and my people turned out in the snow while the house was being searched.
diligent searches. Daniel Conant’s New England descent would very probably go far to account for Colonel Ferguson’s insane suspiciousness. In this part of Canada the inhabitants generally were in favor of the movement. Not to be so was to be singular. That is to say, they were in favor of having the wrongs committed by the Family Compact redressed, but not one in 10,000 asked for a change of the political connection of Canada. To effect such a sweeping change as that would be was not the object of the agitation, and at this day of writing it seems very hard that the inhabitants should have been persecuted simply because they loved their country; but so it was. It would be well to instance another case of the tyrannous misrule of the Family Compact and their persecution of unoffending persons. A farmer living near Oshawa, being the son of a United Empire Loyalist, seemed to have all the Compact’s hate and suspicion centred upon him, simply because his father came from Massachusetts. The suspected man had done absolutely no act to place him in the eye of the law. Like nearly all others, he sympathized with the patriots, not for a moment supposing it to be a crime to love his country and its people. But Colonel Ferguson thought differently, and made a sally to capture the farmer. Now, capture meant almost certain death, for it would mean being incarcerated during the very cold weather in unheated guardhouses and gaols here or in Toronto. Knowing this, he avoided capture by changing his quarters every few days and never sleeping in a house. Usually he sleptin the granary of a barn, burrowing into the bin of grain until almost or quite concealed, with the grain effectually covering him. One may rightly conjecture the terrible hardships of this poor farmer, exposed as he was to the inclemency of a Canadian winter. Fires in a barn are, of course, out of the question, and therefore he had no comfort of a house and a fireside the whole winter long. Such ill-usage could possibly have only one ending, viz., death, which followed in the fall of 1838. Nor is this an isolated case, for there were many such, but purposely we follow its details in order to present a faithful picture of life in Canada during the Canadian Revolution of 1837-38.
One more instance we must narrate before the indictment of the Family Compact is complete. David Trull, a resident of New York State, and a relative of the author, happened to come to visit his relatives about Bowmanville and Newcastle in the fall of 1837. While here on this visit the uprising took place, for the fight at Montgomery’s was on the 3rd of December, 1837. His visit having come to an end, he started for home the same way he came. On to Toronto, then, went David Trull, to get on board a small steamer running from the Queen’s wharf to Niagara. As he stepped upon the gang-plank a uniformed sentry presented a bayonet and cried “Halt!” threatening to run him through. He turned back from the wharf, frightened and amazed, proceeding to his hotel, which he had only that morning left. Telling the hotel-keeper ofhis trouble the worthy Boniface befriended him. He was warned that he must not on any account whatever, as he valued his life, let any one know that he hailed from the United States, for, said the hotel-keeper, “If you do they’ll put you in prison and hang you.” He was further advised to put on working clothes and act as hostler about the hotel, with a view of slipping away on the steamer later, when suspicion had been allayed. For many days he put in the time at watering and grooming horses for young would-be military satraps, who ordered him about, and whom in his own country he would have treated with contempt. But he got away on the steamer at last, and almost vowed when once on United States soil never again to set foot in Canada. Realizing, however, in after years that only a very small portion of the Canadian people were disposed to misuse a guest, as they had done in his case, he overlooked it, and came back on visits in after years. To his dying day, however, he never forgot the arbitrary treatment of the Family Compact, and his hate for them went with him to his grave.
Daniel Conant, the author’s father, was a very large vessel owner at the time of the Canadian Revolution. At the earnest requests, entreaties and tears of some seventy patriots, whose lives and liberties were unsafe in Canada, he took them in midwinter across Lake Ontario in his shipIndustryto Oswego, N.Y. During the inclement weather of that voyage his ship was lost, while all got over safely (vide“Upper Canada Sketches,” by the author).But Daniel Conant and his officers and sailors dared not come back home, even without their ship. To be caught meant transportation to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania), or death by hanging at home, according to the mood of the authorities. To gain home and friends once more they walked back to Niagara in the spring of 1838, and crossed the Niagara River at its mouth, landing boldly at the wharf in the village of Niagara, where was a garrison and guards always on the watch. To get past the guard was the point at issue. John Pickel, who had been mate on the lost ship, has the credit of getting them out of the difficulty. Making for the canteen he hilariously began treating every one who came in sight. Being plentifully supplied with cash by the author’s father, he persistently kept at the treating, giving many most loyal toasts, “and was glad to get back again on Canadian soil.” These words to-day, after an intervening sixty-three years, seem, no doubt, tame and hardly worth preserving. Let us, however, remember the time and the terrible risk then run. As the shades of evening came on they quietly, one at a time, dropped out of the canteen, the garrison, the village, the clearing, and into the darkness of the forest. Hamilton was reached in due time, but a detour around to the north of Toronto was made, and justly proud of having saved the lives and fortunes of seventy patriots, whose only crime was that of loving their country, and wishing for reform and good government, they got home at last. It would scarcely be within the scope of this volume to follow
DANIEL CONANT.
DANIEL CONANT.
DANIEL CONANT.
in detail the events of the Canadian Revolution. To do so would make too bulky a volume. We may, however, notice the case of one who was transported, along with several others, to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania).
Linus Wilson Miller had come over from New York State, having relatives in Canada, and through sympathy had endeavored to help the patriots. He was apprehended, and in order to get a true inside view of the workings of the Family Compact we will give the court scene when he was brought up for trial at Niagara, July, 1838.
