The War of 1812--Canadian feeling with regard to it--Intolerance of
the Family Compact--Roger Conant arrested and fined--March of
defenders to York--Roger Conant hides his specie--A song about the
war--Indian robbers foiled--The siege of Detroit--American
prisoners sent to Quebec--Feeding them on the way--Attempt on the
life of Colonel Scott of the U. S. army--Funeral of Brock--American
forces appear off York--Blowing up of the fort--Burning of the Don
bridge--Peace at last.
In twenty years from the time Governor Simcoe established his capital at
Newark, on the Niagara River, after being sworn in as Governor of
western Canada (his incumbency being the real commencement of the
settlement of Upper Canada), began the War of 1812 between Great Britain
and the United States. Our peaceably disposed and struggling Canadians,
trying to subdue the forest and to procure a livelihood, were horrified
to have a war on their hands. They could ill afford to leave their small
clearings in the forest, where they garnered their small crops, to go
and fight. Not one of them, however, for a single moment thought of
aiding the United States or of remaining neutral. Canada was their home,
and Canada they would defend. From 12,000 in 1792 in Upper Canada,
40,000 were now within its boundaries, endeavoring to make homes for
themselves. We have the fact plainly told that, although at least
one-third of all the inhabitants in 1812 were born in the United States,
or were descendants of those who were born there, not one of them
swerved in his loyalty to Canada, his adopted country. This is saying a
very great deal, for it was in no sense Canada’s quarrel with the United
States. If Great Britain chose to overhaul United States merchantmen for
deserting from the Royal navy, it is certain that Canada could not be
held responsible for any such high-handed act. Canadians generally at
the breaking out of the war, whether of United States origin or from the
British Isles direct, felt that Great Britain had been very assertive
towards the United States, and had also been rather inclined to be
exacting. Such was the feeling generally. No one, however, for a moment
wavered. All were loyal and all obeyed the summons to join the militia
and begin active service. Britain’s quarrel with the United States, in
obedience to the mandate of some Cabinet Ministers safely ensconced in
their sumptuous offices in London, worked incalculable hardships to the
struggling settlers in the depths of our Canadian forests.
To vividly realize how very intolerant of any discussion of public
matters of that day the Family Compact was, a personal narrative will be
found interesting. Roger Conant, one day in the autumn, went from his
home in Darlington to York. He had been requisitioned by the British
officers just out from England (and whom he respected) to take an
ox-cart
[Illustration: NEWARK (NIAGARA), 1813.
(From the J. Ross Robertson collection.)
]
load of war material along the Lake Ontario shore to York. Now at home,
his neighbors being very sparse, he had but few opportunities to
converse and compare opinions about the war. Once at York the desired
opportunity came. When sitting at a hotel fire, with a number of
civilians about, opinions were quite freely expressed by those present.
Roger Conant remarked that he was sorry for the war, and that although
he would fight for Britain and Canada, he felt that Britain should
arrange the differences with the United States and not drag Canada into
a war in which she had not the least interest. He further remarked to
the assembled civilians about the fire, that he thought Britain, too,
very arbitrary in searching vessels of the United States
indiscriminately and taking seamen from them without knowing them to be
deserters from the British navy. Some one of the assembly quickly
reported that remark to the commandant of the fort at York. Roger was
arrested in an almost incredibly short time, brought before a
court-martial next morning and fined eighty pounds (Halifax), being
about $320 of our money. Hard as this was, he paid the fine, held his
peace, and went off home, until called to serve in the ranks, which he
did duly and faithfully. Family Compact rule was answerable for such
treatment, as it certainly was for the responsibility for the Revolution
which followed in 1837. To the honor of Roger Conant be it always said,
however, that he turned out, donning his best suit, and made for the
nearest commanding officer. No settler ever refused to turn out,
although when
[Illustration: BRITISH MILITARY UNIFORMS, 1812.]
[Illustration: AN OLD SPINNING-WHEEL.]
