Part 19

Mr. James, an artillery officer of Ogdensburg, had met with the loss of a brass six-pounder, pressed into the patriot service during the excitement of the battle of the Windmill. At the end of that affair, so disastrous to the sympathisers, Bill Johnston suddenly disappeared from the streets of Ogdensburg. Not long after this Mr. James’ wife was doing her marketing as usual, being one of the few ladies who were not intimidated by the scare at the waterfront. While chatting with friends whom she met in the course of her morning’s walk, one said, “If you knew where your husband is you would not be so full of laughter.” Word had been brought into town that Bill Johnston was in hiding in the woods near by, and two parties, hurriedly got together, had gone off in search. One party was composed of Charles T. Burwell and James, on horseback, the other of United States soldiers who were to meet the first at a given rendezvous. On arriving at the place the two horsemen found young Johnston sitting by the shore waiting for his father. After some resistance young Johnston was taken, his boat seized and the oars hidden. The capture of the father was not so easy. When he caught sight of the three he rushed to where he expected to find the boat, warning the townsmen to keep off. Had he thought of it in time it would have been like him to exclaim, “A boat! a boat! my kingdom for a boat!” He had a pistol in each hand, but demurred to use them, as his pursuers were “fellow-Americans.” After considerable parley, when he realized that the second party, momentarily expected by boat, would put him beyond hope, he surrendered. But he stipulated that his son should receive his arms, he himself to retain _only_ four small pistols and his bowie knife; he then quietly fell in with James and Burwell for the return to Ogdensburg. A very short walk brought them to the other party just arrived, United States soldiers, a sheriff and deputy marshall, to whom Bill Johnston was delivered. In spite of the large sums offered as reward for his capture, the testimony is that James’ share no more than reimbursed the latter for the loss of the brass six-pounder, for the safe custody of which he had been responsible. They placed Johnston on a steamboat in government employ under Colonel Worth, and so he disappears.

* * * * *

It was an epoch in the history of the peninsula of Essex and Kent when Mr. Prince arrived in Canada. Formerly these counties, “together with as much of this province as is not included within any other district,” extended northward to the boundary line of Hudson Bay. Neighbourhoods were not then congested. Prince was the first man of fortune who came to the district, which he did in ’33, accompanied by wife, family and servants. A man of fine presence and most genial manners, an eloquent speaker, a sportsman and lover of agriculture, he took to farming like the average Englishman, full of good intentions and enthusiasm. He imported thoroughbred stock and kept the finest of dogs. Although much opposed to the stringent game laws of England he introduced a bill for the preservation of game; it passed, but came back amended, one of the additions being that at no time should any animal be killed on the Lord’s Day. Later, alluding to the discussions induced by his summary proceedings with rebels and the hot debates on the battle of Windsor, he never doubted but that the shooting of such rancorous animals as wolves and Yankee pirates on the Lord’s Day could be justified; whereat there was laughter. For Sabbath-keeping in those exciting times was more after the manner of Gwirzi, whose allowance was a male and female daily, but who on Saturday night killed two of each so that he might not profane the Sabbath.

Prince had the true patriarchal spirit; was born to be a leader of men, if withal, like Bottom, he could say, “My chief humour is for a tyrant.” It was a time when a tyrant or two did not come amiss on the Canadian border, however unworthily at the metropolis th’ oppressor ruled tyrannic when he durst. Prince came not long after the time when the Western District gave sentence for manslaughter, “to be burned in the hand and accordingly put in execution before the court.” If this was justice in times of peace there was not much room for the animadversions with which he was covered--but not overwhelmed--when, the Constitution suspended, revolutionary crimes could scarce be put down save by revolutionary methods. “MacNab and Drew, Arthur, Prince, Hagerman and Robinson, are still alive,” said the press; each one of them agreed with Blackstone that obedience is an empty word if every man may decide how far he shall obey. There is no doubt that the Sandwich-Windsor locality was in ’37-38 a seething caldron of unrest, distrust and dissatisfaction; but above it all rides this overpowering personality:

“For the brave Prince still lives, and so do his men, Who triumphed before and can do it again.”

“(_Toast_) ‘That brave, intrepid officer whose promptitude of action turned the revelry of Yankee pirates in the western frontier into a _post mortem_ examination. May the sad lesson prove a caution to the followers of Blue Beard.’ (_Tune_--‘The Brave Old English Gentleman’).”

