FOOTNOTES:

"Where'er down Tiber garbage floats, the greedy pike ye see;And wheresoe'er such lord is found, such client still will be."

Isaac Swayze was a veritable modern counterpart of the client Marcus, and when he gained votes by holding his patronsin terroremover the heads of the electors, he was merely echoing his ancient prototype:—

"I wait on Appius Claudius, I waited on his sire;Let him who works the client wrong beware the patron's ire."

His employers knew their man, and that he would not stick at a trifle to keep their favour. On the day after his secret interview with Dickson he proved his subordination to authority by committing wilful and deliberate perjury. He swore that Mr. Gourlay was an evil-minded and seditious person, who was endeavouring to raise a rebellion against the government of Upper Canada; that he, deponent, verily believed that said Gourlay had not been an inhabitant of the Province for six months, and had not taken the oath of allegiance.[9]

On the strength of this sworn statement, Mr. Gourlay was arrested under the Alien Act of 1804, and carried before Dickson and Claus, both of whom were specially and personally interested in putting him to silence. The examination and hearing before them, which took place on the 21st of December, was a transparent mockery of justice. Dickson, Claus and Swayze, in common with nearly every one in Upper Canada, well knew that their victim had been resident in the Province for nearly three times the period specified in the Act. Dickson had been in constant and familiarintercourse with him for sixteen months. Claus had known him nearly as long. Swayze had conversed with him at York more than a year before, and had been acquainted with his proceedings from month to month—almost from week to week—during the entire interval. The charge of being an evil-minded and seditious person was too absurd to be seriously entertained for a moment by any one who knew Mr. Gourlay as intimately as Dickson had done for more than eight years.[10]As for his not having taken the oath of allegiance, it had never been required of him, and he was both able and willing to take it with a clear and honest conscience. But as matter of fact no one suspected his loyalty, and the charge against him was the veriest pretext that malice could invent. When he appeared before his judges, however, Messieurs Dickson and Claus professed to be dissatisfied with his defence, and alleged that his "words, actions, conduct and behaviour" had been such as to promote disaffection. They accordingly adjudged that he should leave the Province within ten days. A written order, signed by them, enjoining his departure, was delivered to him. "To have obeyed this order," writes Mr. Gourlay,[11]"would have proved ruinous to the business for which, at great expense, and with much trouble, I had qualified myself. It would have been a tacit acknowledgment of guilt, whereof I was unconscious. It would have been a surrender of the noblest British right; it would have been holding light my natural allegiance; it would have been a declaration that the Bill of Rights was a Bill of Wrongs. I resolved to endure any hardship rather than to submit voluntarily."

He paid a heavy penalty for his disobedience. On the 4th of January, 1819—the third day after the expiration of the period allowed him for departure—Dickson and Claus issued an order of commitment, under which he was arrested and lodged in Niagara jail, there to remain until the next sitting of the Court of Oyer and Terminer. His pugnacity was by this time fully aroused, and he determined to fight his ground inch by inch. After some delay, he caused himself to be taken before ChiefJustice Powell, at York, under a writ ofhabeas corpus, for the purpose of being either discharged from custody or admitted to bail. The argument was heard on the 8th of February, when several persons of wealth and good social position presented themselves, and offered to become responsible to any amount for his appearance whenever called upon to stand his trial. The attorney who argued the cause on behalf of the prisoner presented three affidavits, made respectively by the Honourable Robert Hamilton, Peter Hamilton, and the prisoner himself, who, in order to render his position doubly unassailable, had meanwhile taken the oath of allegiance. In the first affidavit it was deposed that Mr. Gourlay had been domiciliated at Queenston for more than nine months, and that the deponent verily believed him to be a natural-born subject of Great Britain. By the second it appeared that deponent had known Mr. Gourlay in Britain, where he was respected, esteemed, and taken to be a British subject; "and that he is so"—thus ran the affidavit—"this deponent verily believes is notoriously true in this district." The prisoner's own affidavit set forth that he was a British subject; that he had taken the oath of allegiance, and that he had been an inhabitant of Upper Canada for more than a year prior to the date of the warrant first issued against him. There could hardly have been a clearer case. But the prisoner's enlargement at this time would have been a triumph for him, and would have made him a popular idol, which would not have comported with the policy of the Unholy Inquisition at the capital. He was remanded to jail, the Chief Justice indorsing judgment on the writ to the effect that the warrant of commitment appeared to be regular, and that the Act under which it was issued made no provision for bail or main-prize.

When Mr. Gourlay was first placed in durance at Niagara he was possessed of robust health, a vigorous frame, a seemingly unconquerable will, and a perfervid enthusiasm for the cause of truth and justice. But his sufferings during the ensuing six months were of a nature well calculated to sap the health of the most robust, to rack the frame of an athlete, to tame the wildest enthusiasm, and to subjugate the strongest will. When we read of what the gentle and erudite John Fisher or the eloquent and upright Sir John Eliot underwent in the Tower for conscience sake, the heart's blood within us is stirred with righteous indignation. But weare calmed by the reflection that these things took place centuries ago, and in a far-distant country. In the case of Robert Gourlay we can lay no such flattering unction to our souls. His slow crucifixion was accomplished in our own land, and at a time well remembered by many persons now living among us. Some idea of what he passed through may be derived from his own words already quoted. Further light on the subject may be obtained from noting his demeanour when placed on trial, as the reader will presently have an opportunity of doing.

For some months after his incarceration his fine state of health and exuberant animal spirits kept him from utterly breaking down. His whole nature was up in arms at the wrongs he had sustained, and his pugnacity asserted itself as far as his circumstances would admit of. He obtained the opinions of eminent English lawyers as to the legal aspect of his case. The unanimous opinion of counsel was that his imprisonment was wholly unjustifiable. Sir Arthur Piggott was clear that Chief Justice Powell should have discharged the prisoner when brought before him under the writ ofhabeas corpus, and that Dickson and Claus were liable to actions for false imprisonment. This opinion was acted upon, and proceedings were instituted against the two last-named personages. But the contest was too unequal. Each of the defendants obtained an order for security for costs, which security the plaintiff, being in confinement, and subject to various disabilities, was unable to furnish. The actions accordingly lapsed, and Dickson and Claus thus escaped all civil liability for their most reprehensible deeds.