[Illustration: CIVILIAN COSTUMES, UPPER CANADA, 1812.]
once turned out, they seemed so ludicrously weak that they felt
themselves only a handful. There were a few British soldiers in red
coats, but the defenders that made their way to York along the shores of
Lake Ontario were a motley throng. There was no pretence at uniforms,
nor was there indeed during the war, or very little of it. Let us
realize if we can that these poor fellows had to walk along the lake
shore. Here and there only were roads to be found cut out of the dense
dark forest and back from the lake shore. Very few were fortunate enough
to possess boats or canoes in which to row or paddle to York. Some,
however, were able to adopt this mode of transit, and thereby hangs a
tale. On one occasion a party of militiamen, accompanied by one or two
soldiers--among them a drummer--were to be seen with their boats ashore,
one of their craft being turned bottom upwards, and having the carcase
of a fine porker “spread-eagled,” as sailors say, on either side of the
keel. It appears that on their way to York the party had “commandeered”
a pig they had come across, and being sharply pursued by its owner, they
had taken this means of concealing their booty. No one thought of
pulling the boat out of the water and turning it up to find the pig. At
the same time they had requisitioned a fine fat goose, wrung its neck,
and were carrying it away. In this case, with the pursuers at heel, the
task of hiding the loot had fallen to the drummer. He speedily arranged
matters by unheading his drum and placing the coveted bird inside, and
the story goes that on the favorable opportunity arriving, both pig and
goose formed the basis of an excellent feast on the lake shore, in
which, if tradition is to be believed, one officer, at least, joined
with considerable readiness.
Roger joined the rank and file of the militia, but afterwards, having
blooded and fleet saddle-horses in his stables on Lake Ontario shore in
Darlington, the commanding officers employed him as a despatch bearer.
In turn in the militia and then as despatch bearer, when nothing seemed
doing, his time was fully occupied at the business of war. He was then
sixty-two years of age, but so pressed were the authorities for men,
that age did not debar from service, but physical inability only.
Having accumulated wealth both in lands and specie, Roger’s first
thought, on the breaking out of war, was for the safety of his specie.
Mounting his best saddle-horse he rode some thirty miles west from his
home in Darlington to Levi Annis’s, his brother-in-law, in Scarborough,
in order that this relative might become his banker, for in those days
there were no banks, and people had to hide their money. Entering his
brother-in-law’s log-house, he removed a large pine knot from one of the
logs forming the house wall. He placed his gold and silver within the
cavity, and the knot was again inserted and all made smooth. Levi Annis
gave no sign, and no one that came to the inn ever suspected the
presence of this hoard of wealth. But when the war was over, Roger
Conant again visited Levi Annis in Scarborough. Three years had passed
away since, in his presence,
[Illustration: ROGER CONANT HIDING HIS TREASURE.]
the treasure had been inserted in the wall. In his presence also the
pine knot was now removed, and the bullion--about $16,000 in value--was
drawn forth intact.
Among the records that have come down to the author from Roger Conant,
and along with fragmentary papers left by him, by Levi Annis, David
Annis, and Moode Farewell, various scraps of songs of the time 1812 to
1815 are garnered. Perhaps the song of the greatest merit and widest
celebrity was “The Noble Lads of Canada,” the beginning of which was:
“Oh, now the time has come, my boys, to cross the Yankee line,
We remember they were rebels once, and conquered old Burgoyne;
We’ll subdue those mighty democrats, and pull their dwellings down,
And we’ll have the States inhabited with subjects of the Crown.”
It is just as well for the present generation to know this jingle,
absurd as it may be. There were many verses in it, but all much to the
same tenor, and while they pleased Canadians who sang the song, they
were certainly harmless, and to-day we can afford to laugh at them. It
is so very ridiculous to think of our handful of men going over to the
United States and “pulling their dwellings down.” Our defence at home
was quite another matter, but we are proud of it nevertheless. Human
nature is much the same here as elsewhere, and was also in 1812-15.
Thus would the author illustrate how he applies the inference; there
were over a half of the inhabitants who came directly from the British
Isles, or were descended from those who came. The greater part of the
settlers were poor. Generally the U. E. Loyalists and their descendants
were fairly well-to-do. If not well-to-do they were far better off than
the others. Consequently some mean-spirited among the settlers from
Britain or their descendants, who were so poor, would depreciate the U.