“Of politics,” said he himself in one of the hundreds of speeches which did much towards making his fame, “of politics I shall say but little here. Mine have been before you and the people of Upper Canada for the last five sessions. I am in the true sense of the word a Constitutional Reformer.” How far Brougham and others of his old country critics agreed with him shall be seen hereafter. His record in the Canadian House shows that he was never amenable to party discipline himself, was classed as “doubtful” by both parties, had hot fits of Liberalism and Conservatism by turns; like a stiff old Englishman, said he was prepared, as the barons at Runnymede, to maintain his rights at all risks; with John Henry Boulton came out as Independent, was a veritable Thorough in his opposition to the Rebellion Losses Bill, and capped the climax of his many-sided character by printing a petition signed by “many respectable Canadians” to move an address to Her Majesty praying that Canada might be relieved from her “dependent state and allowed to become an independent sovereignty.” By the time the last transpired it behooved Robert Baldwin to stigmatize the petition borne by the hero of ’37 as “_quasi treasonable_.”

In the neighbourhood of his home, the Park Farm, lay, for some thirty or forty miles, the French village form of settlement--the decent church, the pious priest, the civil habitant; the French windmill, where habitant and U. E. Loyalist took their grist in amity, still stood; the river road had on its fringed border the pear trees of the Jesuit fathers, standing like sentinels, to remind of Hennepin and La Salle, and to keep alive the first explorer’s saying, “Those who in the future will have the good fortune to own this lovely and fruitful strait will feel very thankful to those who have shown them the way.”

Every one knows how a carpenter, with foot each side of a log, brings his adze down, first on one side with an emphatic “Hah!” then on the other, with a second emphasis, each stroke on alternate sides getting the same syllabic ejaculation. In Lower Canada, tight in a box, most precious of relics, some of the habitants--it is said--had this most emphemeral of saintly leavings. Whether the habitant of the Detroit and St. Clair brought with him from the St. Lawrence the Hah of St. Joseph we do not know; but he did bring with him most of the attributes which make him the pleasant, interesting fellow he is, on each river; good Catholic, good friend; true to his title, for he came “habiter le pays,” no transient dweller he. Nor does the spirit of “noblesse oblige” ever die. Long after ’37 a court dignitary found himself in a remote St. Clair neighbourhood where tavern accommodation was not; his host for the night was advised of the arrival, and the dignitary drew up at the door of an unpretending house whose owner was apparently a small farmer of simple habit. The hall-door, opened wide in welcome, disclosed an old man in antique jacket, small clothes and buckles, whose fine white hair, lying on his collar, was stirred by the night breeze. The dark hall-way made a fading background for the old man and his ancient silver candlesticks, as, with a light in either hand, he bowed profoundly, walking backwards as his guest entered. The latter remonstrated at the attention so shown him, but the courteously spoken answer, in refined French, was, “Sir, I but follow the custom of my fathers.”

Can the people in any part of Canada object to those who remind them that this country has a history. Mr. Prince was one of those who thanked Providence the land was large enough for both. Almost without exception the St. Clair French were Loyalist, and as sign of their good faith were upholders of him. “What will the Government think of us,” says Baptiste, in a skit issued during an election contest, when Prince, an English Protestant, was opposed by a Canadian Catholic, “when it will be known in Toronto that we preferred any to Prince!!! We shall all be looked upon as asses, who have selected one of their own species in preference to any other.” When he voted for Cuvillier as Speaker of the House, Prince trusted the members of Lower Canada to hold out the hand of friendship; and in perusing the records of many years’ proceedings one finds continually that he seconds or is seconded by the French members. He had a firm hold on the affections of the people, the pleasant voice, smooth accent and manly, handsome presence of more weight as an opponent than any uniqueness in principle; his speeches owed as much to their melody as to their matter.

He was a law unto himself when he came to be a constitutional Reformer in military tactics--not unlike a Lower Canadian legal contemporary who, told by the presiding judge to refer to Pigéon, returned, “I do not need to refer to Pigéon, Perrault” (himself) “is worth Pigéon any day.” Perhaps, to take even higher comparisons, Prince had a touch of Durham, and more than a touch of Colborne, in him.

In the little town of Sandwich, since fitly named by a local Rip Van Winkle the “City of the Dead,” an oldest inhabitant will point out an unpretentious flat stone raised from the ground by a few bricks. Underneath it lie the mangled remains of the man over whose death and the avenging of it a stir only second to the _Caroline_ was made.

