A manufactory of base coin in the Province of Quebec--A clever
penman--Incident at a trial--The gang of forgers broken
up--“Stump-tail money”--Calves or land?--Ashbridge’s hotel,
Toronto--Attempted robbery by Indians--The shooting of an Indian
dog and the consequences.
I referred in the last chapter to the Spanish milled dollars in which
military services were paid for. Mexican dollars were also in vogue, and
a few years previous to the American War of 1812, some enterprising New
England counterfeiters, fancying the densely-wooded portion of Lower
Canada, near the state lines, would afford a secure base for their
operations, emigrated to our lower province. These Mexican silver
dollars were used as a currency for small moneys almost to the exclusion
of British coins. The reason for this was because these Mexican unmilled
dollars were of pure silver, almost without alloy, and were worth,
intrinsically, rather more than their face value. In these forests the
counterfeiters set up their presses and dies, and succeeded in making
Mexican dollars so very nearly like the genuine ones that they passed
unquestioned. Indeed, there was no limit to the amount these fellows
could produce, or as to the amount of wealth they could accumulate
thereby; that is to say, so far as wealth could be accumulated in those
early days among forest fastnesses. However, this band had good houses
constructed, and as well furnished as they could be at that early day.
One of the traditions about them is that they were in the habit of
throwing a dollar into the spittoon when they wanted it cleaned, which
perhaps shows they had all the hired help that money could in those days
give them. They appear to have lived a free-booting sort of life and to
have enjoyed such luxuries as money could command. So expert had they
become at the business that paymasters in the American army actually
crossed over the lines by stealth, through the woods, and bought these
Mexican dollars from the counterfeiters to pay the American troops with.
This is a fact, anomalous as it may seem, and no doubt these paymasters
reaped rich harvests by these transactions. As an illustration of the
cleverness of these counterfeiters I will note that at one time they
actually passed four thousand of their coins on one of the banks in
Montreal.
We may, therefore, assume that as counterfeiters they had arrived at
considerable perfection. The flooding of the Province of Quebec with
these Mexican dollars somewhat disarranged the even flow of trade
transactions.
On the close of the American war, however, these Mexican dollars were
gradually taken out of circulation. The genuine ones were mostly taken
to England to be recoined into British shillings and sixpences. This
altered state of affairs caused these counterfeiters to pause in their
career, and they ceased to produce the Mexican dollars for fear they
might be traced out. Counterfeiting bank-notes was what they next turned
their hands to. In those days the “greenback” had not been invented, the
engravings on the bills were not very elaborate, and they found some one
among them who could cut the die plate of a bill. Thus far they had got
on well, but the signatures to the bills presented an almost insuperable
obstacle. That oft-repeated remark, that “the old fellow always helps
his own,” was true in their case at least. One of their number was found
so clever with the pen that he could imitate the signatures to
perfection. It is asserted that this signer claimed as his share for
affixing the signatures a full share in all the band’s proceeds, and he
was to do nothing else at all. The other members were to do all the work
and he only did the writing, and lived like a gentleman in what had then
become a small village in Quebec, near the province line. He had a fine
house, carriages and servants; held several offices of trust, and had
even rare and costly bound books in his library. Indeed, he seemed to be
a person of culture in every way, and no one for a moment suspected him
of any complicity in such a nefarious business as counterfeiting.
To show how clever he was as a penman, I will tell this anecdote by way
of illustration. Some twenty thousand dollars’ worth of promissory notes
had been sued in some court in the State of Vermont. The signature on
these notes was disputed by the reputed maker, and a defence set up that
they were forgeries. This important case was thoroughly defended by the
ablest counsel of the day, and yet the case seemed likely to go against
the maker of the notes. Happening to get a hint, this attorney for the
defence quietly asked all the attorneys in the court to write their
names on a half-sheet of foolscap, which he produced, torn carelessly
from the other half-sheet.
Each one wrote his name. Then this attorney for the defence brought the
signatures to this person who did the bank-note signing in Quebec. On
the other half-sheet of foolscap this more than expert penman reproduced
in exact fac-simile the attorneys’ names. Back into court he came with
the two half-sheets of foolscap, one containing the genuine signatures
and the other the forged ones, but both sheets alike in every respect,
even as to jagged edges, where torn asunder, and every other particular.