E. Loyalists if possible. Roger Conant said that one envious neighbor
set the Indians upon him, during a lull in the war, while he was at
home, by telling them he was a Yankee, and that they might rob him if
they chose. For the object of plunder, they came upon him because he had
an abundance of stock, the best in the land, as well as goods of various
sorts for Indian fur trading, while his money, as we have seen, was
safely banked in a pine log in Scarborough. One night there came to his
home in Darlington, in the year 1812, a single Indian who asked to rest
before the open fire for the night. Permission was given, and he
squatted before the blazing wood fire of logs. On watching him closely,
a knife was seen to be up his sleeve of buckskin, but not a word was
spoken of the discovery. Shortly another Indian came in and squatted
beside the first on the floor, and in utter silence. Now came a third
Indian, who, in his turn, crouched with the two former ones.
No doubt now remained in Roger Conant’s mind as to their purpose, and he
roused himself to the occasion. They meant robbery, and murder, if
necessary, to accomplish it. An axe at hand being always ready, he
seized it, and drew back to the rifle hanging upon the wall, never
absent therefrom unless in actual use. His family he sent out to the
nearest neighbors, a mile away, along the lake shore.
“None of you stir. If you do, I’ll kill the first one who gets up. Stay
just where you are until daylight.”
And now a squaw came in and sat beside the three crouching bucks, and
cried softly. Very generally Indian squaws’ voices are soft, and
naturally their crying would be soft, as was this squaw’s. Entreating
with her crying, she began to beg for the release of the Indians,
assuring the vigilant custodian “that they no longer meditated injury,
nor theft, but would go away if they could be released.”
In this manner, with their nerves at high tension, the night passed, and
not until the light of the next day did the guard dare to release his
Indian prisoners. Then, one by one only, he allowed them to walk out of
doors. It is very probable that this was an extreme case, but it
occurred just as narrated. Not again during the war was Roger Conant
molested by the Indians.
Not yet had the first year of the war (1812) dragged its slow length
along. About the Niagara River the fighting had been most active at all
points. Rumors of the clash of arms came from the West to those in
central Upper Canada. General Hull thought himself secure at Detroit
with a broad and deep river rolling between him and his opponents in
Canada. Neither
[Illustration: FAREWELL’S TAVERN, NEAR OSHAWA, AS IT APPEARS TO-DAY.]
depth of river nor width, however, kept our men away from Detroit. No
Canadian can contemplate this exploit of our arms without a swelling of
pride. Detroit became ours on the 15th of August, 1812, when General
Hull surrendered the whole command of 2,500 men, without terms, and
Michigan was our lawful conquest. Immediately on the surrender of so
many men to us, it became a serious question what to do with so many
prisoners of war. We possessed no place in Upper Canada where they could
be securely kept, and at old Quebec only could we depend upon them being
safely retained. Consequently to Quebec they were sent. They were sent
thither in boats and canoes in which they assisted in rowing and
paddling. In this manner they went to Quebec, and were apparently well
content with their lot. So very meagre, however, were our resources that
we could not furnish boats for all of them, and many were compelled to
walk along the lake shore. They were fed at various places along the
route, among others at Farewell’s tavern, near Oshawa, an engraving of
which as it stands now is given on opposite page. From the author’s
tales of his forbears he gets the story of these prisoners coming to
their home to be fed. Guards, indeed, they had, but they outnumbered
them ten to one, and even more, simply because we had not the men to
guard them. From what can be learned, however, none ran away.
Coming to the Conant family homestead to be fed, without warning, a big
pot of potatoes was quickly boiled. A churning of butter fortunately had
been done that day, just previous to their coming, and a ham, it so
happened, had been boiled the day preceding. All was set before them,
and copious draughts of buttermilk were supplied. Guards and prisoners
fared alike. There were no evidences of ill-feeling or rancor, but good
nature and good humor prevailed, even if some shielded ministers in
far-away London at that day forced the combat upon them.