“Sacred to the memory,” says the stone, “of Jno. James Hume, Esq., staff assistant surgeon, who was inhumanly murdered and his body afterwards brutally mangled by a gang of armed ruffians from the United States, styling themselves PATRIOTS, who committed this cowardly and shameful outrage on the morning of the 4th December, 1838, having intercepted the deceased while proceeding to render professional assistance to Her Majesty’s gallant militia engaged at Windsor, U.C., in repelling the invasions of this rebel crew more properly styled PIRATES.”

During the first year of the rebellion the dwellers on the St. Clair frontier felt themselves aggrieved, as not of sufficient interest at military headquarters. They were particularly open to attacks from those who were called pirates, brigands, outlaws and robbers, from across the border, while singularly free from “rebels” among themselves. They were so convinced that the punishments meted out to offenders were not heavy or frequent enough that they emphasized the opinion in meetings called for the purpose of recording them, en passant displaying a rich sense of their own heavy sufferings “both by day and night, which can scarcely be described and perhaps never be surpassed,” and they were incensed at the respite accorded Theller and Sutherland, the two aggressors at whose hands they had suffered most. They were not to be conciliated by Sir George Arthur’s answer, giving legal reasons for the kind of justice dealt to such prisoners. That Lord Glenelg cautioned that every precaution should be taken against any semblance of retaliation upon the people who by their deeds were brought within the operation of martial law; that in courts-martial regular and not militia officers should preside; and that great circumspection be exercised in regard to capital punishment, had no weight with them. They deemed their own “the circumstances of peculiar and pressing urgency” which alone justified extreme measures, in Lord Glenelg’s opinion, and differed from him heartily in “the extent of punishment to which it may be necessary to subject them, will be more safely estimated at a distance from the scene of action.” They did entirely concur with him in that “it was impossible for him at that distance to give specific instructions.” Nor could they agree with Sir George Arthur, that in spite of prearranged plunder, and spontaneous outrages committed, the rebellion had political motives only for its raison d’être. Those who had been the plundered and were victims of outrage were for shooting first and trying after; and at a public meeting called to denounce past action of the patriots and lay down rules for the future it was decided that all invaders--ruffians who had not even the alleged right of being Canadians who were rebelling for what seemed to them good reason, but who came to murder, pillage and burn, under pretence of “liberating” a country unwilling to be liberated--should be treated as pirates; no quarter should be given, and any commander who found himself in such a position would be more than justified in acting on the publicly expressed opinion of that meeting. When occasion occurred and the right man for such work was on the spot a certain portion of those who previously represented public opinion found they could not endorse their own words. Attorney-General Hagerman approved; but then Lord Brougham said that although he might be a good soldier the Attorney-General could not have been much of a lawyer, or he never would have dared to say so.

The truly patriotic citizens of Windsor and Sandwich recognized that God helps those who help themselves. When Sir Francis sent all the forces out of the country they began a good local militia organization, in which Col. Prince took the lead. No portion of country could have been more self-helpful and more patriotic than this section found itself throughout. At the first meeting of magistrates called, Mr. William Anderton, Collector of Customs, was appointed commissary, and to James Dougall was assigned the supervision of ferries. For arms and stores there were no public moneys, but Mr. Dougall providentially had a large sum put by in the Bank of Michigan to make English purchase of goods for his next year’s trade. This he freely placed at the public disposal, and flour and pork, and all the arms available from Detroit friends, were brought across, as secretly as might be, but the transport was discovered just in time to allow Theller and one hundred followers to see the boats move off. Cordwood sticks were the only weapons available, and these were thrown freely after the boats, which, however, they failed to strike.

By December 3rd, ’38, the people on the Canadian side had been for many nights in constant fear of another invasion; horses were kept harnessed and saddled, arms lay conveniently near those who dared go to bed, and some prepared to turn night into day and made it their most watchful time. The attitude of the whole place was that of a modern fire-station, alert, ready, apprehensive. The place was full of the usual internecine squabbles and jealousies, only kept down by sense of a common danger; Colonel Airey had been applied to for a company of regulars, Major Reid of the 32nd had been sent to London, and Colonel Prince in command, while on the alert himself, thought that too many applications for assistance savoured of cowardice, and contented himself with night patrols and sentinels. The watch-fires of the patriots could be seen at the bivouacs on the farms below Detroit; friends, two of whom were to be among the killed, came across to warn them, and watchfulness was redoubled.