Each signing attorney was then put in the witness box and asked to swear
to his signature. Not one of them could do it. This fact threw doubts in
the minds of the jury as to the genuineness of the signature of the
notes, and the defendant got a verdict of “not guilty.”
As the country continued to be flooded with these notes, the Government
finally began tracing their issue to the fountain head, and suddenly and
without warning made a descent upon this respectable citizen’s fine
house. Not a scrap could be found to incriminate him, and the searchers
were about to leave with apologies, when, happening to look in the
attic, they found a single unused die, which one of the gang had
thoughtlessly left there.
The finding of this die of course caused his arrest, and he and two
others were put on trial for their lives. Forgery in that day in Quebec
merited the death penalty of the law. They had moved to Canada, however,
for protection, and even in this instance Canada did not fail to protect
them still. They had forged only notes of the state banks of the United
States, and it seems that our law could not fairly get hold of them for
forging the notes of a foreign country, and they got off scot-free. But
the prosecution broke them up and they fled, having lost their
pseudo-respectability.
It is asserted that this expert penman and cultivated man afterwards
migrated to the United States, became an inmate of nearly all the
penitentiaries the United States then possessed, and finally died in one
of them. So, in this instance, as ever, the way of the transgressor was
hard, although seemingly so fair for so long a time.
“Can you tell me where I can buy shingles?” for many years after the
breaking up of the gang was one of the formulas which strangers used
when coming into the former counterfeiters’ locality to buy counterfeit
money. A man of sixty-five now tells that when a lad he once in the
spring packed his bundle in his handkerchief, swung it over his shoulder
on a stick, and sallied out looking for work. A stylish team passed him,
driven by two men, whom he asked for a ride. And they gave him a ride,
and asked him while on the way “where they could buy some shingles?” Not
knowing, he could not tell them, but his curiosity was aroused to know
what men, dressed as they were, and with so fine a team and so light a
rig, should want with shingles. Finally, after repeated inquiries, some
one on the way told them to turn off the road, and back in the woods
they would find “shingles.” It is asserted that for some years after the
close of the American War of 1812 this counterfeit money had, among
those who dealt in it, a certain market value. Sometimes the dollar was
worth as much as forty cents, and at other times it had a greater value.
Other catch words were used and known among those who dealt in this
commodity besides “shingles,” but this term seems to have been most used
and most generally known.
A long time it took to rid that part of Quebec of the remaining stamps
and dies, and to stamp out the counterfeiting entirely. But as the
country became more settled up and the roads improved it was gradually
stopped. So far as I can ascertain, this narrative contains an account
of the most systematized and successful series of forgeries our country
at that time had.
Some of these clever New England forgers knew when to stop. One of them,
it is said, moved away to New Jersey and bought a fine farm there from
the proceeds of his forgeries in Canada, and lived the life of a country
gentleman until his death.
The strangest part of this tale is yet to follow. I got it from the lips
of a resident in the West, a close observer and likely to know.
In the early settlements of the Western States bordering on the
Mississippi River, each state issued bills which were almost valueless
in any other state. All sorts of forgeries were committed on these state
bank bills. This money came to be known as “stump tail money,” and
amidst the general confusion of currencies and hasty settlements the
forgers were enabled to reap rich harvests. The forgers began to be
caught and driven still further west to the Missouri River, as the
States became better settled and things settled down generally. Nearly
all of those forgers who were caught acknowledged that they were
descendants of the gang of forgers whom I have been speaking of on the
province line in Quebec. And more, they said in their confessions, that
those who got away were likewise of the same descent. From this it would
appear that in the guild of forgers the faculties are transmitted to
succeeding generations, like those of caste in India.