The thread of the narrative may now be resumed pretty nearly where it was dropped a few pages back. It was, as has been said, the 20th of August—nearly a year subsequent to the Kingston trial[12]—when the prisoner was finally placed in the dock to undergo the semblance, without the reality, of a judicial investigation into his conduct. He was himself firmly persuaded that the jury empanelled in his case was a packed one. We have no means of knowing all the circumstances whereby he was led to this conclusion, but the idea is not in itself inherently improbable. In those days, and for long after, no man tried in Upper Canada for anything savouring of radicalism in politics could hope toreceive fair play. In Gourlay's case there were one or two suspicious features which, to say the least, require explanation. The custom ordinarily adopted by the sheriff, in selecting jurymen, was to draw them in rotation from the various townships in the district. "In my case," says Mr. Gourlay, "it was said that he had varied his course; and not this only, but, instead of drawing from a square space of country, he chose a line of nearly twenty miles, along which it was well known that there were the greatest number of people prejudiced and influenced against me."[13]Mr. Gourlay further declares that it was observed by people in court that in the glass containing the folded transcripts from the jury-list some of the folded papers were distinctly set apart, so as to admit of their being drawn, apparently with fairness, in the ordinary manner. These papers so set apart from the rest, as Mr. Gourlay informs his readers, were "caught hold of" as the twelve which should decide his fate. The names of the jurors, which, so far as I am aware, have not hitherto appeared in print, are worthy of preservation. They were William Pew, John Grier, William Servos, James B. Jones, Ralfe M. Long, David Bastedo, John C. Ball, John Milton, James Lundy, William Powers, Peter M. Ball and John Holmes.

The personal appearance of the prisoner had undergone a woful change during his confinement. Had his own wife seen him at that moment it is doubtful whether she would have recognized her lord. Could it be possible that that frail, tottering, wasted form, and that blanched, sunken-eyed, imbecile-looking countenance were all that were left of the once formidable Robert Gourlay? The sight was one which might have moved his bitterest enemy to tears. His clothing, a world too wide for so shrunken a tenant, hung sloppy and slovenly about him, and it was remarked by a spectator that he had aged fully ten years during the six months that had elapsed since his journey to York in the previous February. His limbs seemed too weak to support him where he stood, and as he leaned with his hands upon the rail in front of him his fingerstwitched nervously, while his whole frame visibly trembled. The saddest change of all had been wrought in his once fine eyes. They were of light grey, and their ordinary expression had been more sharp and piercing than is commonly found in eyes of that colour. They had been clear and keen, and expressive of an active, vigorous brain behind them. At present they were wandering, weak and watery, altogether lacking in lustre or expression. They told their sad tale with piteous brevity. The brain was active and vigorous no longer, or, if still active, was so to no definite purpose. The spark of reason was for the time quenched within him. His oratory and his writings were no longer to be dreaded. The man whose large presence had once carried about with it unmistakable evidences of physical and mental power had been reduced to a physical and mental wreck. No man in that closely-packed court-room was now more harmless than he. The Compact had indeed set an indelible mark upon him—a mark which he was to carry to his grave, for during the forty-four years of life that remained to him he was never again the Robert Gourlay of old, and was subject to periodical seasons of mental aberration.

And yet, as he stood there trembling and distraught, with that sea of faces turned upon him, he was not altogether without some glimmering of reason. He was at least passively conscious, like one in a troubled dream, of what was going on around him. He realized, in a misty, dazed sort of fashion that he was on his trial; but, cudgel his memory how he would, he could not recall the nature of his alleged offence. The fact is that, though no stimulant had passed his lips, he was in a state that can only be characterized as one of intoxication. We know, on undoubted authority, that very emotional persons are sometimes intoxicated by a plate of soup, and that invalids have become tipsy upon eating their first beefsteak after convalescence. Mr. Gourlay was endowed with an enthusiastic, exuberant nature, which required to be kept in subjection by abundant exercise. Up to the time of his imprisonment he had led an active out-of-door life, whereby the demon of nervousness within him had been kept at bay. But long-continued confinement in a close cell, deprivation of fresh air and suitable exercise, had hindered his exuberance from finding vent. His mind hadbeen thrown back upon itself. He had not been permitted to confer with his friends, except under such restrictions as made converse intolerable. He had been kept in such a state of nervous tension that he had had no appetite, and had eaten scarcely any food. His sleep had been broken by mental discomfort, and he had sometimes lain the whole night through without a minute's unconsciousness. What wonder that his flesh had sunk away from his bones, and that his frame had lost its elasticity! For some hours every day he had lain prostrate on the bed in his cell, in a state of feebleness pitiful to behold, unable to speak or move, and hardly able to breathe. "One morning," he writes, "while gasping for breath, I besought the gaoler to let me have more air, by throwing up the window. 'You are no gentleman,' said he; 'you gave that letter[14]out of the window, and I will come presently to nail it down.' Happily a friend soon after called upon me, and through his interference the window was put up. The brutal gaoler had never before been uncivil to me ... but there is a spirit throughout animal nature, brute and human, to oppress in proportion as opportunity is safe, and the object defenceless. The wounded stag, and the close prisoner of a Provincial Government, experience similar treatment."[15]

The summer heat, as before mentioned, had been excessive. No rain had fallen for weeks until just before the opening of the assizes, when there had been three days of damp, cool weather. During these three days the prisoner's strength had rallied wonderfully, and he had been able to prepare a written defence, as well as a written protest against the legality of his trial, in case of a hostile verdict. But the exertion had been too much for him in his enfeebled condition, and, as though to add to his miseries, the heat had become more intolerable than before. He had not known how utterly his nerves were shattered until his case had been called for trial, and he had been placed in the prisoners' dock. Hot and stifling as was the air of the court-room, it was balm itself when compared with the vitiated element which he had long been forced tobreathe. The stimulus was too great, and he was no longer master of himself. To quote his own words, he became rampant with the fresh air, and was reduced to imbecility at the very moment when he specially needed strength, patience and recollection. Such was his condition when Mr. Attorney-General rose from his seat and proceeded to lay bare the prisoner's unspeakable enormities. It had been determined that no attempt should be made to convict him of sedition, and that the only charge to be pressed against him should be his refusal to leave the Province. The indictment, however, was read and commented upon, doubtless for the purpose of influencing the minds of the audience. It charged, with wearisome iteration and reiteration, that he, the said Robert Gourlay, being a seditious and ill-disposed person, and contriving and maliciously intending the peace and tranquillity of our lord the King within the Province of Upper Canada to disquiet and disturb, and to excite discontent and sedition among his Majesty's liege subjects of this Province—and so forth, and so forth, to the end of the tedious and tautological chapter. The patriotic and disinterested conduct of Dickson and Claus, in performing the imperative but unpleasant duty of committing their personal friend to jail, lest he should undermine the loyalty of the people, was commented upon with periphrastic eloquence. When the official inquiry was put to the prisoner: "How say you, Robert Gourlay, are you guilty or not guilty?" he instinctively replied "Not guilty." Then came the next query: "Are you ready for your trial?" Ready for his trial, indeed! when his helpless condition was apparent to everybody who could catch a glimpse of his tottering frame and his vacant, expressionless face. The unmeaning sound which issued from his lips was taken for an affirmative, and the farce of an impartial investigation proceeded with.