Having been brought under guard to the court room he was asked:
“Linus Wilson Miller, what say you—guilty or not guilty?“I shall not plead to my indictment at present.“Solicitor-General—But you must.“I choose to be excused.“Solicitor-General—But you cannot be excused.“I tell you, I am not prepared to stand my trial now.“Chief Justice—Answer you, prisoner at the bar, the question put to you by the Court—what say you, Linus Wilson Miller, guilty or not guilty?“My Lord, that is a question which, as I before said, I am not now prepared to answer.“Chief Justice—You must say, guilty or not guilty.“Your lordship must excuse me.“Chief Justice—“You shall answer either guilty or not guilty—it is only a mere matter of form.“Doubtless your lordship considers hanging by one’s neck until dead only mere matter of form.”“Chief Justice(in a rage)—Do you mean, sir, to insult this court?“My Lord, I mean only what I say, that I must have time to prepare for my trial.“Chief Justice—Will you or will you not plead to your indictment—what say you, prisoner at the bar, guilty or not guilty?“My Lord, I cannot plead now.“Chief Justice—You shall by G——“My Lord, I will not. (Great sensation.)“The Attorney-General—How dare you insult his lordship? You must answer at once; it will be better for you to do so. I advise you to plead not guilty; after which the Court will take into consideration your claims to have your trial postponed, and order you counsel, if you wish it. The Court are disposed to be just and merciful.“I repeat what I said before, I will not.“Attorney-General—You are a desperate fellow.“And not without reason, for if I am to judge of the intentions of this Court, from external appearances, I am in desperate circumstances. But the word ‘fellow’ which you just applied to me is significant.“Attorney-General(with a sneer)—Pray, sir, what are you?“A victim chosen for the slaughter; but you are mistaken if you think to coax or drive me to plead at present; I understand your wishes and my own interests too well.“Chief Justice—Prisoner at the bar, three weeks have passed since your capture, and you have had sufficient time to prepare your defence. This Court has been convened for the express purpose of trying you, and the Government cannot be put to so much expense for nothing. I have taken care myself that all witnesses which you can possibly require in your defence should be present to-day, and they are here. You can have, therefore, no excuse whatever for wishing to postpone your trial, and your only object is to give the Government and this Court unnecessary trouble; but your stubbornness shall avail you nothing, for the Court will order the usual course in case ofstubborn and wilful prisoners, who refuse to plead, to be pursued in this case. I now ask you for the last time—what say you, Linus Wilson Miller, to the charges preferred against you: are you guilty or not guilty?“My Lord, I am informed by your lordship that I have had sufficient time to prepare for my trial, having been in custody three weeks. How was I to prepare my defence before I had been indicted—how know what charges, if any, would be preferred against me? I have but now heard them read, and am required, without one moment’s warning, to plead to charges of the most serious nature, affecting my life! I am likewise informed by your lordship that all the witnesses requisite for my defence are present in Court, that in the present enlightened age, a judge, in a British Court of Justice, will tell a prisoner arraigned under such circumstances, that the witnesses for his defence are all present by order of the Court, and that too in the presence of a jury empanelled to try him. Is a Chief Justice of a British Court thus to sit upon a bench and pre-judge a case of life and death? Have I consulted any legal gentleman in this Province upon my case whereby by any possibility your lordship could have been apprised of the witnesses I may require, or of the nature of the defence which in so serious a case I may deem it necessary to make? How long have I known that charges were preferred against me which require either a defence or the surrender of my life without a struggle? And yet I am told by your lordship that Ishallabide my trial upon the testimony of witnesses of your lordship’s own choosing, in a defence predetermined by your lordship long before a grand jury had found a true bill against me. Is this your boasted British justice? Am I indeed within the sacred walls of a court, a British Court, the pride and boast of Englishmen? Shame, my l——“Chief Justice(in a great rage)—Silence, you d—d Yankee rebel! Not another word or—“My Lord, I will not keep silence when my life is at stake.... A jury did I say? They are all strangers to me, butfrom the proceedings I have witnessed to-day, I have no doubt they are mere tools of the Government, pledged to render a verdict of guilty and perjure their own hearts.“A Juryman, from the box—My Lord, are we honest men to be insulted and abused in this manner?“No doubt the gentlemanisan honest man.... My Lord, I have done—but I againdemandfrom your lordship the full time allowed by law for my defence.... At present I have only to request to be furnished with a copy of my indictment.“Chief Justice—The Court will not allow you a copy.”
“Linus Wilson Miller, what say you—guilty or not guilty?
“I shall not plead to my indictment at present.
“Solicitor-General—But you must.
“I choose to be excused.
“Solicitor-General—But you cannot be excused.
“I tell you, I am not prepared to stand my trial now.
“Chief Justice—Answer you, prisoner at the bar, the question put to you by the Court—what say you, Linus Wilson Miller, guilty or not guilty?
“My Lord, that is a question which, as I before said, I am not now prepared to answer.
“Chief Justice—You must say, guilty or not guilty.
“Your lordship must excuse me.
“Chief Justice—“You shall answer either guilty or not guilty—it is only a mere matter of form.
“Doubtless your lordship considers hanging by one’s neck until dead only mere matter of form.”
“Chief Justice(in a rage)—Do you mean, sir, to insult this court?
“My Lord, I mean only what I say, that I must have time to prepare for my trial.
“Chief Justice—Will you or will you not plead to your indictment—what say you, prisoner at the bar, guilty or not guilty?
“My Lord, I cannot plead now.
“Chief Justice—You shall by G——
“My Lord, I will not. (Great sensation.)