Perhaps the most curious and picturesque instance of the fighting in and
about this part of Canada was the taking of General Scott a prisoner at
Queenston, and the occurrences subsequent to his capture. It seems that
General Scott had been particularly active all day during the engagement
of October 13th, 1812. Being a large man, and dressed in a showy blue
uniform, although not then so high in rank as he afterwards became, he
gained the attention of the Indians in our army. Nothing came of that
immediately, but near evening his part of the United States forces were
surrounded, and Colonel Scott (as he then was) was compelled to
surrender. On the final conclusion of the day’s engagement, General
Brock having been killed early in the day, he was invited to dine with
General Sheaffe, then commanding our forces. Our prisoner, Colonel
Scott, had given his parole not to attempt to escape, until regularly
exchanged, so it was quite in order for him to accept the general’s
invitation to dine. Just as they were in the act of sitting down at the
table an orderly came to the diningroom, and said some Indian chiefs
were at the door and wished to see Colonel Scott. Excusing himself, the
Colonel went to the door, and in the narrow front hall met three
Indians, fully armed and in all proper Indian war-paint and feathers.
One Indian then asked Colonel Scott where he was wounded. When Scott
replied that he had not been wounded, the questioning Indian said he had
fired at him twelve times in succession, and with good aim, and that he
never missed. Presuming on Colonel Scott’s good-nature, he took hold of
his shoulder, as if to turn him around for the purpose of finding the
wounds. “Hands off,” Scott said, “you shoot like a squaw.” Without more
ado or warning the three Indians drew their tomahawks and knives, and
essayed to attack the Colonel, although then a prisoner of war. As they
were in the narrow hall, the plucky United States prisoner could not
effectually use his sword arm for his defence, and his life was
consequently in danger. But he backed them by quick thrusts of the sword
out of the door, where he had more room for the play of his weapon, and
then stood at bay. It was indeed a fight to the death, and even so good
a swordsman as Colonel Scott must have succumbed, had not the guard of
our army, seeing at a glance what was up, rushed to Scott’s rescue and
helped him to drive the Indians off.
Not many days after this unseemly encounter, Colonel Scott was brought
to York in one of the small gunboats which we had then on Lake Ontario
for the defence of the lake ports. These boats, it is true, were not
very elegant in their lines, nor were they formidably armed. All haste
had been made to construct them; only a few weeks before the timber of
which they were constructed was growing in the parent trees. Green
timber and lumber, as any one will know, must make a very indifferent
boat, and not a lasting one. It is a fact, nevertheless, that the single
swivel gun which each boat carried did good service when called upon and
was no mean antagonist. Be that as it may, we should not look in
contempt on these mean gunboats, or compare them with the monster
fighting ships of this day. These were the ships our fathers used, and
the people of the United States also, and well they served their day. An
engraving of York at this early day will be found on the opposite page,
the little town which has become imperial and palatial Toronto, with
more than a fifth of a million of people, and the change has been
wrought in eighty-nine years.
Following, however, the fortunes of Colonel Scott until he came to
Quebec, we shall find him a prisoner in the cabin of a large ship lying
at anchor at the foot of the cliff on which that ancient city stands.
Not among a lot of other prisoners from the United States do we find the
Colonel on this ship--for there were many of them on board--but aft in
the cabin with the officers. One day his quick ear heard the prisoners
being interrogated on deck. With a few eager strides he ascends the
cabin steps and is on deck. He finds many of the United States prisoners
drawn up in line and an officer questioning them. Those who showed by
the burr on their tongues to be unmistakably of Irish or Scotch origin
were
[Illustration: VIEW OF YORK. FROM THE OLDEST EXTANT ENGRAVING.
(By permission from the J. Ross Robertson collection.)
]
called out and sent away to an adjoining man-of-war, there to serve in
the Royal Navy, although protesting they were American citizens.
Five of those in the line Colonel Scott heard called, and saw them sent
away.
“Silence!” he cried. “Men, not another word out of you. Don’t let them
catch you by the tongue”; and every man’s mouth closed like a trap.
It was Britain’s old contention, “Once a British subject, always a
British subject,” and no latitude was allowed for transference of
citizenship to the United States with residence in that country. To-day
we never cease to wonder that Great Britain could be so impolitic as to
take such a high-handed course. Time, however, has changed all that, and
a war such as that of 1812 will never again stain the escutcheons of
Great Britain, Canada or the United States.
Very soon after this Colonel Scott was exchanged, and quickly shook the
dust of Canada from his feet and found his way back to the United
States.
Let us turn to a little pleasanter phase of this early stage of the war.