During the whole of these proceedings the prisoner stood like one amazed and confounded; as one who gropes blindly in the dark for what he cannot find. From the various hints scattered here and there throughout his numerous writings, we are able to form some idea of what he underwent during that trying ordeal. His imagination had been rendered more lively by weakness and prostration of body, and he was so stimulated by the change of air from his cell to the court-room that hissensations were chiefly those of a vague and unreasoning delight—delight at the prospect of freedom; delight at the prospect of once more enjoying the luxury of heaven's sunlight unimpeded by the bars of a prison cell; of running rampant through the land, and feeling upon his sunken cheeks the deliciously invigorating air of the open fields. His high spirit had been effectually tamed by that rigid, excruciating torture of close confinement during the dog days, with no other companion than despair. By this time personal liberty and fresh air seemed to him the only things greatly to be desired. He was cognizant of a sensation of thankfulness that his trial had come on at last, even though it should result in his banishment. He rejoiced that he should even thus be set at liberty from his horrible situation.[16]He longed to feel the tide of human life ebbing and flowing around him, and to feel that he himself was not a mere drone in the hive. During the progress of the trial, though he was oblivious of most that was going on in the court-room, memory and fancy were keenly alert, and he rapidly lived over again many episodes of his past life. The dead and gone years rose up before him like the scenes of a rapidly-shifting panorama, even as the past is said to arise before the mental vision of those lying on beds of pain, just before the great mystery of the grave is unfolded to their view. Subjects and scenes long forgotten or seldom remembered presented themselves. There was the little Fifeshire school, with its umbrageous playground, where he had been a merry laughing lad, and where Dominie Angus had given him his first taste of ferule and Fotherup. There was the patched portrait of Cardinal Beaton, in St. Mary's College, at which he and his friend John Dean had been wont to gaze with rapt admiration in the old days left so far behind. There was that odd adventure among the Mendip Hills, during his professional peregrination through Somersetshire more than a dozen years before, and upon which he could not remember that he had bestowed a single thought since his arrival in Canada. There, too, was the drunken type-setter from Bristol, who had taught him the technical marks to be used in making corrections for the press, and whom he had neither seen nor thought of since the publication of his pamphlet in which be had portrayed the sufferings of Bet Bennam and Mary Bacon. Who shall say what otherscenes, sad or mirthful, presented themselves among his "thick-coming fancies"? Possibly he recalled the high hopes of his boyhood, when he thirsted to better the condition of the poor, and was almost persuaded that he had been sent into the world expressly to guard their interests against the exactions of grasping landlords. Visions, too, may have arisen before him of his beautiful Wiltshire farm, where the modest daisies peeped above the grass, and the joyous lark sang from the meadow; where he had once been so happy in the companionship of his fond wife and little ones, who at this moment waited in longing expectation for tidings from the absent husband and father. Perchance also he called to mind, at that crisis, his little dead daughter, who had blossomed and faded among the green glades of Wily, and over whose grave the parson of the parish had refused to read the services of the Church.[17]The poor babe had died unchristened, and under such circumstances the rubric forbade the solemnization of funeral rites.

From all such musings he was recalled by the voice of Chief Justice Powell, demanding if he had aught to say ere the sentence of the court should be pronounced upon him. The sentence of the court! For the best part of two hours he had been wool-gathering, and the words beat upon his brain without arousing any just appreciation of their significance. He now once more awoke to the fact that he was on his trial, but he could not grasp the potentialities of his situation, nor could he for the life of him recall the precise nature of the offence with which he had been charged. He did, however, realize that the jury had returned a verdict to the effect that he had been guilty of refusing to leave the Province, pursuant to the order served upon him. By a desperate effort he managed to rally his senses sufficiently to remember that he had been accused of being a seditious person, though whether the accusation had been made yesterday, or the day before, or half a century ago, he was wholly unaware. Turning towards the jury-box, he enquired of the nearest occupant whether he had been found guilty of sedition. Suddenly it flashed across him that he had prepared a defence, together with a written protest against the anticipated verdict. But by no mental exertion of which he was capable could he remember what he had donewith the defence, nor could he call to mind the word "protest," although at that moment he had the written one in his pocket. After a moment's struggle to remember what he wished to say, he found himself hopelessly befogged, and abandoned the attempt. Then, to the amazement of all who heard him, he burst out into a loud, strident peal of unmeaning, maniacal laughter—laughter which had no spice of merriment in it, and which was a mere spontaneous effort of nature to relieve the strain upon the shattered nerves. Bench, bar, jury and spectators stared aghast. Such laughter sounded not only incongruous, but sinister, ominous. It was suggestive of the expiring wail of a lost soul. It was more eloquent than any mere words could have been, and spoke with most miraculous organ. Over more than one heart there crept a sort of premonition that a dread reckoning must sometime arrive for that day's work: that Eternal Justice would sooner or later exact a fit penalty for the cruel perversion of right which was then and there being consummated. It would be interesting to know what, at that particular moment, were the innermost sensations of William Dickson and William Claus, both of whom sat within a few feet of their victim, and both of whom had repeatedly received offices of kindness at his hands.