“The Attorney-General—How dare you insult his lordship? You must answer at once; it will be better for you to do so. I advise you to plead not guilty; after which the Court will take into consideration your claims to have your trial postponed, and order you counsel, if you wish it. The Court are disposed to be just and merciful.
“I repeat what I said before, I will not.
“Attorney-General—You are a desperate fellow.
“And not without reason, for if I am to judge of the intentions of this Court, from external appearances, I am in desperate circumstances. But the word ‘fellow’ which you just applied to me is significant.
“Attorney-General(with a sneer)—Pray, sir, what are you?
“A victim chosen for the slaughter; but you are mistaken if you think to coax or drive me to plead at present; I understand your wishes and my own interests too well.
“Chief Justice—Prisoner at the bar, three weeks have passed since your capture, and you have had sufficient time to prepare your defence. This Court has been convened for the express purpose of trying you, and the Government cannot be put to so much expense for nothing. I have taken care myself that all witnesses which you can possibly require in your defence should be present to-day, and they are here. You can have, therefore, no excuse whatever for wishing to postpone your trial, and your only object is to give the Government and this Court unnecessary trouble; but your stubbornness shall avail you nothing, for the Court will order the usual course in case ofstubborn and wilful prisoners, who refuse to plead, to be pursued in this case. I now ask you for the last time—what say you, Linus Wilson Miller, to the charges preferred against you: are you guilty or not guilty?
“My Lord, I am informed by your lordship that I have had sufficient time to prepare for my trial, having been in custody three weeks. How was I to prepare my defence before I had been indicted—how know what charges, if any, would be preferred against me? I have but now heard them read, and am required, without one moment’s warning, to plead to charges of the most serious nature, affecting my life! I am likewise informed by your lordship that all the witnesses requisite for my defence are present in Court, that in the present enlightened age, a judge, in a British Court of Justice, will tell a prisoner arraigned under such circumstances, that the witnesses for his defence are all present by order of the Court, and that too in the presence of a jury empanelled to try him. Is a Chief Justice of a British Court thus to sit upon a bench and pre-judge a case of life and death? Have I consulted any legal gentleman in this Province upon my case whereby by any possibility your lordship could have been apprised of the witnesses I may require, or of the nature of the defence which in so serious a case I may deem it necessary to make? How long have I known that charges were preferred against me which require either a defence or the surrender of my life without a struggle? And yet I am told by your lordship that Ishallabide my trial upon the testimony of witnesses of your lordship’s own choosing, in a defence predetermined by your lordship long before a grand jury had found a true bill against me. Is this your boasted British justice? Am I indeed within the sacred walls of a court, a British Court, the pride and boast of Englishmen? Shame, my l——
“Chief Justice(in a great rage)—Silence, you d—d Yankee rebel! Not another word or—
“My Lord, I will not keep silence when my life is at stake.... A jury did I say? They are all strangers to me, butfrom the proceedings I have witnessed to-day, I have no doubt they are mere tools of the Government, pledged to render a verdict of guilty and perjure their own hearts.
“A Juryman, from the box—My Lord, are we honest men to be insulted and abused in this manner?
“No doubt the gentlemanisan honest man.... My Lord, I have done—but I againdemandfrom your lordship the full time allowed by law for my defence.... At present I have only to request to be furnished with a copy of my indictment.
“Chief Justice—The Court will not allow you a copy.”
There is no reason to infer that this is misquoted in a single letter. In fact current testimony will bear out all that Miller says, and the reading of this court scene will give us a very true insight into life in Canada in 1838, and will be quite new to the present generation of Canadians. The author gets this court scene from “Notes of an Exile, on Canada, England and Van Diemen’s Land,” by Linus Wilson Miller, and it is probable that the copy of Miller’s book that I possess is the only one in Canada to-day.
“On August 5th, 1838, Linus Wilson Miller was again tried at Niagara, and here follows the scene in court when the jury brought in a verdict of ‘Guilty, with an earnest recommendation of the prisoner to the extreme mercy of the court.’“Chief Justice(in a great rage)—Gentlemen of the jury, do you know that your verdict is virtually an acquittal? How dare you bring in such a verdict in this case?...“The Foreman—My Lord, the jury regard him as having been partially deranged some months since, but of sane mind when he invaded this province.“Chief Justice—Then retire, gentlemen, and reconsider your verdict. You cannot recommend him to mercy.“In a few minutes they returned with a verdict of ‘guilty, with a recommendation of the prisoner to the mercy of the court.’“Chief Justice—Gentlemen of the jury, I’ll teach you your duty, how dare you return such a verdict?...“A Juryman—My Lord, we recommend him on account of his youth.“Chief Justice—That is no excuse for his crimes, ...“Another Juryman—My Lord, we believe him to be an enthusiast in the cause in which he was engaged; that his motives are good, and his conduct honorable and humane.“Chief Justice—Your duty is to pronounce the prisoner guilty or not guilty.“After a short consultation the jury returned a verdict of guilty only, and the infamous Chief Justice—a second Jeffreys—with a countenance beaming with hellish smiles, bowed to the jury.”
“On August 5th, 1838, Linus Wilson Miller was again tried at Niagara, and here follows the scene in court when the jury brought in a verdict of ‘Guilty, with an earnest recommendation of the prisoner to the extreme mercy of the court.’
“Chief Justice(in a great rage)—Gentlemen of the jury, do you know that your verdict is virtually an acquittal? How dare you bring in such a verdict in this case?...
“The Foreman—My Lord, the jury regard him as having been partially deranged some months since, but of sane mind when he invaded this province.