That night was cold and dark, no moon, the very time for the enemy’s purpose, and word was passed from tavern to tavern on the American side to rendezvous at the wharf--with arms and ammunition, “but to take no heed to provisions.” They expected to find food in plenty. The captain and crew of the _Champlain_ did not care to violate the neutrality laws, and kept out of the way; so a crew selected from the patriots took the vessel across the river, through many patches of drift ice, to a point about four miles above Windsor. The command on landing was that no noise should be made, the farmers were not to be wakened, and to make for the barracks, which were guarded by only a small force. Patriotic Mr. Dougall, bank manager as well as trader, writes that he was roused from his not too sound sleep by the sound of shots, saw the flames of already burning barracks, hurried his wife and family to a place of safety, and made his way to the safe, where $20,000 was locked up. The old-fashioned receptacle bristled with knobs, three of which had to be shoved aside before the keyhole could be uncovered. He shoved every knob on its entire surface and the keyhole was lost; but eventually he got the money, secured it about him, seized his gun, and went off towards Sandwich. Those who were the dupes among the invaders believed that once the protection of their presence was announced the people would rise up to meet their deliverers half-way in the effort to overthrow an obnoxious form of government. The first man they saw in the early morning light was hastening towards the barracks, evidently someone from Detroit who had rowed over to give the alarm. They fired and he fell, but the shot alarmed the sleeping town, and there was an end to the intended surprise. After that the old nine-pounder in the barrack square, opposite St. John’s Church, gave a resounding alarm, and as usual shattered the glass in the church and Court House windows. In a short time a gallant resistance had been made, and ammunition had given out; burning brands were thrust inside the torn siding of the wooden barracks by the brigands, who served themselves materially by getting under the eaves of the building and so out of range from the guns at the loopholes. Many within made escape by a door at the back unknown to the invaders, and those whom the heat forced to the other entrance sold their lives dearly; some, shot or wounded, were thrust back into the fire--in all a work of carnage and atrocity. Four brigands were told off to take burning brands from the barracks to set fire to the steamboat _Thames_, which lay at the wharf. They did so, to the slogan of “Remember the _Caroline_.” Never was there so much trouble in lighting a fire. She was more obstinate than the _Caroline_ herself, but from bow to stern the flames shot up, and the four incendiaries ran back to the barracks to take their stand in the line, which prepared to place itself in an orchard hard by, under Captains Putnam and Harvell. Putnam, six feet four and hailing from Middlesex, was said to be a grandson of the old general, Israel Putnam; Harvell was known as the Big Kentuckian, a man six feet two in height, weighing over two hundred pounds, and with hair long on his collar; he was a remarkable figure as he bore an enormous flag adorned with “a large white star in a blue field--the lone star of Canada.” The “lone star” is evidently poetic license; the flag bore the ordinary two stars and crescent, as described by those of each side. Those who had chief honour in routing this band were Captain Sparkes and his company, who, uniformed in scarlet, were little inferior to regulars. The patriots aimed at the bits of bright colour, but in their trepidation fired too high, and the balls went whistling overhead; in a moment their own ranks were broken, and the hundred under the pear trees dispersed in disorder, as Captain Sparkes and his men came over an intervening fence to let them taste the bayonet. The huge figure of the lone star standard-bearer made surprising time considering his own weight and the cumbersome colours, which trailed behind him on the ground. “A hundred dollars to whoever shoots the standard-bearer,” shouted Mr. Jimmy Dougall in great excitement, and more than one bullet tried for the reward.

Nothing but the gift of second sight can let one account for the difference between the patriots’ tale of the Windsor affair and the somewhat less hysterical loyalist one. The latter chronicle says Harvell died at once, as indeed he had every right to do; the former, which credits him with being a veritable Davy Crockett, brave, honest, impulsive and kind-hearted--very probably all true--says that he dropped on one knee and fired at his pursuers; that the fire was not returned, as no doubt they were anxious to secure alive so handsome and formidable a foe. When his ammunition was exhausted he drew a bowie knife, “or more properly speaking, tremendous butcher cleaver,” from his collar, which he brandished menacingly. This act brought the order to fire; he was far too formidable in appearance to be allowed to live, and he fell retaining his hold on his staff. The enemy approached, says the patriot historian, and demanded surrender. “Never!” said this modern Fitz-James; “I have sworn never to fly mine enemy, and never to surrender my neck to be broke upon the scaffold. Come on--come one, come all!” At any rate, to Ensign Rankin belonged the honour of capturing the flag; that seems the one point upon which there is unanimity of opinion. Many of the actors in this tragicomedy of invasion and war shed their stage properties as they fled, parting company with arms, accoutrements, ammunition, even clothing.