Strange to say, the miserable man's memory was merely suspended, and he afterwards recalled with much clearness the thoughts and reflections which passed through his mind during that delirium of more than two hours. He even remembered the senseless bray of laughter which, to the sympathetic mind, is not the least impressive feature of that iniquitous trial. His overwrought nerves being temporarily relieved by the cachinnation, he regained for a few minutes some measure of composure and sanity. With the return of reason came a returning sense of injustice and oppression. He made a brief but ineffectual attempt to argue the matter with the Chief Justice, who informed him that the facts had been dealt with by the jury, and that he could be permitted to speak only on questions of law. The sentence of the Court was then pronounced. It was to the effect that the prisoner must quit the Province within twenty-four hours. He was reminded of the risk he would run in the event of his presuming to disobey, or to return to Upper Canada after his departure therefrom. He would be liable, according to the words ofthe Act of 1804, to suffer death as a felon, without benefit of clergy. The Chief Justice finally proceeded to read him a severe lecture upon his past course since his arrival in Canada, and furthermore to give him some excellent advice. He informed him that in this country the law is supreme; that no man can be permitted to run counter to it with impunity; that those who administer the law should be no respecters of persons; that justice is even-handed, and metes out impartially to the poor man and the rich. He advised him to turn his great abilities to practical account, whereby he would no doubt win happiness and distinction. "Perhaps," says George Eliot, "some of the most terrible irony of the human lot is to hear a deep truth uttered by lips that have no right to it." Poor Gourlay was conscious of some feeling of this sort when he heard such truths proclaimed from such lips. To his morbidly-sensitive nature, such irony seemed an aggravation of all he had endured. To think that, after such experiences as had fallen to his share, a Family Compact judge should gravely inform him that in Upper Canada the administrators of the law should be no respecters of persons! that justice is even-handed! To think that such an one should presume to advise him to become practical, with a view to wealth and happiness! It was like the adulterous woman who, on eloping with her paramour, wrote to her husband enjoining him to be virtuous if he would be happy. The incongruity struck the prisoner so forcibly that for a moment he was on the verge of another explosion of sardonic laughter. Before leaving the dock he made one last attempt to draw attention to the treatment he had sustained while in prison. By way of heightening the effect of his narration, he informed the Court that his letters had been suppressed by the sheriff:[18]that while his enemies had been allowed to fill the newspapers with lying diatribes against him, and to prejudice the public mind in view of his impending trial, his own letters to the NiagaraSpectatorhad beenrigidly withheld from the light of day, and this by official interference. Chief Justice Powell put the cap-sheaf upon the pinnacle of absurdity by informing him that if he chose he might prosecute the sheriff. Prosecute the sheriff! when he had just been sentenced by the Chief Justice himself to leave the Province within twenty-four hours, and when he was liable to the last penalty of the law in case of his return to prosecute!

The trial was ended, and—blissful thought!—for the ensuing twenty-four hours he was free to come and go whithersoever he would. He was taken in charge by his friends the Hamiltons, and spent the night in their house at Queenston. Next day—Saturday, the 21st of August—he obeyed the mandate of the law, and shook from his feet the parched dust of Upper Canadian soil. His mental condition was far from satisfactory, but he would brook no interference with his actions, even from his best friends. The feeling uppermost in his bosom was a delicious sense of being at large, with no one to shut the cell door upon him, or otherwise to control his actions. He felt like one recalled to life. The unhappy man was well aware that his brain was weak, but he also knew that he was not what is ordinarily understood as insane. Like Baldassarre, he carried within him that piteous stamp of sanity, the clear consciousness of shattered faculties. His feebleness was as patent to himself as to others. He knew that he was the mere wreck of what he had once been, and he knew further that his mental and bodily ruin was due to the triumph of tyranny and injustice. Still, he was, for the moment, happy. There was sunshine in his heart, and gladness in his eye. Having crossed the Niagara river, he knew that he was beyond the material grasp of those whose baneful shadow was nevertheless destined to darken the rest of his life. "I thanked God," he writes, several years afterwards, "as I set my first foot on the American shore, that I trod on a land of freedom. The flow of animal spirits carried me along for more than two miles in triumphant disgust. It carried me beyond my strength, till, staggering by the side of the road, I sunk down, almost lifeless, among the bushes, and awoke from my dream to a state of sensibility and horror past all power of description. If at my trial, and so long after it, I was callous to feeling; if I was blind to objects around me, and regardless of consequences, the scenes I had passed through were now too visible: mysenses were too keen; my feelings too acute. Before, all was frozen and rigid; now, extreme relaxation resigned me to the torture of a distracted mind, feeble, doubting, and irresolute. In fact, my nervous system had undergone a most violent change; and, to this hour, the effects are permanent: to this hour, with every effort and every appliance, my natural tone of health and vigour cannot be regained."[19]

One of the bitterest reflections which forced itself upon him was that he, a man of unimpeachable loyalty, had been banished—"flung out like a spoilt jelly,"[20]under a statute which had been passed to guard against the machinations of aliens and traitors. "Banishment" was to him a word replete with repulsive and disgraceful associations. He liked it no better than did the sweet rose of the Capulets.

"Banished: that one word—banished.

There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,In that word's death."

On the 27th of August, precisely a week after the trial above described, a high and mighty English nobleman who was for the time domiciled in Canada underwent a more terrible experience than ever fell to the lot of Robert Gourlay. He was travelling at the time through a part of the county of Carleton, and while wandering through the woods, attended by several companions, he found himself exceedingly unwell. His spirits were depressed, and he was dominated by what seemed an unaccountable dread of water. His valet had noticed that for a day or two previously he had shrunk from performing his customary ablutions, and had cleaned his hands and face by the application of a damp towel. On approaching within a few yards of a forest stream he was seized by violent spasms. By a desperate resolution he forced himself to take his seat in a canoe which had been provided, but the little craft had not proceeded many yards ere he was seized by a fresh paroxysm, and in a frenzied tone ordered the boatman to land him on the nearest bank. The order was promptly obeyed, and he had no sooner escaped from the boat than he ran frantically into the depths of the wood. He was pursued and overtaken by his companions, who found him foaming at the mouth and raving mad. Theysecured him until the paroxysm had spent itself, when they conveyed him to a neighbouring shanty. The sufferer, at his own request, was soon after removed to an adjoining barn, where he said he should be more comfortable than in the shanty, as it wasfurther from the water. Throughout the rest of the day and ensuing night he was subject to repeated returns of the paroxysms, during which he suffered untold agonies. It was evident to himself and those about him that he was afflicted by the most terrible of all maladies to which humanity is subject—hydrophobia. He had been bitten by a tame fox a few weeks before, and the deadly rabies had ever since been rankling in his system. He realized that he must die, and the instincts of his race—he was a remote by-blow of royalty—taught him to make an ending in a manner becoming a gentleman. Towards evening he consented to be taken back to the shanty, where a bed had been prepared for him. Except while the paroxysms were upon him, he was perfectly calm and collected, and gave his last sad directions to a friend who stood by his side. About eight o'clock on the morning of the 28th the death-agony came upon him, and his excruciating tortures were at an end.