General Brock, as before mentioned, was killed early in the day at the
battle of Queenston, on October 13th, 1812. That his high character and
bravery were not overestimated the sequel will show. Thompson, who
fought on our side, and who wrote of the war in 1832, being an
eye-witness, says he was held in such high esteem, even by the enemy,
that “during the movement of the funeral procession of that brave man,
from Queenston to Fort Niagara, a distance of seven miles, minute guns
were fired at every American post on that part of the line, and even the
appearance of hostilities was suspended.” From some relative of the
author who fought on our side the word has come down to him, that the
Americans fired on their side of the Niagara River an answering shot for
every one our men fired, all the time they were marching the seven miles
down the river in the funeral procession. And the relative in the ranks
added that every voice was hushed, not a word was spoken, grief was
apparent in every man’s face, and every one seemed sorry because we had
such a war on hand, and because we were engaged in the business of war
with our kinsmen.
And now the second year of the war had come with its attendant
vicissitudes and dangers.
Very few of the militia had been allowed to leave the ranks during the
past winter, for an attack was expected just as soon as the ice should
break up in the bays on Lake Ontario. In the early spring of 1813 the
ice seems to have left the bays very early, for on April 26th the
American forces were enabled to appear off York, in gun-boats and
transports, and eager for the fray. Now, it has always been asserted
that Great Britain availed herself of all the savages she could get,
both in the War of 1812, as well as in the War of the Revolution in
1776. In a measure only is this true. We see them, however, at this time
helping to oppose the landing of the Americans at York on April 26th,
1813. If the author speaks in positive terms he hopes to be forgiven,
for his forbear, Roger Conant, was there, musket in hand, and by his own
lips has given the record which by natural descent has come down to the
author. He said Indians were placed along the lake bank, one Indian
between two white men, to repel the advance of the Americans from their
boats on landing. That is to say, two white men were supposed to be able
to keep one Indian up to his duty. But they couldn’t do it, for when the
Americans really did land, and began the attack, many of the Indians got
up and fled back from the shore of the lake to the forest beyond. And it
is further told to the author by the same descent of lip service, that
some of our militiamen were so incensed at the Indians for running away
that they turned their muskets around from the Americans and fired at
the fleeing Indians. Very probably their aim was faulty, for so far as
is known no Indians fell, and more than likely our men did not aim to
kill.
The result of the landing of the American forces we all know only too
well, for our few men could not stay the hands of the assailants, who
landed at will, and took possession of the country about. Near where the
monument of the old French fort is, in the Industrial Fair grounds, near
also to the York Pioneers’ log cabin, was the scene of this Indian
running and the American landing. On the next day we find the Americans
advancing upon the old fort to the east of the scene of the landing
place. For a time, we know, our men made a stand for defence around and
about that old fort. It is not at all probable we could have held it
permanently, for the Americans outnumbered us, and were just as brave as
our men were when at their best. Just how it was done my ancestor did
not seem to know, but the word somehow, by very low whispers or signs,
was passed around that the fort would be blown up, and that it was
better to get out. Such a word came to Roger Conant, as he always
stoutly maintained, and, acting upon it, in the very nick of time, he
dropped out of the fort, when it blew up and killed so many Americans.
He said that to his startled vision the air appeared full of burnt and
scorched fragments of human bodies, and that they fell about him in a
horrifying manner.[C] It is not in the province of the author to express
an opinion as to the expediency of this act, but it was done no doubt
for the best, and we to-day find no fault with our general in command
who gave that terrible order.