“Chief Justice—Then retire, gentlemen, and reconsider your verdict. You cannot recommend him to mercy.
“In a few minutes they returned with a verdict of ‘guilty, with a recommendation of the prisoner to the mercy of the court.’
“Chief Justice—Gentlemen of the jury, I’ll teach you your duty, how dare you return such a verdict?...
“A Juryman—My Lord, we recommend him on account of his youth.
“Chief Justice—That is no excuse for his crimes, ...
“Another Juryman—My Lord, we believe him to be an enthusiast in the cause in which he was engaged; that his motives are good, and his conduct honorable and humane.
“Chief Justice—Your duty is to pronounce the prisoner guilty or not guilty.
“After a short consultation the jury returned a verdict of guilty only, and the infamous Chief Justice—a second Jeffreys—with a countenance beaming with hellish smiles, bowed to the jury.”
Miller was in due course sentenced to be hanged, but this sentence was commuted to transportation. We find him and twelve others, all Canadians, chained and sent by steamerCobourgto Kingston. From Kingston the party were sent by another steamer to Montreal. After being changed again they reached Quebec. Here the thirteen Canadian prisoners were put on board a timber ship and sent to England. From the fact that so very few Canadians know that Canadians were transported to the other side of the world, the author makes special mention of this matter. To-day we would not think of doing such things, and very many Canadians will be inclined to question the truthfulness of the statement. But, in all, ninety-one Canadian state prisoners were sent to that distant penal colony. A few linesof verse may be inserted as very apt and striking. They are by T. R. Harvey:
Morn on the waters! And purple and brightBursts on the billows the flashing of light;O’er the glad waves like a child of the sun,See, the tall vessel goes gallantly on.Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,And her pennon streams onward like hope in the gale;The winds come around her in murmur and song,And the surges rejoice as they bear her along.See, she looks up to the golden-edged clouds,And the sailor sings gaily aloft in her shrouds.Onward she glides amid ripple and spray,Over the waters, away and away!Bright as the visions of youth ere they part,Passing away like a dream of the heart.Who, as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,Music around her and sunshine on high,Pauses to think amid glitter and showOh, there be hearts that are breaking below!Night on the waves! And the moon is on high,Hung like a gem on the brow of the sky,Treading its depths in the power of its might,And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light.Look to the waters! Asleep on their breastSeems not the ship like an island of rest?Bright and alone on the shadowy main,Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain.Who, as he watches her silently gliding,Remembers that wave after wave is dividingBosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,Hearts that are parted and broken forever?Or dreams that he watches afloat on the wave,The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit’s grave.
Morn on the waters! And purple and brightBursts on the billows the flashing of light;O’er the glad waves like a child of the sun,See, the tall vessel goes gallantly on.Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,And her pennon streams onward like hope in the gale;The winds come around her in murmur and song,And the surges rejoice as they bear her along.See, she looks up to the golden-edged clouds,And the sailor sings gaily aloft in her shrouds.Onward she glides amid ripple and spray,Over the waters, away and away!Bright as the visions of youth ere they part,Passing away like a dream of the heart.Who, as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,Music around her and sunshine on high,Pauses to think amid glitter and showOh, there be hearts that are breaking below!Night on the waves! And the moon is on high,Hung like a gem on the brow of the sky,Treading its depths in the power of its might,And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light.Look to the waters! Asleep on their breastSeems not the ship like an island of rest?Bright and alone on the shadowy main,Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain.Who, as he watches her silently gliding,Remembers that wave after wave is dividingBosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,Hearts that are parted and broken forever?Or dreams that he watches afloat on the wave,The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit’s grave.
Morn on the waters! And purple and brightBursts on the billows the flashing of light;O’er the glad waves like a child of the sun,See, the tall vessel goes gallantly on.Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,And her pennon streams onward like hope in the gale;The winds come around her in murmur and song,And the surges rejoice as they bear her along.See, she looks up to the golden-edged clouds,And the sailor sings gaily aloft in her shrouds.Onward she glides amid ripple and spray,Over the waters, away and away!Bright as the visions of youth ere they part,Passing away like a dream of the heart.Who, as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,Music around her and sunshine on high,Pauses to think amid glitter and showOh, there be hearts that are breaking below!
Night on the waves! And the moon is on high,Hung like a gem on the brow of the sky,Treading its depths in the power of its might,And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light.Look to the waters! Asleep on their breastSeems not the ship like an island of rest?Bright and alone on the shadowy main,Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain.Who, as he watches her silently gliding,Remembers that wave after wave is dividingBosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,Hearts that are parted and broken forever?Or dreams that he watches afloat on the wave,The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit’s grave.
So far as can be known only thirteen of the ninety-six ever got back home to Canada, after years of waiting, hoping and praying. All the others found untimely graves in that far-off land, where they died broken-hearted and alone.
Linus Wilson Miller did not get home until August, 1846, he being one of the very first to reach America. A sailing ship brought him to Pernambuco. At that port the captain of the American barqueGlobeaccepted a bill drawn by him on his father for his passage, he being totally without money. Englishmen and Americans resident at Pernambuco however, on learning the facts, and being acquainted with the desperate treatment of Miller, raised the funds to take up the bill and send him on home. To-day we consider the execution of Lount and Matthews simply judicial murder, and Sir George Arthur went to his reward in after years with a heavy load on his conscience. It is hardly in the bounds of possibility for him ever to forget the time when Mrs. Lount knelt before him and prayed for the life of her husband, and he refused to as much as listen to her.