Thus passed away Charles Gordon Lennox, Fourth Duke of Richmond, Earl of March and Baron Settrington in the peerage of England; Duke of Lennox, Earl of Darnley and Baron Methuen in the peerage of Scotland; Duc d'Aubigny in France, Governor-General of Canada, lord of Halnaker, Goodwood and West Hampnett. There was, as has been above hinted, a bar sinister in his escutcheon, for he was descended from King Charles the Second and the fair and frail Frenchwoman Louise Renée de Querouaille, who was commonly known among Englishmen of her day as Madam Carwell. This lady, who was probably the least bad of the unlicensed prostitutes of Charles's seraglio at Whitehall, was for her many virtues created Duchess of Portsmouth. Her descendants, like those of Nell Gwynn and the rest of that frail sisterhood, are reckoned among the great ones of the earth. The Duke whose melancholy fate has just been chronicled was the father of Lady Sarah, spouse of Sir Peregrine Maitland, Lieutenant-Governor of Upper Canada.

Was there any connection between these two tragical events: the trial of Robert Gourlay and the death of the Duke of Richmond? Mr. Gourlayevidently leaned to the belief that there was.[21]The Duke and his son-in-law had passed through Niagara during the hot weather of July, while the victim of Family Compact villainy was gradually having his health and reason tortured out of him in the jail at that place. He was of opinion that the two distinguished visitors should have exercised their prerogative by setting him at liberty. This, of course, was an altogether unreasonable belief. His Grace was not at all likely to interfere in the matter, and as for Sir Peregrine, he was completely in the hands of Mr. Gourlay's enemies. The belief, however, is worth recording, as exhibiting the extent to which Mr. Gourlay's persecution continued to prey upon his mind, even after the lapse of years, and when he was in as good health as he ever regained.

It was deemed advisable that Mr. Gourlay's case should be a perpetual warning to any and every person who might thereafter dare to tread in his venturesome footsteps. Accordingly, as has been seen, he had to drink the cup of mortification to the very dregs. And, by way of deterring public writers from aiding and abetting any such pestilent innovators for the future, it was determined that a notable example should be made of the editor of the NiagaraSpectator, who had dared to side with the oppressed against the oppressor, and had published some of Mr. Gourlay's attacks upon the abuses of the time. His name was Bartemus Ferguson, and he had on several occasions manifested his sympathy with projects of reform. The discipline inflicted upon himwas swift and severe. He was seized while in bed, in the middle of the night, a hundred and fifty miles from home, conveyed to jail at Niagara, and thence to York, where he was detained in prison for some days out of the reach of friends to bail him. He was tried for sedition at the Niagara assizes a day or two before Mr. Gourlay. In order that public journalists of the present day may note in what comparatively pleasant places their lines have fallen, I transcribe the sentence of the court, which was as follows:—"Therefore it is considered by the said court here that the said Bartemus Ferguson do pay a fine to our said lord the King of fifty pounds of lawful money of Upper Canada: That he, the said Bartemus Ferguson, be imprisoned in the common jail of the District of Niagara for the space of eighteen calendar months, to be computed from the eighth day of November, in the sixtieth year of the reign of our said lord the King: that in the course of the first month of the said eighteen months he do stand in the public pillory one hour, between the hours of ten o'clock in the forenoon and two o'clock in the afternoon: and that at the expiration of the said imprisonment he do give security for his good behaviour for the term of seven years: he the said Bartemus Ferguson in the sum of five hundred pounds, and two sureties in the sum of two hundred and fifty pounds each; and further, that he, the said Bartemus Ferguson, do remain imprisoned in the said jail until the aforesaid fine be paid and security given."

The composition for which the editor was thus held to so stern an account was a letter written by Mr. Gourlay, and signed by his name, published in theSpectatorduring the editor's absence from home, and without his knowledge. It animadverted pretty sharply on the Administration of the day. In the jingling and jangling phraseology of the indictment, it was calculated to "detract, scandalize, and vilify His Grace Charles Duke of Richmond, Lennox and Aubigny, Captain-General and Governor in and over the Provinces of Lower and Upper Canada, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick and their dependencies; and to scandalize and vilify Sir Peregrine Maitland, Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, His Majesty's Lieutenant-Governor of this Province of Upper Canada." Certain public officials, not specifically alluded to by name, were referred to as fools and sycophants. But the letter did not contain a syllable which was not literally true, and was mildness itself whencompared with letters and articles which are constantly published with impunity in newspapers of all shades of political opinion in these present times. It appears that, upon the humble and unequivocal submission of the culprit, some of the most severe penalties imposed by the court were remitted, and that he was erelong allowed to resume his business;[22]but all enthusiasm for the public good had meanwhile been crushed out of him, and he became one more added to the list of subservient tools which the Executive always managed to have at their control. Such were the glories of a free press in enlightened Upper Canada sixty-six years ago. Such were the "good old times" which our grandfathers are never weary of belauding to the echo. How bright are the hues of retrospection! But for us of the present generation, let us be thankful to the Giver of all Good that such brave old times are long past, and that they can never return. Let them go; but surely it is too much to expect us to pronounce a benison upon their dead and departed dry bones.

Even before the commencement of proceedings against Mr. Gourlay under the Alien Act, his conduct had furnished a pretext to those in authority for striking a heavy blow against freedom of speech and action. The holding of conventions, whereat meddlesome persons of the Gourlay stamp might air their grievances and agitate for investigations into public abuses, was a thing not to be tolerated in Upper Canada. Upon the assembling of the Legislature at York, in October, 1818, the Lieutenant-Governor, in his opening Speech, hinted at a law to prevent the holding of such meetings; and in the course of the ensuing session a Bill to effect that object was introduced into the Assembly by Mr. Jonas Jones, member for Grenville. The Bill was supported by twelve out of the thirteen members present, and was speedily passed into law; but, as will hereafter be seen, it was not destined to a long life.

