that I hold a commission in the Patriot service of Upper Canada as
commander-in-chief of the naval forces and flotilla. I commanded
the expedition that captured and destroyed the steamer _Sir Robert
Peel_. The men under my command in that expedition were nearly all
natural-born English subjects; the exceptions were volunteers for the
expedition. My head-quarters was on an island in the St. Lawrence,
without the jurisdiction of the United States, at a place named by me
Fort Wallace. I am well acquainted with the boundary line, and know
which of the islands do and do not belong to the United States; and in
the selection of the island I wished to be positive, and not locate
within the jurisdiction of the United States, and had reference to the
decision of the Commissioners under the sixth article of the Treaty
of Ghent, done at Utica, in the State of New York, 13th June, 1822. I
know the number of the island, and by that decision it was British
territory. I yet hold possession of that station, and we also occupy a
station some twenty or more miles from the boundary line of the United
States, in what was Her Majesty’s dominions until it was occupied by
us. I act under orders. The object of my movement is the independence
of Canada. I am not at war with the commerce or property of the people
of the United States.
“Signed, this tenth day of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand
eight hundred and thirty-eight.
“WILLIAM JOHNSTON.”
The result of the proclamation, which was published in the American
newspapers, was a reward offered by Governor Marcy of $500 for the
author’s arrest, $250 each for that of D. M’Leod and two others, and
$100 each for the rest. The Canadian Government offered £1000 for the
conviction of any of them.
But it is a long lane that has no turning. The defeat at Prescott once
more sent the Johnstons and their followers to the same retreats of the
river intricacies. An old soldier of the 79th was given the hazardous
mission to search them out; but the only result was a shot or two from
an unseen and vanishing enemy, and a specimen of the finest tourmalin
to add to his geological cabinet. Bonnycastle put some of his staff
with a band on board a small steamer, ostensibly to visit the militia
garrisons of Gananoque, Brockville and Prescott, returning by night in
the hope that Johnston would attack them. With excellent steering they
escaped the infernal machines moored for them, but saw naught of the
enemy.
Sir John Colborne, with his one notion of government, had a large body
of sailors and marines forwarded from Quebec harbour, then full of
men-of-war, steamboats and merchantmen drawn there by the arrival of
Lord Durham. A company of the 1st Frontenac Militia went to the island
of Tanti, and the border-town garrisons were strongly reinforced with
picked men. But Johnston only laughed at them all, and scudded along
in his mysterious boat. About eight feet of the after-part of this
craft was decked, and on this he sat while he steered with an oar,
a red carpet-bag for his cushion seat. In the sight of one party of
pursuers from the steamboat _Oswego_ they openly pulled for the wreck
of the _Sir Robert Peel_; when the pursuers were within fifteen rods a
white handkerchief was waved and Johnston majestically rose from his
carpet-bag, drew from it the colours of the _Sir Robert Peel_, which he
let wave in the breeze and then gravely returned to the bag. Another
craft, evidently one of the fleet, darted up a bay; the dark blue boat
was made fast, and in a moment the crew could be seen walking through
the bushes, Indian file, each with a large pistol in his right hand.
In an interview held at a few boat’s lengths with a deputation of two,
who were old acquaintances of his, Johnston said there was one thing
of which they might rest assured--he would never be taken alive; that
he was a fair mark to shoot at, but not to dangle in the air. He might
have quoted,
“To die for treason is a common evil,
But to be hanged for nonsense is the devil.”
He announced that at that moment he had two other boats well manned
and armed within signal view; that he sat upon the colours of the _Sir
Robert Peel_, and that he meant to continue sitting on them “till they
rotted.” The interviewers could see for themselves that his boat was
well stored with muskets and small arms. When told that his son’s
wharf at French Creek was then patronized for wood by one of the
steamers, “he seemed much affected,” replying, “I am glad to hear of
it, or of anything else that can benefit my family.”
At this time Johnston appeared a robust, athletic man, absolutely
fearless, about sixty years of age, a gray-headed, hardy veteran,
“a good friend and a terror to his enemies.” He stated that whoever
attacked him must bring his own coffin, as he himself had no leisure
for cabinet-making.
A simultaneous movement was made on him by a party of British soldiers,
and some of the 1st Regiment of American Infantry under Captain Gwynn
of the American army. The men were conveyed in two steamboats, the
_Experiment_ and the _Telegraph_, and in a gunboat under Lieutenant
Leary, R.N., the _Bullfrog_. They found two of the bandits fast asleep
in the cave, but on account of the roughness of the surrounding country
the attack was not well concerted, and the rest of the band, including
Johnston, escaped. A quantity of arms and ammunition was found in the
cave, but a thorough search by the soldiers, eighty in number and
cutlasses in hand, revealed no trace of them.
At another time, General MacNab with some fifty United States soldiers,
cruising about in search of this will-o’-the-wisp, found the home but
its occupant gone. It proved to be a spacious cavern, into which they
penetrated about thirty feet, part natural cavity, part excavated by
labour, fit for dwelling-place for a large body of men, and in the
several rooms which it contained there were signs of recent occupation.
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.