Van Schultz too, poor fellow, a Pole, who escaped oppression in his own country, came to the United States; then, fancying us oppressed, he voluntarily tried to help us, and, as we all know, was captured at the disturbance at Windmill Point, Prescott. Generous and impulsive, but misguided, his execution was another judicial murder exulted in by the Family Compact. Linus Wilson Miller’s crimes to-day would perhaps be met by a half year’s sentence of incarceration. But he was broken down in health by the hard usage and hard work he had to endure in Tasmania, as well as were all the other state prisoners. Being a state prisoner he would not now be compelled to labor, if treated as political prisoners are treated the world over. He and all the others were worked to the bone, flogged, and most of them sent to early graves in that far-off land.
Thank God, we have changed all that.
Lord Durham came out as Governor-General right after the trouble. Responsible constitutional government was granted, and all the reforms the people asked for. Not in the most remote degree was the Home Government responsible for our misusage, nor for the uprising, for it knew nothing of it. In illustration of this, the following example is pertinent: When Sir Francis Bond Head, who was the supreme Governor General during the uprising, was on his way home he stopped at New York. There he met Marshal S. Bidwell, then an exile, and a man universally acknowledged as at the head of the bar in Canada. Sir Francis deliberately told Bidwell he had received instructions from the Home Government to appoint him judge. Bidwell turned and fled, and never bade adieu to him. On gaining the street he first thought of returning and apologizing for his rudeness, but the injury was too great, and he never saw Head again? Can we wonder at the Canadian uprising when such things could be?
At the top of a parchment Crown deed to one of the Conants the name of Sir Francis Bond Head appears, and never can the author look upon thatparchment without unpleasant thoughts of the man’s poltroonery and narrowness.
It is not out of place to record here the fact that Benedict Arnold, the traitor, received a grant of 18,000 acres of our lands in Upper Canada not far from the author’s home. No Canadian ever liked a traitor, nor do we like the memory of Arnold, hence special mention is made of the grant. The British Government gave him £10,000 besides. There is a little verse which covers all the points nicely, thus:
“From Cain to Catiline the world hath knownHer traitors—vaunted votaries of crime—Caligula and Nero sat aloneUpon the pinnacle of vice sublime;But they were moved by hate, or wish to climbThe rugged steeps of Fame; in letters boldTo write their names upon the scroll of Time;Therefore their crime some virtue did enfold—But Arnold! thine had none—’twas all for sordid gold!”
“From Cain to Catiline the world hath knownHer traitors—vaunted votaries of crime—Caligula and Nero sat aloneUpon the pinnacle of vice sublime;But they were moved by hate, or wish to climbThe rugged steeps of Fame; in letters boldTo write their names upon the scroll of Time;Therefore their crime some virtue did enfold—But Arnold! thine had none—’twas all for sordid gold!”
“From Cain to Catiline the world hath knownHer traitors—vaunted votaries of crime—Caligula and Nero sat aloneUpon the pinnacle of vice sublime;But they were moved by hate, or wish to climbThe rugged steeps of Fame; in letters boldTo write their names upon the scroll of Time;Therefore their crime some virtue did enfold—But Arnold! thine had none—’twas all for sordid gold!”
DESK USED IN THE LEGISLATIVE CHAMBER BY W. LYON MACKENZIE. UPPER CANADA, 1837.(From the J. Ross Robertson collection.)
DESK USED IN THE LEGISLATIVE CHAMBER BY W. LYON MACKENZIE. UPPER CANADA, 1837.(From the J. Ross Robertson collection.)
DESK USED IN THE LEGISLATIVE CHAMBER BY W. LYON MACKENZIE. UPPER CANADA, 1837.
(From the J. Ross Robertson collection.)
Building a dock at Whitby—Daniel Conant becomes security—Water communication—Some of the old steamboats—Captain Kerr—His commanding methods—Captain Schofield—Crossing the Atlantic—Trials of emigrants—Death of a Scotch emigrant.
Building a dock at Whitby—Daniel Conant becomes security—Water communication—Some of the old steamboats—Captain Kerr—His commanding methods—Captain Schofield—Crossing the Atlantic—Trials of emigrants—Death of a Scotch emigrant.
Daniel Conant, as a vessel owner on Lake Ontario for many years, felt keenly the great need for proper harbors and docks for loading and unloading his vessels. Up to the close of the Revolution of 1837-38 he had, when near home, made use of Whitby harbor, which was four miles westerly from Port Oshawa. But the great drawback to Whitby harbor was its shallow water, which caused much trouble in getting away from its single warehouse when his ships were fully laden. At this juncture of the long-felt want (about 1839) one Smith came along and contracted to build new docks at Whitby harbor, and to place them beside deep water. Daniel Conant became Smith’s security on his bonds for £1,100, or $4,400, for due fulfilment of the contract. It may be incidentally mentioned that the author most distinctly remembers that his people spoke of Smith as most eloquent in prayer, especially when inthe family circle. This gift, added to the want of the docks, captivated David Annis, the author’s great-uncle, and his father as well. The bonds for £1,100 were endorsed, and were held by the Bank of Upper Canada in Whitby, of which Peter Perry was the agent and manager. For no assignable reason Smith absconded in May, 1838. The loss was so great in that day, at the close of hostilities, that money could scarcely be obtained at all. To raise £1,100 at once almost broke Daniel Conant’s heart.
To Peter Perry he went, and Perry saluted him by the query, “Do you intend to pay it?”
The reply came quickly: “Yes, every copper. Give me until fall—1st November—and you shall have it all.”