After a brief delay in the State of New York, Mr. Gourlay repaired to Boston, and thence took ship for Liverpool. On a subsequent page we shall catch one more brief glimpse of him, but with that exceptionthe present work has no further concern with his chequered existence. He will be referred to from time to time, but only incidentally, and for purposes of illustration. Those who may feel sufficient interest in him to follow his fortunes and misfortunes to the bitter end, will find some account of them in the authority quoted below.[23]

FOOTNOTES:[1]Not, however, hisimmediatejudicial successor. Mr.—afterwards Sir William—Campbell became Chief Justice in 1825, and Mr. Robinson's succession did not take place until four years later.[2]"Upon my soul, you mustn't come into the place saying you want to know, you know! You have no right to come this sort of move!"—Little Dorrit.[3]For a much more comprehensive account of Mr. Gourlay's life than the one here given, the reader is referred to a sketch by the author of this work inThe Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., pp. 240-256.[4]More than half a century later the venerable Doctor thus wrote to his old school-fellow: "... I received your interesting letter ... with no slight emotion of kindness and respect, having ever regarded you as one of the ablest of my fellow-students at St. Andrews; and who, if human life had not been the lottery it is, would have earned by his talents, and merited by his friendly disposition, a place of high and honourable distinction in society."[5]The following observations, written concerning Mr. Young by Mr. Gourlay many years afterwards, contain, so far as they go, a singularly accurate portraiture of the Banished Briton himself:—"He was an enthusiast, and of course honest: he was well educated, and a gentleman. In all his voluminous writings a mean sentiment is not to be found. His habit of making free with people's names, and taking liberties with their writings, arose from an uncontrollable ardour in the cause of improvement.... His inclination to accumulate crude and undigested information, sufficiently evinced in some of his tours, had their full scope: he then lost himself, and bewildered others, in the confusion of detail. I question if he ever had the power of correct abstract reasoning. His imagination was too busy for it: his eye was too ravenous, devouring all within its reach."—General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada; p. xcvii.[6]Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., p. 241.[7]Ex. gr.:—"The law! the law!" impatiently exclaimed the Reverend Doctor, in his most strident vernacular, when the question of Barnabas Bidwell's expulsion from the Assembly was under discussion in his hearing—"Never mind the law; toorn him oot, toorn him oot."[8]"The local situation of Upper Canada exposes it to the inroad of aliens of all nations, who, having no tie of allegiance or affection to Britain, may thence be suspected of evil designs; and for that reason terrors may be held out to keep them at a distance; but for British subjects to be suspected and made liable to penalties on mere suspicion, is contrary at once to nature and the spirit of our constitution. It is more especially absurd when we consider that the law was expressly made fortheirprotection."—General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada,p. lxviii.[9]Seven or eight years after this time Swayze narrowly escaped prosecution for the murder of Captain William Morgan, who is presumed to have been slain for his threatened disclosure of the Masonic Ritual. Swayze openly boasted that he had been concerned in the abduction of Morgan, and in the execution of Masonic vengeance upon him. He professed to be able to indicate the precise spot where the body was buried—which spot, he declared, was not far from the bottom of his garden. Upon investigation these vainglorious boastings proved to be utterly without any foundation in fact.[10]Dickson had originally made Gourlay's acquaintance in 1810, when he visited and spent a week with him at his farm in Wiltshire. See Gourlay'sStatistical Account of Upper Canada,Vol. 2, p. 494.[11]General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada, p. ix.[12]In these times there was but one jail delivery per annum in Upper Canada.[13]Statistical Account, Vol. II., p. 342. In a note to p. xv. of theGeneral Introduction, Mr. Gourlay says further: "The jury in this case was notoriously packed. To guard against the effects of this as much as possible, I had, in the expectation of trial for libel, obtained lists of inimical jurymen, and had people willing to appear in court to swear that many of them had prejudged me openly, in the rancour of party dispute. These lists were handed to me through the door, before and during the assizes; but all caution and care forsook me in the time of need."[14]Referring to a letter written to attract sympathy to the case of the editor of the NiagaraSpectator, who had been imprisoned and shamefully abused for publishing several of Mr. Gourlay's criticisms. Some account of the persecution to which this gentleman was subjected will be found on a future page.[15]Statistical Account, Vol. 2, pp. 393, 394.[16]General Introduction, p. xv.[17]General Introduction, pp. ccviii., ccix., and note.[18]The sheriff was Thomas Merritt, father of the gentleman who afterwards became the Hon. William Hamilton Merritt, to whose enterprise, more than to that of any other man, we owe the Welland Canal. It is right to add that most of the subordinate duties of the office of sheriff were discharged by an underling, and that Thomas Merritt may have been personally free from blame in respect of Mr. Gourlay. Assuming him to have been blamable, his son, the Hon. W. H. Merritt, in after days, did his utmost to atone for it by espousing Mr. Gourlay's cause in the Canadian Assembly, as will be seen by reference to the Parliamentary debates of 1856, 1857 and 1858.[19]Statistical Account, Vol. II., pp. 400, 401.[20]Ib., p. 401.[21]Mr. Gourlay was in error as to the date of the Duke's death. He represents him as "writhing in agony at the self same hour," and as dying on the same day when he, Mr. Gourlay, crossed over into the United States.—Statistical Account, vol. 2, p. 401. He was astray by exactly a week. By reference to the precept of the court, I find that Mr. Gourlay's trial took place on the day specified in the text—Friday, the 20th of August. He left the Province on the following day—Saturday, the 21st. The Duke's death took place on Saturday, the 28th.It may perhaps be as well for me to refer here to a story which seems to have obtained some currency, to the effect that the Duke of Richmond's death was due, not to hydrophobia, but to delirium tremens. There is not the shadow of truth in the story. The evidence as to the Duke's having been bitten at Sorel by a tame fox; as to his showing the healed wound on his thumb several weeks afterwards; as to his dread of water during the day before his death, and as to all the circumstances attending that tragical event, is as clear as evidence can very well be. Moreover, his habits were by no means such as to lead tomania a potu. He was abon vivant, but, so far as I have been able to ascertain, he did not drink to excess, and was always master of such brains as he possessed. His end was one which his family might honestly mourn, and there was little in his life, nothing in his death, of which they had any cause to feel ashamed.[22]"Major-General" D. McLeod, in his "History of the Canadian Insurrection," p. 75, incorrectly states that Ferguson "died in jail from extremely cruel usage."[23]Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., pp. 240-256.