I have said that in the early days of the century the settlers in
Ontario did not entertain very correct ideas as to the prospective value
of lands. The following anecdote of that time will illustrate this: Levi
Annis, descended from Charles Annis, already alluded to, when about
eighteen years of age had made a little money on his own account by
trapping. He had saved enough money to buy himself a couple of bull
calves six months old, and calculated to secure them. Just before he got
to buying them, it came to his knowledge that for the same sum which he
would pay for the calves he could buy outright 100 acres of land. For
some days he was in doubt whether to buy the calves or the hundred
acres. He asked his friends, and they reasoned that there was lots of
land, and land he could buy any time, but calves were scarce and he had
better buy them when he could. Consequently he bought the calves and let
the land alone. To show how lightly land was valued in those days I make
the comparison. But this is not at all in relation to the bargain. Had
he bought the 100 acres of land, which he thought of doing, even before
his death he would have seen a part of the town of Oshawa built upon it.
To-day there is upon this land a large manufactory and numerous
dwellings, and its value at this time is almost beyond estimating. Had
he bought the land and simply kept it, and literally done nothing else,
it would have made a rich man of him. But he chose the calves, and it is
evident in the light of the subsequent events that his choice was a poor
one.
An Indian tale of 1800 comes to my mind which my forefathers have told
to me. In the early days the settlers had to devise plans to keep their
sheep from the wolves. As their flocks increased their next great
difficulty was to keep their sheep from the Indians’ dogs. The first
settlements were, of course, along the shores of the great lakes,
Ontario and Erie. Twice a year, spring and fall, the Indians would come
out from the woods to fish in those lakes and marshes, and at the
outlets of the streams. So numerous were the Indians at that time that
they far outnumbered the whites, and when they came for the semi-annual
fish they would form a regular village, as they congregated in their
tents beside the shore of some marsh or bay upon the great lakes.
The settlers’ policy was one pre-eminently of conciliation to the
Indians. But they would at every visit be accompanied by a lot of
half-starved, ill-favored curs, which would worry the settlers’ sheep.
At one visit they had a particularly large gaunt brute of a dog, which
badly worried a sheep of my forefather. He remonstrated with the chief,
and desired him to keep the dog at the camp, which he promised to do.
Nightly he penned his sheep as usual, to keep off the wolves, but during
the day this dog continued to worry them when out of sight among the log
and brush on the partially cleared fields, and finally killed one. My
people resolved to suffer it no longer, and at great risk of their lives
and property shot the Indian dog--dead as they supposed. Then they took
the dog that the Indians might not find him, and know that they had shot
him, and put him in a hollow pine stub, the top of which stood some ten
feet from the ground, and which was hollow to the bottom. Bury the dog
they dared not, because the sharp-eyed Indian would discover the
newly-turned earth and fish it out, and they knew they could not
otherwise hide him successfully. That evening about forty Indians came
looking for the animal, and searched every place, probable and
improbable, indoors and out, and my people dared not refuse them
admittance. Without a doubt my forefather will be pardoned for “telling
a white one” when he averred that he had not got the dog. At this
juncture it became by far too serious to jest or prevaricate, for their
lives literally depended upon the Indians’ successful search for that
canine. Search as they would, however, they did not find it, and
darkness gratefully set in and put an end to their investigation for
that day. But little sleep the settlers were able to take that night
through dead fear that the Indians might possibly find the cur. Next
morning, just at the first peep of day, my forefather was up and out to
the stump, when to his intense astonishment and disgust the dog was
barking and scratching within the stub to get out. He had not been
effectually killed, and had come back again to life. Now here was a
dilemma, and what was to be done? To get up on the stub and fire at the
dog again was more than he dared, for it would arouse the Indians only
half a mile away.
An expedient he soon hit upon, however, and he resolved that day to go
to logging that he might burn the stub without arousing the keen
suspicion of the Indians. Yoking his oxen, a pile of logs was soon
gathered about the stub and set on fire. The dog’s cries grew fainter
and to him beautifully less, and finally ceased. But he did not dare to
stop the logging for the day, and worked at it faithfully all day,
whether he wished to or not, that no suspicion might rest upon him for
the burning of the pine stub. It is needless to add that the Indians did
not get the dog, and that they never found out what became of him. At
this time this may seem a simple story to tell, but to the participants
it was a life-and-death matter, and I have heard my forefathers say that
the old man would have gladly given all his sheep, dearly as he prized
them, could he have recalled that shot, when he heard the dog howling
the next morning in the stub.