Perry almost doubted it, and asked how he would get the money.
“I have four ships on the water and 150 acres of winter wheat, and I will sell enough land to raise the balance,” was the answer.
Perry, to his honor be it said, granted the extension, and Daniel Conant sold 1,200 acres of land in Whitby at an average of $200 per 100 acres, which are to-day worth $9,000 per hundred, to help to make up the amount. True, it was not business to pay so quickly and sacrifice so much, but, as he explained, he felt that he must get out from the transaction, and he did. The author knew very well John Ham Perry, at Whitby, one-time registrar and son of Peter Perry, and now realizes that he was for many years in most straitened circumstances, and most deeply to-day regrets that henever aided him for having helped his father, a mistake which can never be repaired, much to the author’s regret.
Lying upon the Great Lakes and the mighty St. Lawrence, Canada was specially favored. The water afforded a means of communication for persons and goods before roads were hewn out of the forests. It must be very evident to any one reflecting, that boats were much more important factors in transportation before the days of the railways than they are now since railways intersect our country in every direction. To Upper Canada very many of the emigrants came from the British Isles by steamboats upon Lake Ontario. To such a degree of importance did captains of the steamboats attain, that we have no marine captains of these days, even those of the great ocean greyhounds, who can compare with them in dignity. Among these captains was old Captain Kerr, who for so many years sailed the side-wheel steamerAdmiral. Now theAdmiralhad, as all those of that day had, before the sixties came in, a huge walking-beam, and with its 800 tons of burden of freight which it was licensed to carry, seemed literally to walk over the waters of Lake Ontario. Especially true the walking-beam comparison is, because the great part of the engine rose and fell, see-saw-like without ceasing, away aloft above the decks and over every top hamper of the steamer.
Now, just suppose the oldAdmiralhas made the dock at some Lake Ontario port. Old Captain Kerr stands upon the upper deck and directs her speedand course as she makes the wharf. Landing at last and the gang-plank thrown out, people are coming on and off, and freight of barrels and boxes is being trundled both to and from the steamer’s deck. Eagle-eyed, red-faced, corpulent Captain Kerr views all and notes all from his coign of vantage, the deck above. And he bellows out his commands to the boat hands below in words so sharp that they fairly hiss as they leave his lips. No matter if they be keen and cutting, they are implicitly obeyed, and the deck hands jump—literally and truly jump (not a figure of speech)—to obey. Meek passengers of those days did not even expect a greeting, pleasant or the reverse, from old Captain Kerr and commanders of his stamp, for they were not noticed in the slightest degree. Early steamboat captains were too great personages to cultivate the social virtues, and they seemed to live within themselves and keep bottled up all the accumulated venom and ire and push of the Canadian summer and shipping season. Faithful old seadogs they were, nevertheless, and the fewness of records of disaster upon the Great Lakes of Canada truthfully testifies to their skill and watchfulness. It is a fact that very few steamers were wrecked or lives lost upon these lakes. Some were burned, because, built of timber as they were, and burning wood for fuel, they were particularly susceptible to fires on ship-board; but of real wrecks there were few. Built of timber and with oak planking upon the sides and bottom, very generally of three inches in thickness, these vessels were able to withstand a slight collision, or arun upon the bottom, without serious injury. Such collisions or groundings to our modern thin steel and iron steamers would to-day simply mean a berth at the bottom of Lake Ontario, without further notice. Rough and burly as Captain Kerr and men of his stamp were, they did great good to our country in bringing safely and quickly, and with very good accommodation, incoming emigrants to Upper Canada; and their churlishness and rigidness we may in a measure excuse.
Previous to the great war in the United States, from April, 1861, to April, 1865, the steamerMaple Leafran for many summers upon Lake Ontario. During its many trips it brought thousands and thousands of persons to the different parts of Upper Canada, and served us well and faithfully. Captain Schofield for many years ran the steamer, and emulated Captain Kerr in importance and churlishness. He was unable, however, to emulate him in corpulency. The deep redness of his face may not have quite equalled that of Captain Kerr, but approached very nearly. Captain Schofield many hundreds of times stood upon the upper deck of theMaple Leaf, with his hands upon the brass bell pulls for the engine, and roared out his orders so that passengers and deck hands alike wriggled to get out from under his words by getting out of his range of vision. For checking goods, however, coming upon or going from the steamer, no faster or more correct man ever lived. And Captain Schofield was a sailor in the true sense of the term. No mishap ever befell his steamer. During the greatAmerican war she was sold to the United States Government for a blockader for $45,000, and finally never again made any port, but “laid her bones to bleach” on Currituck Sound, in North Carolina. Captain Schofield then went to Rochester, N.Y., and met a violent death when stepping on or off a railway car. To-day he sleeps in the soil of New York State. It is related of him that once he ran into Oswego, N.Y., on a Saturday night to lie there until the Monday morning following. On Sunday his sailors sought recreation on shore; one of them got into some low dive in that city, and on the Monday morning was kicked out minus all clothing. Now, he dared not disobey Captain Schofield and fail to be on duty on Monday morning, but the difficulty was to get to the steamer entirely nude as he then was. Casting about he finally compromised matters by jumping into a barrel, knocking out the bottom and carrying it by his arms so that it enveloped his person, rather loosely, it is true, but very effectually notwithstanding. That sailor came on board, however, and did his duty manfully.