[1]Not, however, hisimmediatejudicial successor. Mr.—afterwards Sir William—Campbell became Chief Justice in 1825, and Mr. Robinson's succession did not take place until four years later.[2]"Upon my soul, you mustn't come into the place saying you want to know, you know! You have no right to come this sort of move!"—Little Dorrit.[3]For a much more comprehensive account of Mr. Gourlay's life than the one here given, the reader is referred to a sketch by the author of this work inThe Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., pp. 240-256.[4]More than half a century later the venerable Doctor thus wrote to his old school-fellow: "... I received your interesting letter ... with no slight emotion of kindness and respect, having ever regarded you as one of the ablest of my fellow-students at St. Andrews; and who, if human life had not been the lottery it is, would have earned by his talents, and merited by his friendly disposition, a place of high and honourable distinction in society."[5]The following observations, written concerning Mr. Young by Mr. Gourlay many years afterwards, contain, so far as they go, a singularly accurate portraiture of the Banished Briton himself:—"He was an enthusiast, and of course honest: he was well educated, and a gentleman. In all his voluminous writings a mean sentiment is not to be found. His habit of making free with people's names, and taking liberties with their writings, arose from an uncontrollable ardour in the cause of improvement.... His inclination to accumulate crude and undigested information, sufficiently evinced in some of his tours, had their full scope: he then lost himself, and bewildered others, in the confusion of detail. I question if he ever had the power of correct abstract reasoning. His imagination was too busy for it: his eye was too ravenous, devouring all within its reach."—General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada; p. xcvii.[6]Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., p. 241.[7]Ex. gr.:—"The law! the law!" impatiently exclaimed the Reverend Doctor, in his most strident vernacular, when the question of Barnabas Bidwell's expulsion from the Assembly was under discussion in his hearing—"Never mind the law; toorn him oot, toorn him oot."[8]"The local situation of Upper Canada exposes it to the inroad of aliens of all nations, who, having no tie of allegiance or affection to Britain, may thence be suspected of evil designs; and for that reason terrors may be held out to keep them at a distance; but for British subjects to be suspected and made liable to penalties on mere suspicion, is contrary at once to nature and the spirit of our constitution. It is more especially absurd when we consider that the law was expressly made fortheirprotection."—General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada,p. lxviii.[9]Seven or eight years after this time Swayze narrowly escaped prosecution for the murder of Captain William Morgan, who is presumed to have been slain for his threatened disclosure of the Masonic Ritual. Swayze openly boasted that he had been concerned in the abduction of Morgan, and in the execution of Masonic vengeance upon him. He professed to be able to indicate the precise spot where the body was buried—which spot, he declared, was not far from the bottom of his garden. Upon investigation these vainglorious boastings proved to be utterly without any foundation in fact.[10]Dickson had originally made Gourlay's acquaintance in 1810, when he visited and spent a week with him at his farm in Wiltshire. See Gourlay'sStatistical Account of Upper Canada,Vol. 2, p. 494.[11]General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada, p. ix.[12]In these times there was but one jail delivery per annum in Upper Canada.[13]Statistical Account, Vol. II., p. 342. In a note to p. xv. of theGeneral Introduction, Mr. Gourlay says further: "The jury in this case was notoriously packed. To guard against the effects of this as much as possible, I had, in the expectation of trial for libel, obtained lists of inimical jurymen, and had people willing to appear in court to swear that many of them had prejudged me openly, in the rancour of party dispute. These lists were handed to me through the door, before and during the assizes; but all caution and care forsook me in the time of need."[14]Referring to a letter written to attract sympathy to the case of the editor of the NiagaraSpectator, who had been imprisoned and shamefully abused for publishing several of Mr. Gourlay's criticisms. Some account of the persecution to which this gentleman was subjected will be found on a future page.[15]Statistical Account, Vol. 2, pp. 393, 394.[16]General Introduction, p. xv.[17]General Introduction, pp. ccviii., ccix., and note.[18]The sheriff was Thomas Merritt, father of the gentleman who afterwards became the Hon. William Hamilton Merritt, to whose enterprise, more than to that of any other man, we owe the Welland Canal. It is right to add that most of the subordinate duties of the office of sheriff were discharged by an underling, and that Thomas Merritt may have been personally free from blame in respect of Mr. Gourlay. Assuming him to have been blamable, his son, the Hon. W. H. Merritt, in after days, did his utmost to atone for it by espousing Mr. Gourlay's cause in the Canadian Assembly, as will be seen by reference to the Parliamentary debates of 1856, 1857 and 1858.[19]Statistical Account, Vol. II., pp. 400, 401.[20]Ib., p. 401.[21]Mr. Gourlay was in error as to the date of the Duke's death. He represents him as "writhing in agony at the self same hour," and as dying on the same day when he, Mr. Gourlay, crossed over into the United States.—Statistical Account, vol. 2, p. 401. He was astray by exactly a week. By reference to the precept of the court, I find that Mr. Gourlay's trial took place on the day specified in the text—Friday, the 20th of August. He left the Province on the following day—Saturday, the 21st. The Duke's death took place on Saturday, the 28th.It may perhaps be as well for me to refer here to a story which seems to have obtained some currency, to the effect that the Duke of Richmond's death was due, not to hydrophobia, but to delirium tremens. There is not the shadow of truth in the story. The evidence as to the Duke's having been bitten at Sorel by a tame fox; as to his showing the healed wound on his thumb several weeks afterwards; as to his dread of water during the day before his death, and as to all the circumstances attending that tragical event, is as clear as evidence can very well be. Moreover, his habits were by no means such as to lead tomania a potu. He was abon vivant, but, so far as I have been able to ascertain, he did not drink to excess, and was always master of such brains as he possessed. His end was one which his family might honestly mourn, and there was little in his life, nothing in his death, of which they had any cause to feel ashamed.[22]"Major-General" D. McLeod, in his "History of the Canadian Insurrection," p. 75, incorrectly states that Ferguson "died in jail from extremely cruel usage."[23]Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., pp. 240-256.