Yet York and its neighborhood were still at the mercy of the American
conquering army, and General Sheaffe began to think intently of his own
safety. Mounting his horse he rides eastward, down King Street towards
Kingston, and leaves his troops to follow more leisurely on foot. It is
twelve miles from Toronto to Scarborough, where Levi Annis lived at his
hotel. His testimony was that General Sheaffe appeared before his hotel
door with his horse quite done up, and covered with foam. On going to
the door and asking as to the trouble, General Sheaffe explained to Levi
Annis that he had ridden from York, without drawing rein, and that it
was most important that the Americans should not catch him. There
certainly is room for excuse for General Sheaffe at this juncture,
although Levi Annis was naturally much astonished at the state of
nervousness in which he saw him. We must not forget that the General had
only 1,500 men, all told, with which he had to defend all Upper Canada,
and with this very small support no doubt he felt as he said, “that it
was most important that he should not be captured.” Just as quickly as
possible after the blowing up of the fort, some 150 men of the British
regulars and Canadian militia got together and made their way to
Kingston. At this time the first Don bridge had been built. It was of
logs, mainly pine, which were cut near to the last approach to the
bridge. A considerable causeway extended over the mud flats, on the east
side, to the span of the bridge proper. It was very crude, and had been
built in 1800 without the aid of experienced men or mechanics. It stood
well enough, nevertheless, and did its work well, until that memorable
day when our men retreated over it and burnt it as they went--April
27th, 1813. It was done as a
[Illustration: BURNING THE DON BRIDGE.
(_From a sketch by Isaac Bellamy._)
]
precautionary measure in order to impede the progress of the victorious
Americans, should they choose to follow in pursuit.
To those who did military service in this war 200 acres of the public
lands were due. Roger Conant did not receive his 200 acres, although
most justly entitled to them. To know the cause why he did not receive
his land grant it will be necessary to go back a little. After the
conquest of Canada and the Treaty of Paris (in 1763) which followed,
some British officers were given appointments and places in Canada--no
doubt to provide for them. When Upper Canada was made a separate
province in 1791, more of these officials were given places. These
persons seemed to have nothing in common with the people. On the
contrary they seemed to seek to rule and get good livings out of them,
and essayed to keep their places, becoming in time the Family Compact.
It was their acts and those of their successors that caused the outbreak
in 1837 which led to the Canadian Revolution. To these pampered
office-holders it did not appear that the U. E. Loyalists, who had made
most magnificent sacrifices for our country, were worthy of even civil
treatment. So to Roger Conant they never gave the military land grant,
and this treatment was meted out to most of the U. E. Loyalists who so
faithfully served through that most unfortunate and deplorable war.
Peace! peace! Peace tardily came at last in 1814, the Treaty of Ghent
having been signed on the 24th day of that year. The author realizes
that, to-day, Canadians in their well-appointed and refined homes fail
to enter into the feelings of our forefathers whose hearts leaped for
joy as they thanked the great God for that inestimable blessing of
peace. Fond mothers told it to the infants at the breast as they bounced
them aloft and reiterated again and again, “Peace, darling, peace!” The
gray-haired sire, whose days were numbered, dropped unchecked, unbidden
tears of joy, silently and without a voice, as he too thanked his Maker
again and again for that peace between neighbors and kindred that never
should have been broken. No more would the neighborless settler fear
peril as the darkening shadows of evening came about his log cabin in
the great forest, or dread that before the light of another dawn armed
foemen might come and take him prisoner, and drive his wife and little
ones into an inclement winter night by the application of the torch.
Strong men grasped each others’ hands, and shook, and bawled themselves
hoarse in simple exuberance of spirits, and in the intensest feeling of
thankfulness that peace had come to them once again. Nor was this
outburst of feeling mere exultation over the Americans. All felt that we
had honorably acquitted ourselves in a military point of view, but the
Americans at the same time had fought with valor, and we really had not
much to taunt them with.
It would perhaps be superfluous to record many of the particular charges
which our people laid at the door of the Americans during the war. It is
in evidence equally that the Americans laid quite as many sins to our
people for their acts, while making forays on United States soil. So far
as one may judge there is not any preponderating weight of evidence for
either side. It is true we do accuse the Americans of burning the public
buildings in York after the taking of the place, when the fort blew up
on April 27th, 1813. The author is inclined to think that the Americans
should not have applied the torch. On the other hand, we blew up the
fort and utterly destroyed many hundreds of Americans in an instant,
including their general.
The testimony of the great General Sherman, who, in 1865, marched with
an army of 70,000 men through Georgia, Alabama, the Carolinas and
Virginia, destroying everything in a belt fifty miles wide, and than
whom no one was better qualified to judge, was this: “War is hell.” It
would have been futile for our people to expect humane war. There are no
recriminations to make. In closing the records of the War of 1812 let us
realize with our forefathers that peace, blessed peace, came to them and
has ever since been with us. God be thanked.