Canadians to-day, who are so very generally dependent upon railways, fail to realize what a great service those important and vituperative steamboat captains and their steamers did for us as a people. They honestly deserve pleasant memories at our hands. Any instance of a captain upon Lake Ontario abusing or insulting any female passenger on his ship is yet to be chronicled. Although only two steamers are singled out and mentioned, the listcould be well extended to thePassport,Highland Chief,America, andPrincess Royal.
Crossing the Atlantic Ocean in those days (previous to the sixties) was a terrible trial for the poor emigrant seeking his fortune in this new Canada of ours. Being confined to such close quarters, and crowded for so many days, it is not at all singular that many diseases followed the emigrants even after leaving the ocean a long way behind. Deadly typhus fever luxuriated amid such surroundings, while cholera was no stranger to the poor voyagers. One midsummer day Captain Kerr came into Port Oshawa, about 1855, at 9 o’clock in the morning, with a boatload of Highland Scotchmen as passengers. At this port 150 of them landed, and their goods and baggage were placed in the general storehouse upon the wharf. In the presence of Mr. Wood, the port wharfinger, and Mr. Mothersill, a gentleman who was looking on, many of these packages, for the first time since leaving the ocean ship, were opened out in the storehouse. In a very few hours from the time when they saw these goods unpacked, strange to relate, both these gentlemen died, while the landed emigrants started to walk northward from Port Oshawa to get to the homes of their relatives in Mariposa in the county of Victoria. To rest over night they entered a large cooper shop then standing on the south side of Oshawa, and remained for the night. Next morning early they left, and the cooper on coming into the shop was horrified to find a dead man lying upon his shavings. During the night the poor fellow, afterbraving an Atlantic passage of those days, and now near his goal, died and was deserted by his friends. It is only fair to add, however, that his friends were afraid of the contagion. It is said that the peculiar stuffy smell from these emigrants did not leave the storehouse or the cooper shop that whole summer, and only ceased when frosts came in the autumn. Of such sterling stock our Canadian people came. Perhaps no sadder instance can be given than the poor Scotchman lying, without nursing or medical attendance on a heap of cooper’s shavings, among strangers in a strange land, where every one was afraid of him, and shunned him to avoid the fever that raged in his veins.
Maple sugar making—The Indian method—“Sugaring-off”—The toothsome “wax”—A yearly season of pleasure.
Maple sugar making—The Indian method—“Sugaring-off”—The toothsome “wax”—A yearly season of pleasure.
Oneof the familiar proceedings of the days of early spring in the long ago time, when the pioneers were busy with clearing the primeval forests of Ontario, was the maple sugar making. In our oldest settled parts of Ontario this is, of course, among the things that have been, simply because most of the maples have been ruthlessly slaughtered. On our good lands in Ontario the cleared fields pay better than maple orchards, our farmers have thought, and, much as we now regret the fact, still it is a fact that over most of our province the groves have been destroyed. Most of our youngsters have never experienced the delights of a sugaring-off, and many of our Old World citizens never yet tasted the nectar in its forest purity. Hence I infer that this chapter may give information and pleasure to many readers.
The Jesuit Fathers, who were the first white men in this country among the Indians, tell us that the Indians made sugar regularly every spring by tapping the sugar maple. At this time the Indians did not have iron kettles for boiling the maple sap in. It became a curious question how they did manage to boildown the succulent juice without a kettle to boil it in. They tapped the trees with their tomahawks, and inserted a spile in the incision to conduct the sap from the tree to their vessel beneath. Their spile was a piece of dry pine or cedar wood, grooved on its upper side for the sap to flow down. No doubt this process was extremely crude; still, with all its crudities, they succeeded in producing a considerable quantity of sugar each spring. Their buckets were made by taking a roll of birch bark and sewing up the ends with deer sinews or roots. Thus they got a vessel capable of holding a pailful, and no doubt the sap caught in such vessels was just as sweet as that which we now gather in our bright tin pails, at far greater expense and trouble. Gathering the sap from the birchen buckets, it was carried by the original red man to the boiling place.
At this boiling place was a large caldron made of large sheets of birch bark. Beside the caldron a fire was built, and in this fire was placed a lot of stones. As soon as the stones became heated to a red heat, they were dropped into the birchen caldron, previously filled with sap. By taking out the cooled stones and putting in more hot ones, and repeating the process, even slow as it was, they got the sap to boiling. Once got to boiling, by heating the extracted stones they kept up the boiling, and so continued the process until, after a time, they got the sap boiled down, and sugar was the result.
That was making sugar without the aid of a kettle, and no doubt many will almost doubt the accuracy ofthe statement. It is a positive fact, however, for my forefathers, who came to this province in the last century, have handed down in family tradition the story of the process just as I have narrated it. Indeed they were eye-witnesses of the process themselves. With the advent of settlers, of course, the Indian soon learned better, and traded his furs with the fur dealer for iron kettles, and then began making sugar much as the white man does to-day.
As to the cleanliness of the Indian method, it is hardly necessary to speak. One can just fancy as to what amount of cinders would be conveyed by the stones drawn from the fire repeatedly and placed into the boiling syrup. Yet with cinders and all a sweetness was found at the bottom, and no doubt the Indian enjoyed his sugar, with all its cinders and ashes, quite as much as we do to-day with all our methods of cleanliness. It used to be an old saying that every one must eat his peck of dirt before he died. Granting the truth of the old saying, then, our Indian brother certainly got his peck of that commodity before half his ordinary life would be spent; and yet the Indian, with all his crudeness, taught the first white settlers to love the toothsome sweet, and to him we owe our knowledge of maple sugar.