[1]Not, however, hisimmediatejudicial successor. Mr.—afterwards Sir William—Campbell became Chief Justice in 1825, and Mr. Robinson's succession did not take place until four years later.

[2]"Upon my soul, you mustn't come into the place saying you want to know, you know! You have no right to come this sort of move!"—Little Dorrit.

[3]For a much more comprehensive account of Mr. Gourlay's life than the one here given, the reader is referred to a sketch by the author of this work inThe Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., pp. 240-256.

[4]More than half a century later the venerable Doctor thus wrote to his old school-fellow: "... I received your interesting letter ... with no slight emotion of kindness and respect, having ever regarded you as one of the ablest of my fellow-students at St. Andrews; and who, if human life had not been the lottery it is, would have earned by his talents, and merited by his friendly disposition, a place of high and honourable distinction in society."

[5]The following observations, written concerning Mr. Young by Mr. Gourlay many years afterwards, contain, so far as they go, a singularly accurate portraiture of the Banished Briton himself:—"He was an enthusiast, and of course honest: he was well educated, and a gentleman. In all his voluminous writings a mean sentiment is not to be found. His habit of making free with people's names, and taking liberties with their writings, arose from an uncontrollable ardour in the cause of improvement.... His inclination to accumulate crude and undigested information, sufficiently evinced in some of his tours, had their full scope: he then lost himself, and bewildered others, in the confusion of detail. I question if he ever had the power of correct abstract reasoning. His imagination was too busy for it: his eye was too ravenous, devouring all within its reach."—General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada; p. xcvii.

[6]Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., p. 241.

[7]Ex. gr.:—"The law! the law!" impatiently exclaimed the Reverend Doctor, in his most strident vernacular, when the question of Barnabas Bidwell's expulsion from the Assembly was under discussion in his hearing—"Never mind the law; toorn him oot, toorn him oot."

[8]"The local situation of Upper Canada exposes it to the inroad of aliens of all nations, who, having no tie of allegiance or affection to Britain, may thence be suspected of evil designs; and for that reason terrors may be held out to keep them at a distance; but for British subjects to be suspected and made liable to penalties on mere suspicion, is contrary at once to nature and the spirit of our constitution. It is more especially absurd when we consider that the law was expressly made fortheirprotection."—General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada,p. lxviii.

[9]Seven or eight years after this time Swayze narrowly escaped prosecution for the murder of Captain William Morgan, who is presumed to have been slain for his threatened disclosure of the Masonic Ritual. Swayze openly boasted that he had been concerned in the abduction of Morgan, and in the execution of Masonic vengeance upon him. He professed to be able to indicate the precise spot where the body was buried—which spot, he declared, was not far from the bottom of his garden. Upon investigation these vainglorious boastings proved to be utterly without any foundation in fact.

[10]Dickson had originally made Gourlay's acquaintance in 1810, when he visited and spent a week with him at his farm in Wiltshire. See Gourlay'sStatistical Account of Upper Canada,Vol. 2, p. 494.

[11]General Introduction to Statistical Account of Upper Canada, p. ix.

[12]In these times there was but one jail delivery per annum in Upper Canada.

[13]Statistical Account, Vol. II., p. 342. In a note to p. xv. of theGeneral Introduction, Mr. Gourlay says further: "The jury in this case was notoriously packed. To guard against the effects of this as much as possible, I had, in the expectation of trial for libel, obtained lists of inimical jurymen, and had people willing to appear in court to swear that many of them had prejudged me openly, in the rancour of party dispute. These lists were handed to me through the door, before and during the assizes; but all caution and care forsook me in the time of need."

[14]Referring to a letter written to attract sympathy to the case of the editor of the NiagaraSpectator, who had been imprisoned and shamefully abused for publishing several of Mr. Gourlay's criticisms. Some account of the persecution to which this gentleman was subjected will be found on a future page.

[15]Statistical Account, Vol. 2, pp. 393, 394.

[16]General Introduction, p. xv.

[17]General Introduction, pp. ccviii., ccix., and note.

[18]The sheriff was Thomas Merritt, father of the gentleman who afterwards became the Hon. William Hamilton Merritt, to whose enterprise, more than to that of any other man, we owe the Welland Canal. It is right to add that most of the subordinate duties of the office of sheriff were discharged by an underling, and that Thomas Merritt may have been personally free from blame in respect of Mr. Gourlay. Assuming him to have been blamable, his son, the Hon. W. H. Merritt, in after days, did his utmost to atone for it by espousing Mr. Gourlay's cause in the Canadian Assembly, as will be seen by reference to the Parliamentary debates of 1856, 1857 and 1858.

[19]Statistical Account, Vol. II., pp. 400, 401.

[20]Ib., p. 401.

[21]Mr. Gourlay was in error as to the date of the Duke's death. He represents him as "writhing in agony at the self same hour," and as dying on the same day when he, Mr. Gourlay, crossed over into the United States.—Statistical Account, vol. 2, p. 401. He was astray by exactly a week. By reference to the precept of the court, I find that Mr. Gourlay's trial took place on the day specified in the text—Friday, the 20th of August. He left the Province on the following day—Saturday, the 21st. The Duke's death took place on Saturday, the 28th.

It may perhaps be as well for me to refer here to a story which seems to have obtained some currency, to the effect that the Duke of Richmond's death was due, not to hydrophobia, but to delirium tremens. There is not the shadow of truth in the story. The evidence as to the Duke's having been bitten at Sorel by a tame fox; as to his showing the healed wound on his thumb several weeks afterwards; as to his dread of water during the day before his death, and as to all the circumstances attending that tragical event, is as clear as evidence can very well be. Moreover, his habits were by no means such as to lead tomania a potu. He was abon vivant, but, so far as I have been able to ascertain, he did not drink to excess, and was always master of such brains as he possessed. His end was one which his family might honestly mourn, and there was little in his life, nothing in his death, of which they had any cause to feel ashamed.

[22]"Major-General" D. McLeod, in his "History of the Canadian Insurrection," p. 75, incorrectly states that Ferguson "died in jail from extremely cruel usage."

[23]Canadian Portrait Gallery, Vol. III., pp. 240-256.

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