The sugar maple is the emblematic maple of our country, whose leaves we couple with the beaver to form our national escutcheon. Its timber is the most valuable for firewood of any in our country, and equally as valuable for many purposes when made into lumber. Waggon axles have been formerly madefrom its wood. It is the cleanest, prettiest tree among our forests, and the most sought for as a shade-tree, but, being a slow grower, is many times crowded out by trees of swifter growth. It is the tree of Canada in a word, and added to its qualities, as before spoken of, it produces a succulent sap, whose flavor is peculiar to the maple and to the maple alone. Scientists, who imitate nature with their compounds, have utterly failed in producing, by all their mixtures and compounds, a flavor of the genuine maple. Honey can be counterfeited, but maple sugar never. Just what the peculiar charm is about the sweet produced by this incomparable tree one cannot describe in words. It has only to be indulged in to be appreciated. Among all the sweets its sweet is the most delicate and pleasing, and we doubt if ambrosial nectar, supposed to be prepared by the ancients for the immortal gods, began to equal it. So the gods of the ancients would have had a better time of it had they been among the North American settlers, than around and about the Ægean.
Only in North America is the sugar maple found. To cause the sap to flow freely it is necessary to have nights of frost, followed by days of sunshine. March is generally the month giving these conditions, and at that time in the remaining maple orchards in Canada our citizens will be found boiling down this incomparable sweet. Great as has been the decimation of our sugar orchards, yet there are many still found in our province, and the writer advises all those who have not yet tasted the nectar to make an effort to get to a genuine “sugaring-off” and indulge for the noncein this experience, the memory of which a lifetime cannot obliterate. I will describe a sugaring-off as well as I can, that others not conversant with it may in a measure realize its charms. The trees are now tapped by boring a shallow auger hole just through the bark of the maple. Below the auger hole a tin spile or spout is inserted by driving the sharp end of the rounded tin into the bark. Below the spile is placed a bucket made of cedar, by those possessing such buckets. There are cedar buckets now in use, made sixty years ago, among some of the older settlers, and owing to the peculiar lasting qualities of cedar, are as sound to-day as when first made. Others, as before spoken of, use tin pails or pans, but old sugar-makers aver that the sugar tastes best when caught in the cedar buckets. A shallow sheet-iron pan set over a stove range receives the sap, and in this the boiling is done. The fire, by passing along the arch, thus heats the extended surface of the pan, and the sap is thus boiled or evaporated far faster than it is in the ordinary process by boiling in a kettle. After the sap has been evaporated down to the consistency of syrup it is then taken out of the evaporating pan and placed in the sugaring-off kettle. Up to this time in the process the expectant and waiting sugar eaters have not indulged in the boiling nectar. Reducing the syrup by boiling it down in the kettle is the interesting process. Soon the surface of the sugar presents a yeasty appearance, and it begins to rise and fall in globules. Now is the time for careful watching to see that the mass does not burn; and for fear that it may run over, a piece of fatpork has been thrown into the boiling mass. This has the effect of keeping the boiling syrup within the bounds of the kettle sides, and when this piece of pork is extracted it is about the sweetest piece one ever tasted.
Wooden spoons, if no better ones are on hand, will have been whittled out by some handy whittler. The liquid is taken out into small vessels for individual use, and gradually stirred and cooled. And you taste. It is positively irresistible. And you taste again, and another taste is in order; charming is perhaps the only word which expresses the pleasure of partaking of this more than toothsome tit-bit. Positively there is nothing else in nature to compare with it, and just what the charm is no one can exactly say, only it is the peculiar maple flavor which maple alone, of all things in the world, gives, which causes one to keep on tasting, even to running a serious risk of tasting and partaking too frequently for the dimensions of an ordinary stomach.
When it will “blow” is the next interesting point in the process. The sugar maker inserts a piece of a small bent twig into the mass, and blows upon the syrup adhering to the twig. If it comes off in flakes or bubbles, then it’s done, and the kettle is swung off from the fire that it may not be burnt.
And now for the wax, which to many is the most toothsome part of the whole. Many prefer the wax to the warm sugar. Then dip out some of the hot sugar, still bubbling in the kettle, and pour it quickly upon the nearest snow. In a moment it cools, as it melts a shallow furrow in the snow. Now comes asticky wax, which will effectually seal together the upper and lower jaws of the participant if he chews lustily. But it’s so sweet, so pure and pleasant, and it’s all so jolly, that such experiences are always red-letter days in one’s life calendar. Pour more syrup on the snow and more wax is the result, and the knowing ones break off the wax in small fragments and allow it to gradually dissolve upon the tongue. And the joke goes around about the green hand and the greedy one, who has his jaws transfixed with the wax, and is unable to speak for a few moments until the wax has partially dissolved.
If the warm sugar was good, yea, incomparably good, this wax is glorious. And you eat, and chat, and eat again, and there’s no rancidness about this maple product to cause your throat to become raw, as it were, as all other sweets do. And so you eat on with impunity, each one’s own individual stomach’s capacity being alone the measure as the amount of nectar one should consume. And this is a sugaring-off. Reader, if you have not already tried it, don’t fail to make an effort to get to a sugaring-off, and my word for it you will never regret it.
We all deplore the loss of our previously magnificent maple orchards. But let us guardedly preserve those now remaining to us. Without speaking of the beauty they give to our country, they give us yearly at this season of the year a pleasure which money cannot in any other way purchase. Indeed, the wealth of our millionaires cannot purchase the pleasures of a sugaring-off otherwise than by going to the maple orchard itself.